Red Iron Nights By Glenn Cook 
RED IRON NIGHTS 
by 
Glen Cook 
The Garrett Files 06  
   
 
1 When I shoved through the doorway of Morleys Joy House youd have thought I was the old dude in black who lugs the sickle. The place went dead quiet. I stopped moving. I couldnt push uphill against the weight of all those 
stares. Somebody sneak lemons into your salads? 
 Quick check of the talent. It looked like somebody with an ugly stick had gone berserk. That or those guys spent a lot of time diving into walls and shaving themselves with hatchets. I saw enough scars and bent noses to open 
me a sideshow. 
 
The Joy House boasts that kind of clientele. 
 Aw, damn! Its Garrett. That was my pal Puddle, safe behind the bar. Here we go again, troops. Puddle goes two-eighty, maybe more. His skin is the hue of somebody whos been dead awhile. You ask me, rigor mortis set in above 
the neck twenty years back. 
 Several dwarves, an ogre, miscellaneous elves, and a couple of guys of indeterminate ancestry chugged their sauerkraut cocktails and headed for the door. Guys I didnt even know. Guys who knew me did their damnedest to pretend they 
didnt. A murmur spread as the ones who didnt know me got clued in. 
 
What a charge for the ego. Call me Typhoid Garrett. 
 Hi, everybody, I chirped, going for cheerful. Aint it a grand night out? It wasnt. It was raining cats and dogs and the critters were quarreling all the way to the ground. I had dents in my head from random volleys of hailstones, not being bright enough to wear a hat. On the plus side, flash floods might clear the garbage festering in the streets. Some of that was 
ready to get up and walk. 
 
The city ratmen get lazier every day. 
 
Hey, Garrett! Come on over. 
 Well. A friendly face. Saucerhead, old buddy, old pal. I steered for the shadowy corner table Tharpe shared with another guy. I hadnt spotted him because of the gloom back there. Even close up I couldnt make much of Tharpes companion. The guy wore heavy black robes, like some species of priest, complete with cowl. He exuded gloom like a miasma. He wasnt the kind youd have over 
to liven up a party. 
 Drag up a chair, Tharpe said. I dont know why hes called Saucerhead. He dont like it much but ranks it higher than Waldo, which a parent or 
two hung on him. 
 I planted my behind. Tharpes companion observed, Seems youre less than welcome here. Are you diseased? He wasnt just gloomy, he was forthright, 
a social handicap worse than bad breath. 
 
Ha! Saucerhead snorted. Ha-ha-ha. Thats good, Licks. Hell. Thiss Garrett. I told you about him. 
 
The mist begins to clear. But not around him, it didnt. 
 Im starting to feel a little hurt here, I said. Youre wrong. Louder, Youre all of you wrong. Im not working. Im not into anything. I just 
thought Id drop in and catch up on my friends. They didnt believe me. 
 
At least nobody cracked wise about me not having any friends. 
 Saucerhead said, If youd come around and socialize sometimes, instead of just when youre up to your crack in crocodiles, maybe folks would smile 
when they saw you. 
 
Grumble grumble. Hard to argue with that. Youre looking good, Garrett. Lean and mean. Still working out? 
 Yeah. More grumbles. I dont much like work. Especially not workout-type work. I figure in any rational world a man will get all the exercise he needs catching his share of blonds, brunettes, and redheads. Got it so far? Im Garrett, investigator and confidential agent, not animated by any overwhelming ambition, with a penchant for figures of a certain kind and a knack for stumbling into things friends and acquaintances dont find enthralling. Im a young thirty, six-feet-two, ginger-haired and blue-eyed, and the dogs dont howl when I go by, though the hazards of my profession have left traces which give my face character. I say Im charming. My friends disagree, say I just wont take life serious. Well, you do too much of that and you end up as 
dark as this friend of Saucerheads. 
 Puddle arrived with a huge tankard of my favorite food, that divine elixir that makes it necessary for me to work out. Hed drawn it from his private keg, hidden behind the bar. The Joy House doesnt serve anything but rabbit 
food and the squeezings thereof. Morley Dotes is a rabid vegetarian. 
 
I took a long drink of bitter beer. Youre a prince, Puddle. I fished out a silver mark. 
 Yeah. Im in line for the throne. He didnt pretend to make change. A prince indeed. You could buy a pony keg wholesale for that, the price of silver being what it is. How come youre in here instead of gamboling through acres of redheads? My last big case involved whole squads of that delightful subspecies. Unfortunately, only one of the bunch turned out palatable. Redheads are that way. Theyre either devils or angelsand the angels are no angels. I think 
its because they try living up to an image from an early age. 
 Gamboling, Puddle? Where did Puddle pick up a word like gamboling? The man had trouble with his own name on account of it had more than one syllable. 
You been going to school or something? 
 
Puddle just grinned. 
 
I asked, What is this, teak on Tommy Tucker night? With easygoing old Garrett playing Tommy? 
 Puddles grin widened into an unappealing smear of rotten and missing teeth. 
He was one guy who should convert and become one of Morleys born-again vegetarians. 
 
Saucerhead said, You make yourself a fat target. 
 
I must. For everybody. You hear what Dean did? 
 
Dean is the old boy who keeps house for me and my partner and cooks for me. Hes about seventy. Hed make somebody a fine wife. 
 While we jawed, Tharpes tablemate filled and tamped, filled and tamped the biggest damn pipe I ever saw. It had a bowl like a bucket. Puddle snagged a brass coal bucket off the bar. Licks used copper tongs to transfer one small coal to his pipe. He puffed clouds of weed smoke potent enough to sky 
us all. 
 Musicians, Saucerhead muttered, as though that explained the ills of the world. I didnt hear, Garrett. Whats he done now? Found you another cat? Dean was going through a stray-collecting spell. Id had to get firm to keep 
from ending up up to my belt buckle in cat hair. 
 Worse. He says hes moving in. Like I dont get a vote. And he goes on about 
it like hes making some kind of supreme sacrifice. 
 Saucerhead chuckled. There goes your extra room. No place left to stash 
you a spare honey. Poor baby. Gots to make do with one at a time. 
 Grumble grumble. Aint like Im overstocked. I been doing with none at a time since Tinnie and Winger ran into each other on my front steps. Puddle 
laughed. Heathen. 
 
Tharpe asked, What about Maya? 
 I havent seen her in six months. I think she left town. Its me and Eleanor now. Eleanor is a painting on my office wall. I love the gal but she has her limitations. Everybody thought my situation was hilariousexcept Tharpes friend. He wasnt hearing anybody but himself anymore. He started humming. I decided he couldnt be much of a musician. He couldnt carry a tune in 
a handcart. 
 Puddle stopped snickering long enough to say, I knew you was up to something. 
Not your usual, but you still looking to get bailed out. 
 Damnit, I just wanted out of the house. Dean is driving me buggo and the Dead Man wont take a nap on account of hes expecting Glory Mooncalled to do something and he dont want to miss the news. I defy anybody to put up 
with those two for half as long as I have. 
 Yeah, you do got a hard life. Saucerhead sneered. My heart goes out. Tell you what. Ill trade you. I take your place, you take mine. Ill throw in Billie. Billie being his current flame, a little bit of a blond with temper 
enough for a platoon of redheads. 
 
Do I detect a note of disenchantment? 
 
No. You detect the whole damned opera. 
 Thanks anyway. Maybe next time. Saucerheads place was a one-room walk-up without furniture enough for company. I lived in places like that before 
I scored big enough to buy the house I share with the Dead Man. 
 Saucerhead tucked his thumbs into his belt, leaned back, smirked and nodded, nodded and smirked. A smirk on his ugly face is a wonder to behold. He ever holds one too long the Crown might declare it a national park. He claims hes all human, but from his size and looks youve got to suspect he has a little troll or giant in him. You aint ready to deal, Garrett, I cant 
say I got a lot of sympathy for you. 
 I couldve gone to some second-rate swillhouse and drowned my sorrows in ardent spirits, pouring my woes into the ears of sympathetic strangers, but 
no, I had to come down here . . .  
 
That works for me, Puddle kicked in when I hit the part about ardent spirits. Dont let us hold you up. 
 I never did count him as a friend. He just came with my friend Morleythough Morleys friendship can be suspect enough. You take the joy out of the Joy 
House, Puddle. 
 
Hey, Garrett. The place was rocking till you walked in. 
 Saucerheads pal Licks wasnt even gurgling now, but he kept puffing like a volcano and grinning. I was getting the smoke secondhand but was ready to start humming myself. I lost track of what I was saying, started wondering why the place was called the Joy House, which made it sound a lot more exotic 
than the vegetarian hangout it is. 
 Licks suddenly shot up like hed been goosed. He headed for the door, sort of floating, as though his toes barely reached the floor. Id never seen 
anyone do weed so heavy. I asked Tharpe, Whered you find him? 
 
Licks? He found me. Him and some other guys want to organize the musicians. 
 Say no more. I could imagine their interest in Saucerhead. Tharpe makes his living convincing people. His technique involves bending limbs in unnatural 
directions. 
 Two or three Morleys descended the stair from the second floor, staring toward Licks as the musician hit the exit. Morley had heard about me. Puddle had warned him through the speaking tube to his office upstairs. Hard to tell 
through the smoke, but Dotes looked irked. 
 Morley is a breed, part dark-elf, part human. The elf side dominates. Hes short, trim, so handsome its a sin. And sin he does, as often as he can with anybodys wife wholl hold still. Hed grown a little pencil-stroke mustache. He had his black hair slicked back. He was dressed to killthough his type looks good in anything. He drifted our way, showing a lot of pointy 
teeth. 
 
Whats that thing living under your nose? 
 
Saucerhead offered a crude suggestion. Morley ignored him. You quit working, Garrett? You havent been around. 
 
Why work if I dont have to? I tried looking smugthough my finances werent comfortable. It costs to keep house. 
 
You have something going? He occupied the chair vacated by Licks, waved at persistent weed smoke. 
 
Not hardly. I gave him my sad tale of woe. He laughed too. 
 Imaginative, Garrett. I almost believe you. I have to admit, when you make them up they sound like things that could happen. So what is it? Something 
hush-hush? I havent heard about anything shaking. This towns getting dull. 
 
He talked that long only because I was stammering. Damn! Not you too! 
 
You never come around except when you need muscle to hoist you out of a hole youve dug yourself. 
 Not fair. Not true. Ive even gone so far as to eat some of the cow chow his joint serves. Once I even paid for it. You dont believe me? Then tell 
me this. Wheres the woman? 
 
What woman? Dotes and Saucerhead and Puddle all grinned like shiteating possums. Thought they had me on the run. 
 You claim Im working. Wheres the woman? I get into one of my weird cases, theres always a lovely around. Right? So you see a honey on my arm? Hell, 
my lucks so bad Id almost go to work just to . . . Huh? 
 
They werent paying attention. They were staring at something behind me. 
2 She liked black. She wore a black raincloak over a black dress. She wore high-top black boots. Raindrops shimmered like diamonds in her raven hair. She wore black leather gloves. I imagined shed lost a black hat and veil somewhere. Everything about her was black except her face. That was as pale as bone. She was about five-six. She was young. She was beautiful. She was 
frightened. 
 
I said, Im in love. 
 
Morleys sense of humor deserted him. He told me, You dont want anything to do with her, Garrett. Shell get you dead. 
 The womans gaze, arrogant from amazing black eyes, passed over us as though we didnt exist. She chose to perch at a table isolated from those that were occupied. Some of Morleys patrons shivered as she passed, pretended they 
didnt see her. 
 
Interesting. 
 I looked some more. She was about twenty. She wore lip paint so red it looked like fresh blood. That and her pallor gave me a chill. But no. No vampire 
would dare TunFaires inhospitable streets. 
 
I was intrigued. Why was she afraid? Why did she scare those thugs? Know her, Morley? 
 
No. I dont. But I know who she is. 
 
So? 
 
Shes the kingpins kid. I saw her out there last month. 
 
Chodos daughter? I was stunned. Also a lot less romantically inclined. 
 Chodo Contague is TunFaires emperor of crime. If its on societys underbelly 
and theres a profit in it, Chodo has a piece of it. 
 
Yes. 
 
You went out there? You saw him? 
 
Yes. He sounded a little vague, there. 
 
Hes really alive, then. Id heard but Id had trouble believing it. 
 See, my last case, the one with all the redheads, ended up with me and my friend Winger and Chodos two top lifetakers going after the bastard. Winger and I took a powder before the dirty deed, figuring wed be next if we hung around. When we left, Crask and Sadler had the old boy ready to go on the meathook. But it hadnt taken. Chodo was still boss wazoo. Crask and Sadler were still his top headcrushers, like theyd never had a thought of putting 
him to sleep. 
 
That worried me. Chodo had seen me plain enough. He wasnt the forgiving sort. 
 
Chodos daughter! Whats she doing in a dump like this? 
 What do you mean, a dump like this? You cant even hint that the Joy House 
might be less than top of the mark without Morley gets his back up. 
 I mean, obviously she thinks shes a class act. Whatever you or I think, shes got to figure thiss a dive. This isnt the Hill, Morley. Its the 
Safety Zone. 
 Thats Morleys neighborhood. The Safety Zone. Its an area where folks of disparate species get together for business reasons with a lessened risk 
of getting murdered. Its not your upper-crust part of town. 
 All the time were rattling our mouths, whispering, Im trying to think of some good excuse for going over there and telling the girl shes made me her love slave. And all the time Im doing that, my little voice is telling me: dont make a damned fool of yourself, any kid of Chodos is going to 
be murder on the hoof. 
 
I must have twitched. Morley grabbed my arm. Youre getting desperate, hit the Tenderloin. 
 Common sense. Dont stick your hand in a fire. I hung on to my ration of 
sense. I settled back. I had it under control. But I couldnt help staring. 
 The front door exploded inward. Two very large brunos brought half the storm in with them. They held the door open for a third man, who came in slow, like he was onstage. He was shorter by a couple of inches but no less muscular. Somebody had used his face to draw a map with a knife. One eye was half-shut permanently. His upper lip was drawn into a perpetual sneer. He radiated 
nasty. Oh, boy, Morley said. 
 
Know them? 
 
I know the type. 
 
Saucerhead said it for me. Dont we all. 
 The scar-faced guy looked around. He spotted the girl. He started moving. Somebody yelled, Shut the goddamned door! The two heavies there took their first good look around and got a read on what kind of people hang out in 
a place like the Joy House. They shut the door. 
 
I didnt blame them. Some very bad people hang out at Morleys place. 
 Scarface didnt care. He approached the girl. She refused to see him. He bent, whispered something. She started, then looked him in the eye. She spat. 
Chodos kid for sure. 
 
Scarface smiled. He was pleased. He had him an excuse. 
 
There wasnt a sound in the place when he yanked her out of the seat. She betrayed pain by expression but didnt make a sound. 
 Morley said, Thats it. His voice was soft. Dangerous. You dont mess with his customers. Scarface must not have known where he was. He ignored Morley. 
Most times thats a fatal error. He was lucky, maybe. 
 
Morley moved. The thugs from the doorway got in his way. 
 Dotes kicked one in the temple. The guy was twice his size but went down like hed been whacked with a sledge. The other one made the mistake of grabbing 
Morley. 
 Saucerhead and I started moving a second after Dotes did. We circled the action, chasing the scar-faced character. Morley didnt need help. And if 
he did, Puddle was behind the bar acquiring some engine of destruction. 
 
Rain hit me in the face, like to drove me back inside. It was worse than it had been when Id arrived. 
 There, Saucerhead said, pointing. I spied the loom of a dark coach, figures 
struggling as Scarface tried to force the girl inside. 
 We pranced over, me unlimbering my favorite oak headknocker as we went. I never leave home without it. Eighteen inches long, it has a pound of lead in its business end. Very effective, and it dont usually leave bodies littering 
the street. 
 Saucerhead beat me there. He grabbed the scar-faced guy from behind, twirled him around, and threw him against the nearest building with a force that drowned the rattle of distant thunder. I slithered into the vacated space, 
grabbed the girl. 
 Somebody was trying to drag her into the coach. I slipped my left arm around her waist, pulled, pushed my headknocker past her, figuring Id pop a bad 
boy between the eyes. 
 I saw eyes, all right. Eyes like out of some spook story, full of green fire, three times too big for the wizened little character who wore them. He had to be a hundred and ninety. But he was strong. He hung on to the girls arm 
with hands like bird claws, pulled her in despite her and me both. 
 I swished my billy around, trying to avoid seeing those eyes because they were poisonous. They scared hell out of me. Made me feel cold all the way 
down to my tail-bone. And I dont scare easy. 
 
I got him a good one upside the head. His grip weakened. That gave me a chance to line up another shot. I let him have it. 
 His mouth opened wide, but instead of a scream, butterflies poured out. I mean like about a million and two butterflies, so many the coach was filled. They were all over me. I stumbled back, flailed around. Id never been bitten by a butterfly, but who knew about the kind that come flapping out of some 
old geeks mouth? 
 Saucerhead pulled the girl away from me, tossed me back like a rag doll, dived in there, and pulled that old guy out. You dont want to get in Saucerheads 
way when hes riled. He breaks things. 
 The old mans eyes had lost their fire. Saucerhead lifted him with one hand, said, What the hell you think youre pulling, Gramps? and tossed him over to ricochet off the same wall that had been Scarfaces undoing. Then Tharpe went over and started kicking, one for this guy, one for that, no finesse. I heard ribs crack. I figured I ought to calm him down before he killed somebody, only I couldnt think how. I didnt want to get in his way when he was in 
that mood. And I still had a flock of soggy butterflies after me. 
 Tharpe calmed himself down. He grabbed the old man by the scruff of the neck and pitched him into the coach. The old boy made a sound like a whipped puppy. Tharpe tossed Scarf ace in on top of him, then looked up. There wasnt anybody on the drivers seat, so he just whacked the nearest horse on the rump and 
yelled. 
 
The team took off. 
 
Hunching down against the rain, Tharpe turned to me. Takes care of those clowns. Hey! What happened to the girl? 
 
She was gone. 
 Damned ingrate. Theres a broad for you. Hell. He looked up, let the rain fall into his face a moment, then said, Im going to get my stuff. Then 
what say you and me go get drunk and get in a fight? 
 
I thought we just had a fight. 
 
Bah. Bunch of candyasses. Wimps. Come on. 
 I had no intention of going trouble-hunting. But it did seem like a good idea to get in out of the rain, away from the butterflies. I told you I hadnt 
used up my ration of sense. 
 One of the two thugs was blocking the water flow in the gutter in front of Morleys door. The second came flying out as we started in. Hey! Tharpe 
yelled. Watch where youre throwing your trash. 
 I looked around inside. The girl hadnt gone back in there. Morley and Puddle and I settled down to wonder what it was all about. Saucerhead went off looking 
for a real challenge. 
3 I did my best to get my moneys worth out of Puddles keg while Morley and I dissected cabbages and kings and butterflies and the old days that never were that goodthough Id had me a moment now and then. We solved the ills of the world but decided there was nobody in authority with sense enough 
to implement our program. We were disinclined to take on the job ourselves. 
 Women proved a topic of brief duration. Morleys recent luck undershone my own. It was too much to take, seeing that great blob Puddle tipped back in his chair, thumbs hooked in his belt, grinning smugly in regard to his own 
endeavors. 
 The rain continued relentless. At last I had to face facts. I was going to get wet again. I was going to get a lot wet if Dean failed to respond to my pounding and whooping at the door. With set jaw and scant optimism I took my leave of Morley and his establishment. Dotes looked as smug as his man. 
He was home already. 
 I hunched my chin down against my chest and wished Id had the sense to wear a hat. I wear one so seldom it doesnt occur to me to top myself off when that would be wise. Right away rain started sneaking down the back of my 
neck. 
 I paused where wed rescued Chodos mysterious daughter from her more mysterious assailants. There wasnt much light. The rain had swept away most of the evidence. I poked around and was on the verge of deciding half had been my imagination before I found one big bedraggled butterfly. I salvaged the cadaver 
and carried it as carefully as I could, cradled in my left palm. 
 My place is an old red brick house in a once-prosperous stretch of Macunado Street, near Wizards Reach. The middle-class types have all abandoned ship. Most of the neighboring places have been subdivided and rented to families with herds of kids. Usually when I approach my house I pause to inspect it and reflect on the good fortune that let me survive the case that paid me enough to buy it. But cold rain down the back of the neck has a way of sapping 
nostalgia. 
 I scampered up the steps and gave the secret knock, bam-bam-bam, as hard as I could while bellowing, Open up, Dean! Im going to drown out here. A big flash of lightning. Thunder rattled my teeth in their sockets. The sky lords hadnt been feuding before, just tuning up for another Great Flood. Thunder and lightning suggested they were about to get serious. I pounded 
and yelled some more. The stoop isnt protected from the weather. 
 Maybe my ears were still ringing. I thought I heard something like a kitten crying inside. I knew it couldnt be a cat. Id given Dean the word about 
his strays. He wouldnt lapse. 
 I heard shuffling and whispering inside. I did some more yelling. Open this damned door, Dean. Its cold out here. I didnt threaten. Mom Garrett didnt raise no kids dumb enough to lay threats on somebody who could just go back 
to bed and leave me singing in the rain. 
 The door creaked open after a symphony of curses and clanking bolts and rattling chains. Old Dean stood there eyeing me from beneath drooping lids. He looked about two hundred right then. He is around seventy. And real spry for a guy 
his age. 
 If he wasnt going to get out of the way I was going to walk over him. I started moving. He slid aside. I told him, The cat goes as soon as the rain 
stops. I tried to sound like it was him or the kitten. 
 
He started rattling bolts and chains. I stopped. All that hadnt been there before. Whats all the hardware? 
 
I dont feel comfortable living somewhere where all there is is one or two latches to keep the thieves out. 
 We needed to have us a talk about assuming and presuming. I knew damned well he didnt buy that hardware out of his own pocket. But now wasnt the time. 
I wasnt at my best. 
 
Whats that youve got? 
 Id forgotten the butterfly. Drowned butterfly. I took it into my office, a shoe box of a room behind the last door to your left heading back to the kitchen. Dean hobbled after me, bringing a candle. He has decrepitude down 
to an art. Its amazing how incapacitated he gets when he has a scam running. 
 
I used his candle to light a lamp. Go back to bed. 
 He glanced at the closed door of the small front room, a door we shut only when theres somebody or something in there we dont want seen. Something was scratching its other side. Dean said, Im wide-awake now. I might as 
well get some work done. He didnt look wideawake. You plan to be up long? 
 No. Im just going to study this bug, then kiss Eleanor good night. Eleanor was a beautiful, sad woman who lived once upon a time. Her portrait hangs behind my desk. I go on like were into a relationship. That drives Dean 
buggy. 
 
I have to balance the scale somehow. 
 I settled into my worn leather chair. Like everything else around my place, including the house, it was secondhand. It was just getting adjusted to a new butt. Just getting comfortable, I pushed my accounts aside, spread the 
butterfly on my desk. 
 
Dean waited in the doorway till he saw I wouldnt react to the accounts being out. Then he huffed off to the kitchen. 
 I popped a quick peek at the last entry, made a face. That didnt look good. 
But go to work? Gah! Sufficient unto the day the evil thereof. 
 Meantime, there was this raggedy old green butterfly. It couldve been a beauty before, but now its wings were cracked and chipped and split, bent 
and washed out. A disaster. I suffered a moment of dj vu. 
 Id seen its cousins in the islands while I was doing my five years in the Royal Marines. Therere a lot in the swamps down there. Theres every kind of bug the gods ever imagined, except maybe arctic roaches. Maybe creation was handled by a heavenly committee. In areas where departmental turfs overlapped, the divine functionaries went to competing. And they all for sure dumped 
their bug-production overruns in those tropical swamps. 
 But the heck with the bad old days. Im all growed-up now. What I had to 
ask was, what was I doing with the flutterbug in the first place? 
 I was definitely, for sure, guaranteed, not even a little bit interested in anything involving dried-up old geezers with stomachs so sour they belched up butterflies. Id done my good deed for the decade. Id rescued the maiden fair. It was time to get on with things dearer my heart, like hustling Deans 
latest fuzzball charity out my back door. 
 I swept the bug cadaver into the trash bucket, leaned back, started thinking 
how nice it would be to put myself away in my nice soft bed. 
 
4 
Garrett! 
 
Hell! Every time I forget my so-called partner . . .  
 The Dead Man hangs out in the larger front room that takes up the whole front side of the house opposite my office, an area as big as my office and the small front room together. A lot of space for a guy who hasnt moved since before TunFaire was called TunFaire. Im thinking about putting him in the 
basement with the other junk that was here when I moved in. 
 I went into his room. A lamp was burning there. That was a surprise. Dean 
doesnt like going in there. I glanced around suspiciously. 
 The room contains only two chairs and two small tables, though the walls are hidden by shelves of books and maps and memorabilia. One chair is mine. 
The other has a permanent resident. 
 If you walk in not knowing what to expect, the Dead Man can be a shock. First, theres just a whole hell of a lot of him. Four hundred and fifty pounds worth. Second, hes not human, hes Loghyr. Since hes the only one of that tribe Ive ever seen, I dont know if hed set the Loghyr girls swooning, but by my standards hes one homely sucker. Like he was the practice dummy 
when the guy with the ugly stick was doing his apprenticeship. 
 After fat you notice hes got a snoot like an elephant, fourteen inches long. 
Then you notice that the moths and mice have nibbled him over the years. 
 The reason hes called the Dead Man is that hes dead. Somebody stuck a knife in him about four hundred years ago. But Loghyr just dont get in a hurry. 
His soul, or whatever, is still hanging around in his body. 
 
I gather you have had an adventure. 
 Since hes dead, he cant talk, but he doesnt let that slow him down. He just thinks right into my head. He can also go rummaging around in there, amongst the clutter and spiders, if he wants. Mostly hes courteous enough 
to keep out unless hes invited. 
 
I took another look around. The place was too clean. Dean had even dusted the Dead Man. 
 
Something was up. Those two had gotten their heads together. That was a first. That was scary. 
 Im nothing if not cool. I covered my suspicion perfectly. Knowing it was 
going to be something I wouldnt like, I decided to get even first. 
 The Dead Man made a big mistake when he taught me to remember every little 
detail of everything when I was working. I started talking about my evening. 
 The theoretical basis of our association is I do the legwork and suffer the slings and arrows and thumps on the head and he takes whatever I learn and runs it through his self-proclaimed genius brains and tells me whodunit or where the body is buried or whatever it is Im trying to find out. Thats the theoretical basis. In practice, hes lazier than I am. I have to threaten 
to burn the house down just to wake him up. 
 
I was dwelling in lingering detail upon the charms of the strange Miss Contague when suspicion bit him. Garrett! 
 
He knows me too well. Yes? Sweetly. 
 
What are you doing?  
 
Filling you in on some odd occurrences. 
 Occurrences, incidentally, of but passing interest. Unless your passions have overcome your brain yet again. You could not possibly be considering 
involving yourself with those people, could you? 
 I thought about lying just to rattle his chain. We do a lot of that, back and forth. It passes the time. But I said, There are limits to how much 
Ill let a skirt override my good sense. 
 
Indeed? I am amazed and surprised. I had concluded that you have no sense at all, good or bad. 
 
We do get going. Usually its play, wit and half-wit. Its up to you to guess whos who. 
 One point for you, Old Bones. Im going to go put myself on the shelf for the night. If Dean explodes in another mad burst of energy and decides to dust you again, tell him he can wake me at noon. I have this thing about 
mornings. No sane man gets up then. They come too damned early in the day. 
 Think about it. All those early birds out there, what do they get? Ulcers. Heart trouble. Caught by homeless cats. But not me. Not old Garrett. Im 
going to lean back and relax and loaf my way to immortality. 
 I wish you could sleep in. After your valiant rescue job and your heroic 
attempt to turn a profit off that Puddle creature, you deserve a reward. 
 
Why do I get the feeling youre about to stick it to me? Why shouldnt I sleep in? I dont have anything else to do. 
 
You have to be at the gate of the Al-Khar at eight oclock. 
 Say what? The Al-Khar is the city prison. TunFaire is notoriously short on law enforcement and justice, but once in a while some clown is so clumsy he stumbles into the arms of the Watch. Once in a while some brain-damage case actually gets himself some time. What the hell for? Theres people 
up there dont like me. 
 If you were to avoid every place where someone does not like you, you would have to leave town in order to find room to breathe. You will be there because 
you have to tail a man who is to be released at eight. 
 I had it scoped out. Him and Dean had found me work on account of they were worried about our dwindling funds. The brass-bottomed nerve! They were both getting big-headed. But sometimes it helps to play dumb. Im a past master at playing dumb. Im so good I fool myself sometimes. What would I want 
to do that for? 
 Three marks a day and expenses. It should take only a modicum of creativity 
to shift our household budget into the latter category. 
 I got down and peered under his chair. There were still a couple little sacks down there. We arent broke yet. Thats where we keep our cash. Theres no place safer. Any thief who gets past the Dead Man is somebody so bad I dont want to mess with him anyway. If I kick Dean and his cat out and cook 
for myself, thatd be beer money for months. 
 
Garrett. 
 Yeah. Yeah. It really was getting time to hustle up some money. Only I didnt like the idea of jobs being handed to me. Im the senior partner in this chicken outfit. The boss. Har. Tell me about it. And while youre doing that, put one of your spare brains to work thinking about who keeps a roof 
over whose ungrateful head. 
 
Phsaw! Do not be petty. This is the ideal job. A simple tail. The client simply wishes to trace the movements of the convict. 
 
Right! So this clown makes me, leads me into an alley, practices the latest dance steps on my face . . .  
 
This man is not violent. Nor should he expect to be followed. It is easy money, Garrett. Take it. 
 
If its that easy, why me? Why not Saucerhead? He always needs work. I sent a lot his way. 
 
We need the money. Get some rest. You will be rising early. 
 Maybe. How come its me that has to get out and do the hustling? But first, how about you drop me one or two more hints here? Like maybe a description. Just in case more than one guy graduates from college tomorrow. Like maybe the initials of the guy whos hiring me. So I can practice my deducing and 
figure out who Im supposed to report to. 
 
The client is one Bishoff Hullar . . .  
 Oh, great. You got me working for a sleazy taxi-dance operator from the Tenderloin. Bring me down in the world, why dont you? I used to play with real villains, like Chodo and his boys. Who do I follow? Somebody who stiffed 
one of his girls? And why? 
 
The target is one Barking Dog Amato. A colorful name . . .  
 
Gods! Barking Dog? You got to be kidding. 
 
You know him? 
 
Not personally. I know who he is. I thought everybody over ten knew Barking Dog Amato. 
 
I do not get out much anymore. 
 I resisted temptation. Hed want me to be his wheels. Barking Dog Amato. AKA Crackpot Amato. Given name, Kropotkin F. Amato. I dont know what the F stands for. Probably Fruitcake. The mans a total loony. Spends all his time hanging around the Chancery steps with a brass megaphone, yelling about how the powers that be swindled his ancestors. Hes got a whole roadshow he hauls around, signs and banners and displays. He hands out broadsides to anybody who gets close enough to let him shove one at him. Hes got conspiracy theories that boggle master conspiracy theorists. He can connect anything up with anything and produce a diabolical plot to rule the world or fleece 
Kropotkin Amato of his birthright. Hes big on the Emperor being behind everything. 
 The empire that preceded the Karentine state fell ages ago, but theres still an imperial family hanging around awaiting the call. Its only influence on todays world is it provides some small funding for the Bledsoe charity hospital. 
Nobody but Barking Dog could imagine them being secret masters of anything. 
 
Interesting. 
 Entertaining. In small doses. But if you get too close youll get grabbed and told the whole story of how his noble family got defrauded of its title and estates. Hell. His father was a butcher down on Winterslight. His mother was some kind of breed out of the Bustee. The only conspiracy that victimized him was the one that got us all. Conscription and the war. He started his 
barking after they mustered him out. 
 
Then the man is harmless, a deluded fool? 
 Thatd cover it. As harmless, deluded, and foolish as they come. One of our more entertaining street characters. Which is why they let him hang out 
with his megaphone. 
 
How did this harmless fool get himself thrown into jail? Why would anyone want him shadowed? Can he be more than he seems? 
 
I was working on that already. 
 
It had been a while since Id seen the Barking Dog in action. But then, I hadnt been onto his turf. 
 I hadnt missed him. He wasnt the sort anyone would miss if he disappeared. Maybe once in a while somebody would ask: whatever happened to that cacklehead what used to howl on the Chancery steps? Hed get a shrug and forget it. 
Nobody would get excited and go looking. 
 I was sure Barking Dog would have inventive things to say about his prison time. Maybe devils from another world were after him now. Hed never rattled anybody from this world enough to get himself locked up. Maybe it was Venageti secret agents. Or the little people. Or the gods themselves. The god gang 
dont need excuses to turn malicious. 
 Im going to bed, Chuckles. I got out before he could change my mind, muttering, 
Three marks a day to tail Barking Dog Amato. It cant be true. 
 The foot of the stairs is just a couple steps from the kitchen door. I leaned in to wish Dean a good night. After you get rid of that cat, start thinking about the floor in the Dead Mans room, since you two are such good buddies 
now. It could use sanding and refinishing. 
 
He looked at me like he was seeing spooks. 
 I chuckled, headed for bed. He pulled any more stunts, Id have him in there for three months, sanding and polishing and painting and generally getting 
himself a good dose of employer vengeance. 
 I hit my room, shucked my clothes, brooded about having to go to work for about as long as it took me to plop my head into my pillow. Insomnia isnt 
one of my shortcomings. 
5 There are those, old Dean among them, whose major personality flaw is a compulsion to spring up with the first bird chirp. Thats a dandy habitif youve got to get to the worms first. Me, I swore off exotic chow when I parted ways 
with the Corps. I wont get into that situation again. 
 Dean suffers from the delusion that sleeping till noon is a sin. Ive tried and tried to show him the light, but his brain hardened along with his arteries. 
He flat wont admit the truth of my theories. No fool like an old fool. 
 
I made the error of observing that aloud. 
 
Hell, it was barely sunup. You expect me to think at that time of night? 
 
I got me a drizzle of ice water down my spine. 
 
I screamed. I cussed. I said stuff to set dear old mom spinning in her grave. 
 
I got up, to no avail. The old boy had him a head start. 
 I sat on the edge of my bed, put my elbows on my knees and my forehead in my hands. I asked the gods, which I believe in once a week, what Id done to deserve Dean. Hadnt I always been one of the good guys? Come on, fellows. Lets all play a prank on the universe and let true justice reign for a day. 
Get that old sucker. 
 I blinked. Between the heels of my hands I glimpsed Dean peeking around the doorframe. Time to get up, Mr. Garrett. You have to be outside the Al-Khar 
in two hours. Ive started breakfast. 
 
My suggestion about breakfast reversed the traditional alimentary process. He wasnt impressed. 
 He clumped downstairs. I groaned vigorously and stumbled to a window. There was barely enough light to see. The city ratmen were banging and clanging their trash carts while they pretended to do something useful. A herd of dwarves hustled past, carrying bundles bigger than they were. They were a 
sullen, surly, silent gang. See what getting up early does? 
 
Except for dwarves and street sweepers, the thoroughfare was barren. Sane folk were still in bed. 
 
Only impending poverty kept me from easing back into mine. 
 What the hell? I could turn old Barking Dog into a career. Anybody dumb enough to have him tailed deserved to have his purse looted. Sure be safer than 
most jobs that come my way. 
 I prettied myself up and moseyed downstairs. I paused outside the kitchen to put on a heavyweight scowlthough at that time of night, if my rest is 
disturbed, scowling comes naturally. 
 Which did me no good. I stepped into the smells of spicy sausages, stewed 
apples, fresh hot tea, biscuits just out of the oven. I didnt have a chance. 
 He wont cook like that when Im not working. Im just hanging around, its maybe a bowl of cold porridge developing a crust. If I want fresh tea, Ive 
got to put the pot on myself. 
 What do you do with these work-ethic fanatics? I mean, I dont mind if he busts his butt working for mewhich Ive never noticed him doing. My problem is, hes one of those characters who want to redesign the rest of us. His ambition is to see me collapse from overwork, rich, before my thirty-first birthday. Im going to fool him. That wont never come. Im going to stay 
thirty forever. 
 I ate. Too much. Dean hummed as he cleaned his pots. He was happy. I was employed. I felt abused, trivialized. Such a vast array of talents and skills wasted trailing a nut case. It was like using a rosewood four-by-four to 
swat flies. 
 Dean was of such good cheer about my employment that he forgot to kvetch till I was halfway through my second helping of apples. You go past the 
Tate compound to get to the Al-Khar dont you, Mr. Garrett? 
 Oh-oh. When he Misters me he knows I wont like what hes got to say. This time he was pretty transparent. Not today. He was going to nudge me to make up with Tinnie. Which I wasnt going to do on account of Id decided I was done apologizing to women for things I didnt do. Tinnie wants to 
make up, she knows where to find me. 
 
But . . .  
 I got up. Something you need to think about, Dean. Maybe while youre finding a home for that cat. And thats what youll do if I suddenly find me a wife 
to manage the house. That would hold him. 
 I headed for the front door. I didnt get there. The Dead Mans voice rang 
in my head. You are leaving without taking adequate precautions, Garrett. 
 He meant I was leaving the house unarmed. I said, Im just going to follow a crazy man. I wont get into trouble. Without bothering to go into his 
room. He doesnt hear physically. 
 You never plan to get into trouble. Yet each time you assume that attitude and go out unprepared, you end up wishing you had had the foresight to carry 
something. Is that not so? 
 That was uncomfortably close to the truth. I wished it wasnt. I wished we 
lived in a more civilized age. But wishing never makes anything so. 
 I went upstairs, to my closet of unpleasantries, where I keep the tools I use when the tools I prefer, my wits, fail me. I grumbled all the while. And wondered why I resisted good advice. I guess I resented the fact that 
I hadnt thought of it myself. 
 
Lessons you dont want to learn come hard. 
 
TunFaire is not a nice city. 
 
I hit the street in a black humor. I wasnt going to make the city any nicer. 
6 Like most public buildings in this town, the Al-Khar is generations overdue for renovation. It looks like the prisoners could walk through the walls 
if they wanted. 
 The Al-Khar was a bad idea from the beginning, a pork-barrel project making somebody rich through cost overruns and corner cutting. The builder used a pale yellow-green stone that absorbed grunge from the air, reacted with it, streaked, turned uglier by the hour, and did not stand up, being too soft. It chipped and flaked, dropping talus all around the prison, leaving the walls with a poxy appearance. In places thered been mortar decay enough that stones were loose. Since the city hardly ever jailed anybody, there 
seemed to be no financial provision for prison maintenance. 
 It was raining still, though now the fall was just a drizzle. Just enough to be a misery. I posted myself under a forlorn lime tree as down-and-out as any alley-dwelling ratman. It didnt know the season. But its sad branches offered the only shelter around. I recalled my Marine Corps training and 
faded into my surroundings. Garrett the chameleon. Right. 
 I was early, not something that happens often. But since I started my exercises I move a little faster, with more energy. Maybe I should go for a mental 
workout too. Develop some energy and enthusiasm in that direction. 
 The trouble with me is my work. Investigating exposes you to the slimy underbelly of the world. Being a weak character, I try to make things better, to strike the occasional spark in the darkness. I have a notion my reluctance to work springs from the knowledge that if I do Ill see more of the worlds dark side, that Ill butt heads with the Truth, which is that people are cruel and selfish and thoughtless and even the best will sell their mothers at 
the right time. 
 
The big difference between good guys and bad is the good guys havent yet had a fat chance for profiting from going bad. 
 
A bleak world view, unfortunately reinforced by events almost daily. 
 
A bleak view thats scary because it keeps on telling me my turn is coming. 
 A bleak street, that dirty cobbled lane past the Al-Khar. Very little traffic. That was true even in good weather. Ive felt less lonely, less touched by 
despair, alone in the woods. 
 The street was a problem professionally as well as emotionally. I didnt blend in. People would start wondering and maybe rememberingthough they 
wouldnt come outside. People in this town avoid trouble. 
 
