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get ripped with Eleanor, grab me a night s sleep. Tomorrow I get to work on
running my guests off. All of them. Only one thing I m wondering.
 What s that? Morley remained unconvinced. I couldn t believe that they
really thought I had the white knight infection that bad.
 Could Emerald be another Cleaver disguise? You think he could manage makeup
good enough to pass for eighteen?
Morley and Saucerhead opened their mouths to ask why Cleaver would want to,
but neither actually spoke. Neither wanted to feed me any reason to go chasing
something potentially lethal.
 I m just curious. He has a rep as a master of disguises. And Playmate told
me he d always thought that the daughter was dead. I wonder if maybe the plot
wasn t more complex than we suspected. Maybe Cleaver didn t just plant clues
up on the Hill. Maybe he created a whole character.
Morley snarled,  You re psycho, Garrett.
Saucerhead agreed.  Yeah. He was so serious he put his fork down.  I know I
ain t no genius like neither one of you guys, but I do know you got to go with
the simplest explanation for something on account of about a thousand times
out of nine hundred ninety-nine that s the way the real story goes.
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What was the world coming to when Saucerhead got a smart tongue on him?  Am I
arguing? I agree. Sometimes I think this brain of mine is a curse. Thank you,
Morley. For everything. Even when you didn t mean it. I left enough money to
cover Saucerhead s meal, though I could have made it to the street before
anyone realized that the tab hadn t been satisfied. I figured Saucerhead
deserved it. His luck rolled down a steeper incline than mine. He seldom lived
better than hand to mouth.
Me, I, Garrett, was out of the game. Whatever it might be. I was going to go
home, get organized, drink some beer, have a bath, scope me out a master plan
that included seeing a lot of Chastity Blaine.
But I left Morley s place with my hackles up, like some atavistic part of me
expected the same old gang to be out there set to reintroduce me to the
pleasures of the Bledsoe. I was on edge all the way home.
The Bledsoe was a sight, they said. Supposedly it was disappearing behind
fast-rising scaffolding.
My tension went to waste. Nobody paid me any mind. I didn t even get
followed. Made me feel neglected.
I d never had a case as exciting as this just sputter and fade away, but some
jobs have. Those kind usually see me ending up snacking on my fee. I recalled
with pride that this time I d been clever enough to snag a percentage up
front.
I wouldn t win any kudos from the Dead Man, but he would have to admit that I
was capable of being businesslike on occasion, even in the face of a lusty
redhead.
50
Despite sleeping well I wakened restless. I chalked it up to rising before
noon even though Ivy hadn t pestered me. Once again I wondered if the Dead Man
wasn t stirring. I looked in but saw no sign that he was. But what could you
expect? Awake or asleep, the Dead Man s physical appearance changes only as
time gnaws.
Slither and Ivy were unusually subdued. They sensed that I planned to move
them out. I had a notion where to send them, too. But old lady Cordonlos
wouldn t believe a word I said to make them sound like worthy potential
tenants. Darn her.
So after lunch I consulted someone who might actually give a rat s whisker
about their welfare.
Wonder of wonders, Playmate had some ideas. Before long, my old campaigning
pals had probationary jobs and probationary housing and I found me, O miracle
of miracles, with my own place all to my ownself again. Except for the Dead
Man and the Goddamn Parrot. That cursed bird had gone into hiding before Ivy
could hunt him down and take him along. My generous self-sacrifice wasted.
It would be a while yet before I saw Dean again. I hoped. What with Chaz and
all . . .
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I talked it over with Eleanor. She had no objections, so I wrote a letter and
hired a neighborhood kid to deliver it to Chastity. He insisted on a bonus for
approaching a wizard s house.
I checked and rechecked the street while I gave the little mercenary his
instructions. I saw no one even vaguely interested in the Garrett homestead.
Even my neighbors were ignoring me. Still, I was uneasy.
I squabbled with the Goddamn Parrot till that got old, then communed with
Eleanor. I was lonely. Your social circle isn t much when it consists of a
talking bird, a painting, and a character who hasn t only been asleep for
weeks and dead for centuries, he hasn t been out of the house since you met
him.
My friends were right. This was no way to live.
There was a knock. I would ve ignored it had I not been expecting to hear
from Chaz.
Even so, I used the peephole.
It was the kid. He held a letter up. I opened the door, tipped him extra,
checked the lay of things again, still saw nothing unusual. I like it that
way.
I settled behind my desk, read, then shared the news with Eleanor.  Chaz says
she s gonna pickme up. How about that? One bold wench, eh?
After a pause, I continued,  All right. Call her a role-breaker, not a bold
wench. And she s gonna stay nontraditional. Taking me someplace she likes. And
she s bringing her father.
Only a painting, I reminded myself. This chatter was only an affection. No
way could Eleanor taunt me with a spectral snicker.
I didn t much want to meet Chaz s pop, him being one of the top twenty
double-nasty wizards infesting this end of the world. I hoped he wasn t a real
old-fashioned kind of dad. I don t deal well with foamy-mouthed avengers of
soiled virtue.
Another ghostly guffaw?  She says he just wants to ask about Maggie Jenn and
Grange Cleaver.
Right. That worried me more than if she d tipped me to expect a daddy smoking
with outrage.
No good kicking and screaming now.
Eleanor insisted this was a great opportunity to make contacts among the high
and mighty.  Right, babe. You know how I value my contacts among the rich and
infamous. Exactly what I ve always never wanted.
I went to make myself lunch.
My guests had left me my shoes and half a pitcher of water.
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51
I went into that evening with my philosophy of life firmly fixed in mind:
expect the worst and you can t possibly be disappointed. Chastity s old man
was a boomer. If he took a notion, he could flatten me like a cow patty and
skip me across the river.
He surprised me. He was no centenarian gargoyle. He looked like an ordinary
guy barely on the lying side of fifty. His black hair had gone half silver. He
had a small paunch and stood four inches shorter than me. He was groomed till
he gleamed. He glowed with good health. Those were obvious badges of power.
But he dressed no better than me. And he had the tanned and roughened skin of
a guy who spent a lot of time outdoors. He didn t seem taken with himself,
either.
He turned out to be one of those guys who is such a good listener you tell
things you didn t know you knew. That skill would have served him well in the
war zone. The best leaders are those with ears.
He interrupted only twice, with penetrating questions. Before I finished, I
adopted the attitude I take when reporting to the Dead Man or chatting with
Eleanor. I talked to me, thinking out loud.
I finished. Chaz looked at her father. He stayed clammed. I asked,  So how
come you re interested? Because of Chaz and the hospital? He called her Chaz,
too.
 Our home was looted during the crime spree that paralleled Teodoric s affair
with Maggie Jenn.
I gave Chaz a mild fish-eye. She hadn t mentioned that. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]