"No," I sez, patient-like. "I'm talkin' about a 'domestic disturbance.' A family squabble... just like you had goin' on here when I came in. They're deadly, Boss. Especially one between a husband and wife."
"Are you kidding, Guido?" the Boss sez. "What could happen that would be dangerous?"
"More things than you can imagine," I sez, grim like. "That's what makes them so dangerous. In regular hassles, you can pretty much track what's goin' on and what might happen next. Arguments between a husband and wife are unpredictable, though. You can't tell who's gonna swing at who or with what, because they don't know themselves."
"Why do you think that is, Guido? What makes fightbetween married couples so explosive?"
"I never really gave it much thought," I sez. "If I had to give an opinion, I'd say it was due to the motivationals."
"The motives?"
"That, too." I frown, wonderin' why he is repeatin' what I said. "You see, Boss, the business-type disputes which result in violence like I am normally called upon to deal with have origins that are easily comprehended... like greed or fear. That is to say, either Boss A wants somethin' that Boss B is relucttant to part with, as in a good-sized hunk of revenue-generatin' property, or Boss B is afraid that Boss A is gonna try to whack him and decides to beat him to the punch. In these situationals, there is a clear-cut objective in mind, and the action is therefore relatively easy to predict and counter. Know what I mean?"
"I think so," he sez. "And a domestic disturbance?"
"That's where it can get ugly," I sez with a grimace. "It starts out with people arguin' when they don't know why they're arguin'. What's at stake there is emotions and hurt feelin's, not money. The problem with that is that there is no clear-cut objective, and as a result, there is no way of tellin' when the fightin' should cease. It just keep escalatin' up and up, with both sides dishin' out and takin' more and more damage, until each of them is hurt so bad that the only important thing left is to hurt the other one back."
I pause and shake my head.
"When it explodes, you don't want to be anywhere near ground zero. One will go at the other or they'll go at each other, with anything that's at hand. The worst part is, and the reason neither us or the cops want to mess with it, is that if you try to break it up, chances are they'll both turn on you. You see, mad as the are, they'll still reflexively protect each other from any outside force... into which category will fall you or anyone else who tries to interfere. That's why the best policy, if you have a choice at all, is to get away from, them and wait until the dust settles before venturin' close again."
"1 think I understand now, Guido," he sez. "Thanks. Now tell me, what happened to your arm? And what are you doing back at the palace?"
The sudden change of subject catches me off balance.
"Sorry I didn't check in as soon as I got back," I sez, stallin' for time. "It was late and I thought you were already asleep ... until I heard that argument in process, that is. I would have let you know first thing in the morning."
"Uh-huh. No problem. But since we're talking now, what happened?"
"We ran into a little trouble, is all," I sez, casual-like. "Nothin' serious."
"Serious enough to put your arm in a sling," he sez. "So what happened?"
"If it's okay with you, Boss, I'd rather not go into details. Truth is, it's more than a little embarrassin'."
"All right," he sez. "We'll let it ride for now. Will you be able to work with that arm?"
"In a pinch, maybe. But not at peak efficiency. That's really what I wanted to talk to you about, Boss. Is there any chance you can assign Nunzio to be Pookie's backup while I take over his duties here?"
"I don't know, Guido. Nunzio's been working with Gleep to try to figure out what's wrong with him. I kind of hate to pull him off that until we get some answers. Tell you what. How about if I talk to Chumley about helping out?"
"Chumley?" I sez. "I dunno, boss. Don't you think that him bein' a troll would tend to scare people in these parts?"
"Doesn't Pookie have a disguise spell or something that would soften Chumley's appearance?" he sez. "I was assuming that she wasn't wandering around the countryside showing the green scales of a Pervect."
"Hey! That's right! Good idea, Boss. In that case, no problem. Chumley's as stand-up as they come."
"Okay. I'll talk with him in the morning."
"Actually, Chumley's a better choice than Nunzio," I sez, warmin' up to the idea. "Pookie's still kinda upset abut shootin' me, and Nunzio would probably ..."
"Whoa! Wait a minute. Did you say Pookie shot you?"
Now I am annoyed with myself. After havin' successfully dodged the question earlier, I have proceeded to re-introduce the subject all by myself.
I decide to settle this once and for all by takin' it on head on ... with a bluff.
"Really, boss," I sez, hurt-like, drawin' myself up to my full height. "I thought we agreed that we wasn't gonna talk about this. Not for a while, anyway."
With that I make my exit, with as much dignity as I can muster.
THIRTEEN
"No trouble at all, old boy. Glad to help. Could use a change of scenery, really."
This is Chumley talkin'. I came to see him as soon as I rolled out in the morning to ask him about bein' backup muscle for Pookie and Spyder. As a Troll, he is probably the strongest, toughest member of our team, next to Nun-zio and me, even if he does talk funny when he isn't workin'.
"The Boss was sayin' that Pookie could take care of your appearance with her disguise spell," I sez.
"Actually, that won't be a problem," he sez. "Little sister left me a gizmo that should handle things. Where did I put that?"
He rummages around in a drawer and comes up with a device I recognize. I had seen his sister, Tananda, use it when we worked together briefly on our last assignment.
It looks like one of those mirror-compact rigs that the dolls use, except this one has a couple dials that, if you knew how to manipulate them, could change your appearance just like a disguise spell. That much I know. How to use the thing I haven't a clue.
"So, you're all set?" I sez. "When do you figure you can get started?"
"Oh, there are a couple things I've got to finish up first, then I'll be ready," he sez. "It would also probably be discreet to wait until I heard officially from Skeeve before embarking. Don't you think?"
This takes me a bit aback.
He's right, of course. Usually team assignments are handed out by the Boss. The trouble is that havin' rigged things to investigate the so-called rebellion without clearin' it with the Boss, plus pretty much captainin' the team while we were in the field, has gotten me in the habit of independent action. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, in the Mob such habits of independence are not necessarily conducive to one's continued health.
"Of course," I sez, not lettin' on that I overlooked that loop. "I guess I'm just kinda anxious to get things rollin' so's Pookie won't have to operate too long alone."
"From what I've seen of Pookie," Chumley sez, "she seems quite capable of taking care of herself... and several others, besides."
I am glad Chumley has not asked for details about my wounded arm. Even though she asked me to do it, I am not really comfortable attributin' Spyder's error to Pookie.
"Well, I'm off to see Massha," I sez.
"Tell her 'Hi' for me," he sez. "I may not get a chance to stop and see her before I go. Besides, frankly, I find all her preparations for the wedding to be a little unnerving."
"You know," I sez, shakin' my head, "I still can't believe that neither the Boss nor Aahz said anything to me about Masshagettin' married. I saw both of 'em when I got in last night, and neither of them even mentioned it."