Barking Dog came stomping out of prison, thumbs tucked into his belt. He paused, surveyed the world with a prisoners eye. 
 He was about five-feet-six, sixtyish, chunky, balding, had a brushy graying mustache and ferocious huge eyebrows. His skin was tanned from decades in the elements denouncing conspiracies. Prison hadnt faded him. His clothes were old and tattered and filthy, the same hed worn when hed gone inside. The Al-Khar doesnt offer uniforms. Barking Dog, so far as I knew, had no 
relatives to bring him anything. 
 His gaze swept me. He didnt react. He raised his face, enjoyed the drizzle, 
then started moving. I gave him half a block before I followed. 
 He had a unique way of walking. He was bowlegged. He had arthritis or something. He sort of rolled along, lifting one whole side of his body, swinging it forward, following with the other. I wondered if he hurt much. Prison wouldnt 
do wonders for arthritis. 
 Barking Dog wasnt in a hurry. He ambled, savoring his freedom. Id hang out in the rain myself, enjoying it, if Id been locked up. But I wasnt terribly empathic at the moment. I muttered and sputtered and grumbled. Such 
thoughtlessness! Keeping a crack investigator out in the rain. 
 
Wasnt his fault, though, was it? I started plotting vengeance on the Dead Man. 
 Always an interesting mental exercise, that. What sanctions can you exercise 
against somebody whos been murdered? Arent many options left. 
 Even us masters of the game get sloppy. Its easy when you dont feel threatened. I didnt feel threatened. Barking Dog wasnt the kind of street bruno I run into ordinarily, somebody big as a house and half as smart and just as easy to shove around. Barking Dog was damned near a little old man. Little old men dont get violent. Or, if they do, they pay some big, stupid bruno to 
do it for them. 
 I strutted around a corner andoooph! Right in the breadbasket. Lucky for me, Barking Dog was damned near a little old man and little old men dont 
get violent. 
 I folded up, tried to prance away from his follow-up. Wonder of wonders, I made it. He was, after all, damned near a little old man. I gagged and hacked and got my breath back. Meantime, Barking Dog added things up and decided he hadnt gotten enough oomph on his punch and his best move now 
was to apply heels and toes vigorously to the cobblestones. 
 
Not unwise tactics, considering the mood I was in all of a sudden. 
 I got me trundling after him. Lucky me, Id been working out so I was in good enough shape to come back quickly. Before long I was keeping up, then I started gaining ground. Barking Dog looked back only once. He saved his 
energy for streaking away. 
 
Me, I started taking corners more carefully. 
 It didnt take me long to catch up, grab him by the shoulder, block his futile blows, and force him to sit on somebodys steps. What the hell was that 
for? I demanded. 
 
He looked at me like I was a fool. Maybe he was right. I hadnt exercised a lot of wisdom so far. He didnt answer me. 
 It didnt look like he was planning to make a break, so I sat me down beside him, far enough off so he couldnt cream me with a backhand. That hurt, 
guy. How come? 
 
That look again. What you take me for, bruno? 
 Oh. That hurt more than the whack in the gut. Im an experienced investigator, not a street thug. A crazy old man, aint got sense enough to get in out 
of the rain. 
 
Im one with nature. You going to get to it? 
 
To what? 
 
The threats. The arm-twisting. 
 
Ha! My turn to do the looking. 
 
You dont fool me with that dumb look. Somebody sent you to keep me from telling the truth. 
 
Craftily I asked, What truth would that be? 
 
Craftier, he told me, If they didnt tell you, they dont want you to know. Wouldnt want to get you in as deep as I am. 
 Crazy. And I was sitting there talking to him. In the rain. Downwind. They hadnt given him a scrubbing before they turned him loose. No threats. I 
dont care what you do. 
 
He didnt understand. Hows come youre dogging me? 
 
To see where you go. Get him with a new technique. Tell the truth. Confuse him all to hell. 
 
It worked. He was puzzled. Why? 
 Damned if I know. Guy paid my partner, who took the job without consulting 
me. Naturally, hes housebound. So Im the one out here drowning. 
 He believed me, probably because I wasnt twisting limbs. Whod want to 
know that? He seemed lost. Nobody takes me serious. Hardly nobody, anyway. 
 I checked to see if we were drawing a crowd. Barking Dog had one voice level, loud. Like hed been yelling so long, that was all he could do. Too, I wondered what theyd fed him in jail. He had breath like a buzzard. Not to mention he wasnt appetizing visually, what with his wild eyebrows, mustache, bulbous nose, and buggy eyes. At least he didnt try to handbill me or want me to 
sign a petition. 
 
Might as well push my experiment to the limit. Guy called Bishoff Hullar. 
 
Who? I dont know no Bishoff Hullar. 
 
Runs a taxi-dance scam in the Tenderloin. 
 
He looked at me queer, sure I was lying or crazy. Then he frowned. A nominee! Of course. 
 
Say what? 
 A nominee. A stand-in who hired you for somebody else. He began nodding, grinning. Somebody was out to get him. He liked that idea. After all these years, somebody was out to get him! Somebody was taking him seriously! He 
was about to be persecuted! 
 Probably so. Id never spent much time wondering about Barking Dog. Occasionally Id given thought to whether or not he believed what he said. It was common knowledge his claims about his family were exaggerated. None of his conspiracy claims had borne fruit, and that in a town where everybody who was somebody wanted scandal ammunition to use against other somebodies. Nobody tried to 
shut him up. 
 What did they nick you for? What the hell. I wasnt going to get much wetter. 
And the damp was toning down the miasma around Amato. 
 
Sixty days. 
 
A comedian. What was the charge? Its a matter of record. Wouldnt take me an hour to get the story. 
 
He mumbled something. 
 
What? 
 
Public nuisance. He didnt boom this time either. 
 
They dont give you two months 
 
Third complaint. His excitement over being persecuted had faded. Now he was embarrassed. He was a convicted public nuisance. 
 
Even so, more than a few days seems excessive. 
 
I kind of got carried away at my hearing. Fifty-five days were for contempt. 
 Heavy time, even so. The magistrates I knew were pretty contemptible. They ran their courts like feeding time at the zoo. It would take some barking 
to aggravate any of them. 
 
I recalled outrageous claims Id heard Amato make. 
 Yep. He had run into somebody with no sense of humor, somebody who didnt know Barking Dog was a genuine loony, harmless in the extreme. Nobody else could get away with the stuff he said. Maybe you were lucky, I told him. You get somebody really pissed, they could toss you into the Bledsoe. Part of the charity hospital is a madhouse. You get stuffed in there, you wont get out unless somebody outside springs you. There are plenty of stories 
about people who have gone in and been forgotten for decades. 
 
Barking Dog went pale under his tan. That scared him. He started to leave. 
 
Hang on, old-timer. 
 He settled, resigned. He thought the threat had come. The Bledsoe. Just sitting there beside him, talking to him, Id begun to feel like a candidate for 
the cackle factory. You wont talk, eh? 
 
No. 
 I shook my head. Water from my hair dribbled into my eyes. Im getting paid, which maybe ought to be enough, but Id sure like a hint why Im spending 
time with you. 
 I suspected that, on reflection, hed decided that he didnt know. A cold 
drizzle can be a great cure for a case of the fantasies. 
 My thoughts flitted like drunken butterflies, trying to make sense of what was happening. The only answers I found were that this was a practical joke, 
or a mistake, or a sinister plot, or something. It couldnt be the job advertised. 
 
I heard the Dead Man: Three marks a day and expenses. I hadnt thought to ask if wed taken a retainer. 
 
Whatre your plans? I asked. Right now. 
 Youre going to get wet, son. First Im going to go see if I still got me a place to live. If I do, then Im going to go buy me a bottle and get drunk. You want to hang around, wait for me to sneak off and make contact with your bosss secret enemies, you just go ahead. He spoke with conviction when he mentioned getting drunk. That wouldnt be the first thing Id go for after leaving jail, but he was maybe a little past catching honeys. As a second 
choice it didnt sound bad. 
 
How about tomorrow? 
 
Tomorrow its back to the old grind. Unless its raining. Then Ill stay in and make the acquaintance of another bottle. 
 I got up. Lets walk over where you live, then. Get you tucked in. Then Ill see this Hullar clown, find out whats shaking. Nobody likes being made a fooland I was developing the sneaking suspicion Id done it to myself. 
I shouldve asked more questions when I was talking to the Dead Man. 
 
I decided to start with him, work my way back to Bishoff Hullar. 
7 
Dean let me in. What in the world are you doing home? He hoisted his nose at the dripping I did. 
 Need to consult the genius. I pushed past but hung a surprise left into 
the small front room. Huh. No cat. No sign of a cat. But I smelled it. 
 Dean shuffled from foot to foot. I gave him my most evil look, pretended to twist a neck to the accompaniment of dramatic noises. I headed for the 
Dead Mans room. 
 
He was pretending to sleep. 
 I knew he wasnt. He wouldnt nod off before he heard the latest from the Cantard. He was obsessed with Glory Mooncalled and expected news of the republican 
generals adventures momentarily. 
 I went inside anyway. Dean hustled in with a raggedy blanket he tossed over my chair so it wouldnt get wet. I settled, stared at the Dead Man, said, Thats a pity, him drifting off just when we finally hear something from 
the war zone. Make me a quick cup of tea before I hit the street again. 
 
What news from the Cantard? . . . You are a treacherous beast, Garrett. 
 
The treacherousest. As bad as the kind of guy whod send you out to follow a nut case as a joke. 
 
Joke? 
 You can come clean. I wont hold a grudge. Ill even admit it was a good 
one. You had me out there for hours before I figured it out. 
 I hate to disappoint you, Garrett, but the fact is we have been hired to 
report the movements of Barking Dog Amato. The client paid a fifty-mark retainer. 
 
Come on. I admitted it was a good one. Let up. 
 It is true, Garrett. Though now, seeing the thoughts and reservations and questions rambling across the surface of your mind, I grow curious myself. 
I wonder if I, too, have not been the victim of an elaborate hoax. 
 
Somebody really paid fifty marks to have Amato watched? 
 
There would be nothing under my chair otherwise. 
 
I was sure he wouldnt take a joke that far. You didnt ask questions? 
 
No. Not the questions you wish I had. Had I known what a Barking Dog Amato was, I would have asked them. 
 
Somebody had begun pounding on the front door. Dean, apparently, was too busy to be bothered. Wait a minute. 
 I looked through the peephole first. Id learned the hard way. I saw two 
women. One was hugging herself, shivering. Neither seemed to enjoy the weather. 
 
I opened up. Can I help you ladies? 
 I used ladies poetically. The younger had twenty years on me. Both were squeaky clean and wore their finest, but their finest was threadbare and years out of style. They were gaunt and threadbare themselves. One had a 
trace of nonhuman blood. 
 Both put on nervous smiles, as though Id startled them by being something 
they didnt expect. The younger screwed up her courage. Are you saved, brother? 
 
Huh? 
 
Have you been born again? Have you accepted Mississa as your personal savior? 
 Huh? I didnt have the foggiest what the hell was going on. I didnt even realize they were talking religion. That doesnt play much part in my life. I ignore all the thousand gods whose cults plague TunFaire. So far Ive seldom 
been disappointed in my hope that the gods will ignore me. 
 Apparently my not slamming the door was great encouragement. Both women started chattering. Being a naturally polite sort of guy, I halfway listened till I got the drift. Then I grinned, inspired. Come in! Come in! I introduced myself. I shook their hands. I turned on the old Garrett charm. They became uneasy almost to the point of suspicion. I probed only deeply enough to make sure their brand of salvation wasnt limited to humans. Most of the cults 
are racist. Most of the nonhuman races hold to no gods at all. 
 I confessed, Im not free to entertain a new system of beliefs myself, but I do know someone who should see you. My partner is the most ungodly sort you can imagine. He needs . . . Let me caution you. Hes stubborn in his wickedness. Ive tried and tried . . . Youll see. Please come with me. Would you like tea? My housekeeper just put the kettle on. They chattered steadily 
themselves. What I had to say mostly got shoved in in snatches. 
 They followed me. I had a hell of a time keeping a straight face. I sicced 
them on the Dead Man. I didnt stay around to watch the fur fly. 
 As I hit the rain I wondered if hed ever speak to me again. But who needed spiritual guidance more? He was dead already, already headed down the path 
to heaven or hell. 
 But the grin on my clock wasnt any smug celebration of my ingenuity. Id had me another attack of inspiration. I knew how to turn the Barking Dog 
business into a scam that would make us both happy. 
 The man could read and write. He did his own signs and broadsides. And he was harmless. And he needed money. Id seen that where he lived. So why not have him keep track of himself? I could hand his journal over to my client, 
split my fee with Barking Dog, save myself hunking around in the weather. 
 
The more I thought about that, the more I liked it. And whod know the difference? 
 
So the heck with Bishoff Hullar. I wouldnt press my luck there. Id stay away except to collect. I chose a new destination. 
 
I went off to sell Barking Dog. I didnt anticipate any trouble. I would appeal to his sense of conspiracy. 
 
Some white knight, eh? Our hero, third-string con artist. 
 I didnt suffer much guilt. The Bishoff Hullars of the world deserve what 
they get. Hell, before I got to Barking Dogs place I was chuckling. 
8 Some of us take a notion were what the world perceives us to be, so we create images the world feeds back. You see it especially with kids. You get some pathetic louse of a parent, always sniping at his kid, telling him hes no good and dumb, pretty soon hes got a dumb, no-good kid. Thats your one-way 
version. Im talking about creating yourself. 
 I worked at it, not always consciously, when I wanted the world to think I was bad. I didnt make my bed. I changed my socks only once a week. I cleaned house once a year whether the place needed it or not. When I wanted to look 
real mean, I stopped brushing my teeth. 
 Barking Dog must have lived in those same two rooms for about eleven thousand years without cleaning once. The place could become a museum where mothers 
showed their kids why they ought to pick up after themselves. 
 The smell suggested it was the one place in TunFaire not infested by vermin. The smell was the smell of Barking Dog Amato, confined and reinforced by time and made heavier by oppressive humidity. Barking Dog had no handle on 
the principles of hygiene. 
 
Thank whatever gods hed been out of there awhile. 
 Id never seen that much paper anywhere, not even in the offices of royal functionaries. Once Barking Dog muffed both sides of a handbill sheet, he flipped the cull over his shoulder. When he brought in food, its wrappings, paper or cornhusk, joined the rejected handbills. The broken cadavers of earthenware wine bottles lay everywhere. Unscathed survivors apparently were 
returned for the deposits. 
 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 artists 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 Id 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 didnt apologize. He seemed unaware that his housekeeping varied from 
the norm. He just asked, What did you find out from that Hullar? 
 
I didnt go see him. What happened was, I had an idea. 
 
You didnt strain nothing doing that? 
 It must be on my forehead in glowing letters that dont show up in a mirror. Youll like it. Be good for both of us. Heres the plan. I told him how 
we could make a few marks. His eye developed a malicious twinkle. 
 
Son, Im maybe gonna like you after all. You aint as dumb as you look. 
 
Its my disguise, I grumped. Want to do it? 
 Why not? I can always use an extra mark. But dont 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 splits fine at two for me and one for you. I have the contract. Ill have to rewrite whatever you give me. And Ill have to hike over to 
the Tenderloin to deliver it. 
 
Barking Dog shrugged. He didnt argue. Found money, he muttered. 
 Speaking of money. How do you live? Not to mention pay for all that paper? 
Even junk paper isnt cheap. Papermaking is a labor-intensive industry. 
 
Maybe theres some with enough sense to see the truth and want to spread it. He glowered. He wasnt 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. Ill 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 mans faith wouldnt 
outlast Barking Dogs aroma. That dont work, then ask me. 
 
All right. He was doubtful. He couldnt 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 didnt 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 hadnt 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 dont 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 Deans smirk, filled with so much childish malice I knew something was going on. 
 
Garrett! 
 
Oh-oh. Id forgotten Id 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 Mans 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 couldnt be happening to me. It wasnt real. I was going crazy. If this kept up, Id 
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, Wont you join us, Mr. Garrett? We were just sharing the wonderful news 
with Dean. Wont you share the joy with us too? 
 Joy? She was as joyous as the piles. She didnt 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. Im 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 wouldnt let go till Id gotten so damned rude Id be embarrassed 
for a month. 
 
I grabbed my biscuit and fled to my office. I asked Eleanor, You havent 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. Id 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 Ive 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. Im 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 wouldnt be happy once I opened up. But I didnt 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 couldnt catch anyone more dangerous than Barking Dog Amato. I knew him slightly, which was too well. He knew me. We didnt like each other. But I respected him more than I did most Watchmen. 
When he took a bribe, he stayed bought. He wasnt too greedy. 
 I opened up. Captain. I nearly didnt recognize you out of uniform. Polite. I can manage it sometimes. I glanced around. He was alone. Amazing. His bunch 
run in crowds. Thats one of their survival skills. 
 Can we talk? He was a small, thin character with short brown hair graying around the edges. There was nothing remarkable about him except that he seemed worried. And he was almost polite. Hed never been polite to me before. I 
was suspicious immediately. 
 
A healthy dose of paranoia never hurts when you deal with the Westman Blocks. 
 
I have company, Captain. 
 Lets walk, then. And dont call me Captain, please. I dont want anyone 
guessing who I am. Damn, he was working hard. Usually he talked like a longshoreman. 
 
Its raining out there. 
 
Cant put anything past you, can they? No wonder you have that reputation. 
 See? Just not my day. I pulled the door shut without bothering to holler to Dean. What did I have to worry about? I had a heavenly host on guard. Why dont we scare up a beer, then? I feel the need. For about a keg, taken 
in one big gulp. 
 Be quicker if we just walk. His little blue eyes were chips of ice. He didnt like me but he was working hard not to offend me. He wanted something bad. I noted that hed acquired a little mustache like Morleys. Must be 
something going around. 
 
All right. Im a civic-minded kind of guy. But maybe you could drop me one little hint? 
 You figured it already, Garrett, I know you. I need a favor I hate to ask for. A big favor. I got a problem. Whether I like it or not, youre probably 
the only guy I know of can solve it. 
 I think that was a compliment. Really? I swelled with newfound power. It almost matched the growth of my paranoia. Im the kind of guy gets really 
nervous when my enemies start making nice on me. 
 Yeah. He grumbled something that must have been in a foreign language, because no gentleman would use words like the words I thought I heard. Watch officers are all gentlemen. Just ask them. Theyll clue you in good while 
they pick your pocket. 
 
What? 
 
Id better just show you. It isnt far. 
 
I touched myself here and there, making sure I was still carrying. 
 
After a block, during which he muttered to himself, Block said, We got a power struggle shaping up up top, Garrett. 
 What else is new? We havent had a big shake-up or a king bite the dust for a couple years but, overall, we change rulers more often than Barking 
Dog changes clothes. 
 
Theres a reform faction forming. 
 
I see. Bad news for his bunch. Grim. 
 
You see what I mean? 
 Yeah. Id heard grumblings myself. But those were there all the time. Down here in the real world we dont take them seriously. All part of politics. 
Nobody really wants change. Too many people have too much to lose. 
 Glad you do. Because we got something come up that gots to be tooken care of. Fast. We got the word. Else its going to be our balls in a vise. See? 
He even talked like a gentleman. 
 
Where do I come in? 
 I hate to admit it, but there aint none of us knows what to do. Damn! He was in trouble. He was scared. They must have showed him a vise heated red hot, with ground glass in its jaws. I put in some time thinking. You was the only answer. You know what to do and youre straight enough to do 
it. If I can get you to. 
 I didnt say anything. I knew I wasnt going to like what I was about to hear. Keeping my mouth shut kept my options open. Marvelous, the restraint 
I showed in my old age. 
 You help us out with this, Garrett, you wont be sorry. Well see youre taken care of fee-wise. And youll be covered with the Watch from here on 
in. 
 Well, now. That would be useful. Ive had my troubles with the Watch. One 
time they laid siege to my house. It took some doing to work that one out. 
 
Right. So what is it? I had a creepy feeling. 
 
Didnt take a genius to figure it would be something big and nasty. 
 
I better just show you, he insisted. 
 
Despite his fine-sounding offer I was liking this less and less. 
11 We walked only a mile but that mile took us over the edge of the world into another reality, into the antechamber of hell, the Bustee. Now I understood 
why he was out of uniform. 
 TunFaire boasts peoples of almost every intelligent race. Mostly they clump like with like in closed neighborhoods. Likewise with humans not of the ethnic majority. Breeds fall into the cracks, live in between, catch as catch can, often welcome nowhere. Two-thirds of the city is ghetto slum. Poverty is 
the norm. 
 But the Bustee is to those slums as the slums are to the Hill. People there live in tents made of rags or in shanties put together from sticks and mud and trash scavenged before the ratmen could collect it. Or they cram in a hundred to the building meant for five or ten two hundred years ago, when the structure had windows and doors and flooring that hadnt yet been torn up to burn for heat during the winter. They lived in doorways and on the street, some so poor they didnt have a grass mat for a mattress. They lived amidst unimaginable filth. The ratmen wouldnt go in there without protection. The soldiers wouldnt go in less than company-strongif at all. Too many 
soldiers had come out of there and wouldnt go back even to visit. 
 The Bustee is the bottom. You cant roll downhill any farther. You roll that 
far, chances are youll never climb back. Not till the dead wagons come. 
 Only the deathmen are safe in the Bustee. Each day they come with their wagons, wearing their long gray robes with the veils that conceal their faces, to collect the dead from the streets and alleys. They chant, Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead! as they work. They wont leave the streets to collect. They load their wagons and make their deliveries to the city crematoriums. 
They work from dawn to dusk, but every day they get a little farther behind. 
 
Death in the Bustee is as ugly as life. 
 
In the Bustee there is no commodity cheaper than life. 
 In the Bustee there is only one commodity of any value at all. Young men. Hard young men who have survived the streets. These fellows are the only real beneficiaries of the Cantard war. They enlist as soon as theyre able and use their bonuses to get whoever they can out of hell. Then, despite their hard and undisciplined youths, they work hard at being good soldiers. If theyre good soldiers they can make enough to keep their families out. 
They go down to the Cantard and die like flies to keep their families out. 
 That such love should flourish, let alone survive, in the Bustee is ever an amazement to me. Frankly, I dont understand how it does. In the more 
affluent slums, youth seems to victimize those closest to it first. 
 
Another world, the Bustee. They do things differently there. 
 Block stopped walking. I halted. He seemed to be having trouble getting his bearings. I looked around nervously. We looked too prosperous. But the streets 
were deserted. 
 
Maybe it was the rain. But I doubted that. There was something in the air. 
 This way, Block said. I followed, ever more alert. We saw no one till I spotted a pair of obvious Watchmen, though out of uniform, peeking from a narrow passageway between two buildings that might have been important back at the dawn of time. They were as big as they get in the Bustee. The men 
faded back into the passageway. 
 My nerves worsened. I was supposed to go back in there with a guy loved me the way Block did? But he didnt dislike me that much. Not enough to bring 
me down here for that kind of fun. 
 I stepped into the passageand almost tripped over an old man. He couldnt have weighed more than seventy pounds. He was a skeleton with skin on it. He had just enough strength to shake. The deathmen would collect him before 
long. 
 
All the way back, Block said. 
 
I didnt want to go. But I went. And wished I hadnt. 
 I like to think I developed a solid set of emotional calluses in the Marines, but thats only because my imagination cant encompass horrors worse than those I saw and survived in the war. I keep thinking theres no devils work 
that can surprise me anymore. 
 
I keep on being wrong. 
 There was a little open area where porters had made deliveries in a bygone age. Several Watchmen were there. They had torches to break the gloom. They 
looked like they hoped the rain would drown the torches. 
 
I didnt blame them. 
 
The girl had been about twenty. She was naked. She was dead. None of that was remarkable. It happens. 
 
But not the way this had happened. 
 Somebody had tied her hand and foot, then hung her from a beam, head down. Then they had cut her throat and bled her and gutted her like a game animal. There was no blood around, though the human body is filled with an amazing amount. I muttered, They caught the blood and took it away. My meals for 
the month wanted to desert me. 
 Block nodded. He was having his troubles too. So were his boys. And they 
were angry besides. Hell, I was angry, but my anger hadnt had time to ripen. 
 No telling why shed been gutted. Maybe for some of her organs. Her insides had been dumped on the ground but were gone now, carried off by dogs. They had been at the body too, some, but hadnt done much damage. Their squabbling 
had brought about the discovery of the corpse. 
 
Block told me, This is the fifth one, Garrett. All of them like this. 
 
All in the Bustee? 
 
Thiss the first one down here. That we know of. 
 Yeah. This could happen here every day . . . I looked at her again. No. Even in the Bustee there are limits to the sickness theyll tolerate. They dont kill for sport or ritual, they kill for passion or because killing will, directly or indirectly, put food in their mouths. This girl had been killed 
by somebody insane. 
 
I said, She came from outside. She was too healthy, too pretty. 
 
None have been Bustee women, Garrett. Theyve turned up all over town. 
 
I havent heard about anything like this. I hadnt been out listening, though. 
 We been trying to keep it quiet, but words starting to get around. Which is why were about to go in the vise. The powers that be want this lunatic 
and they want him sudden. 
 On reflection, I said, Captain Block, sir, I dont believe youre being entirely forthright. Maybe if thered been fifteen or twenty of them and people were getting panicky, theyd bestir themselves up there. But youre not going to convince me they give one rats ass what happens to four or 
five street girls. 
 They dont care, Garrett. But these aint street girls. They was all from top families. All of them gave some perfectly good, even trivial reason for going out the days they were killed. Extended errands. Visits to friends. 
Everything perfectly safe. 
 Yeah? Theres no such thing as perfectly safe in TunFaire. And that kind of woman doesnt go anywhere without armed guards. Its a status thing. So 
what about their guards? 
 Most of them dont got no idea what happened. They delivered their charges to friends houses, went on about their rat-killing. Theres something going on, but the guards arent it. Though maybe their memories would improve some 
on the rack. Only we aint been authorized to go that far. Yet. 
 
Any leads at all? 
 
Diddly. Nobodys seen or heard nothing. 
 
Thats the standard state of affairs throughout TunFaire. Nobody sees anything. 
 I made a sick grunting noise and forced myself to look at the victim yet again. Shed been a beauty, slim, with long black hair. Unpleasant as the truth may be, you feel it more when they waste the pretty ones. Block looked at me like he expected some blast of wisdom. So what do you want from me? 
As if I didnt know. 
 
Find out who did this. Give us a name. Well take it from there. 
 I didnt have to ask what was in it for me. Hed told me. His word was good. 
Like I said, he stayed bought. What else do you know? 
 
Thats it. Thats all we have. 
 
Bullshit. Come on, Block. 
 
What? 
 
That right there tells you a bunch just by being what it is. Especially if the others were like it. 
 
They were. 
 All right. They gutted them. They took their blood. That stinks of dark religion or black sorcery. But if its a cult, it cant have a base, else 
the bodies would have been disposed of there. 
 
Unless they wanted them found. 
 Theres the weakness in my thinking. Maybe were supposed to think its ritual when its just crazy. Or maybe crazy when its ritual. Though its 
crazy for sure. Nobody sane would do that. 
 
You keep saying they. You figure on more than one? 
 I thought about it. Itd been a gut reaction. Yeah. Somebody had to get her away from her bodyguards. Somebody had to bring her here. Somebody had to strip her and tie her and string her up and do that. I dont think a solo 
crazy could manage. 
 I flashed on a kidnapping Id helped break up one rainy evening, went stiff and cold. Any connection seemed unlikely, but . . . These girls got anything in common besides being high-class? They know each other? They all the same physical type? This one couldnt have been confused with Chodos brat, but 
she did have a similar build, black hair, and dark eyes. 
 Age range is seventeen to twenty-two. All with dark hair and eyes except for one blond. All between five-four and five-eight. Built pretty much alike, 
near as I could tell, seeing them this way. 
 
Five of them. 
 
That we know about. 
 There was that. In TunFaire there might be that many more not yet found or reported. You have yourself a blue-assed bitch of a problem, Captain. These things are hard to untangle because theres nothing to grab hold of that makes any sense to anybody who isnt crazy. If you get many more, the thing 
will turn into a circus. 
 
I know that, Garrett. Goddamnit, thats why I came to you. Look, you want me to beg, Ill beg. Only 
 No, Block. I dont want you to beg. That had its appeal, but I couldnt stomach it. I want you to calm down. I want you to come walk with me in the rain and tell me everything you know. And I mean everything. Whatever little thing you hold back, to keep from embarrassing somebody important, 
might be the key. 
 I hadnt decided to get involved. Not yet. I wanted to distract him long enough to walk him over to my place so he could have a sit-down with the Dead Man. The Dead Man could sort everything stashed in his feeble mind and, probably, hand him what he needed to solve his case. Thus would I satisfy 
my civic obligation. I could feel smug without having to stick my neck out. 
 Only thing was, going back out that narrow passage, Blocks boys went with us, carrying their torches. Those spat and sputtered in the drizzle and gave me more light than Id had coming in. Which meant there was enough light 
for me to spot the butterflies. 
 There were three of them. They werent anything special. Just little green butterflies. But how come there were butterflies dead in an alley in the 
Bustee? 
 I stopped when we reached the narrow street. Take that old man somewhere and feed him. Get a doctor to look after him. Do whatever you have to do 
to get him well enough to tell us what he saw. If he saw anything. 
 
Block told his men, Do it. 
 I headed for home, Block hustling along beside me, telling me anything he thought might help. I didnt listen as closely as I could have. Besides being horrified, I was bemused by the fact that I might hold the fate of the Watch in my hands. I could destroy the useless bastards. Or maybe even force them to become some small percentage of what they were supposed to be. Hell, people 
will do anything to keep their jobs. Sometimes even do their jobs. 
 I wasnt used to that kind of power. Maybe Id have to have Dean follow me 
around whispering in my ear to remind me I was mortal. 
 Dean had noticed that the door was unlocked. Hed locked it. I whooped and pounded till he tore himself away from his evangelists. When he opened up, 
he had a gleam in his eye that had nothing to do with salvation. 
 You rogue, you. He pretended he didnt understand what I meant. Hell, a 
fling would be good for him and them both. If it didnt kill him. 
 
Id never let Westman Block enter my house before. He did so warily, like a soldier visiting an enemy stronghold. 
 The Dead Man is no secret. Anyone interested in such things would know he lives with me. But hardly anyone has seen him. They go into his room with all sorts of wild prejudices, then find out the real thing is worse than 
anything they imagined. 
 
I told Block, You take the chair. I need to pace. 
 
He couldnt stop staring. Whatre we doing here? 
 Old Bones there is a genius. You dont believe me, ask him. I thought wed lay it out for him. Hell find connections, tell you where to start looking. Old Bones wasnt talking. I couldnt tell if that was a good sign or bad. I did know that if he cooperated he would bring more than genius to bear here. Hed been around a long time. Something from yesteryear might be the 
key to todays horror. It had happened before. 
 There are horrors that recur in long cycles, like locust plagues, but separated by generations. If these murders were cultist, they might fit one of those 
cycles. 
 The Dead Man wasnt talking but he was listening. He was poking around. Hes damned subtle, but when he starts prying, I can tell. If Im paying close 
enough attention. 
 Garrett. Shall we set all sham aside? Shall we abandon all childish efforts to abrade one anothers nerves? I will not yet admit that we must pursue 
this monster, but I will stipulate that we owe the situation a close look. 
 
You grow up, Ill grow up. 
 Block gave me a strange look. He hadnt heard the Dead Mans end. The Dead 
Man can do that if he wants. It makes some of our conversations spooky. 
 
Excellent. I will set my concern for your soul in abeyance for the moment. 
 Oh, boy. He wasnt going to let me off. Those women had offended his sense of rationality. He hates people who wont examine beliefs critically. Most of the time he hides it when he deals with me, but he holds the majority of humankind in contempt. Of the gods-know-how-many sentient species in the world, we humans are the only ones who insist on fervent belief in things logic and our senses demonstrate to be implausible. Amongst other races those who stumble into never-never-lands of wishful thinking are considered insane and are dealt with about the way we deal with Barking Dog. Or more harshly. Other races dont make priests out of their nuts, then give them money and 
follow them wherever they lead. 
 I take it youre going to handle this, Garrett, Block said. He was nervous as hell. Most people are around the Dead Man. He has a considerable reputation, 
all of it deserved. Hes done some amazing things since Ive known him. 
 Were considering it. I was fighting myself. Laziness and the desire not to get involved in another bizarre case warred with outrage. Outrage was ahead by a nose. The white knight had been on the shelf too long, his only chance to strut his stuff his rescue of Chodos spooky daughter. But the white knight has his weaknesses. While he doesnt mind charging full tilt against a visible villain, rusty sword flailing, he hates having to hunt the villain down. Legwork buries his resolve faster than anything the hard boys can do by way of threat or violence. And this thing would be solved 
by legwork. 
 Relax, Garrett. It should not be so bad as you anticipate. I saw Block jump, so knew the Dead Man had included him in this time. Captain Block. I sense that you have a great deal hanging upon the outcome of the investigation 
you propose. 
 Block turned pale, took on kind of a green tinge around the edges. Having somebody talk right into your head is not a reassuring experience. Not the first time. And especially so when youre a guy who has a whole encyclopedia of corruption stashed and doesnt want it out where the world can see. I guess youd say it was a measure of his distress and determination that he coped so well. He bounced back quickly. Yes. Theres a lot of heat from the top of the Hill. Itll get hotter every time some dizzy bitch gets herself 
offed. 
 
You are certain there will be more? 
 
Damn straight. What do you think? 
 I think you are correct. The Dead Man was all business now. The killings will continue and will come more and more rapidly until the people responsible are destroyed. I think we are up against something like nothing any of us has seen before. The evidence I glean from your minds tells me this is the work of a compulsive killer who cannot help doing what he is doing and who will have to do it again, ever more often, to appease the devil that drives 
him. But it also tells me he is not doing this without help. 
 
I asked, You figure theres a connection with? With what had happened at Morleys place. Only he cut me short. 
 Yes. We had something he didnt want handed to Block. Garrett, I see you shrinking from the legwork this will entail. You are correct in your estimate. This will require talking extensively with everyone even remotely involved. The families of the dead women. Their guards. The people who found them, and the Watchmen who followed up. People in the neighborhoods where the bodies 
were found. 
 He knows how to beat a guy down. I shrank with every word. I was the size of a mouse. I looked for a hole in the baseboard so I could scoot off and 
hide. He was talking about the rest of my life. 
 I do legwork because its what I do; talk to people and talk to people and poke and prod until things start to happen. But I dont like it, partly because Im lazy, but mostly because of the people. I never cease to be amazed and 
appalled by the sheer scope of human wickedness. 
 
You are not considering our resources, Garrett. 
 
Right. I was busy feeling sorry for myself. 
 We have the Watch. A thousand men for legwork. Is that not so, Captain? Will 
not every man of the Watch throw himself into this with the greatest vigor? 
 
Its our asses if we dont. Theyre already hinting. We have another five murders, I figure the Watch is out of business. 
 
Break my heart. 
 I saw what the Dead Man meant. Id been too involved in myself. The Watchmen would do anything to cover their asses. Maybe even their jobs. We just had 
to grab them by their instinct for self-preservation. 
 Then do as I tell you. I want to interview the bodyguards and the parents myself. Also those who found the corpses. Your men will canvass the neighborhoods where the women were found. Also the areas where they were seized. I doubt you will gain much cooperation, but cooperation is unnecessary. Even you Watchmen will have developed a rudimentary sense for when someone is not 
being forthcoming. Bring any such persons to me. I will open them up. 
 I marveled. The Dead Man makes me look hyper. Usually I have to threaten mayhem just to get his attention when theres work to do. He was jumping into this one headlong. I hadnt agreed to do anything yet. His enthusiasm suggested a secret agenda. Or he knew something he wasnt sharing. I eyed him narrowly as he continued with Block, telling him what times he wanted 
whom to come be interviewed. 
 
Suspicion and paranoia become habits in this business. You take fits where you dont even trust yourself. 
 When the Dead Man takes a notion to snooze, he can hang in there for months. And when hes awake, he can go around the clock for days. He had that in 
mind. Poor old Dean was going to die answering the door. 
 Block had to borrow pen and paper to remember all his instructions. It took him half an hour to write them down. I paced and worried and wondered. Then 
the Dead Man dismissed the Watchman. I walked him to the front door. 
 
Youll never regret this, Garrett. I guarantee. We clean this up, you got a free pass for life. 
 Sure. I know how long gratitude lasts. About as long as it takes for the bill to come due. Especially in TunFaire. The only guy I know who sticks to that kind of promise is Chodo Contague. He used to drive me crazy repaying 
imaginary debts. 
 
That gave me a shiver. Old Chodo always paid his debts. And he owed me a big one. 
 I closed the door behind Block, put Chodo out of mind, went charging back 
to find out what the hell old Chuckles thought he was doing. 
12 Not yet, Garrett. Dean! The Dead Man did not often extend his mindtouch beyond his room. That was a courtesy he extended us. Get rid of those harridans. 
Commend them to your nieces. We have a commission. 
 His nieces? I hurried into his room. You want to create monsters? Dean had a platoon of spinster nieces, all front-runners for Miss Homely TunFaire. They drove him to despair. Which was why he had conscripted himself as a full-time member of my household. He couldnt take it anymore. Can you imagine 
that pack in pursuit of a mission from God? 
 Dean has sense enough to avoid that eventuality. While we await him, I will tell you what to do. Backtrack from events at Mr. Dotess place. But first 
bring Mr. Dotes and Mr. Tharpe to see me. We will want their help. 
 
 We might want it, but how are we going to afford it? My share of what Im getting to watch Barking Dog wont 
 Captain Block will assume expenses. You should pay closer attention. I quoted 
an exorbitant fee. He was desperate enough not to quibble. 
 
If theyre as scared as he puts on, they could put up enough from bribe money to pay anything. 
 Exactly. We have been handed an unprecedented opportunity. Where hes concerned, money has no provenance. Its never dirty, only the people who handle it 
are. I intend to pursue it with vigor. 
 
With my vigor, he meant. Thats the reason youre jumping on this? I didnt believe it. 
 Let us say that I find my mind growing as flabby and slothful as you allowed your body to become. I must get into shape before it is too late. I am not 
yet prepared to slide into oblivion. 
 
Oblivion. I put that away where I could find it next time he started in on the condition of my immortal soul. 
 What he said sounded good. I didnt believe it. And he knew that. But he 
didnt let me press. There is no time to waste. Get Mr. Tharpe and Mr. Dotes. 
 Mr. Tharpe didnt want to get got. Hed gotten rid of Billie and had replaced her with a little blond who could have been her sister. The new hadnt worn 
off enough for him to see that. He wanted to stay home and play. 
 
Anyway, it aint even dark out yet, Garrett. 
 
You only work at night now? 
 
Getting in the habit, doing these odd jobs for Licks. 
 So sunlight for me. Talk to the Dead Man. You dont want the work, no harm done. Ill get somebody else. Wont be as good, but Ill make do. Never 
hurts to butter him up. 
 
Whats shaking? 
 A serial killer. A real psycho. His Nibs can fill you in. I dont know why 
he wants you. He just started spouting orders like a fountain. 
 
Okay. Ill talk to him. He looked at his friend. She scorched me with a lethal stare. 
 
I said, I got to see Morley, and got out of there before the woman carved their initials in my trunk. 
 Morleys place was sparsely populated. It had just opened. His customers are like the stars, seldom seen before dark. Those in there then were early 
bats trying to get a jump on their competition. 
 Nobody got excited when I walked in. Nobody knew me. The guy behind the counter was new. He was a skinny little half-elf like Morley, handsome as hell but barely old enough to think about taking advantage of that. He was trying 
to grow a mustache. 
 
It was catching. I need to see Morley, I told him. Names Garrett. Tell him it is business and theres a shitpot in it. 
 
The kid looked me straight in the eye. Morley? Who the hell is Morley? I dont know any Morley. 
 One of those. Kid, Ill take into account the fact that youre new. Ill take into account the fact that youre young and dumb, and figure you got to be a wiseass. When Im done accounting, I just might pull you over the bar and pound away till Morley comes down to see about all the screaming. 
Get on the tube. 
 The audience wasnt much, but it did exist. The kid thought he had to show me. Quick as an eyeblink he showed me a razor. Elves have a love affair with sharp steel, especially the young ones. He was so predictable I was there with my headknocker as fast as he was with the blade. I popped his knuckles. He yowled like a stomped cat. The razor flew down the counter. The audience 
gave us a hand. And a mountain of a man lumbered out of the kitchen. 
 
Garrett. What you doing? This was Sarge, another of Morleys old hands. He came out of the same production batch as Puddle. 
 
I asked to see Morley. Kid pulled a razor. 
 Sarge shook his head sadly. What you want to go do that for, Spud? Man wants to see Morley, give Morley a howl. Morley wants to have him friends like 
this, thats his lookout. 
 
Spud? I asked. What kind of name was Spud? Not even a dwarf would tag his kid Spud. 
 What we call him, Garrett. Names really Narcisio. Morleys nephew. His sisters kid. Got to be more than she could handle. Morley brought him down 
here so he could straighten him out. 
 
