The entire history of Barking Dog Amato lay there, in sedimentary layers, ready to be excavated by a historical adventurer unencumbered by a sense of smell.
I took that in at a glance after Amato invited me in. I wasted a second glance on his furniture. That amounted to an artist's easel where he painted posters and placards and a rickety table where he calligraphed handbills. A semiclear corner boasted a ragged blanket.
Two steps inside, I saw that I'd leapt to an erroneous conclusion. Barking Dog did indeed clean house. There was a second room, with no door in its doorway, where he moved his trash whenever his primary got too deep.
He didn't apologize. He seemed unaware that his housekeeping varied from the norm. He just asked, "What did you find out from that Hullar?"
"I didn't go see him. What happened was, I had an idea."
"You didn't strain nothing doing that?"
It must be on my forehead in glowing letters that don't show up in a mirror. "You'll like it. Be good for both of us. Here's the plan." I told him how we could make a few marks. His eye developed a malicious twinkle.
"Son, I'm maybe gonna like you after all. You ain't as dumb as you look."
"It's my disguise," I grumped. "Want to do it?"
"Why not? I can always use an extra mark. But don't you figure we ought to go fifty-fifty? When I got to take time out of my busy schedule to do all the work?"
"I figure the split's fine at two for me and one for you. I have the contract. I'll have to rewrite whatever you give me. And I'll have to hike over to the Tenderloin to deliver it."
Barking Dog shrugged. He didn't argue. "Found money," he muttered.
"Speaking of money. How do you live? Not to mention pay for all that paper?" Even junk paper isn't cheap. Papermaking is a labor-intensive industry.
"Maybe there's some with enough sense to see the truth and want to spread it." He glowered. He wasn't going to tell me squat.
Could be a helpful believer. TunFaire boasts a fine crop of lunatics, with more ripening daily. Or maybe he was stealing paper. Or maybe he had a fortune stashed with the gnomish bankers. You never know. In this town, almost nobody is what he seems.
I answered surliness with a shrug. "I'll catch you every couple days."
"Yeah. Hey! Maybe you could give me a hand."
Only at long range. His breath had taken on new freight, a heavy wine odor that combined with its previous fetor in a lethal gas. Maybe we could bottle it and send it to the Cantard. It could discourage entire Venageti brigades.
"How?"
"Some religious nut grabbed my spot while I was away."
"Set up next to him, stick close, outlast him." The man's faith wouldn't outlast Barking Dog's aroma. "That don't work, then ask me."
"All right." He was doubtful. He couldn't smell himself. His nostrils were corroded to the bone.
"See you." I had to get out. My eyes were watering. My nose was running. My head was spinning.
I didn't hurry home. I let the rain rinse the smell off me. I wondered if it would ever stop raining. Should I invest in a boat?
The weather had a bright side. Flying thunder-lizards hadn't pestered TunFaire since the rains started.
Everyone cheered when those monsters first appeared. They gobbled rats and cats and squirrels and, most especially, pigeons. Pigeons don't have many fans. But the thunder-lizards shared some of the pigeons' worst habits. The missiles they launched were both larger and more precisely targeted.
There was talk of bounties. The monsters tended to be attracted by the Hill, where the rich and powerful live. They favor high places. The upper classes and thunder-lizards both. If the latter had had the sense to stick to the slums, there would have been no dangerous talk.
9
The only warning was Dean's smirk, filled with so much childish malice I knew something was going on.
Garrett!
Oh-oh. I'd forgotten I'd left him with those evangelists.
I considered taking a powder. But, hell, it was my house. A man is king in his own castle. I stepped into the Dead Man's room. "Yeah?"
Sit down.
I sat, warily. He was too calm.
Have you contemplated the state of your immortal soul?
I believe I screeched. Next thing I knew, I was headed down the hall staring back at his closed door with bugged eyes. Somewhere a cat meowed. This couldn't be happening to me. It wasn't real. I was going crazy. If this kept up, I'd be out there howling at the sky alongside Barking Dog.
It got worse. I ducked into the kitchen for a beer, found Dean at the table having tea with the religion women. One had a kitten in her lap. Dean seemed spellbound by the ropes of sand the other was spinning. The cat woman said, "Won't you join us, Mr. Garrett? We were just sharing the wonderful news with Dean. Won't you share the joy with us too?"
Joy? She was as joyous as the piles. She didn't know the meaning of the word. The fraud. She was smiling, but that was a domino. Everything behind it was holier-than-thou sour. She would remain constipated as long as she suffered the suspicion that somebody, somewhere, was having a good time. "Sorry. Some other time. I'm just going to grab a biscuit and run." I knew her kind. A Barking Dog with a bath, only her fantasy contained a harsh, metallic flavor of violence. Barking Dog was determined to expose imaginary devils. She wanted to scourge them with fire and sword. Yet she was painfully formal and polite. If I stopped moving for a second, she would pin me and soon drive me over the edge. She wouldn't let go till I'd gotten so damned rude I'd be embarrassed for a month.
I grabbed my biscuit and fled to my office. I asked Eleanor, "You haven't gone gaga on me too, have you?"
She gave me her best enigmatic look.
I settled behind my desk. Things were falling apart around me. I had to take charge before chaos conquered all. I had to get this storm-tossed ship back on a steady keel.
It was my own damn fault, trying to pull a fast one on the Dead Man.
10
I groaned. I'd just gotten comfortable, and now somebody was pounding on the front door. Nobody ever comes around except to see me. Nobody ever wants to see me unless they want me to work. Nobody ever wants me to work except when I've just gotten comfortable. Then my attitude improved. Maybe it was more evangelists. I could turn the new bunch loose on the pack already infesting the place. They could go to the theological mattresses right here. I could have a ringside seat while they fought it out, toe to illogical toe.
See. I'm an optimist. Whoever said I always look on the dark side? I did? Right. Well, when you do that, your life fills with pleasant surprises, and seldom are you disappointed.
Answering the door provided one of the disappointments.
I did peep through the peephole first. I did know I wouldn't be happy once I opened up. But I didn't have much choice.
His name was Westman Block. He was the law. Such as the law is in TunFaire. He was a captain of that same Watch that couldn't catch anyone more dangerous than Barking Dog Amato. I knew him slightly, which was too well. He knew me. We didn't like each other. But I respected him more than I did most Watchmen. When he took a bribe, he stayed bought. He wasn't too greedy.