Cue the violins, Bunky. The kingpin was a loving dad. When they were totting up the score at the gates to hell, he could tell them, "I done it all for my little girl."
Chodo was the next thing to dead, and still he kept surprising me. "Belinda, I have to admit I admired your father—even when I hated what he was and what he did to people. But all that's something we can go into later. Right now every minute brings me nearer to the time the girl killer will have to do what he's got to do to stay happy."
"What?"
"Bottom line. Some people need rougher stimulation than others. That's what the Tenderloin is all about. Providing junk for the weird-stuff junkies."
My sweet Belinda surprised me by responding in an accent neither of the street nor of the Hill. "My daddy woulda been proud a you, Garrett. Some people... Some people is just sick and cain't get it off."
"That's the heart of it, isn't it? Where's the line between what's unusual and what's unacceptable? When does weird become dangerously perverted?"
She looked me straight in the eye. "I'll let you know."
"Hey... "
Garrett.
Of course the Dead Man would yank my chain right then.
43
"He wants to see you."
Belinda looked puzzled. "Who does?"
"My sidekick. Watch him. He's not fast on his feet, but he's sly."
"The Dead Man?"
"You've heard of him. That'll puff his ego."
Garrett, do get on with it.
"I thought I was getting on with it as good as I could, under the circumstances."
Belinda gave me a strange look. The Dead Man sent, Your love life was not my concern. Get her in here.
"We're a little hasty today, are we?"
"What the hell are you doing, Garrett? Talking to the walls?"
I wish to speak with you, Miss Contague.
"What the hell is this, Garrett? Get the hell out of my head!"
"It ain't me, babe. I thought you knew about the Dead Man." She wasn't heading for the door, she was pressing closer to me, a development I didn't discourage. I eased her across the hall. "I know. I know. You didn't think you'd have to deal with him. You thought the stories were exaggerated. They are, mostly. Except about how ugly he is."
Garrett!
"And testy. He's real testy. Like a badger with bad teeth."
"My God! Look at that nose!" She clutched my arm. I melted. I tried to slide the arm around her, to comfort her, but she wouldn't let go. I'd have bruises in the morning.
Garrett, take your gloating, less-than-winning personality into the kitchen. Indulge your true nature guzzling beer while the lady and I exchange reminiscences.
"Hey! Let's not get personal."
I went to the kitchen and sulked, indulged in my favorite food, Weider's pale lager.
Garrett!
Hell. Here I was barely through my fourth pint and he was rattling my chain. What did a guy have to do to relax? I stamped in there, past Belinda. She asked brightly, "Where can I find Dean?"
"Kitchen. What do you want, Chuckles?"
The girl is exactly what she appears to be. He was astonished, obviously. I am amazed that she is so honest and forthright.
"So it isn't hereditary?"
That is not what I meant.
"What you really mean is, she didn't know a damned thing we could use. And you're thrilled about it."
After a fashion. I convinced her that it would be in her best interest to remain here, out of sight, in our guest room, till we do something about the killer.
"Say what?" He doesn't like women, of any species. He doesn't want them in the house to visit, let alone to hide out indefinitely. "You going through some change? Actually recommending that a female stay here?" He sure wasn't trying to do me any favors.
It would not be the first time.
"That depends on how you add things up."
I would love to match wits with you, but that game has lost its savor. I want you to go see if you cannot charm either the Candy woman or the Dixie woman into spending the night here.
"Why?" He had more faith in me than I did.
I despair of teaching you to employ your reason. Because once you lure the potential victim close enough, I can make sure she is not out there when the killer goes hunting tomorrow night. Because then I would have two of the three most likely targets under my protection, freeing you and Captain Block to concentrate on the remaining woman.
"Right. I've watched those two women in action, Smiley. Candy don't play and Dixie is out of my price range. Snowball-in-hell time."
I have faith. You will find a way.
"Right."
This defeatism amazes me in a man who so regularly disturbs my naps with the gales of whooping and snorting emanating from his room.
"Regularly? I can just about count on the fingers of one finger the number of times—"
Garrett, I am dead, not stupid.
"Yeah. Well. So maybe I underexaggerated. But I do wish I was doing half as good as you think."
I wish you were too. You are more easily endured when —
"Stow that. How're we going to move a bunch of women in here? We don't have—"
Dean can see to their wants. I will see to their safety. You go to the Tenderloin, bring us back one.
"If they're even working. You have to remember, they don't do this stuff for a living. It's part-time, for kicks. Anyway, why should we bother? Did Block catch up on his payments?"
We came to an agreement. There are no financial obstacles.
"Really? Nice of you to keep me posted. I hope you took him so bad he won't come around here ever again."
I suggest you adjourn to the Tenderloin and lay groundwork.
Is that what you call it? "But I have to—"
Let everything else ride. Mr. Hullar will not expire if he misses his regular report on the adventures of Barking Dog Amato. I want to be right on top of this killer if he has survived. I insist.
I was willing to arrange that, only I didn't know how to get him out there—unless maybe I hired a wagon and a dozen sturdy moving men. I could just see him dashing gallantly about town, bringing his special style of derring-do, to the dismay of the wicked and cheer of the downtrodden.
Your brain has become a snake pit.
"But I have only one snake pit." I withdrew, danced lightly upstairs to see how my unexpected guest was settling in. Mostly I got to watch Dean help her settle. He interposed himself like he was her maiden aunt.
Dean had been having his rehab parties for weeks. My bedroom, which lies across the front of the house, and the guest bedroom have been done for a while, but till Dean and his pals went to work, the other two rooms had remained untouched, repositories for junk that should have gone to the basement or street long ago. The parties had gotten the room across the back set for Dean, partly. It wasn't finished. But he no longer had to sleep on the daybed downstairs when we had company. Still, his room needed plenty of work to become really habitable. The more he got between me and Belinda, the more I considered leaving the gaps in the outside walls there for him to handle himself come winter.