Meantime, the kid talked to the voice tube that connected to Morleys office. 
 I shook my head. Morley Dotes going to set somebodys feet on the straight and narrow? Morley, whose real career is cutting throats and breaking bones and running an occasional con or even a straight ripoff if the stakes are 
big enough? My pal Morley? 
 
Sarge put on a big grin. I know what youre thinking. But you know Morley. 
 I knew Morley. He could believe mutually contradictory things at the same time, with religious fervor. His whole life was a tangle of contradictions. He lived them all with passion. He could sell you anything, because he believed every word he said when he said it. That was why he did well with the ladies. And no matter that he might take up a completely new passion five minutes 
hence. He was completely committed now. 
 Morley had done some good where Spud was concerned. The kid wasnt happy about being shown up, but he put it away from him. He told me, Morley will 
be down in a few minutes. You want something while youre waiting? 
 
Puddle still got his keg back there? Tap me one off it. He owes me a couple gallons. 
 Sarge chuckled. Whynt you finish the whole thing? I love to watch him puff up like a big old toady frog when he comes in and finds out somebodys been 
at his keg. 
 
Ill do my best. Company? I jerked a thumb skyward. 
 
Yeah. His lucks coming back. 
 
Glad somebodys is. 
 Sarge chuckled again. You shoulda married that Maya when she asked. She was all right. He patted Spuds shoulder, said, You done all right. Just dont be so fast with that razor. Next guy might not be nice like Garrett. He headed for the kitchen. I wondered what he was doing back there. I wouldnt trust him anywhere near food in preparation. Not even the horse fodder they 
serve at Morleys place. 
 I figured the kids ego needed a boost so I sort of sideways apologized for being so hardass. The audience had lost interest, so he could halfway apologize too. I only been here a couple days, Mr. Garrett. He recognized the name now. Always somebody coming in here to pester my uncle. You looked like 
an unhappy husband. 
 I laughed. Not a husband, just unhappy. Morley isnt satisfied unless hes taking needless risks. Like refusing to fool around with a woman if she isnt 
married. He used to have a bad gambling problem too, but he got over that. 
 Morley came downstairs looking smug. Without saying so, he wanted me to know his life was going great. Way better than mine. I couldnt argue. Lots of 
peoples lives were going better than mine. 
 
Whats going on, Garrett? 
 
Need some privacy to talk. 
 
You on a job? 
 
This time. Dead Man says we might need to subcontract. Also, he wants to pick your brain. 
 
Take the table in the corner. 
 I picked up the beer Spud had drawn off Puddles keg. You have so many of them up there you cant hide them all? Usually we went to his office to 
discuss business. 
 
No. Place is just a mess. Got a little carried away. 
 That one he didnt make me believe. Maybe it wasnt a woman. Maybe they wanted 
me to think it was a woman because it had to do with his real business. 
 I didnt ask. I just went to the table and sat, then told him what there 
was to tell. He listened well. He can do that when he wants. 
 
You think theres a connection with what happened the other night? 
 
I dont know. The Dead Man thinks so. And he knows how to handicap. 
 
Interesting. 
 
Youd say something else if youd seen that girl. 
 I expect so. I dont approve of killing people who dont ask for it. I mean, I find interesting the idea of taking money from the Watch for once, instead 
of seeing it go their way. 
 
I raised an eyebrow. Its one of my finest skills. 
 He said, Thats the way it works, Garrett. Im not under Chodos protection. 
I dont want to be part of the outfit. Theres always a price for independence. 
 Made sense when I considered it. There were a thousand Watchmen and only a handful of guys in his bunch. As long as the Watch didnt get greedy, it would be easier for him to pay than fight. Not that he would like it. But 
he was very much the pragmatist. 
 The Watch wouldnt bother Chodo, of course. A lot of people are beholden 
to him. And he wouldnt take kindly to any attempt to muscle his operations. 
 
Morley thought about what Id told him. Let me finish up upstairs. Ill walk over to your place with you. 
 I watched him climb the stairs. What did he have going? Hed set it up so hed be sure he was with me when I left. So I wouldnt hang around outside to see who left after he did? That didnt make sense. If I wanted to know, I could ask the Dead Man after Morley talked to him. If I let the Dead Man 
know I wanted him to peek. 
 
Ah, paranoia. 
13 
Saucerhead opened the door. A butler, Morley cracked. Youre coming up in the world, Garrett. 
 Saucerhead didnt crack a frown. Who shall I say is calling, sir? He filled the doorway. A charging bull couldnt have moved him. Morley didnt when 
he started inside. 
 
Hey! What gives? Check it out, big guy. Its raining out here. 
 
I said, Im thinking about getting into the boat business. Might be the coming thing. 
 Saucerhead cocked his big ugly phiz like he was listening. He was waiting for the Dead Mans go-ahead. Even on us. Which meant Old Bones had convinced him anything could happen. Saucerhead was the type to make damn sure it didnt 
while he was on the job. 
 
The Dead Man had him not trusting his own eyes? What was this? What did he suspect? 
 Saucerhead finally grunted, stepped aside. Like he didnt think it was such a hot idea. Morley shot me a puzzled look, headed down the hall. He ducked into the Dead Mans room. Garrett says theres something sinister about 
what happened at my place last night. 
 For twenty minutes I felt like an orphan. Five of them? Morley said. Theyre keeping a good wrap on it, then. I only heard about one, last month, down 
at the Landing. 
 I jumped in. That was the one before the one before the one they found this morning. This nut is on a shrinking time cycle. After the first one he waited six weeks. Then four weeks for the one in the Landing. Then three weeks, 
then a couple days over two weeks to get this last one. 
 
Unless theres some in there we dont know about. 
 Theyd be hard to miss, all of them strung up with their throats cut and the guts gone. And the Watch hasnt had any reports of daughters missing 
from the Hill. 
 The guy doing this has got to be doing some homework up front. Hes not just hanging out on the corner waiting for the right rich girl. Hes picking 
his targets and hes working several at the same time. 
 
What makes you think that? 
 
He blew the snatch on Chodos kid but grabbed another woman in time to have her hung up this morning. 
 Crazy dont mean stupid, my old mom used to say. Ive seen that proved often enough. The man doing this was doing a lot of planning. Hed be aware that 
his fun would cause a stir. Hed be real careful. 
 Morley, the guy made a real dumb move last night. Maybe double dumb. He did it in front of witnesses. And he went for Chodos kid. Hed get less 
heat going after the Kings sister. 
 You remember she was scared when she came in. I have a notion the snatch was blown once already and somebody was desperate to cover his tracks. Far as going after Chodos kid . . . What you have to do with this characterand I cant myselfis put yourself inside his head. Try to think like he does. Hes a genius and knows it. Hes been messed up and playing out psychotic dramas since he was a kid and he keeps getting away with it. Maybe he doesnt quite see the rest of us as real anymore. Maybe were just things, like the bugs and rats he started out on. Maybe he thinks there cant be any kickbacks as long as hes careful. In his mind Chodo might not be a worry any bigger 
than Dean is. 
 I understood but wasnt sure Morleys ideas held any water. I didnt know what to think. TunFaire has killers by the battalion, but none like this. Muckers and coldblooded pros were the multiple murderers I knew. This monster 
was a hybrid, a mutant. 
 
Last night is the only starting place we have, Morley said. We have to talk to the girl. 
 
I made an ugly noise. 
 
I know. Means the outfit gets in on the hunt. 
 
I was surprised they werent already. I said so. 
 Morley observed, Means she didnt mention it when she got home. Maybe she was doing something her father wouldnt approve. He wore a frown, though, 
like he thought that couldnt be quite right. 
 
Boyfriend? 
 
Shes human. 
 I backed off inside and considered, bitten by sudden suspicion. Shed run into Morleys place when she was in trouble. Shed shown no sign of knowing him, but . . . No. He wouldnt. His need to take risks wouldnt push him 
that far. Would it? 
 The Dead Man intervened. Gentlemen, I sense the approach of persons I must interview. I will be at that all night. Garrett. I suggest you rest till morning. I may have suggestions for you then. Apparently hed shuffled through 
Morleys head and had gotten what he wanted. If thered been anything there. 
 
Sometimes that was arguable. 
 
I was wound up more than I realized. I could start Like I was eager to get to work. 
 If I calculate accurately, we have eleven or twelve days before the killer acts again. That should be ample time. The wheels of the law and Mr. Contagues organization will grind every clue fine by then. There is no need to rush 
and risk doing ourselves harm. 
 What? He was going to stamp his approval on my loafing? Im no fool. I hustled Morley out the front door, brought in the couple I ran into there, introduced 
them to the Dead Man as the parents of the first victim, then headed upstairs. 
14 As soon as I was flat on my back I thought of fifty things I should have discussed with Morley. Like did he have any idea who those brunos were who stormed into his place after Chodos brat? He would have tried to find out. I knew him. After hed brooded awhile hed have decided that booting them around and chucking them out in the rain wasnt good enough. Hed want a 
whack at the guy whod sent them. 
 
He might be miles ahead of me. 
 
I let my thoughts drift back to what had happened, went over it, seeking a clue. 
 Nothing that special about the three men. If you had the money, you could recruit a thousand like them. Only thing remarkable was that theyd dared invade a place owned by Morley Dotes. Local professionals knew better. Those three hadnt had out-of-town accents. Therefore, they werent professionals. 
Not streetside, anyhow. I didnt doubt they were professional thugs. 
 Which led me off blue-skying. Who had thugs on staff who wouldnt get into the streets much? Only priests and people on the Hill. The priest angle was 
so juicy I set it aside to look at the other first. 
 Off the Hill? A lunatic up there would be in a fine position to observe the movements of prospective victims. I tried to recall the appearance of the old geek with butterfly indigestion. That didnt match any Hill people I 
knew. 
 What about the coach? I recalled it, though details were getting vague. Big, black, and fancy. A custom four-horse job. Silver brightwork. The killer 
had money. 
 
Couldnt be many coaches like it. 
 I fought it for fifteen minutes but it was a struggle foredoomed. Eventually I swung my legs off the bed, got up, and hunked downstairs. So much for good intentions. I donned a cloak and, marvel of marvels, a hat. The hat was Deans. 
I didnt think hed miss it. 
 Saucerhead came to see what I was up to. Im going out for a while. Shouldnt be long. I scowled at the closed door to the small front room. Tell Dean 
that if that cats still here when I get back, they both go out in the rain. 
 I went to see a friend. His name was Playmate. He was nine feet tall and black as coal, big enough to make Saucerhead nervous. But he was as gentle as a lamb and religious to boot. He was in the stable business. He owed me. 
Early in both our careers Id saved him from human sharks. 
 He never ceased to amaze me. No matter what time I showed, no matter how inconvenient my appearance, he was always glad to see me. This time was no exception. Garrett! he boomed when I strolled into his stable. He dropped a curry comb and bounded toward me, swept me up in a ferocious hug. He turned 
me loose only after I started squawking like a bagpipe. 
 
Damn, Playmate, sometimes I wish you was a woman. Nobody else is excited to see me. 
 
Your own fault. Come around more often. Maybe you wear out your welcome. 
 
Yeah. Its been a rough year. Ive been neglecting my friends. 
 
 Specially that little bit, Maya. 
 
I forgot my mission momentarily. Youve seen Maya? I thought she left town. 
 
Been a while, come to think. She used to come around, help out some, just cause she liked the horses. 
 
I knew there had to be something wrong with her. 
 The look he gave me told me more than he could have said in words. Maya had cried on his shoulder. I couldnt really look him in the eye. He said, Youve been having troubles all the way around, I hear. Miss Tinnie. Somebody named 
Winger. 
 
He was implying it, so I said it. Yeah. I have a way with the girls. The wrong way. 
 
Come over here and sit. I have a pony keg Ive been nursing. Should be a sip or two left. 
 Which was all right by me, except it would be warm brew. Playmate liked his beer warm. I prefer mine just about ready to turn to chunks. But he was offering beer. Right then I had an inclination to surround several gallons. I settled on an old saddle, accepted a big pewter mug. Playmate plopped his behind 
on a sawhorse. 
 
Trouble is, he told me, those gals all been growing up, getting interested in something besides fun. 
 
I know. Its hell, getting older. 
 
Dont mind me. Its the preacher getting out. 
 I knew that too. Back when I saved his bacon, hed been thinking of getting into the religion racket on his own. Hed have done good but wouldnt have gotten very big. TunFaire has a thousand cults. Always there are plenty of disenchanted would-be believers eager to sign on with the thousand-and-oneth. Playmate had taken a look around, decided that he was insufficiently cynical and dishonest to make a real go of it. He may be religious personally, but 
hes practical. 
 
The preacher is right, Playmate. And its maybe him I need to talk to. 
 
Problem? 
 
Yeah. 
 
Thought so, soon as I saw you. 
 
What a genius. With Playmate I commit the same sin as with Morley. I dont go around unless I need help. 
 
I resolved to do better in the future. 
 
Right, Garrett. Duck! Here comes a low-flying pig. 
 I laid it out for Playmate. I didnt hold back. My story upset him so badly I was sorry I hadnt softened it some. Whod want to go and do something 
like that, Garrett? Killing little girls. 
 They hadnt been little, but that was beside the point. I dont know. I mean to find out. Thats where I thought you might help. That coach outside Morleys wasnt any junker or rental. I dont think theres another like it. Nearest Ive ever seen is Chodo Contagues coach. And it didnt have 
the gaudy silver brightwork. 
 Playmate frowned at every mention of Morley Dotes. He didnt approve of Morley. He frowned again when I mentioned Chodo. If Playmate was the kind to keep a little list, the first name on his would be Chodo Contague. He sees Chodo 
as a cause of social ills rather than as an effect. 
 
Custom coach? 
 
Id guess so. 
 
And similar to Chodo Contagues. 
 
A little bigger and even fancier. Silver trim and a lot of carving. Tell you anything? Know whose it is? 
 
Dont know that, but I can make a good guess who built it. If it was built in TunFaire. 
 Bingo! I almost let out a whoop. Maybe I did let out a whoop. Playmate looked 
at me oddly for a moment, then grinned shyly. Helped some? 
 
As soon as you tell me that coachmakers name. 
 
Atwood. Linden Atwood. 
 That name meant nothing to me. At my income level I dont buy many custom-built coaches. I dont hang out with those who do. Where would I find Mr. Linden 
Atwood, coachmaker? 
 
Tinkery Row. 
 Excellent. That narrowed it right down to a whole neighborhood where potters potted, tinkers linked, and at least one wainwright wrighted wains. The neighborhood lies south of the Tenderloin and north of the brewery district, stretching east to west beginning a few blocks in from the river, and parallels a street called Tinkers Lane. That is one of the oldest parts of town. Some artisan 
families have been established there for centuries. 
 
Playmate glanced toward the stable door. Going to be getting dark soon. You figure on going down there right away? 
 
Yes. 
 Thats not a nighttime neighborhood. Pretty soon theyll all close up, have 
supper, then the menfolk will head for the corner tavern. 
 So its late. Its already too late for five women. The Dead Man thinks this guy wont kill again for another eleven or twelve days, but I dont 
count on it. 
 
Playmate nodded, conceding the point. Ill walk with you. 
 
You dont need to do that. Just tell me where 
 
Trouble follows you. I better go with you. Takes a certain touch to deal with Atwood, anyway. 
 
Youve done enough. I didnt want to put Playmate at risk. He didnt deserve it. My job is dealing with people. 
 
Your style is maybe a touch too direct and forceful for Atwood. Ill walk you down. 
 
Arguing with Playmate is like arguing with a horse. Dont get you anywhere and just irritates the horse. 
 Maybe if he would get into another line Id visit more often. Any line where there werent so many horses around. I dont get along with those monsters. 
Their whole tribe is out to get me. 
 Ill get my hat and cloak, he said, knowing hed won before I conceded. I looked around, wondering where hed hidden the circus tent hed wear. I spied a horse eyeballing me. It looked like it was thinking about kicking 
its stall down so it could trot over and dance a flamenco on my tired bones. 
 
Dont waste time. The devils have spotted me. Theyre cooking something up. 
 
Playmate chuckled. He has one big blind spot. He thinks my problem with horses is a joke. Boy, do they have him fooled. 
15 We stopped to have supper, my treat. Which strained my budget severely. Playmate 
ate like a horse, but not cheap hay. Youre on expenses, Garrett. 
 
I was just figuring on cleaning the Watch out of pocket change, not driving them into bankruptcy. 
 
He got a good laugh out of that one. Simple pleasures for simple minds. 
 Tinkery Row is all light industry, single-family operations that produce goods without producing much smoke. The nastier stuff is down south, the nastiest across the river. The air gets chunky and takes on flavor when the wind is from the east, past the smelters and mills. Their stench can make you long for the heavy wood and coal smoke of winter or the rotten garbage 
of summer. 
 Tinkery Row is four blocks wide and eight blocks long, approximately, measuring by normal city blocks. There arent many of those in TunFaire. There never has been any planning applied to the citys growth. Maybe we need a good 
fire to burn it all down so we can start over and do it right. 
 Playmate insisted on sticking with me. He said he knew the neighborhood and knew Linden Atwood. I gave up. I needed to spend some time with somebody 
who wasnt going to give me a lot of hassle. 
 I let him lead but insisted on setting the pace myself. My legs werent long enough to match his prodigious stride. He strolled. I scampered. Once we got into Tinkery Row he chatted up people who still had their doors open hoping for a late sale. I huffed and puffed. Tinkery Row is a safe neighborhood. The villains stay away because the natives have this habit of ganging up. 
Justice is quick and informal and applied with considerable enthusiasm. 
 Everyone seemed to know Playmate. Nobody knew me, but my feelings werent hurt. Thats a plus in my line. I puffed out, You spend a lot of time down 
here? 
 Grew up here. One street over. Pop made tack. Which explained the interest in horses, maybe. But I changed in the war. Came back too nervous, just couldnt fit in. Kind of slow and timeless around here. People dont change. Get fixed in their ways. I could probably tell you who is where doing what right now, though I havent been around for months. Right now Linden Atwood is having supper with his missus at home. His sons are having supper with their families, and his apprentices are eating bread and cheese while they clean the shop. About a half-hour from now theyll start drifting into the Bicks and Kittle. Each one will buy a pint of dark. Theyll all go into a corner and nurse their pints for an hour, then somebody will say hed better get on home and get to bed cause he has to make an early start in the morning. Old Linden will tell him to stay, have another on him, and hell buy the round. Theyll all sit another hour, find the bottoms of their mugs at the 
same time, then theyll get up and go home. 
 
A thrill a minute, life in Tinkery Row. 
 It was the longest speech Id ever heard from Playmate. While he made it he led me to and into the corner tavern with the name I found unfathomable. Most taverns do have odd names, like Rose and Dolphin, but thats because most people cant read. A sign with a couple of symbols will hang over the door, serving as both name and address. Bicks and Kittle didnt have a sign, and when I finally asked Playmate about the name, he told me those were the 
families who ran the place. 
 
Some mysteries just arent worth unraveling. 
 Playmate studied the layout. The place wasnt crowded. He held me back while he chose a table. We dont want to trespass on the regulars. Apparently they became disturbed when casual trade usurped their traditional tables. Playmate chose a small one in the middle of the small room. It appeared less 
shopworn than most. 
 Playmate ordered but I paid. He asked for the dark beer. You can get any beer you want as long as youre willing to go down the street for your pale 
or lager. 
 Real set in their ways. I do like the occasional dark beer, though. And this proved to be a fine brew with a strong malt flavor. I like to taste 
the malt more than the hops. 
 
Hardheaded. Atwood comes in, let me pick the time and do the talking. 
 
I nodded. Made sense. 
 The place began filling. Young and old, they were all cut from one bolt. I wondered if there would be a problem, what with Playmates being the only dark face in the place. Nope. Soon guys started dropping by to exchange a few words of greeting while eyeing me sidelong, curiously, but with manners 
too steady to express that curiosity aloud. 
 Playmate identified the apprentice coachmakers when they arrived. Atwood never took apprentices till a few years ago. The wars fault. He lost a couple sons, then none of his grandsons made it back. Has three still doing their 
five years, though. Maybe theyll get lucky. 
 The apprentices were old for that. Middle twenties. In Atwoods place Id take kids, educate them so they could avoid the line units. Supply outfits 
always need wainwrights. 
 Playmate looked at me like Id missed the point of everything hed said tonight. Where would he find kids? Any Tinkery family with kids would bring them 
up in the family trade. 
 
All right. I did miss that, sort of. 
 The surviving sons appeared, then Linden Atwood himself. Linden Atwood was that rare creature, a man who fitted his name and looked like a coachmaker. In my preconceptions. He was a skinny little dink, old, with leathery skin, all his own hair, intelligent eyes, and plenty of bounce. His hands were hands that still did their share of work. He stood like he had a board nailed to his back, seemed confident of his place in the world. He and his crew were one big happy family. He was no aloof patriarch. He, his three sons, and four apprentices got into a spirited argument about whether or not the Kings Rules were turning TunFaires football players into gangs of whining 
candyassed wimps. 
 
Now there was something worth arguing about. Kings Rules went into effect before I was born. 
 Karentine football, or rugger, is so rough now I wouldnt want my enemies 
playing. In Old Style football I think the only rule was: no edged weapons. 
 
I take it football is popular down here. 
 
Serious business. Best players come out of Tinkery. Every block has a team. Kids start out as soon as they can walk. 
 Not only hardheaded but not very bright. But I kept that thought to myself. 
Not very tolerant goes along with the other two, most places. 
 
Played some myself when I was younger, Playmate told me. 
 
Why am I not surprised? Hed have made a team all by himself. 
 Playmate was slick. He managed to insinuate an opinion into an argument so old it was obvious ritual, elicited a response because, apparently, in his olden days hed been a star. Before I understood what was happening, he and I were part of Atwoods crowd. I pursued Playmates advice diligently. The 
Dead Man would have been impressed by how long I kept my mouth shut. 
 In time the Atwoods veered from the tried and true long enough to betray polite curiosity concerning Playmates presence. Playmate gave them a big grin, like he was mocking himself for taking anything seriously. My pal 
Garrett and me, were on sort of a crusade. 
 Those guys understood a crusade. They were religious. Real salt of the earth 
and backbone of the nation. Hadnt had an original thought in generations. 
 
Pardon. I do get overly critical at times. 
 Curiosity levels rose. Playmate played with them a minute, then said, I better let Garrett tell it. Hes the one been closest to it. Im just trying 
to lend a hand. 
 I pictured Block exploding if he heard I was hanging out his dirty laundry all over town, grinned, told the story of the dead girls. The Atwoods were properly horrified. I played to that, noted the old man paying closer attention 
than the others, who just wanted to be entertained. 
 
I said, So right now it looks like the only way to trace this monster is through his coach. 
 Everybody got it then. The whole gang got quiet and grim. All eyes turned to the old man. He considered me neutrally. You suspect that coach came 
from my shop, Mr. Garrett? 
 I have no idea, Mr. Atwood. Playmate says youre the premier coachmaker in TunFaire. If it was built here, according to him, youre the only man 
with the talent to have built it. 
 
I expect so. Describe it again. 
 
I did, recalling every possible detail. 
 The sons were less skilled than he at concealing their thoughts. I knew that coach had been built by Linden Atwood. The question was, would the man expose 
his buyer? 
 He would. We delivered that coach, built to strict and exacting specifications, about three years back, Mr. Garrett. I do not believe in false humility. It was the finest coach ever built in TunFaire. I will accept responsibility 
for that, but I refuse any blame. 
 
Excuse me? 
 
One son muttered, Damn things jinxed. 
 The old man glared. Madame Tallia Lethe, wife and mother of the Icemasters Direfear, commissioned it. Three months after she took delivery, there was 
an accident. She fell. A wheel rolled over her head. 
 Oh, boy. I knew we could get some big-time sorcerers into this. Karentine wizards mainly belong to the Elemental Schools: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. The Windmasters and Storm Wardens of the Air school are common, Firelords more so. There may be Earth schoolers elsewhere in Karenta, but none in TunFaire. Water-school types are almost as rare. I didnt know we had any Icemasters 
here. 
 
We dont, the old man said. The woman lived here. The Icemasters are dead, anyway. Crossbones Bight. 
 Ah. The big naval battle of the War. We got our Karentine asses kicked. Unfortunately for the Venageti, a naval triumph hadnt meant much strategically. I see, 
I said, not seeing at all. 
 
Madame had no heirs. The estate passed to the Crown. The Crown agents auctioned everything. Lord Hellsbreath bought the coach. 
 
There was a name to conjure nightmares. 
 
The only Hellsbreath I recalled was no healthier than Madame Lethe. He had some bad luck himself, right? 
 
He was murdered. The assassin got away. 
 
He was in the coach when it happened, a son volunteered. 
 
Crossbow bolt right in the eye, another said. He demonstrated with enthusiastic gestures and sound effects. 
 
Then who got the coach? 
 
Duchess of Suhnerkhan. Lady Hamilton. 
 I knew that one. Does seem like it was unlucky. The Kings great-aunt, Lady Hamilton, had decided to visit the family estate at Okcok. She hadnt bothered with an escort, though thered been a full moon out. Werewolves 
had given her a fatal set of hickeys. 
 
Linden Atwood grunted but conceded nothing. 
 
That was a year and a half ago. I guess its changed hands a few more times? 
 No. Crown Prince Rupert brought it back to town and stored it in the coachhouse behind Lady Hamiltons town house. Far as I know, it hasnt been out since. The old man produced a pipe and pipeweed. He filled up, lit up, leaned back, closed his eyes, puffed, and thought. The clan waited quietly. I followed 
their lead. Playmate signaled for another round of the dark. On me, naturally. 
 The beers arrival wakened Atwood. He tilted forward, drained half his mug, wiped foam with the back of a hand, belched, said, I dont put no stock in this jinx stuff, Garrett. We were pals now. Id bought him a beer. But was I you, Id be careful. Seems like everybody that gets near that coach 
gets dead. He frowned. 
 
He didnt like that at all. What if word got out? What if people started thinking it was the coachmakers fault? 
 
Im not much on haunts and jinxes, I told him. But if that coach is jinxed, you got any notion how come? 
 
Beats the shit out of me. He guzzled the other half of his beer. Shit happens. Sometimes it dont make no sense. 
 Playmate horned in. Thanks, Mr. Atwood. Sure was good of you to talk to us. He nudged me with a knee, got up. I wondered why he was in a hurry, but Id promised to follow his lead. I piled on my share of thanks and excused 
myself, followed Playmate into the rain. 
 
What was that? How come the run-out? 
 Atwood was getting glassy-eyed. In about a minute he was going to start in on his boys that didnt make it home from the Cantard. I thought you might 
want to get some sleep tonight. 
 
Oh. 
 Yeah. You got to feel sorry for the guy. But that dont mean you got to 
go live in his hell with him. Hes got to lay his own ghosts himself. 
 
True. But I was surprised that Playmate thought so. I pulled my cloak tighter. There was enough wind to make the night cold. 
 
Past my bedtime, Garrett. Hope all that helped. 
 You hope? Hell, it cracked the thing. All I need now is to find out whos been using that coach. And how hard could that be? I mean, the Crown Princes duties included running Karentine internal security. The TunFaire Watch were one obscure arm of the many he oversaw. And if what Block said was true, 
the heat on the Watch had good old Rupert behind it. 
 Come around more often, Garrett, Playmate said. At least soon enough to let me know how this comes out. He strode off like he was late for a date with one of his mares. I stood absorbing some rain for a moment, startled, then shrugged. Playmate did these things. He didnt know he was being rude 
and unsociable. 
 
What now? 
16 
Morleys place, thats what now. 
 It wasnt that far out of my way. I dropped by. My reception was no more charming than before. Maybe not as good. More people departed. The others seemed edgy, except for Saucerheads pal Licks, who was at the same shadowed 
corner table stoned out of this world. 
 Puddle gave me a huge scowl, glanced down at his keg. I told him, That rat 
Sarge said he was going to blame it on me. Morley here? 
 Puddle already had a finger pointed skyward and an eyebrow up. I nodded to make sure he understood that I wanted to see Morley as well as to know if he was home. With Puddle you have to take it by the numbers. He dont fill 
in the gaps so good. 
 He was the kind of guy who thought if you couldnt solve a problem with a right cross or a club, then it wasnt a problem in the first place and therefore 
didnt need solving. Ignore it and it would go away. 
 Puddle grunted, growled at the speaking tube, fluttered a hand to indicate 
that I should go on up. Apparently Morley didnt have company. 
 I climbed the stairs, tiptoed to Morleys door, listened before I knocked. I didnt hear anything. Usually there was scurrying as somebodys wife headed 
for cover. All I heard was Morley telling me to come in. 
 I opened the door. Something zipped past the end of my nose. Morley was behind his desk, his feet up, leaning back, tossing darts. I didnt recognize the 
painted face serving as his target. You doing the hoodoo voodoo on somebody? 
 Not really. Found all that in a junk shop. Velvet painting of a guy who looks like my sisters husband. Zip. Wham. Another eye put out. Whats 
up? 
 
No company tonight? 
 Too wet out there these days. Nobodys going to be seeing much company as long as this weather keeps up. Zip. Wham. Right in the end of the nose. 
Want to get those darts for me? 
 
Youre a bundle of ambition tonight. 
 
Yeah. Long as youre doing my legwork, you see that creep Licks downstairs? So I dont have to go look for myself? 
 
Hes there. Unconscious, I think. The smoke was pretty thick. 
 He snagged his speaking tube. Puddle. Toss that creep Licks out now. Dont leave him where hell get run over. Morley put the tube down, looked at 
me. I hope he gets pneumonia. 
 
You have a problem with the man? 
 
Yes. I dont like him. 
 
So bar him. 
 His moneys as good as yours. Maybe better. He spends it here. That didnt get a rise, so he asked, Whats up? You look like you cant wait to get 
something off your chest. 
 
I got a line on the coach. 
 
Coach? What coach. 
 The one out front that they tried to drag Chodos kid into. I found the 
man who built it. He told me where I can find it. I explained. 
 Morley sighed, took his feet down. Isnt that just like you? Here I am, having the time of my life, and you have to walk in and mess it up. He got up, opened a closet, dug out a raincloak and fancy hat that must have set 
him back a dozen broken bones. 
 
What you doing? 
 
Lets go check it out. 
 
Huh? 
 
Way I see it, that beats hell out of trying to get to see Chodo. You carrying? 
 
Here and there. 
 
Finally started to learn, eh? 
 
I guess. Whats the problem with Chodo? I thought you were tight. Its me thats on his list. 
 I dont know. I sent word I needed to talk. That it was important. I never got an answer. Thats never happened before. Then comes a roundabout kind of hint that nobody out there wants to hear from me and if Im smart I wont 
bother them ever again. 
 
Odd. I couldnt figure that. Morley was an important independent contractor. Chodo owed him a listen. 
 
Been odd ever since you and Winger went out there. And getting odder every day. We were headed downstairs now. 
 
I asked, Whats with the mustaches? That the coming thing? 
 
Huh? 
 Im seeing them all over. On you it dont look bad. On Spud it would look good if he could grow one. But on Puddle it looks like some damn buzzard 
built its nest on his lip. 
 He doesnt take care of it. Morley darted to the counter, spoke to Puddle briefly. I noted Lickss absence and Puddles wet shoulders. Licks remained 
with us in spirit. The smoke was thick enough to slice. 
17 When it rains and the wind blows, it gets real dark in TunFaire. Streetlamps wont stay lighted, though those lamps exist only in neighborhoods like the Hill and the Tenderloin, where the wraths of our lords temporal and lords criminal encourage thieves and vandals to practice their crafts elsewhere. Tonight the Hill was darker than a priests secret heart. I didnt like it. 
Given my choice, I want to see trouble coming. 
 Morley was as excited as a kid planning to tumble an outhouse. I asked, Whats your thinking on this? I looked around nervously. Wed approached Lady Hamiltons 
place unchallenged, which made me just that much more anxious. 
 I dont believe in good luck. I do believe in cumulative misfortune, in bad 
luck just lying back piling up interest till it dumps on you in one big load. 
 
We climb over the wall, see if the coach is there. 
 You could give Glory Mooncalled lessons in innovative tactics. I didnt like his idea. We could get ourselves arrested. We could get ourselves hurt. We could get ourselves fatally unhealthy. The private guards on the Hill 
are a lot less inhibited than their public-payroll counterparts. 
 
Dont get all worked up, Garrett. Wont be anything to it. 
 
Thats what you said the time you conned me into helping deliver that vampire to the old kingpin. 
 
That time you didnt know what you were doing. 
 
True. But where would he get the idea I knew what I was doing now? Youre too optimistic to live. 
 
Comes of living right. 
 
Comes of eating horse fodder till you have the sense of a mule. 
 You could do with more horse fodder yourself, Garrett. Meat is filled with 
the juices of things that died terrified. They make you timid yourself. 
 
I have to admit I never heard anybody call a cabbage a coward. 
 
There they go. All clear. 
 
There who go? Were we hanging around soaking because hed seen someone? Why didnt he tell me these things? 
 He did have better night vision. One of the advantages of his elvish blood. The disadvantages, of course, started with a conviction of personal immortality. It isnt true, what you hear about elves being immortal. They just think 
they are. Only an arrow through the heart will talk them out of the idea. 
 Morley took off toward the Hamilton place. I followed, watching everywhere but where I was going. I heard a sound, looked for its source as I jumped 
ten feet high, walked right into the Hamilton wall. 
 You must have been some Marine, Morley grumbled, and continued muttering about no wonder Karenta couldnt win in the Cantard if I represented the 
kingdoms best and brightest. 
 Probably a hundred thousand guys down there would be happy to let you show them how to do it. Morley wasnt a veteran. Breeds dont have to go. The nonhuman peoples all have treaties exempting people up to one-eighth blood. The nonhumans you see in the Cantard are natives or mercenaries, and usually both. And agents of Glory Mooncalled besides. Except for the vampires and 
werewolves and unicorn packs, who are out to get everybody. 
 
The Cantard is a lot of fun. 
 
Morley squatted, cupped his hands. Ill give you a boost. The wall was nine feet high. 
 
Youre lighter. I could toss him right over. 
 
Thats why you go first. I can climb up there without help. 
 A point. Not one that fired me up to go first, but a point. This business was more in his line than mine. He wouldnt buy my plan which was to go pound on the front gate and ask to see the deadly coach. That was too prosaic for 
his sense of adventure. 
 I shrugged, stepped into his cupped hands, heaved my reluctant bones upward, grabbed the top of the wall in expectation of getting my fingers ripped to hamburger by broken glass. Broken glass is an old trick for discouraging 
uninvited company. 
 Oh, my. Now I was really disheartened. There was no broken glass. I pulled my chin up level with the top, peeked. Where was the trap? They had to have 
something really special planned if they didnt use broken glass. 
 
Morley whacked me on the sole. Better move your ass, Garrett. Theyre coming back. 
 I didnt know who they were but I heard their footsteps. I took a poll. Opinion was unanimous. I didnt want to find out who they were. Up and over I went. I landed in a small garden, gently, failing even to turn an ankle. 
Morley landed beside me. I said, Thiss too easy. 
 
Come on, Garrett. What do you want? You have a closed house here. Whos going to guard that? 
 
Exactly what I want to know. 
 
You ever begin to sound optimistic, Im going to flee the country. Come on. Sooner we do it, the sooner youre out of here. 
 I grunted agreement. Looks like the coach house there. I dont like sneaking, 
much. I still thought we should have tried the front way. 
 Morley scooted to a door in the side of the coach house. I let him lead. I noted how carefully he moved, for all he did so quickly. Whatever he said, 
he wasnt taking chances. 
 
In his line you didnt get old taking anything for granted. My line either, for that matter. 
 Neither of us had brought a lantern. You do dumb things when you rush. Still, there was light enough leaking from nearby homes to let Morley see a little. He told me, Somebody was here before us. They jimmied the lock. He tried 
the door. It opened. 
 I looked over his shoulder. It was blacker than the inside of a buzzards belly in there, and about as inviting. Something made noises and shuffled around. Something breathed. Something a lot bigger than me. Always a courteous 
kind of guy, I offered, After you, sir. 
 
Morley wasnt that sure he was immortal. We need a light. 
 
Now he notices. This the kind of planning you re going to do when you take over in the Cantard? 
 
Ill be back in five minutes. He vanished before I could argue. 
18 Five minutes? It was more like twenty. The longest twenty I ever lived, excepting maybe a few dozen times in the islands when I was in the Corps, dancing the 
death dance with Venageti soldiers. 
 He wasnt gone ten of those five minutes when, from my lurking place under a crippled lime treewhere I was trying to drown less speedilyI noted a light moving past a downstairs window inside the Hamilton house. Probably a candle. It had a ghostly effect, casting a huge, only vaguely humanoid 
shadow on a drawn shade. 
 
I gulped air. 
 Damn me if my luck didnt hold. Somebody came outside and headed straight for the coach house. I heard muttering, then realized that there were two 
of them. The guy with the candle was leading. 
 Closer. It was my old buddy with the bad stomach. He didnt look like much now, a sawed-off runt in clothes that had been out of style since my dad was a pup. He wore the kind of hat they call a deerstalker. Id never seen one outside a painting before. He was bent and slow and shaky and a damned 
near perfect match for my notion of what a pederast ought to look like. 
 Hunking along behind, having trouble navigating, was Scarface, the guy Saucerhead had bounced around so thoroughly. He moved slower than the old guy, like hed aged a hundred years overnight. Saucerhead hadnt broken much but hed 
left both of them with plenty of pain. 
 Now what? Jump in and make a citizens arrest? Accuse somebody of something and maybe get my own bones rearranged? Maybe cause the geezer another attack of dyspepsia and have him belch carnivorous butterflies all over me? Maybe just end up in court for assault? My mind wanders at such times, examining 
the dark side. I wish I had Saucerheads capacity for lack of doubt. 
 
There are advantages to being simple. 
 While I tried to decide and wondered where the hell Morley was with the light, those two dragged their bruise collections inside the coach house. Light flowed through cracks as they lit lamps or lanterns. Talk continued, but 
I could distinguish no words. 
 I crept to the doorway, still could make out nothing. I heard a horse snort, jumped. Boy, was I glad I hadnt gone in there before. They wouldve ambushed 
me for sure. 
 It sounded like they were fixing to harness a team. The cussing level suggested that was difficult when you were all bruised up. Sounded like some impressive descriptive work being done in there. I wanted to hear more. I need to expand 
my vocabulary. 
 I slipped my fingers into the gap between the door and its frame, pulled outward slowly till I had a crack through which to peek. So I could spy on a whole lot of horse stalls and tack racks doing a whole lot of nothing. 
Pretty dull stuff. I had the wrong angle. 
 Someone had the right angle to see the door move inward. I heard one voice say something soft but startled. Heavy footsteps lumbered my way, like a stomping troll wearing stone boots. I thought about doing a fast fade but 
thought too long. I barely had time to duck aside before the door flew open. 
 I couldnt run, so I did the next best thing. I bopped Scarface over the head with my listen stick. His conk thunked like a thumped watermelon. He sagged, looked at me like I wasnt playing fair. Well, why should I? Thats dumb with his kind. Id get hurt if I tried. I thumped him again to make 
my point. 
 I bounced over Scarface, popped inside, charged the little character with the sour stomach and antique clothes. Dont ask me why. Seems plenty dumb 
in retrospect. Just say it seemed like a good idea at the time. 
 He was trying to get the street doors open. I cant imagine why. His team were still in their stalls. He wasnt going to drive away. And he wasnt going to outrun anybody on foot either. But there he went, heaving away and 
spitting green moths. 
 He heard me coming and spun around. For him a spin was a slow turn. His one hand dropped to a kind of frayed rope that served him as a belt, hitched 
his pants. His eyes started glowing green. I got there with my stick. 
 One of his moths bit me. Stung like hell. And distracted me so the old boy could slide aside enough for me to whap his shoulder instead of the top of his gourd. He howled. I bellowed and flailed at bugs. His eyes flared and his mouth opened wide. I avoided his gaze and the one big green butterfly 
that flew from his maw. I flailed crosswise, catching him alongside the jaw. 
 
I put too much on it. Bone cracked. He folded like a dropped suit of clothes. 
 My juices were flowing. I bounced around looking for more trouble, so cranked the horses just backed up in their stalls and waited for me to go away. I checked Scarface. He was snoring, getting soggier by the second. I darted 
back to the old man . . .  
 Who wasnt snoring. He was making funny noises that said he wouldnt be breathing 
at all pretty soon. Id broken more than his jaw. 
 A green giant butterfly crept halfway out from between his lips, got stuck. He held on to his crude rope belt with both hands, like he didnt want to 
lose his pants, and started shaking. 
 
