Herschel's eyes darted to the table that held the hot water pot and plastic cups. "Yeah, sure, that'd be great. Thanks."
Elly crossed to the tea table and selected a canister from the shelf while she tried to think of a way to distract Herschel from Bertha's closed shop.
"You say you've come across a particularly valuable relic?" she asked casually.
"Maybe. Don't know yet." He shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced on his toes a couple of times, peering out at the street. 'That's why I want Bertha to look at it before I sell it. If it's as special as I think it is, I may go straight to the folks at the Cadence Museum with it, instead of my usual cheap-ass dealers."
"Good plan." She put the herbs into a cup, poured hot water over them, and stirred gently.
"Can't figure out why she'd up and disappear like this." Herschel began to pace. "Thought maybe the guy who runs the flower shop next door to her place, Griggs, or whatever his name is, might have seen her or at least know where she went. But he was closed, too."
She carried the cup of tea to the counter and set it down together with a small paper napkin. "Here you go, Herschel. Be careful, it's hot."
"Yeah, yeah, sure." He picked up the cup and inhaled the steamy aroma. Some of the nervous tension in him eased. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Herschel took a cautious sip and went toward the door. "I ran into Benny and Joe. They hadn't seen her either."
"Who are Benny and Joe?"
"Freelance hunter-tangler team. Some of the ruin rats hire 'em to go underground as protection. Griggs uses them a lot because he doesn't have any para-rez talent of his own."
"Stuart Griggs, the florist?" she asked, startled. "He goes into the catacombs to search for relics? I didn't know he was in that line."
"He's not." Herschel made a face. "Benny and Joe don't know why he likes to go down into the catacombs, but he hires them on a regular basis. They don't give a damn what he's looking for as long as he's willing to pay for their services."
"I see."
"Well, thanks for the tea. See ya."
"Bye, Herschel."
Elly leaned on the counter and watched Herschel hurry away into the gray mist.
"Guess the state of my sex life isn't of great interest to everyone in the neighborhood after all, Rose."
Rose crouched over her hoard of jewelry like some tiny, fluffy dragon gloating over a pile of gold, and munched her second cookie.
"You know, it occurs to me that other people may start to notice that Bertha isn't around," Elly said. "We don't want folks to get too curious about her absence. Maybe I should trot on down to her shop and put up a little sign saying she's out of town for a few days."
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. She had a key, she reminded herself. She could slip down the alley, enter the shop through the back door, put the sign in the window, and depart very discreetly.
Given the rapidly thickening fog, it was unlikely that anyone would notice her coming and going via the alley. But even if someone did see her, no one would think it odd. Everyone knew that she and Bertha were friends. She could always say that she'd had a call from Bertha. Something about a family emergency.
She used a felt pen to hand-letter the sign on a sheet of paper. When she was satisfied with the results, she turned over the Back in Ten Minutes sign in her own shop window.
She yanked her coat down off the hook, put it on, and opened her tote for Rose.
"Let's ride, sister."
Mumbling cheerfully, Rose dashed along the top of the counter and hopped down into the tote. She hooked her front paws over the top and poked her head up, blue eyes open wide, so as not to miss anything.
Chapter 21
THE SMALL, INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED PACKETS WERE packed neatly inside the three cardboard boxes stacked inside the old storage closet. The boxes were labeled Toilet Tissue, which struck Cooper as oddly appropriate under the circumstances.
He let himself out of the closet. The two-hundred-year-old basement was walled and floored with stone, but water had seeped in, as water always did in such places, creating a damp, moldy atmosphere.
Water was not the only thing that trickled into the large, dark space, he noticed. A lot of stray psi energy permeated the atmosphere down here, too. Not surprising, given the proximity of the Dead City Wall. Probably a hole-in-the-wall somewhere in the vicinity, just as Elly had suggested.
He used the flashlight to make his way back to a heavy wooden door that looked as if it had been there since the building was constructed.
Opening the door, he went up the old, cramped staircase.
At the top of the staircase, he paused to listen intently for a moment before opening another door and moving into the janitorial storage room.
The shelves were crowded with cleaning supplies, cartons of industrial-sized rolls of toilet tissue, and paper towels.
He crossed the room, selected a few rolls of paper towels, and let himself out into the hall.
The janitorial carl was waiting right where he had left it. He grabbed the handle and went down the corridor and around the corner to a private elevator marked Executive Offices.
Finding the stash of drugs had been easy, he thought. Maybe too easy.
Chapter 22
THE ALLEY WAS CHOKED WITH DAMP, GRAY MIST. AN uneasy chill flashed down Elly's spine and raised the hair on the nape of her neck. The close, looming walls of the buildings that lined the narrow service lane cut off much of what little light the fog allowed to filter through. She could barely make out the shape of the trash container across from her. The thick vapor acted like an otherworldly sound absorber, muffling the engines of the cautiously moving cars on the surrounding streets.
"Perfect cover," she whispered to Rose. "No one will see us."
She went forward, unable to suppress an icy prickle of tension.
The fog was a good thing under the circumstances, she thought. So why was it making her so nervous?
She found herself listening intently for the familiar clatter of a garbage can lid or the soft thud of footsteps behind her.
From time to time she glanced down at Rose, watching for signs of the dust bunny's second set of eyes.
Rose appeared alert but showed no indication of alarm.
When they arrived at the opening at the end of the alley, Elly felt a sharp sense of relief. The sensation vanished quickly when she discovered that the cramped street in front of her was disconcertingly empty of traffic and pedestrians. The entire neighborhood seemed to be suddenly deserted.
Hurrying across the pavement, she entered the alley that serviced the next block of shops. Maybe it was just her imagination, she thought, but the fog seemed denser and more ominous now. It had a disorienting effect on her sense of sight and direction. Rose rumbled softly in what seemed a reassuring manner.
She paused at the rear entrance of a shop to check the sign, afraid that she might overshoot her goal.
"Stuart Griggs, Florist," she read aloud to Rose. "Almost there. Bertha's shop is next."
She looked down at the dust bunny and froze when she saw that Rose was staring very hard at the closed door of the florist's shop. All four eyes were wide open, but there was no sign of any razor-sharp teeth.
Rose rumbled softly.
"What is it?" Elly asked. She looked from Rose to the door and back again. "I know you don't like Mr. Griggs, but I wish you wouldn't growl at his door. It's embarrassing."
Rose's attention remained riveted on the door. Something was wrong; Elly felt it, but Rose was not acting as if she sensed a threat.