“Oh! How sharper than a serpent’s tooth the cruel envy of a civil servant. Dean! We need a pot of tea.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll be going. I found out what I needed to know.”
That had a sinister edge. “Uhm?”
He didn’t explain. Which left my nerves with split ends. Which was his whole point.
“Here’s a thought, Garrett. Or two. Find Harvester Temisk before anyone else does. Then keep him away from the Combine.”
“Uhm?” You can count on Detective Garrett to spout argot and attitude and sparkling repartee.
“Deal has friends in low places. There’s a new trend in goombah thinking. They’re all asking, ‘Where’s Harvester Temisk?’ Even underbosses who aren’t sure who Temisk is are looking. They don’t want to get left behind. They haven’t done much yet because they’re all still nursing totally hairy hangovers.”
“They did party like it was their last shot before the Trumps of Doom.” I levered myself out of my chair, to take up guide duties so Block didn’t get lost on his way back to the door. He’s been known to do that. “Did you notice anyone watching the place when you got here? Besides Mrs. Cardonlos and the Watch goon squad operating out of her place?”
“Goon squad? You wound me, sir. The Watch employs only the cream of the cream of TunFaire’s most civic-minded subjects.” Denying nothing. “Tell you the truth, Garrett, I didn’t pay attention. That’s a luxury we’re starting to enjoy more.”
“What’s that?”
“Not having to give a damn who’s watching. Or why. Comes from knowing you’re doing such a good job your credit with the people who could fire you is inexhaustible.”
“Oh.” That was a message.
Somebody somewhere liked what the Watch was doing just fine.
“I’ll have the boys poke around under the stoops and in the breezeways.”
I gave him a look at my raised eyebrow.
“All part of the service, Garrett. We maintain order and protect the public.” Out he went into the chaos of Macunado Street.
What had he come to find out? More disturbingly, what were the people behind him up to now that the war was over?
Soon after Block disappeared a stir passed through the neighborhood like an unexpected gust through a poplar grove. A dozen clean-cut men rousted out another dozen who looked much less obviously official.
Spider Webb was the only one I recognized.
I went back to my desk still wondering what Block had found out.
During my absence my teacup had been refilled. It must’ve been magic. I never heard a sound.
I picked up the egg-shaped stone one prime sample of rustic elegance had striven to sling through my skull. It didn’t feel as slick or greasy today. It felt warm, alive. Just holding it, fiddling with it, relaxed me. I slipped off into a nap.
24
When I wakened I ambled back into the kitchen in search of fuel.
Dean was darning socks and slow cooking a sauce involving tomatoes, spices, garlic, and shredded onions. He had an admirably large mug of wine in front of him, which was out of character. He splashed some into the sauce. Oh.
Singe had swilled enough beer to get silly. Time to order in a new backup keg. Melondie Kadare was in a state where she wasn’t much more than a sack of jelly, venting noises vaguely reminiscent of primitive language.
I said, “We need to lock Mel in a box until she dries out.”
Singe snickered. A sight to behold and a unique, gurgly sound to hear. She was feeling less pain than I’d first thought.
There were kittens all over. I couldn’t keep track.
Dean said, “Get the front door. I’m too busy.”
His ears were sharper than mine. This guy must have mislaid his sledgehammer.
I was the only hind-legger able to navigate, so I snagged my mug and headed south. After a weary trek, o’er dale and under mountain, I positioned myself at my peephole.
One gorgeous, thoroughly frazzled, blue-eyed brunette had taken station on my stoop. I was surprised. I was more surprised to see that it was dark out. And still more surprised that she’d shown up without bodyguards or her ugly black coach. She wasn’t wearing her usual vampire wannabe look, either. She wasn’t stylish at all. She had gone lower-class, raggedy, housewifey instead of whorish.
I opened up. Eyeballing the darkness behind her, I observed, “A lot of work go into the new look?”
“Yes. You want to move so I can get in before somebody figures it out?”
I moved. Belinda got inside.
“You by yourself?” I was used to seeing her motate around with several shadows who resembled woolly mammoths operating on their hind legs.
“All by my lonesome. I don’t want anybody guessing I’m me. Not to mention that I lost my whole crew in the fire.”
“Uhm?” My vocabulary word of the day.
“You know how many people are watching your place?”
“I have a notion. What I’m not sure of is why. I thought they’d go away after they swept up the last bunch of vandals who tried to wreck my door.”
“I have no idea what you’re babbling about. From a business point of view it would make sense to look over your shoulder twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week.”
“Uhm?” There I went again.
“Shit happens around you, Garrett. Weird shit. Really weird shit. You draw it like horse apples draw flies.”
“And here you are, buzzing around my hall.” A gurgling peal of pixie laughter reminded me. “We’re having a party in the kitchen. Come on back.”
Belinda scowled.
She’d lost something. Emotionally, she was back where she’d been when I’d met her. Scared, beautiful, crazy, in a shitload of trouble. She wasn’t as scattered as she’d been back then, but she wasn’t the ferocious Contague crime queen anymore, either.
I said, “Come on. You need to relax.”
Not the best strategy, possibly. Belinda wasn’t beloved by anyone in my kitchen-though Dean probably thinks her worst flaw is her willingness to be seen with me.
Singe gave me bitter looks Belinda didn’t recognize because she doesn’t know ratpeople. Melondie Kadare didn’t contribute. She was on her way to becoming extinct. The kittens were pleased to see Belinda. Fifteen or twenty of them piled on as soon as she sat down.
I scooped Melondie off the tabletop. “I’ll take Mel home. Before one of these critters forgets his manners.” The pixie buzzed feebly. I got a grip so she wouldn’t flutter off and smash her head against a wall or ceiling she couldn’t see.
I checked the peephole, saw nothing but bats zipping through the moonlight. I opened up, whistled softly. There would be a sentry. He might need waking up, though. Pixies greatly prefer the daytime.
They found Melondie’s husband. He and her family took over. She was snoring like a six-inch-long, horizontal lumberjack. They bound her wings so she wouldn’t do anything lethal in her sleep.
I went back inside.
Belinda was at the door to my office. She had a pitcher of beer, a pot of tea, a small oil lamp, and appropriate auxiliaries on a tray.
“What’s up?”
“I didn’t feel welcome in there. And I don’t want them listening.”
“Let me get the lamp going. Damn!” I missed stomping a kitten by a cat’s whisker. I dumped another cat out of the client’s chair. It bounced onto my desktop, where it puffed up and hissed at the stone that had come another whisker short of braining me.
Belinda filled me a mug and poured herself a cup of tea, added cream and a hunk of sugar the size of a flagstone. She stroked the kitten that laid claim to her lap.