Im not in the habit of croaking people. Ive done it, sure, but never really by choice and never because I wanted to. 
 Now I was wound up. This was the Hill. Up here the guardians of the peace were no half-blind, unambitious Watchmen interested only in collecting their 
pay. If I was caught anywhere near a dead man . . .  
 
What the hell is this? 
 I didnt quite leap into the hayloft. Just maybe ten feet. Not even a record for the standing broad jump. But I was out the door the old man had wanted 
to use, thirty feet into the wet, before I recognized Morleys voice. 
 Still shaking, I went back and told him what had happened. The presence of 
a dying man didnt rattle him at all. He observed, Youre learning. 
 
Huh? 
 Case solved and wrapped in a day. You dig up your buddy Block, tell him where to find his villain, end up with your pockets stuffed with gold. You 
still have the luck. 
 
Yeah. But I didnt feel lucky. I didnt know that that little old man had gotten his thrills carving on pretty girls. 
 
Morley closed the yard door, eased toward the street door. I said, Hold it. I have to take a look around in the house. 
 
Why? He said that sharply, like he didnt want me going that way. 
 
In case theres any evidence. I need to know. 
 
He gave me the fish eye, shook his head, shrugged. The notion of a conscience was alien to him. If you have to, you have to. 
 
I have to. 
 
19 I tripped over the old mans sidekick as I stepped into the garden. Well! 
Another mystery. Some wicked soul had come along and stabbed him in his sleep. 
 I scowled at Morley. Morley wasnt abashed. Didnt need him, Garrett. And now you wont need to keep looking back. Just because the guy had caused 
a scene at the Joy House. 
 I didnt argue. Wed had the argument more times than I liked to recall. Morley knew neither pity nor remorse, only practicality. Which, he had a 
habit of reminding me, was why I turned to him so often. 
 
Maybe. But I think I go to him because I trust him to cover my back. 
 Id grabbed the old mans lantern. It was out now, after my spill. I pushed it aside, dragged the body into the coach house, closed the door, and headed for the big house by the light of the lantern Morley carried. I snagged the 
extinguished lantern as I went. 
 
The house wasnt locked. It took us only moments to get inside and find something. 
 
We entered through a dusty kitchen. We needed go on no farther. Seconds after we entered, Morley said, Check this, Garrett. 
 This was a three-gallon wooden bucket. A tribe of flies had made it a place of worship. Their startled buzz and the smell told me that it was no water 
pail. Rusty cakes of dried blood adorned it. 
 They had to use something to carry the blood away. I shone my light around, spotted a set of knives on a drainboard. They were not ordinary kitchen knives. They were decorated with fancy symbols. They were decorated with dried blood 
too. 
 
Morley observed, They didnt take good care of their tools. 
 
You didnt see the way they moved. After theyd danced with Saucerhead they probably didnt feel much like doing housework. 
 
You satisfied now? 
 
I had to be. Yeah. No point lollygagging around, maybe getting ourselves hanged with all that evidence. 
 Morley grinned. You really are learning, Garrett. I figure maybe another 
hundred years and you can get by without a baby-sitter. 
 
I wondered if maybe he wasnt a little too optimistic. 
 Being no fool, Morley went his own way. I found Captain Block the last place I expected, at the bachelor officers quarters at the barracks the Watch shares with the local army garrison. Those troops are less use than the Watch, coming out for nothing but ceremonies and to stand guard at various royal 
edifices. 
 I got the usual runaround trying to reach Block, but it had no heart in it. Maybe hed left word a certain battered old Marine might want to get hold 
of him sometime. 
 He was dressing when I walked in and started dripping on his carpet. I take it youve got something, Garrett. For the life of me I couldnt figure why 
he wasnt thrilled to see me, just because it was after midnight. 
 
I found your man. 
 
Huh? Dumbstruck is really amazing on a naturally dumbfounded face. 
 
That villain you wanted found? The fellow who entertained himself by whittling on pretty girls? If you want him, Ive got him. 
 
Uh . . . yeah? He didnt believe me yet. 
 
Put your slicker on, Cap. Ive had me a long, hard day and I want to get on home. 
 
You found him? 
 
Ta-da! First thing you knew, hed figure it out. Yep. But youd better get rolling if you want to cash in. 
 Yeah. Sure. He was in a daze. He couldnt believe this. For a moment I entertained suspicions. They didnt get too rowdy. But how? I had a thousand 
men looking. They never caught a whiff. 
 
Didnt know where to sniff. You get the nose when you have to make your living at it. 
 
Sounds like you plain got lucky. 
 
Luck helps. 
 
Should I bring some men? 
 
You wont need them. They wont give you any trouble. 
 Must have been an edge to my voice. He looked me askance but was too shocked still to pursue it. He shrugged into an army overcloak, jammed a waterproof 
hat onto his head. You dont know how much we appreciate this, Garrett. 
 
I have my suspicions. Just show me by making sure you dont forget to drop my fee off at my place. 
 What? He managed to look affronted. Somebody had the audacity to question 
the integrity of the Watch? You think wed screw you? 
 
The gods forfend. Me? Think a thing like that about our brave Watchmen? Surely you jest, Captain. 
 He heard the sarcasm and didnt like it, but had become too excited to take offense. Hell, he took off like the proverbial bat, dashing boldly into the 
night and raintill he realized he didnt know where the hell he was headed. 
 Im moving as fast as I can, Captain, I told him. And I was. I did want to get home. I had big ambitions in the night lumber trade. I put in about 
two thousand miles of legwork today, tracking these monsters down. 
 
Monsters? Theres more than one? 
 
The man didnt listen. I shook my head. He fell into step beside me, as bouncy as a five-year-old. 
 One more than one, Captain. The big villain was a guy about a thousand years old who was some kind of wizard. The other was your basic street bruno, middle 
thirties. 
 
Was? Now he sounded nervous, even wary. You keep saying was.  
 
Youll see. 
 
20 He saw. He was less than thrilled. Did you have to kill them? He stared 
at the old man like he hoped the crazy bastard would rise from the dead. 
 No. I couldve let them kill me. But then youd still be looking, wouldnt 
you? I stared at the old man, rattled. Block didnt notice. 
 First, the old boy had crawled to the garden door before hed checked out. Then hed gotten naked. What there was of him was so dried up it looked like something had sucked out everything inside his skin. That skin was dead white. I wondered if maybe he wouldnt rise from the dead. If he hadnt already, a time or two. Then I shook off the fit of superstition and concentrated 
on a problem that was real and immediate. 
 Someone had been into the coach house in my absence. Somebody who had stripped the dead man and had ripped off a crazy miscellany from the tack and tool racks. That smelled of a crime of opportunity committed by some down-and-out amateur. By someone who had seen a door open, had darted in for a nervous peek, had taken what he could use, and had grabbed everything else he could carry that looked like it might sell for enough to make a down payment on a bottle of cheap red wine. Was I to go a-hunting this thief, Id keep an eye peeled for a short, skinny wino all cocked up in a new suit of old clothes, 
complete with one of those absurd deerstalker hats. 
 
Block complained, Wouldve had a lot more impact if Id been able to bring them to trial. 
 I dont doubt it a bit. It wouldve been a circus. The show of the year. I wouldve loved to have seen it. But he was belching butterflies and staring green fire and getting ready to lay some serious sorcery on me. I couldnt 
talk him out of it. Come on. Let me show you some evidence. 
 I led him to the kitchen, showed him the bucket. I wanted to show him the knives but they werent where Id seen them last. That damned Morley, collecting souvenirs. I felt more comfortable in the house now that I had an officer of the law along to explain to the local custodians. I took time to look 
around more carefully. I didnt see anything new. You satisfied? 
 I expect. He held up a big glass jar Morley and I had overlooked. It contained a human heart in a clear fluid. Ill have my people come take the place 
apart. 
 
You know who owns it? 
 I know. Ironic coincidence. There wont be any problems, though. The Prince is determined. Hell just be doubly pissed because somebody dared. Hell 
breathe fire. 
 I chuckled. Youre welcome to collect the kudos, Captain. I dont want his kind noticing me. Just see that I get paid. Then youre happy, Im happy, and TunFaire is happy soon as word gets out. Now, unless you insist on my 
help, Im dragging my weary ass home and putting it to bed. 
 
Go ahead, he said distractedly. And, Garrett? 
 
Yeah? 
 
Thanks. Youll get your money. And Ill still owe you for this miracle. 
 
There you go. I got me out of there while the getting was good. 
 The Dead Man was still doing interviews when I got home. There were people in with him and people waiting in the small front room. Dean was doing a shift on the door. I gave him my most malicious smile and sneered. Now you know what it feels like to be up at an absurd hour. I made a quick sally into the small front room in search of feline game but did not find my prey. 
Dean eyed me nervously and kept his mouth shut. 
 
Excellent, I thought as I trudged upstairs. First thing in the morning wed have a talk about that cat. 
 
21 First thing in the morning, I didnt talk to Dean at all. About cats, anyway. He rolled me out at some absurd hour before noon, told me, His Nibs wants 
you in his room. Ill bring your breakfast there. 
 
I groaned and rolled over. 
 Dean didnt bother with the usual roust. That should have warned me. But it was morning. Who thinks in the morning? I just grumped some ill-placed 
gratitude in the general direction of heaven and burrowed into my pillow. 
 
Bugs started chewing on me. 
 Felt like bugs biting, anyway. When I started flopping and swatting and cussing and digging around, I couldnt find a thing. But the nibbling kept on keeping 
on. 
 
It was morning. It took me a while to figure it. Old Dean hadnt salted my bed with insects. The Dead Man was prodding me. 
 Still cussing and dancing and swatting, I pried myself out of bed. That part of my mind that was working duly noted the discovery of a hitherto unsuspected 
aspect of my partner. He would persecute his allies as readily as his enemies. 
 Though my eyes only pretended to be open and my legs rebelled at every step, I made it downstairs without suffering any disaster. I stumbled into the Dead Mans room and dropped into my chair, weakly looking around for something 
I could use to start a fire as soon as I got the ambition. 
 Good morning, Garrett. You wouldnt think youd get much expression out of his style of communication, but he sure managed to sound as happy as a clam that didnt know it was being fattened up for a chowder. I am so pleased 
you could join me. 
 The sentiments I expressed were less sociable. What the hell you bubbling about? What the hell did you drag me down here for? The sun aint even up yet. Which wasnt strictly true. Somewhere out there, above the rain clouds, there was a sun that had been up for hours. It just hadnt been up for enough 
hours. 
 I could contain my curiosity no longer. The gentlemen of the City Watch came round to pay their respects and debts this morning. They were generous beyond 
belief. 
 
Dont mean much. Them showing up with one sceat makes them generous beyond belief. How much? 
 
The full one thousand marks. Moreover 
 Only a thousand? I grumped. Naturally, I grumped. A thousand was a major score, but Id have grumped if theyd brought money around by the wagonload. 
You couldve waited till a decent hour. 
 Moreover, he continued, ignoring me completely, they brought the latest news from the Cantard. My theories have been vindicated at last. The expected collapse of Glory Mooncalleds revolution, indicated by all those defections and desertions, has proved chimerical. He was just biding his time against 
the ripe moment. 
 Aw, hell. Now I understood why hed dragged me out. Didnt have a thing to do with money. Hed gotten his big chance to crowwith me in no condition 
to fight back. 
 Id figured Mooncalled was on his last legs. The evidence was there. Defections and desertions had been strong indicators that the rebellion was about to fold. Hell, there were refugees from the Cantard scattered all over Karenta 
now. Id seen plenty right here in TunFaire. 
 I didnt bother asking how Mooncalled had conjured another miracle. The man did these things. I went to work on the breakfast Dean brought and waited on the Dead Man. He would want to rub it in. He loves it when I lose an argument 
completely. 
 
He let me have it blow by blow, the uneconomical way. The way I do him when I want to yank his beard. 
 He claimed most of the defections and desertions hadnt been genuine. Furthermore, Mooncalled had just been lying low, staying ahead of the various armies, occasionally encouraging the Venageti forces or Karentine to come to blows while he awaited one of those rare but exceedingly violent storms that sweep into the Cantard from the gulf. I saw a few of those while I was down there. All you can do is take cover and hope the cover stands up to the wind and 
rain. 
 While his enemies were paralyzed, Mooncalled had struck. In both directions. One force attacked Full Harbor, Karentas biggest bridgehead in the Cantard. Hed tried before and had failed. This time hed succeeded, taking Full Harbor 
with all its supplies and munitions. 
 Another force attacked Quarache, Venagetas logistical bastion in the southern Cantard. Quarache is bigger and far more important than Full Harbor. It surrounds the only big, reliable oasis in that part of the desert. The Venageti war effort hinges on continued control of Quarache. Without it they wouldnt 
be able to project their power far enough to threaten the silver mines. 
 Losing Full Harbor would hurt the Karentine effort but not cripple it. Karenta 
has other bases along the coast. Venageta doesnt. 
 I tried a weak sally. Your boy is in deep shit now, Chuckles. Theyll send 
the Marines to take the Harbor back. Hes never gone up against Marines. 
 
Except for a sly touch of amusement he ignored me. He continued his story. 
 Quarache didnt go the way of Full Harbor. Mooncalled hadnt had the strength to carry it completely. Fighting continued as the Venageti rushed reinforcements in from everywhere, were reclaiming Quarache in prolonged, desperate, expensive 
house-to-house combat. 
 Like most ordinary Karentines, Ive developed an affection for Glory Mooncalled. Not that I want my kingdom to lose a war. But when you spend your whole life a witness to the corruption, incompetence, and greed shown by our overlords, you cant help but admire a guy who makes rude noises in their faces and brassily dares them to do their worstthen dances around mocking them while they stumble over their own feet. Too, I think a lot of us nurture the secret 
hope that Mooncalleds antics will compel an end to the endless war. 
 
This is really why you dragged me out of bed? 
 This and the fact that I wish to hear details of what happened last night. And he did seem intensely interested. I recalled that he had been from the beginning, like hed suspected something he didnt want to share. How was 
it that you managed to conclude the thing so quickly? 
 
Ah? I think I detect a hint of jealousy. A note of disbelief. 
 The law of averages suggests you should be capable of stumbling through unaided occasionally. It is true that I remain amazed at your ability to flout that 
law so frequently. 
 Yes. He was piqued. Hed put all that time into all those interviews, which we hadnt yet discussed, expecting to dazzle one and all with a startling indictment. Then Id had to go spoil his game by tracking down that jinxed coach. Garrett the Killjoy, thats me. You want to tell me what you thought 
was going on when Block first told us about the women? 
 
Somebody pounded on the door, timing it as though the Dead Man had had him waiting in the wings. 
 That will be Mr. Tharpe. I allowed him to return home last evening. He had 
personal matters to settle. Stay seated. Dean will handle the door. 
 
I yelled, Dean, throw that cat out when you let Saucerhead in. I waited till Tharpe came in before I started my story. 
 
You got lucky, Saucerhead said when I finished. 
 
Lucky, hell. That was a prime piece of deducting and detecting. 
 
Tharpe grunted, unconvinced. 
 
I didnt see anybody else thinking about attacking it by looking for the coach. 
 
I still say you lucked out, Garrett. How about if the old geezer used some regular coach? How about if he walked? 
 But he didnt. And thats the point. And thats what cost him. He decided to break in on a closed house and use it for his base, and found him a spiffy, neato coach there and just couldnt resist going in style. And it cost him. For a second I wondered if the jinx had gotten old butterfly-breath. But I didnt care. I wasnt much bothered by having croaked him, now. I hadnt run into many people whod needed killing more. I couldnt feel bad about 
doing the world a favor. 
 
You lucked out, Saucerhead insisted. And wouldnt be swayed. Neither would the Dead Man. 
 
Mr. Tharpe, I have an errand for you, should you care to extend your employment. 
 
You pay, I play. Saucerhead liked the Dead Man for some reason. 
 This building has become suspiciously free of vermin. That was because Id burned a dozen sulfur candles one day while he was taking one of his six-week naps. I thought Id do him a favor. Bugs like to snack on him. I am accustomed to employing large numbers of insects when I examine the various permutations of action available to the forces operating in the Cantard. I cannot indulge 
my curiosity without them. 
 
You already heard what Glory Mooncalled done, then? 
 
Yes. I am excited. I need a few thousand insects with which to evolve through the options available to the surviving combatants. 
 
He had a habit of lining bugs up on the wall, like soldiers, and running them through maneuvers. A disgusting vice. 
 Now, wait a minute, I protested. I just got this place deinfested. Bugs and mice are the Dead Mans worst enemies. Left unchecked, they would devour 
him in no time. 
 
So. You are the villain responsible. 
 
He knew darned well I was, he just hadnt brought it up before. 
 I am he, said I. Im also the guy what owns this dump. Im also the guy whats feeling damned put upon on account of Ive got a housekeeper whos moved in uninvited and figures its his duty to drag in every stray cat he can find. Im also the guy what dont like the floor crunching under his tootsies whenever he starts looking for the chamber pot in the dark. Never 
mind about the bugs, Saucerhead. Let him use his imagination. 
 The Dead Man sent me an exaggerated mental sigh. So be it. I fear, then, 
Mr. Tharpe, that we have no further need for your services. 
 
I gave the Dead Man a narrow-eyed look. Hed given up too easily. Hes right. What do we owe you? 
 
Not enough so I dont got to go back to raising knots on heads for that creep Licks. 
 A sad story. Nobody liked Licks. Including me, and I didnt know him. Guy has to make a living, I guess. I counted out a few coins, not much. Tharpe 
seemed satisfied. He hadnt done anything but answer the door. 
 
You might maybe add a little tip on account of personal hardship, Garrett. 
 
Personal hardship? 
 
I had to be here instead of home. Though maybe from what I hear, you done forgot about women. 
 
Not quite. Not yet. But its fading fast. 
 So be cynical and self-serving. Go apologize to Tinnie. He liked Tinnie. Hell, I liked her. I just couldnt get along with her redheaded temper. For 
now. The songs you sing do change. Abstinence does make the heart grow fonder. 
 Saucerhead seemed in no hurry to leave. He and the Dead Man were wondering what might have snapped inside the butterfly mans head and left him wanting to carve up women. I figured this was my chance. I gathered my breakfast leavings, took them to the kitchen. Once I disposed of the evidence, Id 
slide upstairs and catch me forty winks. 
 
Somebody banged on the door. 
 
22 What was this? Id worked so hard to discourage customers that I didnt get this many visitors in a week anymore. Dean made like he was too snowed in 
cleaning up, so I took care of it myself. 
 
Hoping for some randy sex goddess, I got Barking Dog Amato. Id forgotten him completely. 
 
You forgot all about me, Garrett, he accused, pushing inside, forcing me back with his personal chemistry. 
 
No, I lied. I figured you hadnt had time to get anything ready yet. 
 
Been raining. Not much else to do. Making signs and handbills gets old. 
 Youd think a drenching would wash the grunge away. Not so. Water just brought it to life. I considered propping the door open, maybe opening a few windows so the wind could blow through. If Id lived on the Hill, I might have tried it. In my neighborhood you wouldnt dare. Even during a typhoon there would be some opportunist ready to accept the challenge. Besides, I only had one 
downstairs window. 
 Once past me, Amato halted, dripped, reeked, looked around. You got that thing, that whatsit they call the Dead Man. Id sure like to take a gander 
at that, you know what I mean? 
 I tried shallow breaths. I dont know why we bother. It never helps. Why not? Youre a man he ought to meet. I wished Old Bones had him a working sniffer. Id lock them in together till Amato sold him his whole zany conspiracy 
collection. 
 
I opened the Dead Mans door, held it for Amato. Saucerhead, in my chair, half-turned, saw Barking Dog. 
 
His face scrunched up into a world-class frown. He didnt ask, though. 
 He got a whiff, thats why. He gasped, I see you got a client Id better go good-bye, all in one long exhalation. He slid out the door almost before I got through. He tossed me a look that told me he wanted to hear all about 
it. Later. A lot later, after the miasma cleared. 
 
I winked. Make sure the front door is closed. 
 
Barking Dog said, My God, its an ugly sucker. Got a hooter like a mammoth, dont it? 
 
Another missionary, Garrett? 
 
This is Kropotkin Amato. You recall the arrangement we made. 
 You know what I mean. You still intend to harass me? You will recall that 
your previous effort met with a singular lack of success. 
 
Me? No . . .  
 Nor did you bother mentioning any arrangement, though I discern the details 
in your mind. We did not contract to have the man watch himself. 
 
We didnt contract anything, Smiley. 
 Barking Dog looked baffled. I would have too, hearing only half the conversation. I changed subjects. You can understand why I did it. I didnt want to bruise Amatos feelings. The Dead Man could peek inside his head, see why we didnt 
have to mount a major campaign. 
 You are correct, Garrett. This time. However unlikely, he believes his theories. Which, you will understand, make them the reality in which he lives. I suggest you do meet our principal, try to ascertain why he deems it worthwhile to 
keep tabs on Mr. Amato. 
 Good morning, Mr. Amato. I have been anxious to make your acquaintance since 
Mr. Garrett first undertook to trace your movements. 
 
The rat was going to lay it off on me. 
 
Uh . . . hi. Barking Dog was at a loss for words. Maybe I ought to check to see if this was really him. 
 
One breath and I knew I didnt have to check. Look here, Chuckles, dont you go 
 Mr. Amato and I have a great deal to discuss, Garrett. I suggest you visit 
Mr. Hullar and see if you cannot unearth a reason for his interest. 
 
Yeah, Garrett. What you been doing, anyhow? You was supposed to . . .  
 I fled, defeated. Would Barking Dog care that Id neglected him only to save TunFaire from a vicious serial killer? He would be sure they had bought me 
off. Even though he was the subject I was supposed to investigate for them. 
 I gave the stairway one longing look, then got into my rain gear. I checked my pockets to see how much cash I had. Maybe I could rent me a room and catch 
a few winks. 
 I made a sudden sally into the small front room before I left, thinking Id snatch Deans cat and drag it along. But the cat wasnt in evidence, only 
the scratches it had left on my furniture. 
 Then I realized that I had nothing to report to Hullar. I trudged back and pried Barking Dogs report away from him. He and the Dead Man were weaving 
drunken spiderwebs of conspiracy theory already. 
 
23 The Tenderloin is that part of town which caters to the side of people they keep hidden. Any vice can be found there, any sin committed, almost any need fulfilled. The hookers and the drug dens and gambling pits are just the surface, the glamour. At least, those aspects of those things that can be glamorous 
when seen from the street. 
 Its a glitzy street. Or streets, really. The area is bigger than Tinkery Row. And more successful. Nothing sells like sin. After the Hill its the most prosperous, cleanest, safest, and most orderly part of the city. Some 
very unpleasant people make sure it stays that way. 
 
It all belongs, directly or indirectly, to Chodo Contagues empire. 
 Bishoff Hullars taxi-dance place is as tame a dive as you can find there. Thats all the girls do, dance and talk to lonely fellows and try to get them to buy drinks. Maybe a few make personal arrangements, but there are no facilities on the premises. The place is as shabby as theyre allowed to get down there. Frankly, I dont see how Hullar stays in business, competing 
with neighbors who offer so much more. 
 The place wasnt jumping when I arrived, but it was just after noon then. A couple of sad-looking sailors sat at a table talking to a sad-looking girl who sipped colored water and didnt pretend very hard that she gave a damn about what the sailors were saying. A doddering ratman mopped around the other tables. All those had chairs piled atop them. There was nobody on the dance floor, though a couple more girls were loafing by the bandstand, where three worn-out old musicians werent trying very hard to stay awake. Both girls glanced at me, wondering if I was worth the effort of making so long a trek. One, who looked like she might break out in a case of puberty any 
day, lazily packed a pipe with weed. 
 The guy behind the bar had to be the worlds oldest dwarf. He wore the full costume, complete with a pheasants feather in a peaked little cap. He had a beard that should have kept the floor swept of debris. Whats it going to be, Ace? He wiped the bar in front of me with the same rag hed been 
using to polish mugs. 
 
Beer. 
 
Pint? 
 
Yeah. 
 
Light? Dark? 
 
Light. 
 
Lager? Pilsner? . . .  
 Just draw one. Surprise me. Weiders, if you got it. I figured I owed Old Man Weider a little commercial loyalty, what with him having had me on retainer 
so long. 
 
Hasty. Always hasty. He drew me a pint. Wet enough for you out there? 
 
Oh, my. A talkative bartender. Wet enough. Hullar around? 
 
Who wants to know? Suddenly he was completely alert. 
 
Names Garrett. Im supposed to be doing something for him. 
 Yeah? He wiped the bar next to me while he thought about that. After a moment he said, Ill check. Off he trundled. I rose onto my toes, watched, 
wondering if hed stumble over his beard. 
 Hi. Im Brenda. The pipe smoker had puffed up enough ambition to hike all the way over. I glanced at her, resumed studying the wasteland behind the 
bar. The woman was less interesting. 
 Up close it was obvious she wasnt a child, that that was just her hook. The gamine had gone a long time ago, probably before she was old enough to 
become a gamine. I said, Im just here to see Hullar. Business. 
 
Oh. Her voice had had little life before. Now it was dead. 
 I glanced at the musicians. I could part with a few coppers, though, if you could explain why those band guys are here at this time of day. I didnt know Hullars place well, but didnt think there was any music during the 
day. 
 
Somebody kicked the shit out of them last night after work. Theyre waiting to talk to some guy about it. 
 
Licks? Coming in to put the arm on them? 
 
Youre in, Ace. The man says come on back. 
 I dropped a half-dozen coppers into the womans hand. She made an effort to find a smile but had trouble remembering where shed left it. I wanted to say something to waken her spirit but couldnt think of a thing. So I just said, Thanks, and hurried after the dwarf. If I let him get too big 
a head start Id miss out when he tripped over his beard. 
 Bishoff Hullar was five feet tall, three feet wide, bald as an egg, in his sixties, ugly as sin itself. The width wasnt fat. Id heard he was a strongman in his younger days and that he kept up in case there was a call for his talents. Sit, Garrett. He indicated a rickety antediluvian chair. He had a voice like rocks tumbling around inside an iron drum. Somebody had done the lead-pipe thing on his throat in his once-upon-a-time. You got anything 
for me? 
 I gave him Barking Dogs report. He took it, started reading. I said, I have some questions. I glanced around his workplace. You couldnt call it an office. He sat behind a table with some writing tools on it, but also makeup pots, which suggested the girls used the place for a dressing room. 
Overall, it was as tacky as the rest of the place. 
 
Huh? He looked up, piggy little gray eyes narrowed. 
 
Basic stuff my partner never got around to asking because he thought this job would be a good joke on me. 
 
Hullars eyes got narrower. Joke? 
 Barking Dog Amato. Nobody in the world is going to pay somebody to spy on a lunatic. Least of all a guy who runs a place like this down here. I cant 
see you even knowing Barking Dog. 
 
I dont. Wouldnt know him if he walked in and sank his fangs in me. Whats it to you? Youre getting paid. 
 Im the guy what takes his butt onto the street amongst the slings and arrows, Hullar. I kind of like to know why Im doing that, and who for. That way 
I have a notion what direction to expect trouble from when it comes. 
 
Youre not going to see no trouble. 
 They all tell me that. If there wasnt trouble, though, they wouldnt come 
to me in the first place. I dont play blindfolded, Hullar. 
 
He put the report down, looked at me like he was making up his mind whether to kick my butt or not. Not won the toss. 
 
You got a good rep, Garrett. Why I picked you. Ill take a chance. 
 I waited. He brooded. The dwarf bartender waited at the door, maybe to see if the boss would need help. There wasnt much tension, though. I didnt 
feel threatened. 
 I aint got much here, Garrett. We aint got much. But were like family. We take care of each other on account of were all weve got. This here is 
like the last ledge before the fall into the pit. 
 I couldnt argue that. I kept my opinion to myself. My old mom used to suggest strongly that I just might learn something if I could manage to keep my mouth shut long enough to listen. Mom was right, but I didnt get the message for 
yearsand I still forget it far too often. 
 Somebody works for me comes to me with their trouble, usually I try to lend a hand. If I can. I do that, maybe they give me a little help when I need 
it. Right? 
 
Makes sense. Only in the real world it doesnt work that way very often. One of your people wants Barking Dog watched? 
 He eyed me, still taking my measure. Youre a cynic. You dont believe in much. Especially not people. Maybe thats a good thing in your line, kind 
of folks you probably have to deal with. 
 
Yeah. I was proud of me. I kept a straight face. 
 
He glanced at the dwarf, got a response I didnt catch. 
 
All right. Heres the way it is, Garrett. Amatos kid works for me. When he got himself tossed in the Al-Khar, she 
 Hes got a daughter? Youve heard that one about knocking a guy over with 
a feather? That feather would have smashed me like a bug. 
 Yeah. This Amato, hes a loony. But harmless. You know that. I know that. Only hes got a habit of naming names. Shes scared maybe he named the wrong one, some Hill-type asshole what dont got a sense of humor. Maybe the old man is about to get his ass in deep shit. Girls a little light-headed herself, if you get my drift. But shes family here, and when my people worry, I try to fix it so they dont. So what I want from you is you should keep an eye on the old nut, let me know if hes about to step in it so I can yank him 
out of the way before he gets run over. Understand? 
 
Yes. And no. Barking Dog with a daughter? How did he ever manage that? A bit hard to buy. 
 Yeah? Something about it you dont like? You just say youre out. Ill get somebody else. I picked you on account of they say youre almost honest. 
But I can live without you. 
 
Its just a big chunk to swallow. You dont know Barking Dog. You did, youd know why. I cant figure him for having a kid. 
 
Crunch. Tell Sas to bring us a couple of beers. 
 The dwarf left. We didnt talk. After a while a woman came with two beers, light for me and dark for Hullar. Id seen her with the gamine, muttering with the musicians. I hadnt noticed then, but up close the resemblance to Amato was there. She even had those spooky eyes that looked like they were seeing things hidden from the rest of us. She pretended not to study me while 
I pretended not to study her. 
 
Thanks, Sas. 
 
Sure, Bish. She left. 
 
Sure looks like him, I admitted. 
 
There you go. Any problems now? 
 Not really. I wondered if shed studied me because the dwarf had told her who I was. Probably. Maybe hed sent her back more to give her a look than 
to give me one. This supposed to be a secret? 
 
Secret? 
 
Ill tell my partner, of course. He wont kick it around. But is it supposed to be a secret from the rest of the world? 
 
Probably wouldnt hurt. The guy maybe does have an enemy or three. 
 
Suppose he catches on that Im watching? Am I allowed to tell him why? 
 I dont figure that would do Sas no good. Look, I know this aint in your usual line. Pretty tame, you being used to mixing it up with sorcerers and gangsters and Hill folk, but it means something to us. You dont got to make a career out of it. I aint paying that much. But wed all appreciate it if youd let us in on it should he get his ass into something he cant handle. 
Right? 
 I rose. Good enough. I believed him because I wanted to believe him. You dont much see people do nice things for people. One of your girls said 
your musicians are having problems. 
 You dont need to worry about that. Tooken care of. For a moment he looked like the evil thing Id pictured him to be. Or will be, real soon. How about 
you take my mug back out to Crunch? 
 
I took both mugs. 
 
24 
The dwarf grunted when I made my delivery. For an old guyespecially for an old dwarfCrunch was astonishingly polite. 
 
As I headed for the street, I glanced at the bandbox. And almost tripped over my feet. 
 
A man had joined the musicians. He was one guy Id hoped I wouldnt ever see again. He stared at me. I stared back. 
 He had nothing on me in height and only a little in weight, but size didnt make this man. He reeked menace the way Barking Dog Amato reeked uninspired personal hygiene. He scared you just by being around, even when he smiled. His name was Crask. He was one of Chodo Contagues top cats. He hurt people 
for a living. He enjoyed his work. 
 I realized Id stopped to stare. He kept staring too. Each of us was wondering what the hell the other was doing there. When my brain unfroze again I had 
no trouble figuring him. He was there because of the battered musicians. 
 Old Licks didnt have a license from the outfit. Him and his buddies would be in deep shit if Crask caught up. Especially deep for picking on musicians in the Tenderloin. The Tenderloin was Chodos. Even the King doesnt mess 
around down there. 
 
I almost made it to the door before I got stunned again. 
 
The girl blew in as I reached for the latch. I dodged, gaped. For all she reacted, I was a ghost. 
 She was the one those villains had dragged out of Morleys place. The one Morley claimed was the kingpins daughter. I turned, stared, maybe panted 
some, as she strode toward Crunch. 
 
Crasks face went as cold as death. My heart jumped. But it wasnt me he was watching. 
 The girl glanced his way, stopped, made a little sound of surprise, whirled, and sprinted for the street. She ricocheted off me as she went. I purred. 
Whip me, beat me . . .  
 Crask came pounding up behind me as I stepped into the rain to watch her 
fly away. He halted beside me. What the hell was that? I asked. 
 
What you doing here, Garrett? He sounded suspicious. Nasty suspicious. Like getting-ready-to-break-arms-and-legs suspicious. 
 
What are you doing here? I thought you were too big-time for legwork. 
 
She come here to meet you? 
 Huh? That was a surprise notion. Uh-uh. No touch. Ill break things. Crask was scary, but I wasnt afraid of him in any head-butting contest. I figured our chances were equal if we got to prancing around pounding on each other. He was scary because he was a killer and a smart one. If he decided 
to send you over, you might as well start counting your beads. 
 
You stay away, Garrett. Or theyll find parts of you all over town. 
 
I didnt know you had a woman. Who is she? Fact was, I thought he and his sidekick Sadler had a thing. 
 
Huh? 
 Im going to tell you this once, Crask. I dont know the girl. I have seen her before. Once. She walked into Morley Dotess place night before last. Two minutes later a bunch of guys roared in and tried to kidnap her. Me and Morley and Saucerhead showed them what we think of guys who pick up their girls the rough way. She disappeared before we finished. Beginning and end of story. Now its your go. Who is she? How come you got your balls in an 
uproar? 
 You dont need to know. The girl was out of sight now. Crask frowned after her, as much puzzled as angry. Hed bought my story, probably because Id 
not lied to him much in the past. What was she doing at Dotess place? 
 
You got me. Never said a word. Just came in looking scared, sat by herself, then three guys blew in and dragged her out. 
 He grunted. I didnt know about that. Thanks, Garrett. Ill give you one back. Tell Tharpe it aint going to be healthy hanging around with those 
guys trying to mess with the musicians. 
 I was going to suggest that anyway after I saw you in there. I started moving, planning to put some distance between us before it occurred to him 
to bring up old business. 
 
Garrett. 
 
Damn. What? 
 
You see the girl around again, pass the word. Wed like to know. 
 
Sure. But why? Who is she? 
 
Just do it. He went inside without turning his back. 
 I hustled away, breathing hard. It had been an encounter Id dreaded more than necessary. Maybe. Maybe the street in front of Hullars place didnt 
strike him as the best stage for my demise. 
 
25 Peace and harmony broke out all over. I had nothing to do but loaf, deliver the occasional report to Hullar, and keep an eye on Deans crowd whenever he had them over for one of his rehab parties. You wouldnt believe how rowdy 
old men can get. 
 There werent any cats around, and except for his barbs about me not working, Dean wasnt a nuisance. The Dead Man went to sleep, visions of Glory Mooncalled dancing in his head. Saucerhead resigned from the musician-organizing racket just before Morley reported that he was no longer obliged to endure the custom of that human smudgepot Licks. I got out and visited, bought a few rounds for friends, reforged contacts, even dropped by the brewery and spent a few days checking employee theft for Weider. As always, he wanted me to take the job full-time. As always, I couldnt overcome my horror of holding down 
a real job. 
 Nobodys life stays on that high and relaxed a level. Especially not mine. 
The gods have a special Garrett harassment squad dedicated solely to my persecution. 
 
So I should have known the good times were over the morning I went out to run and found that the rains had returned. 
 I was in my office busting my skull trying to fake up numbers that would impress the tax thugs with the depths of my destitution. Somebody hammered on the door. I groaned. It was nearly suppertime and Dean was fixing a standing rib roast that would be bloody rare and would melt in my mouth, with all 
the extras. Smelling the odors from the kitchen had me drooling already. 
 
Dean asked, Shall I ignore it? 
 No. Its probably Saucerhead. Tharpe had been around a lot lately. His flame had walked. His luck hadnt been good since. There enough to feed 
him too? 
 
Barely. Saucerhead does put it away. There wont be anything left over. 
 
I shrugged. Ill get even with him someday. 
 You just want to get away from what youre doing. He tottered down the 
hall to the accompaniment of renewed pounding. Somebody was awfully anxious. 
 Dean was right. I did want to get away. I hate the whole idea of taxes. What have I ever gotten from the Crown? A pack and a collection of weapons and a five-year adventure in the war zone. I had to give back the pack and weapons. They just wanted to rip me off so they could give some other kid a chance 
to see the acne on the ass of the world. 
 
I got out of having to be creative, but, all things considered, Id rather Id stayed with the taxes. 
 It wasnt Saucerhead. It was a guy Id hoped never to see again, Captain 
Block. Dean showed Block into my office. Block looked frazzled. 
 
I couldnt help myself. Now what? 
 Block planted his behind, settled his elbows on his knees, buried his face 
in his hands. Same as before. Youll have to see it. 
 
Look, I bailed you out once. Isnt that enough? Deans cooking supper. Itll be ready in half an hour. 
 
So he told me. Also told me you were busy doing taxes. 
 
Yeah. 
 
You wouldnt be the kind of guy whod forget to report a fat cash payment from the Watch, would you? 
 
Damned right I would be. Why? 
 One mission of the Watch is to investigate alleged tax fraud. We dont do 
much of that, but when theres a report, we have to act to cover our butts. 
 
Ill find my hat. How far do we have to go? 
 
Not far. He smiled weakly. I knew I could count on you. And Im sure your purse wont get hurt this time, either. 
 
No happiness came through his smile. He looked more stressed than last time. What had him by the short hairs now? 
 Something that would be politically painful, surely. By getting out, tapping the wind of rumor whispering through the streets, I knew Block had turned catching old bug-breath into a big score. Suddenly there was a lot of stuff going on in the shadows. Prince Rupert was getting behind Westman Block. Block had hidden irons in the fire. It all had the knights of the street 
feeling nervous. 
 
I made sure I was equipped for trouble, just because of the company Id be keeping. Trouble followed Block. 
 We talked about the Cantard as we walked. Glory Mooncalled had abandoned his effort to capture Quarache but had hamstrung the Venageti ability to project their power far into the desert. Id also been on the mark about the Marines getting the job of retaking Full Harbor. That operation had begun. I had mixed feelings. They brag that when they turn you into a Marine they 
make you a Marine forever. 
 The more we talked, the more I realized that Block was thoroughly spooked. 
Whatever his problem, it was going to be something I wouldnt like. 
 
26 
Now I was spooked. 
 Identical, I said, staring at the gutted, naked girl. She hung in an alleyway behind abandoned tenements on the near south side. Those tenements had been 
occupied by ratmen squatters until a few hours ago. They were long gone now. 
 In the rain and poor light the dead girl was a ringer for the one Block had shown me in the Bustee. This cant be, Block. I got them. I had to believe 
Id gotten them. Im not made to shake off killing the wrong villains. 
 Block wasnt so scared for his behind that he couldnt see what was bothering me. You got the right guy, Garrett. Dont doubt that for a minute. After we got the Princes go-ahead, we took that place apart. You wouldnt believe what we found. Theyd been in there a long time. They kept pieces of all their victims. There were bodies in the cellar, girls, but not the type. 
My guess is they used them for practice before they went after the real thing. 
 I stared at the new corpse, listened to the flies sing. There was one thing . . .  I told him about that missing clothing and knives. Id discovered that Morley hadnt taken away any souvenirs. I didnt mention Morleys name. 
It wouldnt appeal to Block. 
 
You didnt mention any of this before. 
 
I thought everything was wrapped up before. But 
 
Yeah. But. Elvis! 
 
A nondescript Watchman hurried over. Captain? 
 
Show Mr. Garrett what you found. 
 Elvis had a folded scrap of paper tucked into a pocket inside his rain cape. Inside it were three green butterflies. I shivered as though the rain had 
turned to sleet. How long since the last murder? 
 
Twelve days. This one was right on schedule. 
 
I was afraid youd say that. Id been confident he would. I dont know why I asked. Maybe I hoped hed show me I was wrong. 
 The killer is dead but the killing goes on. How can that be, Garrett? Now I understood why Block was so rattled. This wasnt just a matter of his career 
being in jeopardy. 
 
I dont know. What happened to the old mans body? 
 
It was cremated. I saw them both go into the ovens. 
 
What did you do with the old man from the Bustee? Did you get anything out of him? 
 
Block looked embarrassed. He died. 
 
Huh? 
 
We tried too hard. Gave him too much of everything. He overdid himself to death. 
 
I just shook my head. It could only happen around me. You recheck the Hamilton place since you found this? 
 
Got the report before I came after you. Nothing there. No connection. 
 
What about the coach? 
 Hasnt moved. The wheels are chained so it cant be. And the horses were 
sold. They didnt belong there. They were squatters too. 
 
Know who this girl is yet? 
 
No. But it wont be long before we do. Shell be somebody. 
 He meant shed be related to somebody. None of the dead girls had been important in their own right yet, but theyd all come off the Hill. If the pattern holds. I was scared and confused. I told Block I was scared and confused and didnt know what to do now, except, Wed better talk it over with the 
Dead Man before we do anything. He did interview all those people. 
 
Block brightened. Yeah. If theres anything to start on, he ought to have it. 
 
I recalled my roast. That wonderful, expensive roast that had had me drooling for hours. 
 
I wasnt hungry anymore. 
 
It probably dont mean a thing now, I said, but did you ever find out who we caught? 
 
The old guy? 
 
No, dipshit. The lead horse in the team in . . . Yes. 
 
Block glanced around, then whispered, Idraca Matiston. 
 
Whoa! Scares me. Who the hell is . . . was . . . Idraca Matiston. 
 
Keep it down, will you? 
 
Somebody, I take it, that was enough of a somebody that you dont want word getting around. 
 Whisper. Idraca Matiston, Viscount Nettles. Lady Hamiltons lover. Had a bit of a bizarre reputation to begin, which is why we wrapped it fast and quiet and other quarters let it out hed passed on from complications. He was in and out of the Hamilton house all the time and nobody thought anything of it because hed always been. Now I know what I know, Id go back and take 
a closer look at Lady Hamiltons mishap if the Prince would let me. 
 I still dont know who youre talking about. I dont keep up with the ruling 
classs scandals. Guess it doesnt matter now, anyway. 
 
No, it doesnt. Were under orders to forget that episode. 
 I was willing to forget everything except when I looked at the young woman without her entrails. I shut up, did not press Block, but I did wonder about 
a woman who would take an antique like old butterfly-breath for her lover. 
 
27 
Your dream came true, I told Dean when he let us in. Im employed. Youd better be more careful what you wish for. 
 
Is it that bad? 
 
Worse. Go wake up the Dead Man. 
 
What about supper? Everything is overdone now. He almost whined. Hes proud of his cooking. 
 
If youd seen what I did, you wouldnt want to eat either. 
 Oh. Then Ill have to get everything off the stove and put away right away. Thus he evaded having to deal with the Dead Man. He has a real talent for getting out of things by having something else to do that has to get done 
first. 
 I told Block, We may have to light a fire under him. I think hes only been asleep about a week. Sometimes these spells last for months. Dean. Since you dont want to handle His Nibs, you get to go get Morley. That would fix him. He was less comfortable at Morleys place than in the Dead Mans 
room. 
 The brave Captain Block endured our juvenile maneuvers without comment. Maybe there was a human being in there. Maybe I could grow to like the guy, incompetence 
and all. 
 
I led the way, storming the ramparts. Or whatever. 
 
I hadnt been into the Dead Mans room since well before his nap began. Things had changed. 
 
Gods! Block swore. 
 
I made an inarticulate sound something like a squeal. 
 The place was full of bugs. Big bugs, little bugs, enough bugs to carry the 
Dead Man away if they got into teamwork. And I knew who was to blame. 
 The fat stiff had worked a deal with Saucerhead behind my back. The real question was, how had he worked it so the creepy-crawlies hadnt gotten into the rest of the house to give his scheme away? I muttered, I hope youre enjoying your dreams about the Cantard. Despite my efforts, chitin crunched 
underfoot. 
 
What is this? Block asked. 
 He collects bugs. Believe it or not. And doesnt bother to get rid of them when hes done playing with them. Now Ill have to use sulfur candles again. I hate it when I have to do that. I wondered if Dean had been in on the deal. Probably. That would explain the absence of the cat. Hed know Id start exterminating as soon as I found out. No cat would survive a thorough 
sulfur-candle job. 
 
I started considering doing a sulfur-candle job on myself. It had been half an hour. 
 
He dead? Block asked. Like for good? His Nibs hadnt twitched a mental muscle. 
 
No. Just napping. Really. He picks his times for when its most inopportune. 
 
How come? 
 
I shrugged. These things happen to me. 
 
What do you do? 
 
Fuss and fume and threaten to light a fire under him. Scream and yell and run in circles. 
 
What if that dont work? 
 Then I muddle through on my own. I started loosening up to do my screaming 
and circling. Id exhausted fuss and fume and threaten. 
 Block started wadding scrap paper from a trash box nobody had emptied in an epoch. He tossed the wads under the Dead Mans chair. I got attentive. 
Whatre you doing? My money was under there. I hoped he hadnt noticed. 
 
Going to start that fire you mentioned. 
 Hell, you got balls after all. I talked about it but never seriously considered 
doing it. I leaned against the doorframe, watched. This could get interesting. 
 The bugs started getting excitedmore excited than they usually do when someone is stomping around. I began to suspect that my partner wasnt as far away 
as hed like me to think. 
 
Block grabbed a lamp. 
 Damn. He was going to go for it. All the way. I wouldnt interfere in it for anything. Grinning, I observed, I figure the fire will get his attention before its big enough to be a threat to the house. After four hundred years hes pretty dried out. Ever hear about how when the Dewife invaded Polkta they couldnt find enough wood to heat their stillsno trees in Polktaso they dragged old mummies out of the ancient Polktan tombs and burned them 
instead? 
 
Block paused. Really? He had a big dopey frown on. 
 Really. A body dries out for a few hundred years, itll burn. Not great, 
but good enough so you dont have to do without your liquor. 
 Oh. Block didnt care about curiosa. In fact, he was baffled. What did this have to do with a bunch of drunken barbarian tomb robbers in a faraway 
land a hundred years ago? 
 I had to wonder about the man. And my cherished notions about the Watch. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they werent all bone-lazy and graft-bitten. Maybe some were well-meaninglike Block most of the timebut were too stupid to 
handle their jobs. 
 
Block squatted to shove the lamp under the Dead Mans chair. 
 
Call him off, Garrett. 
 
It lives! Hang in there, Captain. Im starting to get something. 
 
Garrett! 
 
Take a peek inside a head or two, Old Bones. Weve got a problem. 
 
Block froze, flame a foot from the wastepaper, eyes a hair too high to spot my stash. 
 I have called you a curse upon my waning years, Garrett. I have been too kind. Many a time have I been tempted to terminate our association. I should have yielded. You are rude, pushy, thoughtless, uncouth. Only a certain crude 
charm shields you. 
 
My mother loved me. But what did she know, eh? 
 
I could spend hours cataloging your shortcomings. But this is not the time. 
 
Youve done it often enough that I know them by heart anyway. 
 
Excellent. You do have your redeeming virtues. 
 First time Id heard that from him. Tinnie and Maya and one or twelve other ladies had mentioned an occasional virtue and a more-than-occasional failing, 
but 
 
Including an all-consuming laziness. However, this once, you were correct to disturb me. 
 
Gods, you can carry me away. Ive seen it all now. 
 Your manners are deplorable. You might have found a more civil means of obtaining my attention. But your assessment is correct. You cannot handle this without 
my assistance. 
 Smug character, eh? I signaled Block to back off. Hes awake. I breathed 
easier with the Watchman away from the household fortune. 
 I feared it would come to this. The hints were there. But I allowed your success on the Hill, come so swift and with such apparent finality, to deceive me. Because I wanted it to be true. Yes. Even master realists such as myself may, in a lifetime, succumb occasionally to wishful thinking. The mind and 
the heart naturally eschew horror. 
 Brag about your failures loudly, longly, humbly, and you can make a virtue of them. Make it look like youre a regular guy. I asked, How come I get the feeling you werent asleep at all, you were just rehearsing? Cut the aw-shucks comedy, Chuckles. Girls are dying right on schedule. They shouldnt be. You talked to everybody who had anything to do with the others. Did you 
get anything? Give us an angle. Tell us how to stop this thing for good. 
 That may not be possible. Not in the sense you mean. If it is what I feared at first glimpse. Captain Block, I need to know about that man you took from 
the Bustee. Garrett, I want to know about those ritual knives. 
 I felt him digging into my mind, deeper than usual. Presumably he was doing the same to Block at the same time. Blocks eyes got huge. In my case I felt him digging after things I hadnt noticed noticing at the site of the most 
recent murder. 
 Its neither fun nor comfortable having somebody prowl through your head. I hate it. Youd hate it too. There are things in there that nobody ought 
to know. But I didnt shut him out. 
 
I can do thatif I work at it hard enough. 
 
He surprised me. Butterflies? 
 
Yes. So? 
 Three times now, butterflies. This is a new twist. Though no one has mentioned butterflies in connection with any of the victims you did not see yourself, 
I feel that we are dealing with a single killer. 
 No shit? I couldnt see there being a bunch of guys all getting the same idea: hey, wouldnt it be neat if I found me a pretty young brunette and 
strung her up and bled her and cut her guts out? 
 Indeed, Garrett. Absolutely. One particularly interesting fact that emerged from my interview series was that the blond young lady, Tania Fahkien, was not a natural blond. In fact, the state of blondness had befallen her only 
hours before her demise. 
 
Are any of them natural blonds? Not many, in my experience. 
 
Just so. The point is, the coloring of the victims is worth pursuit. 
 
Even Block had gotten that far. I said so. 
 
Of course. But we forgot that in our excitement over having brought the killer to ruin. Correct? 
 The details do seem inconsequential when youve got your bad guy nailed down and everything wrapped. You said you feared this. Did you have some idea what was going on before I spoiled everything by getting lucky but not 
as lucky as I thought? 
 Yes. As you suspect, these sorts of murders have come around before. I know of three previous series, though without any direct knowledge of the first two outbreaks. Those occurred while I was still among the ambulatory, surrounded by a people whose foibles and tribulations were, at best, of marginal and academic interest. The victim types and killing methods were similar, but 
insofar as I recall, there were no butterflies. 
 
So maybe nobody noticed. You dont see what youre not looking for. But Blocks one man had. 
 Perhaps. There was no reason to look for butterflies. Though, as I noted, I was not that interested in those outbreaksother than as behavioral curiosities amongst the unwashed and ignorant latecoming barbarian, a creature capable 
of firing his distilleries with the remains of his dead. 
 He does like to get his needles in. All right. You know something. You said you feared this. How about you get to the point before all the brunettes in town are lost to us? I confess to a personal penchant for redheads, but 
brunettes are a valuable resource in their own right. 
 
Horrors out of olden times, Garrett. 
 
Its happened before. Right? Surprise me a surprise. Fact me a fact. 
 
I was never involved with those prior cycles. Yet they were dramatic enough to stick in mind, though with few useful details. 
 
I can see that. I was getting exasperated. And he was enjoying that. How about remembering what you can remember? 
 He sighed mentally but forged boldly into new territory by ignoring my impatience. Then, as now, the victims fell into a narrow range of physical characteristics. They were female, young, brunette, attractive by human standards, with very similar features. In fact, facial similarities seemed more important that 
height or weight. 
 The faces of many women flickered through my mind, as he had reconstructed them from his interviews and ancient recollections. None were related, but all could have passed as sisters. All had faces much like that of Chodos daughterif not as paleand wore their hair as she had when Id run into 
her at Hullars . . .  
 Hey. For the first time I realized that shed worn her hair differently there. That shed had a full head of hair, hanging long, not the helmet Id seen 
at Morleys place. 
 Hairstyle could be a key. The Dead Man produced several notions of styles from olden times. The faces and figures remained vague, but the hairstyles were identical with that worn by Chodos daughter at Hullars. All the recently 
departed had had bushels of hair. 
 So maybe we got us an unhappy hairdresser, Block said. Stalking down the corridors of history, eliminating the gauche and pass. The man had 
a sense of humor after all. Weird, but he had one. 
 I said, This mess is getting kind of spooky, Smiley. And I wasnt alone in thinking so. Despite his flirtation with levity, Block was green around 
the gills. 
 There is sorcery in it, Garrett. Grim, gruesome, ancient, and evil sorcery. Necromancy of the darkest form. Dead men who have gone to the crematorium 
do not rise up and resume their atrocities. 
 Really? What genius. Hell, I figured that out. Im not a detective for nothing. Deductive reasoning. Or was it inductive? I can never keep those 
two straight. 
 There is a curse at work. If this outbreak is indeed connected with those that went before, it is a very potent curse. In those cases, when the guilty 
parties were apprehended and executed, the killings stopped. 
 
But did start up again later. 
 
Eventually. Apparently. After generations. 
 
They started up again right away this time, Block said. 
 This was the first time the guilty party was caught quickly. This was the first time without a trial and execution. This was the first time the guilty 
party was cremated. 
 Whats that got to do with anything? Block demanded. He was into the thing now. In fact, he was back over by that lamp looking like he was thinking 
about starting a fire just to make the Dead Man get on with it. 
 
He wasnt as dumb as he pretended. 
 As I recollect, the earlier killers were caught, tried, convicted, and hanged. Two were hanged. I believe the first was beheaded. Beheading was the punishment 
in fashion then. In each case the remains went into unmarked graves. 
 
Executed criminals still go into unmarked graves. Thats part of the punishment. And? I asked. 
 
So? from Block. 
 Garrett, Garrett, must you be so determinedly thick of wit? I have given you everything you need. Use your brain for something more than landfill 
that keeps your ears from clacking together. 
 The same old challenge. Use my gods-given mind and talents to figure it out 
for myself. Hes no fun at all. But he thinks hes bringing me up right. 
 
Block grabbed the lamp and headed for the Dead Mans chair. 
 I waved him off. Hes right. Sort of. Hes given us what we need. Anyway, if you bully him, he gets stubborn. Its a pride thing. Hell let you burn 
him and the house both before hell give you a straighter answer. 
 Block eyeballed me a moment before he decided I was telling it straight. A goddamned oracle, eh? He put the lamp back where it belonged. So whats 
he talking about? Wheres our point of attack? 
 I didnt have the foggiest. All I knew was that the Dead Man had seen some 
fog, and if he had, then it was right there in front of my face. 
 Of course, you not being in the middle of it, stressed out and confused and still smelling the stink of a girl who died in terror, you have it all scoped 
out and youre telling yourself that Garrett, hes too dumb to be believed. 
 
28 I nearly had it. I started to get a eureka grin. My unconscious was hinting that it might pay off if I was a good boy. But then somebody went to hammering on the door. The front door is the curse of my life. Could I brick it up? Slide in and out the back way? It some pest found himself facing nothing 
but rough brick, would he persist in trying to inflict himself on me? 
 I lost whatever was about to surface. I glanced at Block. He looked like he was having trouble figuring out how to spell his own name. No help there. I trudged to the door, glanced through the peephole. I saw Morley and Dean staring back. I was tempted to leave them there. But Morley was the kind of guy who would chew his way through a door if he thought you were letting him cool his heels. Anyway, he didnt deserve to be left out in the rain. And I didnt see how I could let him in without admitting Dean too, so I opened up and let the whole crowd stamp in with their ingrate comments about 
how long it ought to take to unlock a door. 
 It occurred to me, not for the first time, that I could sell my place for a lot more than I paid for the wreck it was when I bought it. I could move on somewhere where no one knew me. I could get me a real job, put in my ten or twelve hours a day, and suffer no hassles the rest of the time. Whoever bought my place could enjoy what I left behind. I could make the sale more attractive by offering the houses contents at no extra cost. Caveat emptor. 
So long, Dean. Good-bye, Dead Man. 
 You got me over here, youd better catch my attention fast, Morley told me. Not even a query about my health. But what are friends for, if not to 
make us feel little and unloved? Ive got a date 
 Indeed. I tried my Dead Man impression. You will recall a certain corpse in a certain coach house on a certain Hill, not so long ago? Relating to 
a certain series of distinctly unpleasant murders? 
 
As in the waste of high-grade dalliance talent? 
 Probably for someone far less deserving than you or I, but yes. The one we came across during our evening constitutional one night. Why were we doing this? Id started it and I didnt knowexcept that Dean was there to witness whatever we said. But why should I care what Dean thought? The guy liked cats. Theres something fundamentally wrong with a guy who likes cats. 
Why should his opinion concern me? 
 
What about it? 
 This about it. The gentleman who got his deserts that night, despite having 
found his way into a city crematorium, hasnt given up his hobby. 
 
Say what? Morley couldnt stay with the game. 
 Theres been another murder. Just like the others. Right on schedule. We dont know who she was yet, but we will soon. I gave a jerk of the head toward the Dead Mans room. Official company. The Dead Man tells us theres 
a curse involved. Sorcery. 
 
No! Really? 
 You dont have to take that tone. Dean! You have work to do. You want to 
hang out here twenty-six hours a day, you damned well better . . .  
 He might be in his seventies, but he didnt let the years slow him a bit. He stuck his tongue out like he was six. Then he headed for the kitchen fast as a glacier, smoke boiling around his heels. As he fled I told Morley about my plan to sell the place, as is, to anybody who had a few marks to invest. He didnt jump at the opportunity. Dean wasnt impressed with the threat. 
I had to spend more time on the streets, had to learn how to be nasty again. 
 Dean beat the seven-year locusts to the kitchen. I celebrated the new age by nudging Morley into my office, explaining the situation here. Being Morley, part elf and familiar with things sorcerous and eldritch, he cut straight to the heart of it, immediately finding the thing that had been nagging me 
since the Dead Man had told me hed given me enough to go on. 
 The man you skragged was naked when you brought the Watch captain. The men buried in the old days would have gone into the ground wearing whatever they had on when they were executed. Which would have been what they were wearing when they were caught. The clothes must be the key. Or something the old boy had on him. An amulet. Jewelry. Something that whoever got into the coach 
house took when he stripped the corpse. 
 Cut it. By that point Id gotten the point, if you follow me. It wasnt the man that was cursed, it was something that went with the man. Like maybe 
some knives. 
 
I shuddered. I shivered. I went cold all over. This was grim. 
 I would have to do some legwork. One hell of a lot of legwork. I would have to dig out records that went back to imperial times to see what the villains had in common. What piece of apparel, decoration, or whatnot, that might carry a curse compelling a man to waste ladies who ought to be conserved 
for fates sometimes known as worse than death. 
 
Is it really worse, girls? 
 
29 The case had developed a certain rhythm. I should have expected what happened 
next, as I was about to rejoin Block and the Dead Man. It was guaranteed. 
 Somebody pounded on the door. Three guys with knives, I muttered as I headed that way, Dean having proclaimed himself incapacitated before the pounding 
stopped. 
 I peeped through the peephole. I wish it was three guys with knives. I considered pretending nobody was home. But Barking Dog knew better. He had 
come around often enough to know our dark secret. Somebody was always home. 
 
I opened up. Uhm? 
 Been more than a week, Garrett. You aint been over to get my papers. He bulled in behind the usual aromatic advance guard, dripping. He produced 
his latest report. 
 
You writing the history of the world? 
 
What else I got to do? It dont stop raining. I dont like getting wet. 
 
I noticed. 
 
Huh? 
 
Nothing. Nothing. Cabin fevers making me cranky. Maybe you ought to polish your speeches. It cant rain forever. 
 No. Only all day every day. You noticed that? Its mostly just raining during 
the daytime? How did the weather get so screwed up, Garrett? 
 I thought about tossing him something flip about the Cantard and stormwardens 
but feared hed go off the deep end with some wild new theory. 
 
Youd think the gods themselves dont want me spreading the truth. 
 
Them probably more than most mortals. I left it at that, mostly because I didnt get a chance to say anything more, 
 Barking Dog froze. His eyes got huge, his breathing ragged. He threw one hand up, fingers twisting into the sign against the evil eye. He said, Gah! Gah! Gah! in a high squeak, retreated toward the door. Its him! he croaked. 
Garrett! Its him! 
 Him was Captain Block, who stood in the doorway to the Dead Mans room, gaping. 
When I turned back to Amato, I saw nothing but the door closing behind him. 
 
Gah! Gah! I said, making the horns. What was that? 
 
Block asked, What was Amato doing here? 
 Him and the Dead Man are buddies. They get together to make up stories about the secret masters. Its amazing how they get along. Whats your story? How 
do you know Barking Dog? 
 Blocks cheek twitched. He looked like he wasnt sure where he stood. In the course of my labors as a minion of the hidden manipulators, the puppet masters who pull the strings on marionette judges and functionaries, I was 
forced to circumscribe Mr. Amatos freedom. 
 
I laughed. You arrested him? 
 I didnt arrest him, Garrett. Whatever he claims. I just asked him to come talk to a man who was put out about something he said. Hed have been fine if he couldve kept his mouth shut for five minutes. But he just couldnt resist tearing into the best audience he ever had. One thing led to another. I had to take him in front of a magistrate for a formal warning about libel. He couldnt stop running his mouth. Donner doesnt have a sense of humor. He doesnt find Barking Dog an amusing street character. The more he bore down, the more Amato jacked his jaw. So he got pissed, gave Amato fifty-five days for contempt. And all of that is this running dogs fault. You never heard such carrying on as when we were walking him over to the Al-Khar. Hell, if he couldve kept his mouth shut then, Id probably have screwed up and 
let him get away. But he pissed me off. 
 
A different view of events, I said. Though his version isnt much different. He said it was his own fault. 
 
Block chuckled, but grimly. I wish all our rebels were as harmless. 
 
Huh? 
 One of the reasons the Prince wants to get serious is, he thinks were on the brink of chaos. The way he puts it, if the Crown cant demonstrate its willingness to fulfill its social contract with the Karentine people, in an obvious and popular fashion, well head into a period of increasing instability. 
The first sign will be the appearance of neighborhood vigilante groups. 
 
We already have those, some places. 
 I know. He thinks theyll get stronger and become politicized. Fast, if Glory Mooncalled stays lucky. Each time he makes fools of us, more movers and shakers head down there to help tame him. The more that go, the fewer 
there are to keep the peace here. 
 He thinks the vigilantes may connect up, form private militias. Then different 
groups that dont agree politically will go to knocking each others heads. 
 
Got it. Some might even take a notion to get rid of the folks running things now. 
 
The Crown could end up as one more gang on the streets. 
 
Good boy me, I didnt say a word about that. 
 Overall, we Karentine rabble are unpolitical. All we want is to be left alone. We avoid what taxes we can, but do pay some as protection money. You pay a little here and there, the tax goons dont grab everything. Near as I can tell, thats the common mans traditional relationship with the stateunless 
hes a state thug himself. 
 I said, I might have to take a closer look at this princeif he really thinks the Crown is something besides a mechanism for squeezing out cash to benefit the privileged classes. I buttered too much sneer onto my remarks. Block didnt understand that I was being cynical and sarcastic instead of seditious. 
He gave me a thoroughly dirty look. 
 
I said, Maybe I should pay more attention to the fable about Barking Dogs running mouth. 
 
Maybe, Garrett. 
 
What did you do down there? 
 Thats a question every veteran understands. And every human male adult in TunFaire who can stand on his hind legs, and plenty who cant anymore, are veterans. The one thing the Crown does very well indeed is find every man 
eligible for conscription. 
 Army. Combat infantry to begin, then long-range recon. After I was wounded they moved me into military police. I saved a baronets ass once, which is 
how I came to get this job. 
 A hero. But that didnt mean squat. Most everyone who lives long enough to get out does something heroic sometime. Even some downright nasty scum, like Crask, have medals they trot out. Its a different world in the Cantard. Its a different reality. Regardless of where they stand, heroes or villains, 
the men with the medals show them off with pride. 
 Contradictions. Being human is contradictory. Ive known killers who were artists, and artists who were killers. The man who painted Eleanor was a genius in both fields. Both natures had tortured him. His torment ended only 
when he crossed paths with someone even crazier. 
 
I said, Were wandering far afield. Lets scope out what to do about this killer. 
 
You buy that about it coming back from the dead? 
 
You mean like theres been outbreaks before? 
 
Block nodded. 
 From him, yeah. I buy it. Wed better dig into the old records. You have 
the manpower and access for that, and the clout to get around functionaries. 
 
What do I look for? 
 I dont know. A common thread. Anything. If the same spirit is coming back again and again, then its been caught and stopped before. We see what they did back then, we can do it now. And maybe figure out how they screwed up 
so the cure didnt take. 
 
If your buddy dont have something he caught from Barking Dog. 
 
Yeah. If. 
 
Whatre you going to do? 
 
I saw the first guy alive and dressed. Ill work the clothes and hope I get lucky again. 
 He eyed me narrowly. He thought I knew something. I did, but what good would it do to tell him there was a survivor of a murder attemptand she was Chodo Contagues kid? Hed get himself a case of heart troubles complicated by 
hemorrhoids. 
 
Right. So tell me one thing, Garrett. What the hell is Morley Dotes doing here? 
 He wasnt dumb enough not to know that Morley and I went way back. I know what he is, Block. And I know what he isnt. But how to explain that this professional killer never offed anybody who hadnt asked for it? How explain that Morley had standards less flexible than most people on the right side of the law? Hes my window onto the other side of TunFaire. Theres anything 
to find out there, hell find it. I hoped. 
 I wasnt sure why Id sent Dean for Morley, now, though it had seemed the thing to do at the time. Maybe he could conjure me a connection with Chodos kid. She had to know something. Her pretty head might hold the one fact we 
needed to nail this butterfly freak. 
 
Right. She was the type who saw nothing but herself. Shed probably forgotten butterfly granddad as soon as the fear went away. 
 Block scowled, not liking Morley being involved. Gods spare me the born againeven when theyre born again only so they can cover their asses. Dont go righteous on me, I said. It wont help. How did he know, anyway? Morley was keeping 
his head down. 
 
Blocks scowl deepened. Ill go get my men started. Ill let you know what they find. 
 Sure he would. After he milked every ounce of advantage. My opinion of him had improved, but not so much I didnt think he was a born functionary. Him 
using me was still a desperation measure. 
 
Do. I saw him into the drizzle, then went to find out what the Dead Man thought. 
 
30 
Another thousand marks if I wrap it permanently? 
 So the man promised. He delivered before. The Dead Man was pleased with himself 
for having wangled another cash commitment from Block. 
 
Occasionally Ive complained about the way you 
 
Occasionally? Would you not prefer frequently? Or consistently? Possibly even persistently or continuously? 
 Once in a while. Whenever the seven-year locusts sing. But I did want to 
make the opposite point. That was a coup, getting him to pay again. 
 
He is desperate. 
 And desperate times are the best times for those who are alert to opportunity. 
I understand. What do you think about interviewing Chodos daughter? 
 Morley had invited himself out of my office into the Dead Mans room. Now he invited himself to comment. This came up before. My overtures were not 
greeted with cries of joy. 
 Leave it to me. I got style. Get word to Crask that I want to talk about 
the girl. Dont say what girl. He dont know I know who she is. 
 
I dont get it. How can he not know? . . .  
 You dont have to get it. Just tell him I want to talk to him about a girl. You dont say which one, hell know what I mean. Him and me can take it from 
there. 
 Youre working an angle, Garrett. You ought to know better. You always get yourself into deep shit. What is it? Dont try anything with the kingpins kid. You get a notion like that, slash your wrists and save the rest of us 
some grief. 
 
What do you think? I asked the Dead Man. 
 An interview with the girl may prove unproductive, but an interview is necessary 
to demonstrate that. If possible, arrange to see her here. 
 
The very core of my master plan. 
 
You lie. But I do trust your sense of self-preservation will deflect your inclinations. 
 
I am a mature human being, sir. I do not look upon all members of the opposite sex as objects of desire. 
 
Morley sneered. Only those over eight and under eighty. 
 
Youre not helping. Sure, I dont plan to be in bed alone when I go. But I dont plan to go for a couple centuries, either. 
 Ha. I convinced me. All but one tiny part that wondered what Id do if Chodos daughter suffered some miraculous remission and not only became able to see me but decided to whisper sweet nothings . . . Sometimes even the stoutest-hearted of us white knights find the dictates of reason, conscience, and survival overruled by parts not amenable to the dictates of the mind. Theres a sociopath in each of us just waiting to miss the connection between an act and its 
consequences. 
 
Right. Morley didnt believe me. 
 
I got the impression the Dead Man didnt either. 
 My own doubts were less apocalyptic. Id seen enough of the woman to have become deafened to the sirens of that fantasy. I might snort and stamp, but 
I wouldnt lose control. She wasnt my type. 
 We talked about this and that till Morley decided hed heard enough bad news. He said, If Im away too long, Puddle and Sarge and the kid will have me 
set for the poorhouse. 
 
Sure. Lets go watch them race the flying pigs. I saw Morley out, rejoined the Dead Man. 
 
What now, Garrett? 
 
Im thinking real hard about taking a nap. 
 
Indeed? And what was that Mr. Amato brought? I trust that you do recall that we have another iron in the fire? 
 
Come on. You want me to drag that mess down to Hullar? 
 It occurred to me that doing so might be useful in more than the obvious way. When you deliver the report, invest a few minutes in trying to learn 
if anyone knows why the Contague woman turned up there. 
 
I did wonder about that. 
 
But you were not ambitious enough to pursue it. You really must make TNT your motto, Garrett. 
 
TNT? 
 
Today, Not Tomorrow. Take it from an expert. The only thing one should defer is ones final appointment with Death. 
 Hang around with the Dead Man long enough and you can read him well enough to get messages that arent in his words. What he hadnt said but meant was that if I didnt go make myself a nuisance at Hullars place, I wouldnt 
get any peace at home. 
 
You compromise. Thats life. Every day you make deals that buy you peaceor an opportunity for a good nights sleep. 
 
I decided the path of least resistance lay through Bishoff Hullars taxi-dance place. 
 
31 Crunch and I were getting to be buddies. After only five minutes of squinting and thinking he remembered that I preferred beer. That saved him one question in his routine. I saved him the others by asking for a pint of Weiders pale 
lager, then told him, Tell Hullar Garretts here. 
 Garrett. Right. He tiptoed away. I waited for his feet and beard to disagree. 
No such luck. That dwarf defied the laws of nature. 
 He took a while. I sipped beer and surveyed the place. Id never seen it so busy. It was jumping. Three couples were dancing while the band snored through something I might have recognized had it been played by real musicians. Three tables boasted customers. There wasnt a girl left over to hustle methough by now they had me pegged for a waste. They remembered better than Crunch 
did. 
 One of the girls caught my eye. She was new. She had some life left. And she was a great actressunless she really was having a good time. She was younger than the rest, an attractive brunette who looked enough like the 
brunette Id seen earlier to cool my fantasies. 
 Be out in a minute, Crunch said behind me. Id turned to lean against the bar while I studied the local wildlife. I glanced over my shoulder. Crunch looked back, puzzled. He didnt understand what was going on. He had an idea 
I was a bagman for the outfit, only I made deliveries instead of collections. 
 
Id caught him on a real good day first time around. Most of the time he was like this. Puzzled. By everything. 
 
Whos the brunette there, Crunch? 
 He squinted, had trouble making her out. He fumbled out a pair of cheaters, perched them on his nose, pushed them back with a finger like a dried-out potato. I was surprised. Glasses are expensive. That theres the new girl, 
mister. 
 
Right. Come with a name? Her or me? 
 He puzzled it but didnt come up with anything before Hullar descended on the stool beside me, his back to the bar too. He accepted a mug from Crunch. 
It dont get no better than this, Garrett. 
 I glanced his way. I read no more from his expression than from his tone. Was he saying this was heaven on earth? Was he stating a fact about business? 
Was he being sarcastic? Maybe he didnt know himself. 
 
I handed him Barking Dogs latest. 
 Shit. Dont you got nothing else to do? All I want to know is, is the crazy bastard getting his tit in a wringer? I dont need to know every time he 
picks his nose. 
 
A point I kept trying to get across to Barking Dog. I said, First time I dropped in here, Crask was here. 
 
Crask? Wary, suddenly. 
 
Crask. Like from the outfit. He was talking to the musicians. 
 
If you say so. I dont remember. 
 He remembered fine. Else he wouldnt have so much trouble with his memory. A girl walked in just as I was going to leave. She headed for Crunch like she had something on her mind, only she spotted Crask and suddenly hightailed 
it. 
 
If you say so. I dont remember none of that. 
 
What can you tell me about her? 
 Nothing. He was real definite about that. So definite it was a cinch Id be beating my head against a wall if I kept after him. Ive used my noggin to dent a few walls in my time. All that banging has taught me how to tell 
when its going to be the head and not the wall that gets broken. 
 
I dropped it. Whos the new girl? 
 He shrugged. They come and go. They dont stick for a while, you never find 
out. Calls herself Candy. Thats not the truth. Why? 
 
My turn to shrug. I dont know. Something different about her. Shes having fun. 
 Get those sometimes. Do it for the kick. Takes all kinds to make a horse race, Garrett. He tapped Barking Dogs report. Whats this shit say? He 
alive? 
 
Same old Barking Dog, only going bonkers because the rain wont let up long enough for him to preach. 
 Good. Next time, just tell me that. Never mind you bury me with five hundred pages of every time he picked a zit. I maybe agreed on expenses, but not 
on that much paper. 
 I didnt look at Hullar. He wasnt in one of his better moods, but neither did he want to be left alone. Tenderloin people are that way. They want to spend time with somebody from outside who isnt a customer or somebody with 
a moral ax to grind. They just want to feel like real people sometimes. 
 They are real people. Maybe realer than most. Theyre more in contact with reality than are those who buy their time or those who condemn them. Their 
real sin is that theyve shed their illusions. 
 Hullar missed his illusions. He wanted to be distracted from those nights 
when this was as good as it got. Up for a story? I asked. 
 
What kind? 
 
Good guys and bad guys and lots of pretty girls. What Im doing besides peeping Barking Dog. 
 
Shoot. But dont look for me to give you no help. 
 
Gods forfend. Its just an interesting mess. I gave him most of it, edited where appropriate. 
 Thats sick, Garrett. Real sick. I thought I heard of every freak there 
was, but thiss a new one. Them poor girls. And butterflies? 
 
Butterflies. I dont know if theyve got anything to do with it. 
 Weird. You got a curse at work. Or something. Maybe you ought to find you a necromancer. Hey! I know. I know a guy, weird but real good, goes by Dr. 
Doom 
 Weve met. I dont think hed be much help. Weird for sure, Doom was more fraud than expert. I think. He did have a knack for laying ghosts. Id bring 
him in if that was what it took. 
 
Hullar shrugged. You know your situation. 
 Yeah. Desperate. I eyed the happy brunette. In more ways than one. I wondered if there might not be something to the idea of apologizing to Tinnie. 
Fate wasnt throwing anything else my way. 
 Hullar saw me looking. He snickered. Go ahead, Garrett. Give it your best shot. But Ill tell you this. Candys all talk and no play. Shes the kind that, far as shes concerned, its good enough to know she couldve got you 
if she wanted. She gets you there, she starts looking for the next one. 
 
Story of my life. I levered myself off my stool. Catch you later. Got an appointment with an overcooked roast. 
 
32 Dean does miracles when he wants. The roast wasnt a disaster, considering. The go-alongs were excellent. I ate till I was ready to pop. Then, though it was early, I rambled into the hall and stared upstairs, awaiting a flood 
of ambition. It was a long climb to a cold, lonely bed. 
 
This is where the sad strings are dueonly with my luck, the orchestra would whip into an overture. 
 
Right. It wasnt mood music I got, it was: Garrett! Come report. Not quite an overture. But close enough. 
 
No point arguing. The sooner done, the sooner to sleep. 
 What sleep? When I finished telling about my visit to Hullar I got: I want you to go back there. Work the Tenderloin for the next nine evenings. Spend 
time with that Candy. 
 
Huh? 
 
A notion has been brooding in the back of my rear brain. Your assessment of Candy as out-of-place hatched it. 
 
Huh? What repartee. What about all the legwork? The research on olden villains? 
 Take care of that days. Work the Tenderloin nights, watching for young ladies 
off the Hill amusing themselves by playing lower-class roles. 
 It clicked. Candy. Chodos kid. High-class girls hanging out in low-class 
dives. For the kicks? Not unlikely. If thats some fad 
 I will ask Captain Block to revisit the families of the dead girls. I may have interviewed the wrong people. Sisters and girlfriends might have been 
wiser. Parents are the last to know what their youngsters are doing. 
 You may be onto something. Only a few victims had known one another, and that only casually. But if you put sisters and girlfriends and a fad for 
slumming into the gaps, you might find a pattern. 
 
We might indeed. 
 
What do I look for? 
 Girls who fit the killers particulars. Maybe we can identify the next victim before she is taken. We have nine days before the killer must slake his need. If the pattern proves out, if the girls were playing games, we will know how and where the killer selects his victims. With Captain Blocks help we 
can watch all potential victims and grab our man when he strikes. 
 
Im way ahead of you now. Only, do we have to start tonight? 
 
TNT, Garrett. You have not been shortchanged on sleep recently. 
 
True. And I was too fired up to sleep now anyway. Might as well go drink beer and ogle girls in the line of duty. 
 
Hell. All of a sudden this mess had begun to look a little interesting. 
 TunFaire by night becomes a different city. Especially when theres no rain. It had stopped raining. For the moment. I carried my raincloak over one arm 
and strolled, checking out the nightside. 
 The ratman hordes were about their legitimate tasks of cleaning and illegitimate tasks of removing everything not nailed down. Kobolds and gnomes and numerous varieties of little people dashed here and there on business. Sometimes I wonder how so many peoples can live side by side with so little contact. Sometimes I think TunFaire is a whole series of cities that just happen to 
occupy the same geographical position. 
 I saw a troll family, obvious bumpkins, gaping at the sights. I got propositioned by a giantess of ill repute who was, evidently, suffering a business slump. I ran into a band of goblins riding red-eyed hounds that looked more wolfish than domesticated. Id never seen goblins before. I walked with them a ways, 
swapped stories. 
 They were bounty hunters. They specialized in tracing runaway wives. They were a ferocious, unpleasant bunch clinging grimly to an old trail. The goblin woman they were after was, evidently, smarter than the bunch of them put 
together. 
 
They had plans for when they caught up. They never doubted they could outlast a mere woman. 
 It would seem wives are a premium commodity amongst goblins, where five or six males are born for every female. Goblins dont go in for polyandry or equal rights or homosexuality or any of that wimp stuff. Real macho men, 
male goblins. One-third will die in fights over females before age twenty-three. 
 
I watched the hunters ride off and didnt blame goblin wives for cutting out first chance they got. 
 I encountered several families of centaurs, refugees from the Cantard, working together, doing bearer-type jobs. What a concept. Jackasses with the brains 
and hands to load and unload themselves. 
 
I have almost as little love for centaurs as I do for ratmen. The only centaur I ever knew well was a thorough villain. 
 There were dwarves everywhere. Day and night, TunFaire teams with dwarves. Theyre industrious little buggers. All they do is work. If they could figure 
out how, theyd do without sleep. 
 What you dont see much of at night, outside certain areas, is human people. You do see a human, be careful. Chances are his intentions arent honest 
or honorable. 
 That, in fact, can usually be counted on to get you byif youre young and strong and dont look an easy mark. Most people will stay away. Only the 
nastiest, craziest bad boys prey on other bad boys. 
 Hell. There I go giving the wrong impression. What Im talking about is late nights, after the entertainment hours. Much later than it was then. People were out. I wasnt seeing them because I wasnt following the streets they 
usually chose for safety. 
 
Sometimes I tempt fate. 
 At one point I joined several ratmen in a fast fade into an alley. We watched a gang of ogres tramp past, grumbling and cussing. They were headed for the north gate, on their way to hunt thunder-lizards. Night is the best time to hunt them. The beasts are sluggish then. Theres good money in thunder-lizard 
hides. They make the toughest leather. 
 I dont like ogres much either, but wished this bunch luck. The southward migration of the thunder-lizards has been rough on the farmers, who have been losing both fields and livestock. More, its always nice to see an ogre 
doing something honest. You dont very often. 
 
33 
Crunch recognized me right away. He plopped a pint onto the bar. You back? 
 
No. Its my evil twin. 
 
He thought about that, couldnt make sense of it, asked, Need to see Hullar? 
 
Wouldnt hurt. If hes not busy. 
 
Hullars never busy. Got nothing to do. Off he went. He didnt step on his beard this time either. He was a magician. 
 I scanned the place. Business had dropped off, but the girls were still occupied. There were two I hadnt seen before. Two daytime girls were gone. The new 
girls were a blond and a brunette not of the sort at risk. Both seemed out-of-place. 
 
Maybe the Dead Man was right. Maybe the girls were slumming. 
 The streets are no place to play if you dont know them. Youll make more than your share of lethal mistakes if you come down off the Hill wearing 
your arrogances and assumptions. The natives wont be impressed. 
 
Of course, if its a game, maybe youll forget your superiorities while youre playing. Until you get into a tight place. 
 Hullar waddled out, dragged himself up onto a stool, sucked up a beer Crunch had waiting, scanned the action, shrugged. You couldnt disappoint Bishoff 
Hullar. A man after my own heart, he expected the worst. Slumming, Garrett? 
 
Not exactly. 
 
I cant believe youve taken a shine to the place. A man with your rep. 
 
No. This has to do with that other thing Im working. 
 
The murders. You didnt tell me there was another one last night. 
 Word was getting around. I got to thinking over supper. About Candy and the girl who wasnt in here the other day, that you and Crunch never saw and dont know. Occurred to me the rich girls might be playing bad girls, just for fun. Like the blond and brunette, there. Dont look like the sort 
Id expect in here. 
 
Uhm? 
 You know the Tenderloin, Hullar. You know whats going down. There a fad 
among the rich girls, bored because the guys are off to war? 
 
How come you want to know? 
 
Maybe my girl-killer spots his victims down here. Maybe I can spot him looking for his next target. 
 
You in the guardian-angel racket? 
 
I grunted. 
 You been out of touch, Garrett. Yeah. The rich broads been coming down. Not just the kids, neither. Them that only want into it at the edge work places like mine. The wild ones, mostly older ones, end up peddling their asses at the Passionate Witch or Black Thunder or someplace. The outfit goes easy on them. Theyre good for business. You got a skillion lowlifes would 
love to throw the pork to some high-tone lady. 
 
I understand the psychology. 
 
Dont we all. Dont we all. And thats whatll cause the trouble. 
 
Hmm? 
 Good for business, having all this fine young stuff down here. Gotten a lot of cash moving despite the weather. But how long before their fathers 
and husbands catch on? Then what do we got? Eh? 
 Good point. The parents wouldnt be pleased. And, human nature being what it is, the girls wouldnt get the blame. The richer people are, the less they seem able to hold their kids responsible for their actions. How many of them you figure there are? Couldnt be a lot or there wouldve been a 
lot of excitement already. 
 I dont get around much, Garrett. I aint out there counting heads and figuring 
whos working the Tenderloin why. You know what I mean? 
 
I know. 
 But they do stand out. People talk. You ask me, tops, theres maybe been a hundred. Biggest part is over now. Just a few come-latelies and them that gets a special jolt from going bad. You got maybe thirty these days, mostly hard-core. Ones like my Candy are the exception now. Whole thingll be dead 
in two months. 
 
Theyll find some other game. 
 
Hullar shrugged. Could be. I dont worry about rich kids. 
 Makes you even. They dont worry about you. I eyed Candy. Didnt look like Id get a chance to talk to her. She had a couple of sailors on the string. 
Hullar or Crunch would have to do some bouncing if she led them on too far. 
 
Going somewhere? Eagle-eye Hullar had noticed me getting up. 
 
Thinking about eyeballing any other girls I can find. Any suggestions where to look? 
 
You want just brunettes? Candys type? 
 
Basically. 
 He got thoughtful. He wasnt concentrating on my problem, though. He had one eye on Candys sailors. He was getting steamed. Crystal Chandelier. The Masked Man. The Passionate Witch. Mama Sams Place. I seen your type all them places, one time or another. Not saying theys any there now. These 
gals, they come and go. Dont do regular hours, neither. 
 
Thanks, Hullar. Youre a prince. 
 Eh? Whats that? Crunch snarled suddenly. He came up from behind the bar 
with a nasty club. You want to watch your mouth, boy. 
 Hullar shook his head. Prince! he yelled in Crunchs ear. He called me a prince. Got to pardon him, Garrett. He lip-reads. Sometimes he dont do 
so good. 
 
Crunch put his stick away but didnt stop scowling. He wasnt sure he ought to trust his boss over his imagination. 
 
Everywhere I go, I get involved with screwballs. 
 
34 The Crystal Chandelier, as the name implied, pretended to have class. Hill girls would be just what the management ordered. I headed there first. I was in and out in the time it took to slurp a beer. I didnt learn anything except that somebody there knew my face and didnt like what I did for a 
living. 
 
I did better at the Masked Man. I knew somebody there. 
 The name of the place was appropriate again. People donned masks before they showed themselves inside. Likewise, those who worked the place. The Masked 
Man catered to a select clientele. 
 The guy I knew was a bouncer, a breed nine feet tall with muscles on his muscles and more between his ears than anywhere else. I downed three beers before he understood what I wanted to know. Even then he wouldnt have talked if he hadnt owed me. And what he had to say wasnt worth hearing. Only one Hill-type gal worked the Masked Man these days, a blond so screwed up she scared the owners. He hadnt seen a brunette in weeks. The last had quit 
her second night. But he did remember her name, Dixie. 
 
Dixie. Right. Thats useful. Thanks, Bugs. Here. Have a beer on me. 
 Hey, thanks, Garrett. Youre all right. Bugs is one of those guys who are always amazed when you do something nice, no matter how trivial. Youd think 
after a while the whole world would be nice just to watch him be amazed. 
 I drifted over to the Passionate Witch. The Witch was strange, even for the Tenderloin. I never quite understood the place. A lot of girls worked there, mostly dancing, mostly without wearing much. They were very friendly. Theyd crawl all over you if they thought you might stuff a mark into their pants. They were available, but not to everyone. There was a kind of bid board. The girls worked the crowd, getting guys drunker and randier and driving the bidding up till closing. A crafty girl could pull more with one trick 
there than some who worked all night the traditional way. 
 
Whatever will separate a mark and his money. Its there in the Tenderloin. 
 
Ever see so many bare boobs in one place, Garrett? 
 
I jumped. You dont expect your friends in those places. 
 
I hadnt found one. Downtown. Been a while. Nope. Never. And I shouldnt be seeing some of these here now. 
 Downtown Billy Byrd was the guy theyd had in mind when theyd decided somebody looked like a ferret. He was a walking stereotype. He looked slimy-sneaky and was. He spied on people, sold information to anyone whod pay. Id used 
him myself, which is how he knew me. 
 Downtown wore a lot of junk jewelry and flashy clothing. He carried a long-stemmed ivory pipe. He tapped its mouthpiece against his teeth, pointed it at a woman. 
Case in point? 
 
Right. Bigger dont always mean better. 
 
She was something before gravity set in. Downtown Billy Byrd was the kind whod think gravity sets in. You working, Garrett? 
 I didnt have much use for Downtowns type but I stayed polite. I wasnt spending much. Itd help if I stuck with somebody whose cheapness was accepted. 
Else I might get asked to take my questions to the street. 
 
Would I be here if I wasnt? 
 
Half the guys here would say that if I asked. 
 I understood, then, what Downtown was doing in the Passionate Witch. He was 
working. Looking for faces he might sell later. I told him, Im working. 
 
Something maybe I can help with? 
 Maybe. Im looking for a girl. A special kind. Brunette, seventeen to twenty-two, 
five-feet-two to five-ten, long hair, reasonably attractive, high-class. 
 
You dont want much, do you? She got a name? 
 
No. Its a type. Im interested in any woman like that working the Tenderloin. 
 
Yeah? How come? 
 Because some creep is snatching them and cutting their guts out. I want to find him so I can explain why we dont consider that behavior socially 
acceptable. 
 
Downtown eyed me a moment, weasel mouth open. Come on over here, Garrett. I got a table with some pals. 
 I followed but feared it was a mistake. Byrd ran his mouth steadily. How long before word spread? I wouldnt catch anybody if the girls hid out and 
the bad guys lay low. 
 Downtown led me to the worst table in the dive. You had to send carrier pigeons 
to the bar. Waiters got lost trying to get back there. 
 
Downtowns two pals looked sleazier than he did. Cheap flash must have been in, along with mustaches. 
 
They had bought their nights supplies before lighting. 
 
Sit, Garrett. There was a spare chair. Shaker, give the man a beer. 
 Screw you, Byrdo. Shaker had a palsy. He had a face like a rats. It was 
loathing at first sight. What you giving away our beer? 
 
Dont be a butthead, Shaker. Business. The man might maybe be in the mood to buy. We got something he might want. 
 Shaker and Downtown glared at one another while the third man contemplated the secrets inside a beer bottle. Then Shaker pushed a bottle my way. It was the old-fashioned stone kind, not used by commercial breweries anymore. Which meant the beer inside was cheap stuff from a one-man cellar operation, fit only for the poorest of the poor. My stomach started whimpering before 
the first blast headed south. 
 I couldnt be intimidated. We investigators fear no beer. Besides, Id swilled 
so much already that it had become hard to care what went down next. 
 Downtown didnt introduce anybody. Common practice on the street. Nobody wanted anybody to know them. But Downtown didnt bother not dropping names, either. Garretts looking for a guy that snatches girls. He looked at me. 
Cuts them open, right? The one doing the jobs we been hearing about? 
 I nodded, sipped from my bottle, was pleasantly startled. That was damned good for cellar beer. I found the trademark. It didnt match that on the other bottles, so the brewer was putting his product up in whatever came his way. Too bad. I said, Way I figure it, he grabs rich girls working the quarter for kicks. I expect he scouts them before he grabs them. I want to 
spot him doing it before he snatches the next one. 
 
Downtown eyed Shaker. What do you say now, butthead? 
 
I asked, There something that Im not getting, Downtown? 
 
One minute, Garrett. He kept looking at Shaker. 
 
Well? His minute had flown. 
 I figure you got somebody big behind you, Garrett. Some girls father. Maybe a bunch of them. Somebody whats got more money than sense and is out to 
buy revenge. Right? 
 
Something like that. Downtowns bunch would melt like salted slugs if I told them who was paying. 
 
Somebody that might pay damned good if somebody handed them the whole thing on a platter? 
 I dont think you can, Downtown. Youre shucking me. Running a game. You 
heard I was asking around. You decided to see if you couldnt rip me off. 
 Wound a man to the heart. Downtown Billy was in pain. Garrett! My man! This 
is me! Your old buddy, Downtown Billy Byrd. I never done you wrong. 
 
Never was anything in it for you. 
 
You just being nasty. You know that aint my style. 
 Hed never gotten caught. Everything was his style if he thought he could get away with it. So Ill give you the benefit of the doubt. Whatve you 
got? 
 
I tell you, then I dont got nothing to sell. 
 
Im not buying a pig in a poke, Downtown. Ive got enough cats already. 
 His face screwed up into a frown that had to hurt. He didnt understand. In the old days, less-than-scrupulous peasants sold gullible city folks baby pigs in tied sacks. Only when the sacks were opened, out jumped some very 
unhappy cats. 
 All right, Garrett. I got your point. Heres the way it is. Gal like the one youre looking for, name of Barbie, worked here up to last night. Aint 
in tonight, youll notice. 
 
So? 
 So the bidding went outrageous. Way high. And when it come time for her to deliver her half, two guys come in to pick her up and take her somewhere, 
not upstairs. 
 It might be a lead. But I was less than excited. Id dealt with Downtown before. Hed try to make a mountain out of some molehill and sell it for 
a fortune. 
 You arent impressing me yet. It isnt unusual for the high bidder to take 
his prize home. Not even unusual for him not to show his face. 
 He showed his face when he was bidding. Scruffy little dink. Like a bum 
somebody cleaned up, but not much. Definitely not no high roller. 
 Was a bum. That was the third man. Downtown grinned. Dickiebird says he seen the guy before, on the down-and-out. Anyway, it all looked funny. We decided to scout it out. You never know what might be handy to know. Like, 
here you are already, wanting to know what we saw. 
 
Maybe I do. What did you see? 
 You want it all for free, dont you? No way, Garrett. We got to live too. You aint heard enough to know if you want more, then youre gonna have to 
do without. 
 I pretended to study it. Then I dug out a few small coins. Im interested. 
But youll have to talk a lot more than youve done. 
 Downtown traded looks with his pals. They had to trust his judgment. That put them in a spot I hoped Id never occupy. Ive never understood how Downtown 
survived his five in the Cantard. 
 Going to take a chance, Garrett. Going to tell you more than I would anybody else, but only on account of I know you. On account of I trust your rep for 
playing square. 
 
My hairs getting gray. 
 
Looks to me like its falling out. Whoa! Touchy! 
 
Talk, Downtown. 
 Right. Always in a hurry. Here it is. The two guys that come in for Barbie put her into a coach with the dink that did the bidding. Only hed changed somehow. Gotten spooky. She didnt want to go, but he grabbed her. I thought 
maybe Id give her a hand, only the guys eyes got weird. 
 
Green? 
 
Yeah. Like green fire. 
 
Youre holding my interest, Downtown. But if thats all youve got . . .  
 
Shaker knew one of the guys helped push her into the coach. 
 
Ah! 
 I dont know him, see, Shaker said. Its like I seen him around. Hes 
not somebody I pal with, like Downtown. Just a guy I seen around. 
 
Heres the one that makes or breaks you, guys. You know where to find him? 
 
Shaker said, I know where he cribs. 
 I dropped coins on the table. Ill be back in a while. Im going to bring a guy to talk to you. If you put us together with this guy you know, hell 
fill your pockets. I was out of there before any of them could respond. 
 
35 Morley had company. I had to wait. Then wait. Then wait some more. While I waited, Saucerhead came in. I waved. He joined me, glumly. Cheer up. I 
need some muscle, I told him. 
 
Like now? 
 
Right away. Unless your investments 
 
Cant wait? 
 
Would I be . . . ? Whats the matter? 
 
Just dont feel like it, Garrett. Not in the mood. 
 
Since when do you have to be in the mood to make yourself a mark? 
 
Hey, busting heads aint all the fun it looks like, Garrett. 
 
I know. I know. 
 
How would you? You dont wale on nobody unless 
 
You feel good enough to pick up a few coppers running a message? 
 
I guess. Yeah. I could handle that. 
 I sent him to fetch Captain Block. If I had to wait around forever for Morley 
to finish playing, I might as well pull in the money man while I did. 
 I did wait. And I waited. And then I waited. I waited so long I got sober. No Morley. Block and Tharpe showed up, dripping. It was raining again. I thought some more about getting into the boat business. When Morley still showed no sign of growing bored with his guest, I said, The hell with him. 
We can handle it without him. Lets go. 
 
Block was relieved. He didnt think it would be politic for him to associate with a professional killer. 
 
Saucerhead said, Ill tag along. 
 
Thought you werent in the mood. 
 
Maybe Ill change moods. 
 
Its raining out there. 
 
Its always raining. Lets go. 
 
Block said very little till we enjoyed the privacy of the street. I hope this is something good, Garrett. I need it. 
 
Yeah? 
 Pressure again. You dont feel it down here. The Hill is in a panic. Some people up there are carrying on like the Venageti were at the gates. I need 
something fast. Anything. 
 
Tell you what. This doesnt pan out, you pass the word for them to keep their daughters out of the Tenderloin. 
 
Give me a break, Garrett. 
 I mean it. Theres a fad amongst the deb set. Go down and play sleazegirl. That wont make their fathers happy, but its a fact. It looks like our killer 
picks his victims from rich girls working the quarter. 
 
That wont make anyone happy. 
 Not when it gets out. You recall, none of the stories we got about the victims ever mentioned anything like that. I think we talked to the wrong people. People who didnt know and didnt guess because the bodies werent found 
near the quarter. 
 Maybe some suspected. I can think of several stories that sounded like somebody trying to make somebody look good. Block sniffed, grunted, hawked. He was working on a cold. We get lucky, maybe we wont have to deal with any of 
that. 
 We dont get lucky, maybe we can let the word get around without it looking 
like its your fault. It will come out if this goes on much longer. 
 
Block grunted again. 
 
I glanced over my shoulder. My instincts were right. We were being followed. Did you maybe bring a few helpers? 
 
Block glanced back. Yeah. Theyre mine. Clumsy, arent they? 
 
They dont get much practice. 
 
Thought it might be handy having a few guardian angels hovering. 
 
Aw. You dont feel comfortable in the Tenderloin? 
 
Make fun while you can, Garrett. Things are gonna change. 
 
Nice talk, but I wouldnt put one copper on it. Good intentions cant overcome the inertia of decades. 
 We reached the Passionate Witch. I checked my companions before I went inside. Tharpe was fine. And Block didnt look like the law. Were going to be talking 
to some real lowlifes. Let me do all the jawing. No matter what. Understand? 
 Saucerhead said, Means you, Captain. You want to lose these guys fast, let them get a notion what you are. I gave Tharpe the fish eye. He said, I 
know Downtown Billy Byrd, Garrett. Bottom of the barrel. 
 
I said, Im going to try to bring them out here. You bring money? I asked Block. 
 
Some. I wont let them rob me. 
 
They dont have imaginations that big. What theyd call robbery youd call a tip. I shoved into the Passionate Witch. 
 The evening was fading but Downtown and his pals were hanging on, nursing their stone beer bottles, waiting for opportunity to knock. I knocked. Downtown 
grumbled, I thought you forgot us. 
 
Had trouble finding my man. 
 
Huh? 
 
Guy I work for. One who wants to know what you know. Hes outside. Wants to listen. He brought money. You ready to deal? 
 
Now? 
 
You want to wait for the Kings birthday? He dont have time to waste. 
 
Why dont he come in? Its wet out there. 
 
He dont want to show his face. You have to get wet anyway. You got to show us the way, right? 
 
I guess. Shaker. Take care of the bottles. To recover their deposits, of course. Dickiebird. Cmon. 
 I led the way. Downtown and Dickiebird followed like they counted on trouble. Each kept a hand inside his shirt. Knives. Shaker wasnt near the bar, getting 
deposit refunds. Hed vanished. Awful nervous, arent you, Downtown? 
 Think about it, Garrett. We got a bunch of murders, Hill gals what probably 
got daddies that eat no-counters like you and me for snacks. Could get hairy. 
 Sure could. I didnt like being included in his no-count family. Im at least a one-counter. But it hasnt yet. Were counting on what you tell 
us fixing it so it never does. 
 
Yeah? He was starting to think about holding me up. 
 Block stepped out of the shadows. These the men? Saucerhead wasnt to be seen. Somebody had to watch for Shaker. Block looked damned evil in a bad 
light. He might do. 
 Yes. They say they think they saw the last victim, who called herself Barbie, 
get snatched. They think they knew one of the snatchers. 
 
Block eyed Downtown and Dickiebird. Whats the deal? 
 
Huh? 
 
I asked, You have a plan, Downtown? You got a price? Talk to us. 
 Uh. Oh. Downtown looked around for eavesdroppers, or maybe to see if Shaker had him covered. Yeah. Like this. You pay half now. We show you where to find your guy. Hell be home, I guarantee. Like hed maybe checked while I was collecting Block. He dont go out. You pay us off. We split. You forget 
you ever saw us. 
 
Not bad, I said. Only lets make it you get the other half after we grab the guy and make sure hes the one you saw. 
 
Garrett! Take it easy, man. Hell know who fingered him. 
 
If hes the real thing, you wont have to worry about what he knows, Block said. How much? 
 
Downtown tried to get a better look at Block. This dont sound like nobody off the Hill, Garrett. 
 
Dont worry about where he comes from. Worry about earning his money. 
 
Yeah. Right. We figured about thirty marks would be fair. Ten apiece. 
 Small men have small ambitions. Block had trouble keeping a straight puss. He jingled coins, handed me three gold five-mark pieces. I passed them to Downtown, who stared at them in the light leaking from the Passionate Witch. 
Damn. He was stunned by the certainty that hed just blown a rare opportunity. 
 
Too late, son, I told him when he started to say something. You set the price. Time to deliver. 
 
Uh. Yeah. He led off. 
36 We walked maybe a mile, into an area of dense tenements occupied mostly by newcomers to TunFaire. Reasonable enough. The man we wanted couldnt have 
been in town long. Only the ignorant wouldve gotten into what he had. 
 Downtown and Dickiebird led us to a four-story row place in the middle of 
a long block. Pure people storage, though more upscale than most. Depressing. 
 The clouds parted, let a moonbeam sneak through. It was the only light, but I didnt complain. It was nice to have the drizzle stop, even for a little while. Downtown said, Top floor, rear door. Hired a sleeping room all to 
hisself. 
 
You did a lot of research, Downtown. 
 
His weasel face stretched in a nasty smile. I knew somebody was going to want the goods on this one. 
 Block growled but stifled his opinion. Even starry-eyed idealists knew you couldnt sell TunFaires people the idea of civic responsibility. Not after 
theyd watched their betters do nothing but look out for themselves for centuries. 
 
Top-floor rear, I grumbled, thinking of the climb. Inconsiderate bastard. 
 
Right. You get him out, well finger him, well all go home. Right? 
 
Right. Saucerhead? 
 
Tharpe materialized. He lugged a limp Shaker over one shoulder. Yeah? 
 
Just making sure you were there. Why had he bopped Shaker? Maybe just for the hell of it. 
 
Block said, Ripley, scout the place out. 
 Shadows detached from shadows. Downtown gawked as two men entered the row building. He knelt beside Shaker, muttered about maltreatment and distrust. I asked, If you was us, would you trust you? He didnt have an answer for 
that. 
 Blocks man returned, puffing. Somebodys in there, all right. Hes snoring. 
Theres only one door. Aint no other way out. Unless theres a window. 
 
Downtown volunteered, There is. If hes got real spring in his legs, he could maybe jump across to the roof behind this place. 
 
I said, If hes asleep, he shouldnt have time to get up, open a window, make a jump. 
 
Better let me make sure, Saucerhead suggested, gently pointing out that he was the specialist. 
 
All right. 
 Saucerhead and Block and I went upstairs while Ripley went around back, just in case. We tried to be quiet, but theres something about your step when youre headed for trouble. I sensed sudden fear and alertness behind those 
doors where people were awake. 
 
Blocks other man waited upstairs. Block whispered, Still snoring? 
 He had to ask? Hell, yes, he was still snoring. I never heard anything like it. That ripping and roaring had to be one of the wonders of the world. Careful, 
I told Saucerhead. He nodded. 
 Everybody got out of Tharpes way. He seemed to swell up, then charged. The door exploded. Though I was right behind Saucerhead, it was over before I could contribute anything. Meat hit meat, snores turned to baffled groans, 
Saucerhead said, Got him under control. 
 
I said, Take him downstairs. 
 
Tharpe grunted. Block slid around, opened the window. Got him, Ripley. Get around front. 
 We clumped downstairs. I smelled the fear from behind those doors we hadnt destroyed. The more I thought how this was for those people, the less I liked 
what I was doing. 
 
Our prisoner was groggy when we hit the street. Block demanded, Is this the man? 
 
Downtown and Dickiebird stayed out of the moonlight while edging closer. Yeah, Dickiebird said. Thats him. 
 I asked, You saw this man help put the girl into the coach? I was playing a role now and Saucerhead was good enough to catch my cues. I believed Dickiebird. The prisoner was one of the men whod tried to kidnap Chodos daughter. We 
had a different killer but the same assistants, apparently. 
 
Thats the guy, Garrett, Downtown insisted. What do you want? Come on. Pay up. 
 Block had his helpers take the prisoner while he paid up. You know these 
three men, Garrett? In case this is a con and I want to find them? 
 
I know them. I was still reserving the incident at Morleys place, couldnt explain my confidence in them. 
 
Hey, Garrett! I ever do a number on you? 
 
Not yet, Downtown. Go on. Enjoy yourselves. A man could make ten marks go a long way in this part of town. 
 
Downtown and his buddies flew off like the breeze. With money in hand, they would be hard to find. For a while. 
 
You want to help with the questioning? Block asked. 
 Not particularly. Only if you insist. What I want is to go to bed. Ive been knocking myself out finding this lead. I do want to hear what you find 
out from him. 
 
Sure. He shook my hand. Thanks again, Garrett. Winchell. Get him moving. 
 
I didnt say, Anytime, Captain, because he was the kind who would take me up on it. 
 
37 
The Dead Man wasnt impressed. He refuses to be impressed by anything but himself. Hes afraid Ill get a big head. 
 He did relent, though, when I returned from watching Block and his troops, with great fanfare, before numerous official witnesses, raid an abandoned brewhouse and nab a creepy old man who was, beyond doubt, the perpetrator of the most recent murder. Clothing and body parts were recovered. These monsters liked their souvenirs. Not to mention that the old boy spat a ton 
of butterflies, some poisonous, before they subdued him. 
 Subdued meant dead. Again. I didnt see that part, but the dozen Watchmen they carried off on stretchers implied that Block was right when he insisted 
there had been no choice. 
 
The Dead Man remarked, I do hope Captain Block exercises appropriate precautions. 
 
I think he will. 
 
Excellent. So it would appear that the matter is closed. 
 
Except for collecting from Block. 
 
Indeed. Take the rest of the evening off. Sleep in tomorrow. 
 
Were sure generous with time that isnt our own, arent we? 
 Tomorrow you must resume the investigation as though nothing has been accomplished. Continue seeking Miss Contague. Try to identify potential victims. And take a closer look at this fellow you rooted out tonight. He may have had more 
than one associate. 
 He did. But the other guy headed out of town before we finished arresting the first one. He lived in the same dump. So what the hell? You finally gone 
gaga? You think we got the wrong killer? 
 I am confident your famous luck held and you swept up the very villain. But 
you got the right man before and Death did not miss a stroke. 
 
You dont think itll take? 
 I have strong hopes. But I think a wise man would prepare beforehand against the wiles of evil and the ineptitude of the Watch. It would be most excellent if everything worked out. But should it not, no time will have been wasted. 
Not so? 
 All a matter of viewpoint. Im not the guy who gets to sit here daydreaming. Im the one who runs back and forth till his legs get worn down to the knees. 
Im going to bed. Wake me up when the wars over. 
 
Should the worst occur, you will regret having failed to take minimal precautions. 
 Sure. All right. So maybe Id play with it some more. Just in case. What could it hurt? Did I have anything else going? Anyway, there were some pretty pretties around the edges of the thing. I might luck onto one who was sane 
and sociable. 
 Staying in just meant doing time with Deans cronies, anyway. The amount of beer those old boys were putting away while they were supposedly rehabbing 
upstairs, it wouldve been cheaper to hire professional help. 
38 It was like nothing in my experience. I couldnt fathom it. The Dead Man was frothing with ambition. He had hold of the case like a starving dog a 
bone. He wouldnt let go. 
 It was easier to get out of the house, into the drizzle, and do legwork than 
it was to stay in and argue. Especially with Dean taking the Dead Mans side. 
 
It might be time to think about an apartment. 
 The Dead Man still had Block digging through the records too. Block was our best buddy now. Wed turned him into the Princes fair-haired boy. He was the hero of the Hill. His name was at the top of the short list to head the new, improved, serious, and hopefully useful Watch. What we hadnt been able 
to get him to do was pay his bill. He meant to stiff us. 
 He said hed pay up just as soon as he was sure wed given him the permanent 
solution hed wanted to buy. Right. He meant to stiff us. 
 I didnt care if he was the Dead Mans buddy. I didnt care if he was tight with Prince Rupert. I had him on my list to turn over to the Saucerhead Tharpe 
collection agency. 
 Meantime, amidst all else, I maintained my thrilling surveillance of that ferocious threat to the peace, Barking Dog Amato, mainly by collecting his reports, skimming them, then passing a few appropriate comments to Hullar so he could give something to the daughter. Barking Dogs autobiographical ambitions dwindled as he foresaw the advent of better weather. I was grateful, especially after he went into rehearsals for his new, more forceful act, 
designed with the help of the Dead Man. 
 Days hurried past. I lumbered around town trying to get some line on the old-time killings. I got nowhere. If there was any glory to be had, Block 
wanted his boys to get it. I wasnt allowed access to any public records. 
 Evenings fled too. I made and lost friends in the Tenderloin. People down there were appalled by what had been done to those girlsbut they were more 
appalled by what making potential future targets safe might do to business. 
 
The consensus was, you got the guy. Dont bother us. 
 The Dead Man fell back on an ancient and adolescent device for getting some 
of the women out of the Tenderloin. He sent anonymous notes to their families. 
 Six days after my amazing coup involving Downtown Billy Byrd, I told the Dead Man, Ive found the girl. In fact, Ive found two of them. One of them 
would have to be it. 
 
Candy, at Hullars place, of course. And the other? 
 
Dixie Starr. She works Mama Sams Casino. 
 
Dixie Starr? 
 Really. Call it her business name. Barbie was the only victim who came close to using her real name. The most recent victim had been one Barbra Tennys, daughter of a viscount with obscure connections to the royal family, said family including Prince Rupert. Barbras mother was a stormwarden on duty in the Cantard. No proofs would convince her father that his daughter had been selling her favors at auction, for kicks, before reality slithered dread tentacles into the fantasy. Dixies name came up before, at the Masked Man. This is a girl with problems. Candy, on the other hand, is a real innocent on the street. I dont think itll be hard to find out who she is. I doubt 
shed notice if I just followed her home. 
 
And the identity of the Dixie woman? 
 I have it already. Shes Emma Setlow. Her father and grandfather are meat packers who found a better way to preserve sausages. They made their mint 
off army contracts. 
 
And you have gotten nothing useful from your search for information from the past? 
 Blocks made sure I cant get near any official records. From what I can see, though, hes not doing much looking himself. Whatever he says. Hes too busy making political hay and spreading his influence throughout the 
entire Watch. 
 
I suspect he will change his attitude. 
 
Damn if I didnt think he knew something he wouldnt share. 
 There came a dawn when there was an actual break in the rains. Dean became so excited that it was still dawn when he wakened me. I cussed and threatened, but he won out. He got me interested. What did daylight look like without 
rain? My body whined and dragged, but I hauled out and headed for breakfast. 
 
Dean had the kitchen curtains back and the window open. Place needs airing out. 
 
Probably. I shrugged, sipped tea. Streets are going to be crazy. 
 
Dean nodded. I need to do some shopping. 
 
I nodded back. Barking Dog will launch his new show, the rain doesnt start up. I cant miss that. 
 
Everyone in town would find some excuse to get out, even knowing everyone else would be in the streets. 
 
At least the city will be clean, Dean observed. 
 
It will. The rains lasted long enough for that. 
 Now, if people would just keep it that way. He delivered a plate of biscuits, 
steaming, straight from the oven. Drooling, I left him to do the talking. 
 I didnt hear it, which meant Id grown distracted. That had been happening more and more as more and more the women of my heart became the women of my imagination. Anyway, I looked up and found the old boy absent. Puzzled, I started to get up. Then I heard him coming down the hall, talking. Hed 
answered the door. Hed let someone inside. 
 
Going to have to have a talk with him. 
 
Someone just had to be Captain Block. 
 
Not again, I muttered loudly enough to be heard. 
 
Dean set another place, poured tea. Block settled, went to work daubing a biscuit with honey. I ignored his existence. 
 
Not sure yet, Garrett, Block said around a mouthful of biscuit. May be trouble again. 
 
Aint my problem. Aint going to be my problem. Only problem in my life is deadbeats. 
 Block got hot, sudden and major. He thought we were trying to exploit his misfortune. He was right. But hed set the terms. And I figured he was getting 
off cheap, considering the alternative. 
 
Block cooled down before he risked speaking. Garrett, do you recall the knives from the Hamilton place? 
 
The ritual tools? What about them? 
 Theyve disappeared. We got them back when we went after Spender. Spender 
having been the accursed bum in the abandoned brewery. 
 
Huh? 
 They was locked up in the barracks armory. I got space there for keeping 
evidence. I saw them there day before yesterday. Last night they was gone. 
 
So? 
 
Tomorrow night is the next time the killer would strike. 
 
Wow. Thats right. I laid on my most sarcastic tone, like I was amazed a Watchman could work that out. 
 A Corporal Elvis Winchell, who was part of the raid force the other night, disappeared yesterday sometime. He had access to the armory. Apparently he and a Private Price Ripley were isolated with the killers corpse for about 
seven minutes during its trip to the oven. 
 
And youre afraid Winchell will 
 
Yes. I need your help again, Garrett. 
 
Its wonderful to be appreciated. It really is. But youre talking to the wrong guy. You need to see my accountant. 
 
Huh? 
 
Id lost him. The Dead Man. But hes put out with you too. With me, its money, with him, its information. 
 
Oh. Back to that. 
 
Back to that. Its the bottom line. I have a feeling that if you talk him into anything, hell insist on payment up front. 
 
Block didnt argue. He didnt dare. We were about to discover how desperate he really was. I passed him on to the Dead Man. 
 
39 
I slipped out while their backs were turned. It was going to be a long, dull argument. Block hadnt yet panicked. 
 Negotiations are fun for the Dead Man. My tastes are more earthy, more basic. Maybe not as simple as a hotfoot, but not cerebral. It always helps if theres 
a lady along. Especially if shes no lady. 
 Barking Dog got the better of his crackpot religious squatter by showing up earliest. The nut was there when I arrived. He was sullen. He growled a lot. Amato tended his placards and ignored him. Barking Dog looked confident. 
He was ready. 
 His return had been noted. His normal audience consisted of functionaries who worked in the area. They kept an eye on him, wondering when hed start raving. Speculation was rife. His absence had left him looking primed with 
fresh madness. His reappearance was a happening resented by a single soul. 
 
The holy crackpot finally left in a huff. 
 Barking Dogs venue is the Chancery steps. Seems appropriate, in a sense. In the old days the Chancery was a court of equity, but time changes everything. Today its mostly a place to store official records, civil type, for the duchy, plus some royal records. Half the main floor has been occupied by the functionaries who manage military conscription in this end of Karenta. They migrated from the military Chancery years ago, after having been crowded 
out by procurement offices that grow faster and faster as the war winds down. 
 The Chancery structure is a relic of the empire, built late, evidently with an eye to impress. To reach the huge brass doors of the main entrance, you have to climb eighty dark granite steps that span the entire front of the building. Each twenty steps there is a level stretch ten feet wide. Vendors and people like Barking Dog take advantage of those. If it can be sold from 
a tray hung from the neck, youll find it for sale outside the Chancery. 
 Amatos spot was at the left end of the first landing. Most of the traffic in and out of the building naturally passed that way, plus Barking Dog was 
just high enough to be seen and heard easily from the street. 
 I planted myself on the stone rail alongside the next landing up, nodded to Barking Dog. He acknowledged my presence with a smile. He adjusted his 
placards. He had four, all on sticks with bases meant to hold them upright. 
 Whether entering the Chancery or just passing in the street, people slowed, paused, hoping the merriment would break out soon. Several clerk types accumulated, looking uncomfortable. Their superiors had sent them to keep track and to 
call when the nonsense began. 
 
Barking Dog was as crazy as a herd of drunk possums, but he had his fans. 
 Judging from his placards, his text for the day would be a traditional crowd pleaser, the international conspiracy which denied Barking Dog Amato his 
rights and properties. 
 He let word spread before he spoke. He waited past the commencement of the business day. Then he started, soft and slow, without the brass megaphone, 
while word spread that he was starting. 
 I noticed something that had escaped me during more casual viewings. Barking Dog had him a kettle out, marked to encourage donations. Passersby surprised 
me with their generosity. 
 Maybe Amato was less the fool than I thought. Maybe this was how he paid for supplies. Maybe this was the whole point . . . No. That couldnt be true. 
Hed live better than he did. 
 He started gentle and slow and sane, almost conversationally. His chats with the Dead Man had paid dividends. His soft voice arrested passersby, made 
them strain to hear. I couldnt hear from behind him. 
 Signs and portents, he said when he did raise his voice slightly. Yea! Signs and portents! The hour is coming! It is at hand! The wicked shall be revealed in all their ugliness. They shall be found out and rooted out, and we who have endured, who have borne their weight upon our shoulders till 
we have become hunchbacks, we shall see our agony repaid. 
 I glanced around. Was there anybody here who might know me? That sounded suspiciously like he was going to take a plunge into sedition. That seemed an unwise career move to me. Sedition was the sort of talk that could get you thrown into a real prisonif you were dumb enough to talk it on the Chancery steps instead of at the bar in your neighborhood tavern. Outside, in broad 
daylight, it might sound serious instead of just bitching. 
 
Ha! Fooled you, Garrett! 
 Everyone listening heard hunchbacks and jumped to the same conclusion. The crowd grew quieter, waited for Barking Dog to step into it up to his knees, 
then shove his foot in his mouth. 
 
How come people get such a kick out of watching a disaster in progress? 
 Barking Dog veered off ninety degrees. They have stolen my houses. They have stolen my lands. They have stolen my family titles. Now they strive to steal my good name so they can silence me when I denounce their wickedness. They had me incarcerated in the Al-Khar in their efforts to stifle me. They have tried to silence me through fear. But by stealing everything from me they have left me entirely without fear. They have left me nothing to lose. By stealing everything they have also taken those signs which remind them 
of who I am. They forget whom they consigned to vile durance. 
 
Kropotkin F. Amato will not yield. Kropotkin F. Amato will fight on so long as a single breath remains in his abused flesh. 
 That was all old stuff, excepting the prison references. He began to lose his audience. But then he did something hed not done before. He named names. And he started moving, stalking back and forth, flinging his hands around, shrieking in rage. Again I thought he was digging himself a grave, but then realized hed named only names on the public record. And he hadnt said anything objectionable about them, hed just surrounded their names with racket that 
might nail them through guilt by association. The man was damned clever. 
 
40 
The mans damned clever. 
 
I bounced high enough to bruise my skull on low-flying clouds. 
 
I mean, using the truth to tell lies that way. Crask had appeared out of nowhere, behind me. 
 
I barked, Why the hell you got to do that? 
 He grinned. Because its fun watching you jump. He meant it. He would keep 
trying to make me jump till the day he really did greet me with a knife. 
 
What do you want? My mood wasnt what it had been. 
 
Its not what I want, Garrett. Its never that. Its what Chodo wants. You know that. Im just an errand boy. 
 Right. And a saber-toothed tiger is just a pussycat. Ill play. What does the kingpin want? I tried to keep one eye on Barking Dog. Amato was into a foaming-mouth frenzy now, excoriating and denouncing everyone and everything and drawing one of the best crowds of his career. But I couldnt keep my 
mind on him with Crask so near. 
 
Crask said, Chodo wants to talk about the girl. 
 
The girl? 
 Dont get cute. Shes his kid. It aint right shes down to the Tenderloin, 
whatever shes doing there. That dont look good. That cant get out. 
 
You dont like it, tell her to knock it off. 
 
There you go again. Cute. You know it aint that simple, Garrett. 
 
Sure. It isnt like she was some kid off the street, just slap her around, maybe kick in a few ribs when she dont do right. 
 You got a problem with your mouth, Garrett. I been telling Chodo for a long time you got a problem with your mouth. For a while there he couldnt see that. But hes maybe seeing things clearer these days. Youll maybe want 
to keep a lid on the wise-guy stuff when you see him. 
 
I always had . . . See him? I hadnt planned to see that old coot ever again. I told Crask that. 
 
Were all entitled to our opinions, and maybe even our little dreams, I reckon. But sometimes they got to change, Garrett. 
 I glanced around. Crask wasnt alone. Naturally. Hed brought enough help to carry off three or four uncooperative characters my size. I suppose you 
have a point. I stood, indicated he should lead the way. 
 I considered taking a powder. Barking Dogs crowd might have made escape possible. But I had a feeling I wasnt in danger. Yet. Had I reached the head of the kingpins list, theyd have just hit me. Killing was a businesslike business with Chodo and his main men. They didnt waste time tormenting their victimsunless there was a big public-relations dividend to be gained from 
killing somebody an inch at a time. 
 
Pity to miss the rest of this. I nodded at Barking Dog. 
 
Yeah. Old goofs on a roll. But business is business. Lets go. 
 Our immediate destination stood at the curb on the far side of the Chancery. It was a big black coach similar to the one the old butterfly man had ridden. 
Chodo Contagues personal coach. 
 How many of these does he have? It hadnt been that long since Id fallen out of a similar one scant seconds before it became a lunch bucket for a 
thunder-lizard taller than most three-story houses. 
 
This is a new one. 
 
I figured. Since it looked and smelled new. You cant fool us trained investigators. 
 That other, earlier ride had sprung from a misunderstanding that had irked me at the time. So much so that Id decided to whack Chodo before he came 
after me again. Id joined forces with this very Crask to see the job done. 
 
But Chodo was still alive, still in charge. 
 
I couldnt figure it. 
 Crask is smart but he isnt much of a talker. Its a long haul from the skirts of the Hill out to Chodos estate. You have plenty of time to consider the meaning of life. If youre traveling with a Crask and a couple other stiffs who lack even the redeeming value of having brains, you tend to drift away into philosophy. Theres only so much amusement to be had from farting contests 
and exchanges of grotesque misinformation about female anatomy. 
 Try as I might, I couldnt get anything better going. All I got out of Crask was an indefinite impression that there was more going on than he cared to 
tell me. 
 Which made perfect sense if he planned to break my neck. You dont tell the pig ahead of time that its come the day for making bacon. All I had going was the dubious comfort I could take from knowing that Crask had no cause 
to go to all this trouble just to ice me. 
 I hadnt seen Chodos place since the night Winger and I broke in planning to hasten Chodos journey to the promised land. Nothing appeared changed except that the damage had been repaired and a fresh herd of small thunder-lizards had been brought in to patrol the grounds and graze on intruders. Just like 
old times, I muttered. 
 Weve added a twist or two, Crask informed me, grinning evilly, like he hoped Id think he was bluffing and would have a go at sneaking in. That 
would appeal to his selective sense of humor. 
 
41 
Like old times. Chodo greeted his company in the pool room. 
 It was called that because there was a huge indoor bath in there. Ive seen smaller oceans. The bath was heated. Usuallythough this time was an exceptionthe poolside was decorated by a small herd of unclothed beauties, there just 
to lend that final touch of decadence. 
 
While we waited, I asked, Where are the honeys? I miss them. 
 
You would. Chodo didnt want them around while his daughter was staying here. He never got around to bringing them back. 
 
What did that mean? That the daughter wasnt staying here anymore? 
 
Patience, Garrett. All will come clear. 
 The man himself arrived, looking little changed. He was in his wheelchair with a heavy blanket wrapped around his lap and covering his legs. Hands like tallow claws lay folded upon his lap. I couldnt see his face. His head 
had fallen forward. It swayed back and forth. 
 Sadler stopped him at the far end of the pool, fiddled with his chair, tilted him back so his head stayed level. Id never seen Chodo in anything approaching good health, but now he seemed way worse than ever before. He looked like somebody had poisoned him with arsenic, then hed suffered severe anemia 
till the vampires got him. His skin was almost translucent. 
 
He was dressed and groomed as though for dinner with the Kingand that only made the sight of him more horrible. 
 
I started forward. Crask caught my arm. From here, Garrett. 
 
Sadler bent to Chodos right ear. Mr. Garrett is here, sir. He spoke softly. I barely heard him. 
 Nothing shifted in Chodos eyes. I saw no light of recognition. I saw no 
evidence that he could see at all. His eyes didnt move and didnt focus. 
 Sadler leaned forward as though to let Chodo speak into his ear. He listened, then straightened. He wants to know about his daughter. No pretense about 
her now. Whatever you know. All your speculations. 
 
I already told you 
 
He wants to hear it. With everything you left out. 
 Bullpucky. Maybe I wasnt supposed to notice. Maybe they didnt care if I 
did. Chodos lips hadnt moved. He hadnt done anything but drool. 
 I flashed back to the night we tried to scribble the end of his story. WeCrask, Sadler, Winger, and Ihad had him cornered, along with a witch hed been chasing. The witch did get herself elevated to a higher plane before Winger and I cut out, but shed made a final gesture before checkout. Shed given Chodo a fist in the face. Shed been wearing a poison ring filled with snake 
venom. 
 
So. Rather than killing Chodo, the venom had induced a stroke. 
 How nice for Crask and Sadler. They must have thought themselves beloved of the gods when that happened. Their original plan had been to do Chodo and grab control of the outfit before anyone realized what was happening. That was the historically preferred solution to the problem of the transition of power in the underworld. But it meant a long shake-out period while potential 
challengers were eliminated. 
 This way there was no problem with the succession. Chodo was alive. They 
could pretend he was still in charge while they gathered the reins slowly. 
 
It was grotesque. 
 
I played along. 
 
Not playing along would be a capital crime, I suspected. 
 Much of the time I function well in tight situations. I didnt betray my thoughts. I pursued a conversation with Chodo, through Sadler, as though 
I sensed nothing unusual. 
 I gave them a thorough briefing on the serial killer and young women frequenting 
the Tenderloin. Sometimes its best you dont shield people from the truth. 
 
Seen her lately? Sadler asked. 
 
Not since that day at Hullars. 
 
You didnt try to trace her? 
 
Why? No. I lost interest once I knew who she was. 
 
Youre not as dumb as you look, Crask observed. 
 
Like you. Protective coloration. 
 
Sadler gave me the fish-eye. You wouldve known who she was after seeing her at Dotess place. 
 Speaking of Morley, the reason I asked him to contact you is the girl might know something that would help stop this killer. And I didnt figure hunting 
her up personally would 
 
Sadler cut in, You said the killer was dead. He was determined to trip me up. 
 
Maybe. We hope. But hes been dead before. The killings didnt stop. 
 
You dont think theyre going to? 
 The ritual knives disappeared. A Watchman who was around the corpse and who had access to the knives has disappeared. That may not mean anything, but why take chances? Ive identified two women who fit the victim profile. 
Ill see them covered like a blanket. Did I sound like I was making sense? 
 Sadler bent, stayed bent a long time, though Chodos lips never moved. Yes, sir. Ill tell him that, sir. He straightened. Chodo says he has a job for you, Garrett. He wants you to find his daughter. He wants you to bring 
her home. 
 
The resources he has, he cant find her? 
 
Not without everybody knowing hes looking. 
 
Crask said, He cant go looking himself, Garrett. That would be like admitting he cant control his own family. 
 Yeah. And folks might even wonder why shed run away. I see. I turned away, pretended to pace, finally stopped. I can handle it. But I could use a little something to get started with. I mean, I dont even know her name, let alone 
anything about her. 
 
Belinda, Crask said, She wont be using it. 
 
Teach your mama to suck eggs, boy. Belinda? Youre kidding. Nobodys named Belinda anymore. 
 
After Chodos old granny. The man didnt crack a smile. She raised him up until he was old enough to run the streets. 
 Crask had a faraway look. I hoped he didnt wax nostalgic about the old days. Chodo had a decade on him, so they couldnt have run the bricks at the same time, but Crask and Sadler, like most of Chodos inside boys, had come into the business from the streets, with time out for special education at Crown 
expense, in the University of the Cantard. 
 I can handle it, I said again. I seldom demur when dealing with the kingpin 
face-to-face. A weakness of mine, being fond of breathing. 
 Sadler leaned down as though startled, listened. Yes, sir. Ill see to it, sir. He straightened. Ive been instructed to advance you a hundred marks 
against your fees and expenses. 
 Maybe it was the season, all these people throwing money my way. Im on the job, I said. Only I hope I dont have to walk ten miles home. Hint, hint. But I wouldnt press the issue. I wanted out of there bad. Soon. Before 
there was anything more. 
 
42 
I thought a lot during the ride home, concluded that finding beautiful Miss Belinda Contague might not be healthy. 
 
Crask and Sadler might consider me disposable once they had her in hand, under control. 
 My disposability probably had plenty to do with why they had chosen this particular investigator to investigate. There was one fine chance they figured I knew too much already. In fact, just to be optimistic, I was going to count 
on that. 
 So the one thing I had going for me was the fact that I hadnt found the girl yet. As long as she stayed unfound, things would stay just dandy for 
me. 
 The more I thought, the more I was convinced I had to simplify my life. I 
didnt have enough eyes to watch all the directions I needed to watch. 
 
Night fell before I got home. With the darkness came rain, surprising me I dont know why. Wasnt like it was something new. 
 I headed up the front steps wondering how I could find Belinda Contague without seeming to find her, before I weaseled out of my troubles with Crask and 
Sadler. 
 
Where have you been? Dean demanded before the door opened wide enough to admit me. 
 What are you, my mother? You think its any of your business, you drop in while Im explaining to His Nibs. I could maybe drop a few housekeeping hints while I was at that. Anything to get a little cleaning done in there 
without having to do it myself. 
 Dean read me like a book. He was old and slow but far from senile. He harrumphed, headed for the kitchen, but halted as he came abreast of my office doorway. 
I nearly forgot. You have a guest. In the small front room. 
 Oh? A new cat, big enough to rip my leg off? Or Barking Dog on a midnight mission? . . . No. Amato would be across the way swapping insanities with 
the Dead Man. Evangelists? 
 
Only one way to find out. 
 
I opened the door. 
 
Time passed. I finally came around when the woman cracked, You like what you see? Or are you just a mouth breather? 
 
Sorry. You werent what I was expecting. 
 
Then put your eyes back in their sockets, Jocko. Why surprised? 
 Your father just drafted me to find you, Belinda. In his usual smooth-talking 
way, he offered me the job without giving me any chance to turn him down. 
 
That shut her up. She stared. 
 His driver just now dropped me off. 1 stared back. I liked what I saw. She didnt hurt the eyes at all. She still preferred black. She still looked good in black. You look marvelous in black. Not many women wear it so well. She would look good inor out ofanything. She had what it took, though I 
got the impression she was used to hiding it. 
 
For the moment the cat had her tongue. 
 
I wondered where Dean had the beast hidden. 
 Belinda didnt match the victim profile tonight. Her hair was short, black as a ravens wing, made more remarkable by the pallor of her skin and the brightness of her lip rouge. I wondered if the pale skin was a family look, if she would resemble her father in a few years. She looked pretty much the way she had at Morleys place and not much the way she had at Hullars. At 
Hullars, probably wearing a wig, shed fit the profile perfectly. 
 
Theyre a protean breed, women. 
 
Oh, I love them, I do, I do, however they disguise themselves. 
 
Belinda rose like she meant to make a run for it. My father? My father is 
 Your father is in less than total control of his faculties. His lieutenantswho hijacked me and dragged me out to the estatemade a big show of it being his idea. Oh. Excuse me. Im Garrett. Dean said you wanted to see me. Im 
glad, too. Ive wanted to meet you since that night at the Joy House. 
 
She looked puzzled. The Joy House? She edged sideways. Shed changed her mind about wanting to see me. 
 Weeks back. In the Safety Zone? You ran in and stole my heart. Then some brunos tried to steal you. Remember? Big black coach. Old boy with green eyes and butterflies on his breath? Your basic every-night weird kidnapping 
upset when the gallant knight of the streets rescued the distressed damsel? 
 
Youve been dieting. You were four inches taller and sixty pounds heavier then. 
 Ha. Ha. That was Saucerhead. He used to be my buddy. He helped me a little. 
My heart was broken when you didnt stick around long enough to say thanks. 
 
Thanks, Garrett. Youre blocking the doorway. 
 No shit? Youre quick. I told Saucerhead youd be quick. I told everyone youd be sharp. Is that a problem? Me not moving? I thought you wanted to 
see me. 
 
That was before you told me you work for the ugly twins. 
 Did I say that? I didnt say that. I couldnt have said that. I have a long-standing reputation for refusing to work for them or your fatherthough I might let one or the other labor under the misapprehension. I tried my famous boyish 
grin, guaranteed to set any girls little heart going pitty-pat. 
 
Stow the bullshit, Garrett. Let me out of here. 
 
I dont think so. 
 
Youre not dragging me off to the uglies. 
 
No way. Why would I do that? My life wouldnt be worth two coppers if I did. 
 
Mine either. Mine especially. I dont really know about yours. Let me out of here. 
 
Not till I hear why you came. 
 
Doesnt matter now. You arent the guy I need. 
 Because I know Crask and Sadler? I shrugged as though trying to shake off a broken heart. Cant win them all. But you are the girl I need. Ive been 
looking for you for weeks. 
 
Why? 
 
Its about the people that tried to snatch you. Youre their only target that got away. 
 
She got real pale. That wasnt the reaction Id expected. She asked, What do you mean? 
 
Youve heard rumors about the killer who strings girls up and guts them? 
 
Ive heard talk. I didnt pay much attention. 
 
Thats funny. I wouldve paid a lot of attention after somebody almost dragged me off. 
 
Was that them? She was grim, suddenly. Hard, like her father. 
 
Yes. 
 
Oh. In a small voice. An I feel foolish voice. 
 You and me, were the only ones who ever saw him face-to-face and lived. She didnt really need to remember Saucerhead, did she? And I only saw him for a second. You mustve had more to do with him and his boys. You were 
running from them when you showed up at Morleys. 
 I was working part-time at Bishoff Hullars Dance Parlor. I dont know why. For the hell of it. I didnt do anything but dance. Some girls I knew used 
the place to make dates. 
 
I know the scam. 
 One nightthat nighttwo men tried to pick me up. Their boss had seen me, they said. He wanted to meet me. Id be well paid for my time. I said no. They persisted. I told them to eat shit and die. They wouldnt take no for an answer. Hullar had to run them out. But they didnt go away. They tried 
to grab me when I left work. 
 Plausible. Some guys think that when a woman says no shes only being coy, possibly because so many women have only been being coy when theyve said no. From what I saw at Morleys that night, those guys hadnt been long on 
social skills. Why the Joy House? Funny place to run. 
 Morley Dotes. I hoped his reputation would scare them off long enough to give me time to think. Then, when they came in, I hoped Dotes would get upset 
about them getting physical inside his place. 
 
He did. 
 
I couldnt run to my fathers people. I wouldve had to explain why I was in the Tenderloin in the first place. 
 
What about the guy who wanted to meet you so bad? 
 
I guess that was him in that coach. That was the only time I ever saw him. 
 Well, hell. Wonderful. Shed be no help unless the Dead Man found something she didnt know she knew. Great. Back to where I started. So. Even though 
youve changed your mind, how come youre here? Whats up? 
 She studied me. I think hes after me again. Anyway, its somebody with that same smooth style, sending guys to talk for him. I got scared. I heard 
you were straight. I thought you could get him off my back. 
 The butterfly man had good taste if not good intentions. Belinda wasnt dressed for it, but she couldnt hide the fact that she was a looker. Her mother 
must have been something. She hadnt gotten those looks from her father. 
 
I could discourage him. Whyd you change your mind? Because I mentioned your father? 
 
Because of Crask and Sadler. Im not going to let them profit from what happened to my father. And they know it. 
 Should I reveal my past role? Tell her Crask and Sadler had done nothing but exploit a situation that had fallen into their laps? Didnt seem the best strategy. Theres never been any love lost between me and the uglies. When they were your dads top boys they strained at their leashes, wanting their chance at me. Now they can pick their time. I wish I had time to worry 
about that. But I have to concentrate on this killer. Hes about due to strike. 
 
She was distressed again. Then he wasnt taken by the Watch? A Captain Somebody was doing a lot of crowing a while back. 
 Captain Block. His optimism was premature. I told about the two killers so far and asked her to fill me in on the dandies whose sweet talk had so 
impressed her that shed come running to me. 
 I learned a lesson. Belinda Contague didnt listen any closer than her father 
ever had. I dont get it. How come the murders keep happening? 
 
I shrugged. Crazy stuff happens. 
 
Inside somebodys head. You didnt get the right man. 
 Odd. Mostly Belinda was a girl of the street, what youd expect of a thugs daughter. But something kept sneaking through, something suspiciously redolent of refinement. Shed been away from home most of her life, a secret because Chodo hadnt wanted her to become a hostage to fortune. I had a feeling shed 
learned to be a lady while she was away. 
 We got it right, Belinda. Both times. Without a doubt. The killers liked to keep souvenirs, and the men we caught had them. This time we have an idea who may have caught the curseif it moved onbut we cant find him. We can guess when his compulsion will make him kill. Weve identified his three 
most likely victims. Youre one. And somebodys been bothering you. 
 
Actually, I thought . . .  Small, sour smile. 
 
You thought they were Crask and Sadlers beagles and you could leave me in the middle while you did a fast fade on everybody. 
 
She nodded. Youre not as put out as Id expect. 
 
Thats what I do. Get in the middle. Its easier when a pretty woman wants me there. 
 
Save that stuff, Garrett. Im immune. Ive heard all about you. 
 
Checking up? I put on my best hurt look. What? Me? The white knight? 
 
The rooming house where I stayunder a name Ill keep to myself, thank youcaters to single women. 
 
Sounded like the antechamber to heaven. I maintained a neutral expression. And? 
 
So Ive heard about you. You recall a Rosie Tate? 
 I gasped, choked. Should I be outraged or should I laugh? Good old Rose. Sure, I know Rose. I did her out of a fortune by making sure the lady her brother named in his will got what she had coming. I didnt let her get her way by wagging her tail at me. Yes, I know Rose. Shes got a real boner for me. I didnt know they let her out on her own. Rose Tate running loose could be a disaster worse than a platoon of serial killers. The woman was nasty. 
As gorgeous as they come, but nasty. 
 
You think shes a joke? 
 Not hardly. Not Rose. Rose is a joke like a starving saber-tooth is a joke. Make that a starving saber-tooth with a toothache. I faked a laugh. So 
she still holds a grudge. 
 
That woman wants your head. She didnt say anything about any money. 
 
Rose was never one to let little things like truth and accuracy get in the way when she was creating a mood in her audience. 
 
Tell me about it. Didnt take two weeks before every girl in the place was ready to strangle her. 
 
Way it goes. Its hard to be a crowd pleaser in my racket. So what about Crask and Sadler? 
 Garrett, I dont really know. I can remember when either one of them would have died to protect me or the family name. They would have done anything to shield me from a breath of scandal. Thats the way those people do things. 
They have this elaborate code of honor. 
 I know. And part of it is that women and children are exempt. But. The last thing your father ever said to me was, look out for his baby. I dont know why I told her. It wasnt a smart move. She didnt need to know. I didnt need to hoist up a sign saying heres a way to manipulate me. I said I would. I didnt think Id need to. Crask and Sadler said youd be taken care of. 
Maybe they had their fingers crossed. 
 That sounds like them. Him and them too. My father had a thing about you, Garrett. He used to go on about honorable men. About how there were none left, except for you, and you were going to get yourself killed for your 
trouble. 
 
He didnt know me the way he thought. I have my bad moments like anybody else. 
 
He was funny some ways, Garrett. Besides having crotchets about you, he was always honest with his daughter. 
 
Meaning? 
 Meaning I was never in doubt what he did. Unlike most females near his kind. As far back as I can remember, he told me all the hows and whys and wheres and dirt that makes the business go. I never thought anything was strange till he sent me off to school. Then I got embarrassed. I lay awake nights. I prayed my little heart out. Then I found out all the other girls were embarrassed by their fathers too, and half of them made up the most outrageous stories to explain why . . . I realized that no matter what my father did, he did 
love me. And that was more than most of my classmates could say. 
 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 fathereven when I hated what he was and what he did to people. But all thats something we can go into later. Right now every minute brings me nearer to the time the girl killer will have to do 
what hes got to do to stay happy. 
 
What? 
 Bottom line. Some people need rougher stimulation than others. Thats 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 caint get it off. 
 Thats the heart of it, isnt it? Wheres the line between whats unusual 
and whats unacceptable? When does weird become dangerously perverted? 
 
She looked me straight in the eye. Ill 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. Hes not fast on his feet, but hes sly. 
 
The Dead Man? 
 
Youve heard of him. Thatll 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. 
 
Were 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 aint me, babe. I thought you knew about the Dead Man. She wasnt heading for the door, she was pressing closer to me, a development I didnt discourage. I eased her across the hall. I know. I know. You didnt think youd have to deal with him. You thought the stories were exaggerated. They are, mostly. 
Except about how ugly he is. 
 
Garrett! 
 
And testy. Hes 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 wouldnt let go. Id 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! Lets not get personal. 
 
I went to the kitchen and sulked, indulged in my favorite food, Weiders 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 isnt hereditary? 
 
That is not what I meant. 
 
What you really mean is, she didnt know a damned thing we could use. And youre 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 doesnt like women, of any species. He doesnt 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 wasnt 
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. Ive watched those two women in action, Smiley. Candy dont 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. Howre we going to move a bunch of women in here? We dont have 
 
Dean can see to their wants. I will see to their safety. You go to the Tenderloin, bring us back one. 
 If theyre even working. You have to remember, they dont do this stuff for a living. Its 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 wont 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 didnt know how to get him out thereunless 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 wasnt 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. 
 Look, what I really need to know is whatever you know about the girl called Candy. At Hullars. I have to come up with a way to make her stay away tomorrow 
night. 
 
I didnt work with her. I barely knew her to say hi. 
 Damn. Somehow I had the idea all you girls should know each other. Im getting 
really tired of this whole thing. You cant give me anything? 
 Dean scowled, though even he realized Id intended no double meaning. Belinda caught his scowl, raised an eyebrowI fell in love all over again, because thats one of my own great talentsthen winked when Dean wouldnt see her. 
No. 
 
I went away wondering. 
 
44 Look, I snapped when the Dead Man started in on me during my report, I did my best. I let Barking Dog drive me crazy telling me about his day so Id have something to tell Hullar. Then I spent two hours trying to get somewhere with a dame so dizzy she thought me trying to save her life was a new pickup routine. She finally told me to screw off and die. Not exactly a boost for the ego. But I did find out that she wont be working tomorrow night. She 
has family obligations. 
 
Excellent. If we fail tomorrow, we will have her as bait next time. 
 
How come youre so sure well have more trouble with this killer? 
 I am not sure. I am taking a page from your philosophy, looking on the dark side, expecting the worst. If nothing happens, I will have had a wonderfully 
pleasant surprise. 
 
Yeah? I hope you get your wonderfully pleasant surprise. Im going to bed. It was a bitch of a day. 
 
All that beer, in the line of duty. 
 
There are limits. Stand watch. If that woman finds she cant control her urges 
 
Ha. She is sound asleep, without a thought of anyone named Garrett anywhere in her mind. 
 
What is she, then? A nun? Never mind. I dont want to know. I want to sleep. Good night. Tight. Bedbugs. Bite. All that stuff. 
 
I made it upstairs before the summons came. Garrett! Come down here. 
 
Rather than prolong the pain by fighting, I went. What? This would have to be good. 
 
You did not tell me about the other woman. Dixie. At Mama Sams. Remember? 
 I remember. She didnt show up for work. She was expected in but she didnt make it. Nobody was surprised. That was the way she was. All right? She was time wasted. But shes supposed to be there tomorrow for sure. Shell be 
our bait. Good night. 
 Whatever questions he had, he took answers directly, without forcing me to spend more time on one of our famous exchanges. I climbed the stairs again. This time I made it all the way to my room before he prodded me. Garrett! 
There is someone at the door. 
 
Hell with them. Let them come back at a civilized hour. I settled onto the edge of my bed, leaned forward to untie my shoes. 
 
Garrett, Captain Block is at the door. I believe he has brought bad news but he is too excited to read reliably. 
 
Great. For Block Id make special arrangements. He could come back next week. 
 Nevertheless, I pried my carcass off my bed and trudged down the hall, downstairs, up the ground-floor hall to the door, peeped through the peephole. The Dead Man was right. That was Captain Block out there. I held another brief debate 
about whether or not to admit him. I finally gave in and unlocked the door. 
 
I was a tad more frank than usual. You look like death on a stick. 
 
Im considering suicide. 
 
And you came here for help? Thats not one of our services. 
 
Ha. Ha. He grabbed a march on us, Garrett. 
 
Bring him in here, Garrett. 
 
Say what? You cant go talking around things tonight. Im so tired Im wasted. 
 
Winchell. He snatched the Candy woman. Tonight. Because he knew wed be set for him tomorrow night. Ripley was with him. 
 
How do you know? 
 I saw them. I was down there scouting out how I wanted to do cover tomorrow night. I saw them snatch her when she left work. I chased them till I collapsed. 
They saw me too. They laughed at me. 
 
You lost them? 
 
I lost them. Im going to kill myself. 
 
I told the Dead Man, You want to let him do that now so I can get some sleep? Ill get rid of the body tomorrow. 
 Nonsense. Captain Block, you must return to your barracks and turn out every man who knew Corporal Winchell or Private Ripley. Determine if any knows where either man might hide. Send squads to check those. Worry more about saving the girl than capturing the villains. A success there will endear you to the public and your superiors alike. I suggest you begin moving now. If, in fact, you do manage to overhaul the villains, do capture rather than 
kill them. The curse will be easier to control with its carrier still alive. 
 
I tried that last time. The clown made us kill him. 
 I suspect that, too, is part of the curse. Whoever cast it originally, for whatever reasonyou seem to be taking an inordinately long time examining the official recordswas a genius. He did not just toss off a spell that compelled someone to go forth and slaughter a certain sort of woman. He created a curse that interacts with its environment, that learns when it fails, that 
goes on and gets harder to overcome with time. 
 
Block had grown pale. Theres no way to beat it? If I do stop it today, it gets harder to stop tomorrow? 
 I can think of several ways to stop it. None are especially appealing. You can make certain the current curse-bearer dies in the presence of someone so handicapped that he cannot manage a killing. Or with a prisoner who will never be released. I am now convinced that the accursed must be kept alive while the appropriate experts study him and determine how to deactivate the 
curse, cantrip by cantrip. 
 Alternatively, inasmuch as each transfer has been from a dead man to a living one through direct association, we might experiment with a live burial. Even better might be a live burial at sea. Perhaps entombment if we could be certain 
the tomb would remain unopened forever. 
 
You saying the curse itself cant be stopped, only the guy wearing it? I asked. 
 
That has been the situation to date. In reality, burial has just been a means of passing the problem to a subsequent generation. 
 
I smell legwork. 
 Indeed. Much of it legwork that should have been done already. I suspect actual dismemberment of the curse will require identification of the sorcerer who cast it and a clear picture of circumstances surrounding the casting. Motive may be as important as means. Knowing why the curse was created could 
provide a clue as to how to get at it, where to start unraveling it. 
 I told Block, Ill bet hes been thinking this way since the first time you came around. And youve been sloughing off the research on account of 
it seemed like too much trouble. 
 
He didnt argue and neither did the Dead Man. 
 
I said, Whatevers happening now, Im not involved. Ive got sleep to catch up on. 
 
Block opened his mouth. 
 Dont start on me, Captain. How many times do I have to drag your ass out of the fire before youre satisfied? You have the same equipment I have. Old Bones here told you what to do. Go do it. Save a life. Get famous. Wheres Dean? Cant he let Block out? Gone to bed? Come on. I grabbed Block by the elbow. Do what he says. Get that research when you can. Good night. Out 
the door he went, sputtering. 
 
45 I got me a few hours of horizontal, but not hardly enough. A big racket awakened me. I smelled food cooking, so it mustve been around the solar dawn, though 
still a long way from any time when a rational being would be awake. 
 For whatever irrational reason, I pulled on my pants and stumbled downstairs. I rambled into the kitchen, dropped into my customary chair. I thought those little shit morCartha were all taken by the army for aerial scouts in the Cantard. MorCartha are a flying race, knee- to hip-high, resembling old-fashioned red devils with bat-style wings, only theyre more brown than red. Theyre a contentious, loud, and obnoxious species possessed of no consideration whatsoever. They came from the north, fleeing thunder-lizards. TunFaire had been plagued by them till somebody suffered a seizure of smarts and hired them as auxiliaries. If they did what they were paid for, they could have 
a dramatic impact. 
 These come from a new wave of immigrants, Mr. Garrett. Dean handed me a cup of tea. Or so they say. I suspect the hired tribes are returning, hoping 
they can get paid to leave again. 
 Likely. Why couldnt we have lived in imperial times? Its one damned thing after another. Look at all this shit. MorCartha on the rooftops. Thunder-lizards everywhere. One of those five-horned things swam the river and went crazy 
on the Landing last month. 
 
I felt sorry for him. 
 Huh? I cracked an eyelid, looked to my left, discovered that I was sharing 
the table with my houseguest. And me in nothing but my pants. 
 I felt sorry for the big stupid thing. It didnt know what was happening. It was terrified, all those little creatures screaming and throwing pointy 
things at it. 
 You hear that, Dean? Aint that a woman for you? Heres a monster going berserk, stomping people to death, ripping up property, and she feels sorry 
for it. 
 
Actually, I rather felt that way myself. 
 Yeah. And so had I. And probably everyone else who hadnt suffered directly from the poor beasts fear and confusion. When you went and looked at the thing, now caught in a big pen on a vacant lot, it just seemed a big lovable puppy that looked like it had moss and lichen growing on it. I dont see how you can call something that weighs in at fifteen tons cute, but it was 
cute. 
 
I guess it was good practice in case one of the big carnivores tries the same trick. 
 
He always have to play hardass, Dean? 
 
Come on. On a first-name basis already? The old boy drives me crazy doing that. 
 
Always, Miss Belinda. Pay him no mind. He means well. 
 
Dean, you checked how you feel lately? 
 
Sir? 
 
You said something nice about me. 
 
This is a nice young lady, Mr. Garrett. I approve thoroughly. Id like you two to get to know one another. 
 
Holy shit. 
 Ah. Yes, sir. I know who her father is. We cannot be held accountable for our choice of ancestors. I know who your father was. That was news to me, if he meant that hed known the old man personally, back in those olden days before Pop went to the Cantard to get himself killed. As I understand the situation, this isnt a problem. Mr. Contague, begging your pardon, Miss Belinda, is as good as dead, and the real say lies with Mr. Crask and Mr. 
Sadler. 
 Two fun-loving boys who havent stopped being dangerous because theyve started running things by forging Chodos signature. Whatre you trying to 
do, Dean? 
 
Im doing what I always do, Mr. Garrett. Im matchmaking. 
 His easy admission struck me dumb. Belinda found nothing to say either. We 
exchanged helpless looks. I added an apologetic shrug. 
 
Dean said, Ive spoken with Miss Belinda extensively and find her quite your type behind her antagonistic public face. 
 
Belinda snarled, Is this some kind of teamwork seduction effort, Garrett? 
 
I protested, You have to excuse him. Hes got this thing about getting me involved. 
 Dean didnt listen. He hummed and did kitchen work while we traded excuses and accusations, then declared, The Dead Man is napping. Why dont you two 
go upstairs, make love two or three times, then finish arguing over lunch? 
 
I couldnt believe Dean would say something like that. This just wasnt the Dean I knew. 
 
Not that I found the idea repulsive. Something about Belinda got to me. 
 Belinda just sat there staring while Dean smiled, then winked. I suffered the faintly hopeful suspicion that she didnt find Deans suggestion entirely 
repulsive either. 
 However, this had become one of those situations where you couldnt carry 
forward if both of you were randier than a cat in heat. 
 I said, Youre pushing your luck, Dean. Im going back to bed. Im sorry, 
Miss Contague. Please dont think ill of me because of Deans presumptions. 
 
I thought Dean was going to break out laughing. Was this some scheme to sabotage all hanky before it turned into panky? 
 
Belinda didnt say anything. As I fled I thought I detected the faintest look of disappointment. 
 You know how it goes. As soon as I was alone and the risk of her reaction was no longer part of the equation, I stared at the ceiling and entertained regrets while Belinda Contague grew more attractive by the moment, any warts 
magically fading. 
 
An incurable romantic. Thats me. 
 
46 I was about to head out and see what Block had accomplished. Or had not, as was more probablethough the fact that he hadnt been back did seem promising. 
Belinda came bounding upstairs. Can I go? 
 
No. 
 
Hey! 
 Therere people out there looking for you. I dont think your continued good health is uppermost in their minds. And the way you look, wed be in 
trouble before we got two blocks. 
 
Whats wrong with the way I look? 
 Not a damned thing. And thats the problem. Was I to walk out of here with you right now, my neighbors would hate me for life. Also, anybody Crask and Sadler might have watching the place would be sure to recognize you. It isnt 
like they trust me to dig my own grave unsupervised. 
 
Oh, hell! She stamped a foot, a neat move you dont see that often. It felt rehearsed. 
 If you were a redhead, nobody would pay any attention. I mean, the uglies wouldnt. My neighbors would hate me even more. And I dont know if I could 
stand it if you were everything you are now and a redhead besides. 
 
Dean leaned out of the kitchen, behind Belinda, gave me a look that said he thought I was laying it on with a trowel. 
 Belinda said, Youre laying it on with a trowel, Garrett. But I love it. I hate being cooped up. Ill see about becoming a redhead. Or maybe a blond. 
Would you like that? Breakfast was forgotten. 
 
Sure. Anything. Im easy. Just dont put on a hundred pounds and grow a mustache. 
 She winked. My spine turned to water. But I wasnt a complete dummy. I wondered why she was getting so nice. I suggested, You might change your look while 
youre at it. Especially if the black is like a trademark. 
 
Good idea. She blew me a kiss. 
 I looked at Dean, who looked back and shrugged, shook his head. I couldnt 
tell if he meant he didnt know or didnt want to be blamed. 
 
I started toward the door again. 
 
Garrett. 
 
The story of my life. I cant go anywhere or do anything without everybody in range nibbling at my time. 
 
I stalked into the Dead Mans room. Yes? 
 Tell Captain Block that, on consideration, I feel last nights abduction to have been that only. The Candy woman will not be murdered until tonight, at the necessary hour. If the captain has, as seems likely with him, given 
up searching and is waiting for a body to surface, then he is 
 
Im on my way. 
 I hit the street. I made the tail within a block. I took him for one of the outfits boys, not chosen for his skill at remaining unobtrusive. Crask and Sadler wanted me to know they were watching. The really good tails would 
stay away till they thought Id had time to do some serious searching. 
 
Id fool them. I wouldnt look at all. 
 
Block wasnt hard to find. 
 I went to his headquarters hoping to get word where to look and, behold! There he was, right there in the shop. What the hell you doing hanging out 
here? I demanded. 
 We didnt get anywhere last night. I had five hundred men on the street. They found squat. I called it off after midnight. Didnt seem there was much chance wed do any good then. All the killings took place before midnight, 
near as we know. 
 
Youre waiting for somebody to find the body for you. The Dead Man said you would be. 
 
Block shrugged. Im open to suggestions. Unless you think you need another thousand marks just to open your mouth. 
 On the house this time. The Dead Man said tell you the girl is alive. They wont do her till tonight. The killer never breaks his schedule. He just 
grabbed her last night because he knew wed be watching later. 
 Still alive? Block grabbed his chin with his left hand and started kneading while he thought about that. Still alive. More silence, more thought. Ive had all the men Winchell knew trying to guess where hed go to hide, who 
hed get to help him. 
 
Probably wouldnt need anyone but Ripley. 
 
Maybe not. Laudermill! 
 
A staff sort of sergeant materialized. A classic of the type, his butt was twice the width of his shoulders. Sir? 
 
Anything yet on Winchell or Ripley? 
 
Winchell hasnt contacted any family or friends. Theyre still checking on Ripley, but hes a negative so far too. 
 I had a thought, which has been known to happen. Maybe we could try looking on the inside. When this happens, it always startles people. This one surprised 
even me. What was Winchell working on? 
 
Huh? 
 Case-wise. Look, Block, Ive been close enough to know youve been going a little farther than youre telling anybody except maybe the Prince. Looking to make a splash when they cut you loose, I figure. Whatever. I dont care. But some of your guys have been making some serious efforts to do real police 
work lately. Was Winchell? What was he doing? Maybe 
 I got you. Block held a debate with himself, showing expressions that suggested he was reluctant to let a cat get out of a bag. Finally, Laudermill. Get 
me Relway and Spike. In here. Soon as you can. 
 Laudermill departed with astonishing quickness for one of his bulk. He was 
a twenty-year man for sure, growing anxious about his pension. 
 Block said, These guys Relway and Spike were teamed with Winchell and Ripley on a decoy thing I wanted to test. Theyre irregulars. Theyre off shift now, so it might take a while to find them. I never thought to check the 
auxiliary operatives. 
 The irregular Watchmen appeared sooner than Block expected, and way too soon for me where peace of mind was concerned. Neither was human. Relway was some unlikely breed that was half dwarf and fractions of several other things. He was ugly. Also, to my surprise, he seemed to be decent and pleasant, less scarred by his ancestry and appearance than Id have guessed. He was committed 
to the mission of the new Watch, an apparent fanatic. 
 Likewise Spike, who was a ratman. I dont like ratmen. My dislike verges on being a prejudice. I couldnt believe this ratman was for real. An honest 
ratman is a contradiction in terms, an oxymoron. 
 Block told me, Relway and Spike are volunteer auxiliaries till I get my budget approved. I already have a verbal commitment for funds sufficient to add four hundred undercover operatives. These two will direct one of the 
companies, down where theyll be taking you. 
 Scary stuff, secret police. Great crimestoppers to begin, maybe, but how long before Blocks ambitious Prince discovered that they could be employed 
to root out persons of doubtful political rectitude? 
 
Sufficient unto the day . . . So lets find out about our boys. 
 Block questioned Relway and Spike. They did know of a place where Winchell and Ripley might be hidden. It was a hole theyd scouted while scoping out their operation. They hadnt used it, but that wouldnt keep Winchell away 
now. 
 Block snapped, Garrett, you go with these two. Cover the place. Scout it 
out. Ill be right behind you with reinforcements. Away he flew. 
 Relway and Spike eyed me expectantly, probably figuring me for a Watch officer. They were excited. They were going to be part of something big and real before 
they were even officially policemen. 
 
I jerked my head toward the door. Lets do it! 
 
47 Elvis Winchell and his sidekick had guts. Relway and Spike told me about the scam theyd started before chance brought the corporal and Price Ripley 
up against something too big to handle. 
 Their target area was the waterfront around Ogre Town. Real badlands. Winchell would wander the worst parts pretending to be drunk. Ripley, Relway, and the ratman would blend into the derelict scenery, then would jump whoever 
jumped Winchell. 
 I admired Winchells balls but had reservations about his methods. Hed made only two actual arrests, of two fairly inoffensive young muggers. But hed sent a bunch of thugs home kneecapped, set to spend the rest of their lives on the victim side of the line. He felt that word would spread and the bad 
boys would take their business elsewhere. 
 
Maybe, I said. But I think theyd have just killed you. 
 Four of us? Spike demanded. I was startled, not at all used to being addressed as an equal by a ratman. A second later I was amused by this discovery of my own flaw. Spike continued, Muggers dont have a guild and they dont work in crowds. I lived in this area for years. The muggers never work in groups of more than four. Two is most common. We handled foursomes easily. 
Captain Block gave us the tools. 
 
Maybe Id better not pursue this. I dont think I want to know. 
 Theres a New Order coming, Garrett, Relway said. Lot of people have had all they can take. The pendulum is swinging. Youre going to find people saying that if the Crown wont solve social problems, theyll take care of them themselves. The man went on, at great length, till I was ready to send him off to debate those women Id sicced on the Dead Man that time. Relway, 
though he had no human blood, was determined to be a factor in TunFaire society. 
 I suggested, Maybe youre overstepping, friend. Non-humans are here only by treaty. They dont want to be subject to Karentine law, they better not 
claim its protection either. 
 I hear you, Garrett. And youre right. There should be one law for everyone. Youre born in this city and live in this city, you should help make this city a decent place to live. I done my part. I did my five in the Cantard 
and took my Karentine citizenship. 
 
I got the message. Dont look down because he was a breed. Hed paid his dues same as me. 
 
I edged away from Relway. He was a committed activist. Every third sentence included the New Order, clearly capitalized. 
 
Politicals make me nervous. 
 Translation: they scare the shit out of me. Theyre weird and they believe the weird shit they say without looking at the implications of their becoming successful. Luckily, politicals are few in TunFaire, and those few are despised, 
outcasts. 
 
They ought to learn to be less threatening, like Barking Dog Amato. 
 Now I saw how Relway had sublimated the anger and hatred that should result from being an unusual breed and notably ugly besides. He would keep on smiling 
but would restructure the world so hed become one of its shining lights. 
 
Fine. Go for it, buddy. Just include me out of the revolution and its aftermath. Im happy with my life the way it is. 
 Relway and Spike led me to a tenement that had burned recently but incompletely. Though abandoned, its cellars remained habitabledefining habitable by liberal 
standards. 
 
I asked, How do we find out if anybodys in there? 
 It was broad daylight. I was strutting around with two guys Winchell knew, two guys with no ability to cut any slack. They had black-and-white minds. An hour earlier Winchell and Ripley were their best buddies. Now those two 
were just names on the sleazeball list, scum in need of expungement. 
 
Relway gave the ruins the fish-eye. Spike, youre better at getting around quietly. Check it out. 
 Ratmen are sneaky bastards. Spike went off like a ghost, not toward the place that interested us. Relway and I made ourselves invisible while we waited. Relway was a chatterbox with a nose a foot long. He wanted to know all about 
who I was and why I was interested in the case. 
 
None of your business, I told him. 
 
In a huff, Relway said, You could at least show some manners. You could be polite. Ill be important in the New Order. 
 Im not polite to Block. I wouldnt be polite to his boss. Im not going to waste polite on you and the rat. I didnt particularly want to be here. 
Fate keeps messing me around. 
 
I hear what youre saying. Same shit happens to me. Maybe more, looking the way I do. 
 
Nothing wrong with the way you look, I lied. Theres the rat. Whats he signaling? 
 
I think he means theyre in there. He wants to know what we do now. 
 
What we do now is wait for Block. I got a feeling this Winchell is nasty. Id just hate it if he got away over my dead body. 
 I know where youre coming from, Garrett. Relway waved and poked the air. So did Spike. Im not big on becoming a dead hero myself. I do want to see the New Order arrive. You wouldnt be the Garrett thats the investigator, 
would you? 
 
Probably. Why? I didnt mess up any of your family or pals, did I? 
 No. Nope. What youre looking at is something you aint going to believe exists. A real one in a trillion. A pervert. An honest breed who comes from a family thats never had even one member taken in for questioning. His tone was challenging, and deservedly so, because my attitude reflected the general prejudice. What was embarrassing was that it wasnt a prejudice I 
really felt. 
 Were off on the wrong foot here and its mostly my fault, Relway. It isnt personal. Ive been in a foul mood since I got up. I usually save my venom 
for the ratmen. 
 
Youre weird, Garrett. Here comes the man. He meant Block. Evidently Block was held in high esteem in some quarters. 
 
48 Block still held me in high enough esteem that he sought approval before he moved. The place is surrounded. Gonna take some doing for anybody to 
get out. 
 
Dead Man says take them alive if you can. The curse probably cant transfer while theyre still alive. 
 
They? 
 
Part must be touching Ripley somehow. Or Winchell, whichever isnt the primary carrier. 
 
Yeah. Got you. I guess theres no reason to stall anymore. Might as well do it. 
 A thought had wormed through my head several times lately. Id pushed it out over and over. It came back again. I was going to be sorry, but, I maybe ought to go with the first rush. The girl will recognize me. If I let her know its a rescue, we can maybe keep the panic level down, maybe save ourselves 
some people getting hurt. 
 Thats up to you. You want to go, go. Im giving Relway first shot. Tell him what youre doing, then dont give him no grief while hes doing his 
job. Hes better than any of my regulars. 
 
Right. I joined Relway. Im going in with you. The girl knows me. 
 
You armed? 
 
Not for blood. I showed him my headknocker. 
 
He shrugged. Dont get in the way of the real cops. 
 
What a straight line. It was all I could do to avoid temptation. 
 Relways storm group were armed up to take a town from a Venageti Guards division. I hoped theyd had some experience along those lines. They hadnt 
had any training since. 
 
You figure to face that much trouble? 
 
No, Relway said. But this bunch will be ready for whatever trouble they do find. 
 
Good thinking. No way you can get chewed out for not being ready when you go in ready for everything. 
 
Relway smiled. There you go. 
 
I looked across the street. Spike was restless. Things always get more real at moments like this. 
 
You had it that way down there? 
 
Worse. Lots worse. I was a scared kid then. 
 
Me too. You ready? 
 
I wont get any readier. 
 Follow me. He took off. Garrett the white knight pranced the cobblestones a step behind, followed by a half-dozen uniformed champions of justice who had no idea how to accomplish what theyd been ordered to do. They hadnt 
joined the Watch to capture madmen or protect TunFaire from villains. 
 The ratman had a tiny basement window scouted. As we arrived, he dived through, wriggling, his hideous naked tail lashing behind him. I think thats what 
gets me about ratmen. The tails. Theyre really disgusting. 
 
After you, Relway said as that tail slithered inside. 
 What? That window was too small. It wasnt meant to pass a body. It was as big as it was only because some small-timers had worked on it so they 
could get inside and clean the place out. Of what, I cant imagine. 
 
You said youre the hero she knows. 
 
Shit. And I did volunteer for this. 
 I flopped on my belly and shoved my feet through the window. The ratman pulled. Relway shoved. I popped through, hit the floor, stumbled over a loose brick, 
muttered, Where are they? 
 Back where you see the light, Spike whispered. That made him real hard to understand. Ratmen have trouble enough talking without whispering. Their throats arent made for speech. You cover while we get more men down. This ratman had spent a lifetime dealing with humans. He hadnt hidden himself away from the mainstream, content to live in societys cracks, taking only 
what no one else wanted. My respect for him rose. 
 I readied my headknocker, advanced toward the light, which leaked around a poorly closed door. I wondered why Winchell and Ripley hadnt either attacked us or made a run for it. Seemed to me we were making an armageddon sort of 
racket. 
 
All of a sudden I had three guys behind me and Relway telling them, Weve got the other way out covered. Lets do it. Garrett? 
 
I took a deep breath and hit the door. I hurled myself at it, expected to demolish my shoulder. 
 
The door collapsed. I didnt know my own strength. I was a regular Saucerhead Tharpe. I tore it right off its hinges. 
 
I collapsed after two staggering steps over a footing of broken bricks. 
 Elvis Winchell and Price Ripley were hard at work snoring on beds of sacks and rags. Evidently carrying a curse was exhausting work. The only open eyes around belonged to Candy. She responded to my entrance but not in any wild 
display of joy. 
 Hell. She didnt know why we were there. For all she knew, we were pals with Winchell and his sidekick. I stumbled to my feet. Were the rescue crew. Winchell and Ripley had begun to respond, finally. Relway bopped Ripley over the head before the poor guy could get his eyes open. Relway wasnt having 
any trouble with the footing. He looked positively graceful. 
 Spike had less luck putting Winchell back to sleep. Winchell evaded his blows, scooted away, his eyes trying to sparkle green. Maybe he didnt quite have 
the hang of it yet. 
 Gods, he looked awful. Like hed aged fifteen years in the time since hed helped bring in the villain Downtown Byrd had given us. Ripley, too, looked 
bad, but not nearly as bad as Winchell. 
 
Rescue crew? You sure? You look more like a circus act. 
 Spike and two Watchmen were chasing Winchell. Winchell wasnt cooperating 
at all. Relway and the other man were stuffing Ripley into a big sack. 
 Block appeared at the other entrance to the cellar, was careful not to place himself in extreme danger. I called, Hey, Captain. This one dont need rescuing. 
Shes got it under control already. 
 Candy said, Youre the guy whos been hanging around Hullars. I cut the cords binding her ankles. They were nice ankles. I hadnt noticed how nice 
before. Id been entranced by all the nice stuff higher up. Garrett? 
 
Thats me. Trusty knight-errant. Invariably refused and abused for trying to warn people that theyre in danger. 
 
Watch the hands, boy. Ive heard about you. 
 Ripley was headed for the street now, out of it, but Winchell was putting up a fight, even though Relway and Spike, working together, had a sack over his head and arms. Neither Relway nor Winchell was in uniform. Having been employed, both had been able to afford reasonably nice civilian clothing. Vaguely surprised, though, I noted that Winchell used a rather heavy-looking 
piece of rope for a belt. 
 
Ive heard about me too. Sometimes I dont recognize myself. What did you hear? Obviously not that Im a prize. 
 Spike, Relway, and the gang managed to get Winchell tipped over and all the 
way into the giant sack. Relway got busy tying it shut. 
 
Prize pig. You remember a Rose Tate? 
 
Relway kicked the flopping sack. Better than a cell on wheels, he told nobody in particular. 
 Ah, sweet Rosie again, I said. Yes. Let me tell you about Rose. This is a true story that youll believe if you know Rose and will call a fairy tale if you dont. I had time. The boys seemed to be getting along fine without me. Just to make sure I didnt lose my audience, I became totally inept at untangling and cutting. Relway and the boys started dragging Winchell toward the door. Winchell writhed and cussed all the way. He wasnt alone in that sack. In fact, green butterflies fluttered around the basement, confused, more worried about the single candle burning than anything else. Again I wondered what the butterflies had to do with anything, if they did. Maybe 
they were just something like a skunks spray. 
 Then there was just Candy and me, and she didnt seem distressed by my lack of haste as I talked about Rose Tate. In fact, I started looking around for the knives Id seen at the Hamilton place while I talked. In the back of my mind was a curiosity about how she knew Rose. When I finished my story 
I asked, Howd you come to meet Rose? 
 
You have a good idea whats going on with me? I know youve been asking around. Hullar told me. 
 
I was just trying to keep you from having a date with the guy they just hauled out of here. He likes to whittle on rich girls. 
 
I got that part. I guess maybe I should thank you for not letting him eat my liver. 
 That would be nice. I finally found the knives under the mess Winchell had been using for a bed. I didnt want to touch them, but supposed theyd 
be harmless as long as Winchell was breathing. 
 Thank you, Garrett. And I do mean it. I get real sarcastic when Im scared. 
Notice how we werent talking about how shed met Rosie? I didnt. 
 You must be scared shitless all the time when youre down to Hullars, then. 
That was how she was known there. As a sarcastic bitch. 
 
Youre going to ruin your chances, Garrett. 
 I made a sound like a steam whistle. Youre beautiful, but Im losing interest fast. In fact, Im beginning to wonder why I wasted my time here. Your personality 
is sabotaging the advantages nature gave you. 
 Story of my life, Garrett. I make a point of shoving my foot into my mouth whenever things start going good. Im predetermined to fail, thats what my mother says. All right. I promise. Ill try. Thank you. You saved my life. 
Other than the obvious, what can I do for you? 
 
Block appeared in the doorway and stuck his oar in. What are you up to down here, Garrett? 
 
Looking for stuff. 
 
Find anything? 
 
Yeah. Those knives. The Dead Man said we should break them. 
 
Block came a couple steps closer, looked at the four naked blades. Is it safe to mess with them that way? 
 
Winchell and Ripley still healthy? 
 
Yeah. 
 
Then theyre safe. Unless you go sticking yourself. 
 
He made a rude sound, took the knives. Ill bust them up right now. He left. 
 I told Candy, Other than the obvious, which is less obvious than you think, you can come to my place and talk to my partner. Hes the brains of the outfit. 
He wants to see you. 
 
He some kind of freak? Cant come see me? 
 
Hes handicapped. I hid my grin. Nobody is handicapped like the Dead Man is handicapped. 
 We climbed out of the cellar. Candy never stopped yammering. I did gestures of defeat, tried to introduce her to Block formally so shed know who got official credit for her rescue. It didnt sink in. She was chattering at me. He was interested only in breaking the knives, which he accomplished thoroughly, cracking each into four pieces. That ought to take care of that. 
Block was puffed up and happy. 
 Pride goeth before, I told myself. Better make sure they dont have anything 
else off that bum. We dont know its the knives carrying the curse. 
 We burned the bum and everything he was wearing. Now well burn these . 
. . Yeah. Right. Not before we can do something about the curse. 
 Later. Candy was still after me. I said, Woman, Im not going to keep on. I dont do masochism. But do walk along with me, see my partner. My place 
is right on your way home. 
 I paused to stare at the captives. Both were lost inside burlap sacks. Winchells seethed. Ripleys did nothing, but left me with an uncertain frown. A little 
bitty thing like a clothes moth fluttered away while I was looking. 
 
Meantime, Candy demanded, How do you know your house is on my way home? 
 I admit I havent figured out who you really are yet. But I do know you come off the Hill. Rich girls are the only kind this killer liked. So if youre going to go home and hide out from the real world and tell yourself 
how lucky you were and forget all this and treat the lower 
 
You an Acmeist? Or an Anarchist? 
 
Huh? You lost me. But I hadnt lost her. I was heading home and she was tagging right along. The Dead Man would be pleased. 
 Theyre crackpot underground groups, Garrett. There are dozens of those. Pointillists. Deconstructionists. Calibrators. Avatars, Atheists, Realists, 
Post-Moderns. The way you were going on . . .  
 I dont have anything to do with politics, mainly in hopes that politics wont have anything to do with me. Its my considered, cynical opinion that, no matter how much were overdue for a change, any human-directed change will be for the worse, to the benefit of a smaller and more corrupt ruling class. At that moment I saw the face of the next fad: revolution. Meantime, 
do you have a name? A real name? 
 
All those ists would have as their troops poor little bored rich girls. 
 
Candace. 
 
Really? Youre using your real name? 
 
Might as well. Nobody ever used it but my brother. He died in the Cantard last year. He was a cavalry captain. 
 
Im sorry. 
 
Im sorry, Garrett. 
 
Huh? 
 
You lost somebody there too. 
 
I got it. Yeah. Not like its a unique experience, is it? So what do most people call you? 
 
Mickey. 
 
Mickey? How did they get Mickey out of Candace? 
 She laughed. She had a wonderful laugh when she was doing nothing but being happy. I could feel myself becoming distracted. I dont know. From my nanny. 
She had pet names for all of us. What? 
 
I was chuckling. You wakened a memory. My little brother. We called him Foobah. 
 
Foobah? 
 
I dont know. My mom. She called me Wart. 
 
Wart? Yeah. I can see that. She danced away, pointed. Wart! Wart! 
 
Hey! Knock it off. People were staring. 
 
She did a pirouette. Wart. The famous investigator, Wart. She laughed, took off running. 
 She ran because I started after her. She could run pretty good. She had the legs. They were such nice legs, I didnt try too hard, just floated along 
enjoying the view. 
 That started when we werent far from home. It swept into Macunado Street, so I caught up, said, Couple blocks up that way. This is my neighborhood. 
People know me. 
 She laughed as she fought for breath. Yes, sir, Mr. Wart. Ill maintain your dignity, Mr. Wart. She was still laughing and giving me a hard time 
when Dean opened the front door. 
 
49 Belinda was in the hallway. She scowled at Candy. Candy scowled at Belinda. Wasnt any doubt they recognized one another. Candy gave me one last jab. 
Did you know his nickname is Wart? 
 Dean, I growled, bring refreshments to the Dead Mans room. Also smelling salts in case I bop this one over the head. I had a problem suddenly. I was caught between two gorgeous women, both interesting, each eyeing the 
other like a cat fixing to sharpen her claws. On me. 
 I was out of practice but remembered how my luck ran. When the fur started 
flying, most of it would be mine. Theyd be happy to gang up on me. 
 I heard a noise from the small front room and suffered the inspiration of my life. I popped in there before Deans latest stray made cover. It was a little furball so friendly that even I, if pressed, wouldve admitted it was cute. I darted back into the hall, where the ladies were exchanging killer stares. I got that kitten purring. I guess you guys know each other. I told Candy, Shes hiding out here. From the killer. I told Belinda, The killer snatched her last night. We just rescued her. I brought her by to 
talk to the Dead Man. 
 I figured. Id heard shed been taken. She looked at the kitten without that sparkle kittens ignite in the eyes of their fans. Damn. Inspiration 
wasted. 
 
Arent you sweet, Candy cooed. 
 Great. Halfway there, anyway. Why dont you hold him while I check in with my partner? She hadnt reacted to me calling him by name. I played pass the kitty, headed for the Dead Mans door. As I neared it, Candy jumped, 
frowned in that way people do when first they hear from His Nibs direct. 
 
I stepped inside. You see what I got out here? Any special way you want to handle her? 
 Just bring her in. He was vastly amused by something. I could guess what. Two women. Me panting shamelessly, trying to conjure some way to have my Belinda and Candy too. This will be a true test of your fabled charm. Especially 
as both women have been forewarned by your old friend Rose Tate. 
 
Make fun of my misery. 
 
Prepare her. She is under a great deal of stress still. My appearance may be too much for her as a surprise. 
 
I thought she was handling her stress pretty well, taking it out on me. 
 The kitty thing did work. The women were together now, examining the cat but talking about Candys adventure. I said, He wants you to come in now. 
I need to warn you, hes not human. Dont be too startled when you see him. 
 
Candy didnt seem surprised. Is he real repulsive? Like an ogre? 
 
No. Hes just fat, mostly. And hes got a big nose. 
 
Hes a sweetheart, Belinda said. 
 
Who is? I demanded. 
 
Can I take Josh with me? Candy meant the kitten. Named already. Belinda nodded, never consulting me. 
 All right, I said, as though anyone cared what the owner thought in his own home. Good idea. The cat could be a focus for some good feelings, good 
thoughts, when those might still be pretty hard to touch. 
 
Candy went into the Dead Mans room. She didnt start screaming. 
 
Belinda remarked. I really do think you may be one of the good guys, Garrett. 
 
Huh? 
 She waved a hand like shed heard things about me she didnt want to repeat in my presence. I was baffled. How much could those two have said while I 
was with the Dead Man? 
 
Women. Go figure them. 
 
Belinda took my arm, cuddled up to my side. It too early for you to take me to the kitchen and buy me a beer? 
 
We found Dean putting the final touches on a hot meal. Whats this? I asked. 
 
You need to eat. And the young lady you brought home obviously hasnt had a decent meal for some time. 
 Food is serious stuff to Dean. If he had his way, every meal would be a production. Hes appalled by my attitude, that food is just fuelthough I do enjoy good food when I eat it. I just wont go out of my way or spend any extra. Call 
me a savage. 
 
I drew beer for Belinda. She said, Ive been thinking about my problem with Crask and Sadler. 
 
Good. I hadnt had time. 
 
Can you get the door, Mr. Garrett? Dean asked. An impressive amount of racket had broken out there. I cant interrupt this. 
 
Sorry, I told Belinda. 
 
She just smiled and winked. 
 
50 Now what? I groaned as I stepped aside so Block could come in. Dont tell me you screwed up again. I couldnt stand it if you told me you screwed up 
again. 
 
Winchell got away, Garrett. 
 
I begged you not to tell me you screwed up again. 
 
It wasnt my fault. 
 
The hell it wasnt. You were in charge. The guy was tied up in a gunnysack. How could he get away? 
 
Some damned fool decided he wanted to take a look, so he opened the sack. 
 
I nearly screamed. And the butterflies got after him and Winchell just politely crawled out and waltzed away. Right? 
 
Right. 
 
What I ought to do is take you and this other damned fool and tie you both up in a gunnysack and dump you in the river. 
 
This other damned fool is Prince Rupert. And hes been quite good about not trying to shift the blame. 
 
Well, good-ee. Ill cheer when hes crowned. So what? Whyre you here bugging me? 
 
Block sneered. Im not. I want to see your partner. Hes done well guessing what the killer will do. 
 Because he has a diseased mind too. Im sure he knows youre here. He has somebody with him right now. Just hang out in there. I indicated the small front room. Hell call you. Im having lunch. And youre not invited, you 
incompetent sonofabitch. 
 I sat down opposite Belinda. Why dont we kiss off TunFaire? Why dont we get married and run off to the Carnival Islands and open a fortune-telling 
booth? 
 
Thats an interesting proposition. What brought it on? 
 
The Watch let the killer get away. That madman is back on the street and hes got eight or ten hours to play his little prank. 
 
But if Candy and I are here 
 
Hell kill somebody else. He has to kill somebody. 
 Somehow, like it or not, my house became the tactical headquarters of the hunt for Elvis Winchell. By sunset Prince Rupert had made himself a guest. I couldnt keep him out, but I was a hardass about his yes-men. Jumped in there with a ferocious, confrontational smile and said, Your lordship, I havent the facilities to serve all those men. When he wasnt instantly offended enough to holler for the headsman, I went so far as to suggest, Their numbers are attracting attention. It was way late, but the night 
people were out there and they were noticing the crowd. 
 
We compromised. He didnt bring anybody inside. 
 This Prince Rupert was the first royal Id met. What I saw didnt impress me either way, though later the Dead Man did blather on about the good intentions hed found in the mans mind. At that time I wasnt in one of my better moods, 
so just remarked that the road to hell was paved, and so forth. 
 The sun hadnt yet risen when word came that theyd found Emma Setlow, AKA Dixie Starr, in the usual state. The troops had arrived while the ritual was winding down. Winchell had taken another successful powder but his helper 
had been captured. The knives had been recovered. 
 
Knives? I asked. What knives? We already broke the knives. 
 
The knives in question turned out to be plain old kitchen knives, not the best for the job they had done. 
 
The Dead Man observed, I suspect we will find that the knives were not the vehicle for the curse. 
 
Hell, I muttered, I had that figured. Winchell wouldnt still be on the hoof if they were. 
 
The knives are broken, shattered, but the curse goes on. 
 
Cute. What about the guy they caught? 
 The helper was a retarded ratman (an oxymoron again) who admitted hed been baby-sitting Dixie since her kidnapping, which had taken place well before the snatch on Candy. Meaning Winchell had decided to stock up on brunettes. After he had escaped from Block and the Prince hed just run off to where 
hed had Dixie stashed. 
 
I muttered, I dont like this. This Winchell sounds too damned smart. 
 
Winchell? Block sneered. Winchell needs help tying his shoes. 
 It is the curse, gentlemen. This time aroundmeaning this return to the worldit has reached some critical stage of growth. I suspect it would not be false to state that it has reached a point where it has begun to teach itself, not just to learn in the slow way a dog does, through numerous repetitions. It might behoove us to consider the horror of the possibility that it may 
develop an ability to reason. 
 Wait a minute. Wait a minute. A curse makes your cow go dry or gives you 
shingles or makes your kid crosseyed. It isnt something that 
 In the world of your village charm seller, you are correct. Probably no sorcerer alive today could cast this spell. But this spell comes down from a time 
when giants walked the earth. 
 Giants were walking the earth right outside. Well, within a mile, anyway. But I didnt argue. One of the earliest lessons I learned about dealing with Old Bones is: dont get him going on the good old days. Giants? Well, maybe. 
But were here to develop a strategy. 
 Considering the Prince and Captain Block, that strategy would be as much 
political as it was aimed at removing a major villain from the streets. 
 The Dead Man agreed with me. Winchell will keep as short a profile as possible but he will not be able to remain hidden. He may be able to do without a helper, but his need to kill is on a short and shortening cycle. Six nights from tonight he will have to kill again. Inasmuch as Miss . . . Altmontigo . . . has been rescued, he will have to develop his next victim from scratchassuming we can keep our two houseguests isolated. That he sent to me alone. Our guests didnt need to know we had anyone special squirreled away. He will be hunting. If he manages to get his victim without help this time, he will still have to recruit helpers. He cannot stop killing and he cannot stop the circle 
of death growing smaller every time, so that he has to kill sooner. 
 
Whoa! Whoa! Block said. There a point to all this yammer? 
 Yes. Winchells financial resources cannot be vast. Counter his recruiting 
efforts by offering a substantial reward for his capture. 
 Whos Miss Altmontigo? I asked, regretting it before I finished speaking. Yet I wondered why hed hesitated that instant, before and after. Because 
of Block and the Prince? 
 
Candy to you. Or Mickey. 
 One very unsettling point here. The Altmontigos are an ancient and honored family from the highest heights of the Hill. What was I getting into? I had a royal prince and as high-toned a young woman as could be found visiting at the same time? Not to mention I was giving shelter to a princess of the 
underworld. 
 
All of that meant notice. I dont like being noticed by people with that kind of power. 
 The arguments went on and on. Dawn came and went. I said the hell with it. I wasnt contributing anything and wasnt hearing anything useful to me. What suggestions I did make were ignored. So let the great powers scope things out their own way. After they screwed up and looked like complete fools, I could lean back smugly and tell them they shouldve listened to me in the 
first place. 
 I stopped at the foot of the stairs. Belinda was up there. Candy was up there. 
Dean was on the daybed in the small front room again. 
 That damned kitten started rubbing up against my ankle, purring, trying to get in good. I picked him up. Little buddy, first thing in the morning you get to learn a valuable lesson. You cant get by on cute and the kindness 
of strangers. Youre going to hit the street. 
 
The cat purred. And somebody pounded on the door. 
 
51 I didnt get in any hurry. I ambled toward the front door wondering if I couldnt booby-trap the front steps, putting in something where if you didnt 
trip the secret safety you got dumped into a bottomless pit. 
 Wonderful idea but, unfortunately, not really practical. The practical thing to do was ignore the door. Only most people who want to see me know I have that habit and know that Ill storm to the door eventually if they just raise 
hell long enough. 
 This little nightmare visitor was one neglected subject slash coconspirator name of Barking Dog Amato. Just what I needed in the middle of the night. 
Well, morning. It had turned morning when I wasnt looking. 
 
I didnt wake you up, did I? 
 
No. Me? I havent been to bed yet. I was just heading there. Its been a nasty day in a nasty week in a nasty month. 
 
The girl killer? I heard there was another one. 
 
Thats on the street already? 
 
Word gets around when people are interested. 
 I guess. Come back to the kitchen. I jerked a thumb at the Dead Mans door. Your old pal Block is in there cooking up something with His Nibs. I settled 
Amato at the kitchen table. Beer? 
 
Sure. 
 
Whats up? I asked as I drew two. 
 Well . . . Its an imposition, I know. I got up, it was raining out, I was sick of doing signs and handbills. So I got out and started walking. My feet 
brought me here. 
 
What the hell? I didnt need sleep. Who needs sleep when you lead a righteous life? Some leftover apple pie here. Want some? 
 
Sure. I dont get much decent food. What did you think the other day? 
 
You made a hell of a start. I didnt get to see it all, though. 
 
I noticed you disappeared. 
 
Not by choice. Some of Chodo Contagues thugs came around, told me the man wanted to see me. 
 
I thought I saw some of those guys just before you disappeared. 
 
You know Chodos people? 
 Not by direct experience, thank heaven. But Ive watched the outfit for years, gathering information. They havent tried to profit at my expense 
yet, but when they do, Ill be ready. 
 
Which meant what? There was someone inside the outfit who suffered from mercy and tolerance? Not hardly. 
 Belinda walked in. Candy was right behind her. Neither was formally attired. Barking Dog immediately proved that he wasnt all crazy. His eyes bugged. He drooled. If the moon had been up, he would have howled at it. He squeaked, 
Who are these lovely ladies, Garrett? 
 
Theyre involved in the serial-killer thing. This one is Belinda and this one is Candy. Guys, this is Kropotkin Amato. 
 Belinda wasnt impressed but Candy practically jumped out of her underwear. She just had to ask: Barking Dog Amato? Looking me right in the eye, Sass 
father? 
 
In two blinks Amato was a changed man. Sas? Like in a nickname for Lonie? You know Lonie Amato? 
 Belinda caught on, grabbed Candys hand. Candy was chalk pale but, apparently, Belindas move wasnt fast enough to stifle her. She said, Sure. We work with Sas. Dont we? So, I thought. You girls have wasted the night away having a hen session upstairs. I hoped a guy named Garrett hadnt played 
too prominent a role. 
 Barking Dog said, Lonie is my daughter. Not many people know . . . I havent seen her since she was five. My wife . . . She never believed in what I was doing. She thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. Maybe not. It didnt matter. 
She took off. With Lonie. You know Lonie? You really know Lonie? 
 
Even crackpots get to shed their tears. 
 The girls didnt know what to say. I waved them off. I said, Old buddy, I guess I owe you a little confession. The reports weve been doing? Theyve been going to your daughter through Hullar. Yeah. He was a nominee but not 
a villain. 
 
Lonie? Really? You know my daughter, Garrett? 
 
Ive seen her, thats all. I dont know her. 
 
Is she all right? Tell me about her. Tell me everything. 
 Im going to break your heart, old buddy. I cant. We get along and weve worked some things together, but you arent my client. Hullar is, for your daughter. I cant tell you anything unless they say its all right. I will tell you that shes healthy. She aint up in the world, but shes a long 
way from down. You want to know more, Ill see what Hullar says. 
 
Belinda said, Ive changed my mind. Youre a real shit, Garrett. 
 
What if I was working for you? Would you want me telling your business without permission? 
 She grumbled. She made noises. She understood. Barking Dog might well be enthusiastic about news of his daughter, but would the daughter be eager 
to have him intrude upon her life? 
 
Lonies wishes had to be consulted. 
 Barking Dog reached that conclusion too. Maybe faster than I did. He said, Garrett, you talk to her. See if shell meet me. You work that out, where I can see her, Ill be your slave for life. Anything you want, its yours. 
I loved that girl. And I havent seen her since she was practically a baby. 
 Belinda and Candy looked at me like they expected pearls of wisdom to drip from my lips, as though with a wave of rusty knights blade all could be made right between Barking Dog and his long-lost child. There was a lot of sentimental emotion floating around. If I was going to gain any ground with 
either of these beauties, I was going to have to play for the reunion. 
 Im a cynic. I admit it. I had to do it to maintain my chances. No way was I going to waste my precious time on that out of sentiment. Im one of the 
hard guys. You cant get me with that mush. 
 
I hoped Amatos heart didnt break when he found out what his daughter did. 
 Hell, I didnt know what she did. Did I? She danced for Bishoff Hullar. That 
didnt make her a whore. Anyway, that wasnt any of my business. 
 I said, I dont want to be impolite, guys, but I really am beat. Ive been hustling all day. You ladies want to stay up, talk to Mr. Amato, thats fine with me. Make sure the front door is locked when you go to bed. What that means is, one of you has to stay up till Mr. Amato and those clowns in there 
with His Nibs leave. 
 The Dead Man proved that one of his brains had room left for me while he entertained royalty. You need not concern yourself, Garrett. I suspect that I will not get rid of this prince short of being so rude he hauls us up on charges. I am confident Dean will be awake in ample time to see our last 
guest out. Do get some sleep. 
 That didnt sound good at all. He isnt kind to me unless he has plans for 
me. If he wanted me rested, he meant to run me into the ground later. 
 
I patted Amatos shoulder. Talk to the girls. Ill see about your daughter. 
 
Two minutes later I was between the sheets. I killed the lamp and was unconscious before my head hit the pillow. 
 
52 
The Dead Man ran me into the ground for days. I got to do all the legwork Blocks men were supposed to have done already. 
 Actually, they had gathered all the relevant records into one room in the Chancery cellar. They just never got around to doing anything with the documents. So I got to winnow and collatewhere I could. I had to bring in help with the older documents, which were recorded in the abandoned Odellic alphabet and wouldnt have been readable anyway because the language has changed so 
much. 
 While I goofed off days and spent profligate evenings in the Tenderloin, Block hunted Winchell and tried to avoid public notice. Word was out that he was the man charged with ending the killings. It was also out that he wasnt having much luck. The scale and scope of the mess were getting exaggerated. The precursors of hysteria filled the airwhich made no sense because people 
get murdered every day, curse or no curse. 
 I think Blocks mistake was offering a reward for Winchell, despite that being the Dead Mans idea. That focused attention. Attention got the poor fool working on an ulcer. His buddy Rupert couldnt shield him from all the high-ranking dolts who just had to explain to him the best way of doing his job. The Prince himself was guilty of forgetting they were after a killer 
who was a bit out of the ordinary. 
 
Tell the man, Block grumbled. He dont listen to me. 
 
Getting disenchanted? 
 Not yet. But close. I can still realize that hes got his own problems and thats why he cant give us more help. Its just a tad irritating when he 
shuts out whatever he doesnt want to hear, though. 
 
I shrugged a cynics shrug. I had no faith in his prince. 
 So Block made excuses for him. He does have enemies, Garrett. Plenty of people think TunFaire is just dandy the way it is now. Mostly theyre people 
whose fortunes would suffer from an outbreak of law and order. 
 If it isnt law and order itll be an outbreak of something. The signs were growing stronger. I ran into some old ladies who want to demolish all 
the breweries, wineries, and distilleries. 
 
Thats going too far. 
 I tried to tell them. I said, There is no civilization without beer. Beer 
is the lifeblood in the veins of society. They wouldnt listen. 
 That put a smile on his face. Fanatics. What can you do? We get fifty complaints a day about these religious nuts, Mississans, whatever they are. His grin meant he thought Id invented the old ladies. I hadnt. They were working the Chancery steps a few levels above Barking Dog, crowded into a spot nobody else wanted. I wasnt worried about them. In no rational society would theirs 
be an idea whose time could come. 
 I saw a lot of Amato, spending my days at the Chancery. He wasnt the same Barking Dog. The old fervor had gone. I made a point of catching him on his 
break. Whats happening, hey? Something gone wrong? 
 
Im scared. He didnt beat around it. 
 
Scared? You? Barking Dog Amato? 
 
Yeah. Me. People havent really noticed yet, but they will. You did. Then wherell I be? 
 
Whats the matter? What happened? Maybe he had somebody persecuting him for real. 
 
My daughter. Suddenly Im vulnerable. When I didnt know about her, nobody could get to me. 
 Youre safe. Hardly anybody knows about her now. Were not talking. I sniffed the air. What was that? Aha! Amato wasnt nearly as aromatic as once hed 
been. 
 
Yeah. I guess. I keep telling myself them what knows is decent folk. Then I get scared of her. 
 
I raised an eyebrow. 
 I snuck down to the Tenderloin. I figured she had to hang out around that Hullars place sometimes, else how would he know to hire you. Right? Everybody thinks hes an investigator. So I hang out and hang out and finally I get 
me a look at the gal they call Sas. 
 
And? 
 
She looked all right. 
 
I told you that. Shes got people to look out for her. 
 Now I know about her, theres no way I can get around meeting her face-to-face. And that scares the shit out of me. What do you say to your kid you aint 
seen since she was this high? 
 It would terrify Sas too. When the time came. She didnt know that he was aware of her existence. I kept debating whether or not to tell Hullar. It would piss him off, but I guessed Id better. I understand. But dont let 
the stress get you. You may have a valuable mission ahead. 
 
Huh? 
 You should get out among the people. Hang around the taverns and sidewalk cafes. Plotting urban revolution isnt a poor boys hobby. Poor folks stay 
too busy working to keep body and soul and family together. 
 
Amato shook his head. I wouldnt fit in. 
 
Sure you would. Get yourself some new clothes. Put in some time getting in touch with todays popular climate. 
 
How come? Mild suspicion. He still didnt trust me completely. 
 Theres a new spirit afoot. It doesnt amount to much yet, but it could. You ought to be aware of it. I thought he could become a real force on the street if he addressed real fears and angers. Lots of people had heard of him. He was a folk hero. People did listen when he stopped talking about 
himself. 
 
He spoke largely out of imagined pasts now, but there was no reason he couldnt apply his passion to futures as yet unimagined. 
 
53 Captain Block caught me during my chat with Barking Dog. He looked less like a Watchman than ever, though he was well-dressed. His henchmen, too, were trading uniforms for street clothing. Apparel had become a statement. Those who shed the red and blue meant to take their work seriously. The rest would 
become unemployed if Prince Rupert gained control of the citys police powers. 
 
Hows it going? Block asked. He ignored Amato. Barking Dog pretended Block was invisible. It was a good working arrangement. 
 Ive got a story. Sort of. Its not as clear as Id like. It wont be much use. The documentation is all of the we-did-this-and-that, this-woman-got-killed, so-did-that-one, we-caught-the-villain-and-hanged-him-and-buried-him-where-he-fell 
variety. Not a hint how to control the curse. 
 Back then the curse didnt migrate from villain to villain the way it does now. It didnt get the chance. I think the people involved understood it better. And it wasnt as sophisticated as it is now. And the local wizards 
werent always out of town. The job wasnt just up to the Watch. 
 Before the second killing round ended, everybody knew they were dealing with an accursed man whod opened the grave of the first killer. And we, 
as brilliant as our forebears, had gotten that far too. Hooray. 
 
They didnt do anything about it? 
 Sure. They hanged a man and buried him where they thought he wouldnt be found. They were wrong. Im no expert on sorcery, but Ill bet this curse has some kind of summons built in that calls till somebody hears it and sets 
it free. Smarter and nastier than its ever been before. 
 Block mused, And today we cant do anything about it even if we want. We 
dont have anyone who can neutralize it. Because of the war. 
 
Yep. All our real badass wizards were in the Cantard. 
 
What about your end? I asked. You never know. He or his boys might have tripped over Winchell. 
 Not a trace. Well have to trap him. Its set. The girl goes back to work tonight. She skips tomorrow night, works the next two nights. The extra one is in case he can hold off for a day. Your partner says he wouldnt move 
two days early. 
 
I didnt think Winchell would be dumb enough to go where he was expected at all. 
 Block continued, The only people in the place not part of the cover team will be Hullar, the dwarf, and three girls Hullar trusts with his life. There wont be no way Winchell can get to her. If he has to do it, hell have to 
take the bait. 
 If he had to have either Candy or Belinda. But I wasnt the least bit confident that Winchell wouldnt find other victims. Unless his girl luck was as bad 
as mine. 
 I didnt criticize. The Dead Man had scoped out this plan. He termed it his martial-arts approach. We would lay back and let the curse betray itself. 
Ive already mentioned his plans obvious weaknesses. 
 
Just suppose he gives it a skip and takes second best. 
 The minute we find a body, were on his trail. Spikes hired the best ratman trackers in town. Theyre on call. In fact, hes got them wandering around 
in case they cross Winchells track by chance. 
 
When everything you can do isnt enough, you do whatever you can. Give Block that. This time he was giving a hundred percent. 
 
He asked, You identify the sorcerer responsible? 
 Only to a probability. It goes way back. Farther than we thought. Theres 
still some stuff I need translated before I can say for sure, though. 
 
Goddamnit, say something for unsure. 
 Hey, temper. The oldest depositions, first time there were killings, mention a Drachir Nevets. I checked with a historian. Hed never heard of a Drachir Nevets but he did know about a Lopata Drachir of Nevetska, a real shadowy old-time superwizard who was always into it with a sorcerer named Lubbock Candide. Drachirs forte seems to have been writing curses so complicated 
that nobody could escape them. 
 Block grunted, thought a moment, amazed me by knowing the names. He was better 
educated than Id suspected. Why this particular curse? Any hints? 
 
More shadowy stuff. Candide had a daughter. 
 
Arachne. 
 Right. A major ass-kicker herself. Unless the translator was yanking my leg, both Drachir and Candide were out to win her favors and found a dynasty of witch-kings. Arachne decided shed rather snuggle up with daddy, which pissed Drachir off mightily. Which, Im guessing, led him to send a curse 
after her. 
 
All that would have been way, way before the first killings. 
 
Yeah. Im thinking maybe that wasnt the real first time around, only the first that got recorded. 
 
Like maybe Arachne deflected the curse earlier and buried it and didnt tell anybody. 
 Maybe. The man could think when he wanted. It might be useful to find out if there are any extant portraits of Drachir and the Candides. Especially 
Arachne. 
 
Block grunted. He wore a faraway look. This just wont be settled the easy way, will it? 
 Not hardly. Heavens, the things I was going to have to talk over with the Dead Man. And him not in a charitable mood because the news from the Cantard had such a lull-before-the-storm feel. Speaking of things not settling easily, without making a big to-do, catch a look at the guy watching us from up where 
the old ladies do their temperance thing. 
 
Block looked. Chodos man Crask. 
 Bingo. Im going to trust you with something. Barking Dog had gone back to work early, not wanting to be close to a minion of his oppressors. No 
one would hear. 
 The other girl at my place. Belinda. Her full name is Belinda Contague. As in the daughter of Chodo Contague. Shes hiding out with me because Crask 
and Sadler want to kill her. 
 
Huh? Why? 
 Because they did something to Chodo. Poisoned him or something. Ive seen him. What the hell? Everybody lies to the police. Hes a vegetable. They just pretend hes giving the orders. Belinda knows that, which is why they 
want to get rid of her. 
 
I think I missed something, Garrett. 
 Belinda can take them down. They have to cover their scam or lose control. 
I got into it because they wanted to hire me to find her for them. 
 
A girl who happens to be one of the main targets of our killer? 
 That had been a problem for me, briefly. I thought it was one damned long coincidence till I realized I was looking at it from the wrong end. From the end where we are, chasing Winchell. Look at it coming the other way. The thing between Belinda and Crask and them has been going on for months. The girl-killer thing is just something she stumbled into going somewhere else. She wouldnt have been involved at all if the other thing hadnt made her run away from home. Chance brought me into it at one point rather than 
another, sooner than later. The players had me chalked in for their game. 
 
Block looked uncomfortable. How come youre telling me? It aint healthy knowing too much about Chodos business. 
 Because theres a very large and nasty man up there giving me very evil looks. Hes unhappy because I havent been busting my butt trying to find Belinda instead of noodling around with some who-cares serial-killing thing. As I recall, Im supposed to call on the Watch if it can give me a hand. Not to mention that you might get a kick out of poking a stick into the eye of an evildoer of Crasks stature, knowing he doesnt really have Chodo behind 
him. 
 Tell you the truth, Garrett, I think getting Crask off the street is a grand idea. He snarled it, setting off alarms. What had I done? But I dont have 
much confidence in it being a healthy idea. Whats he doing? 
 
Glaring daggers. Probably thinking how nice it will be to drag me somewhere where he can do dental work on me. 
 
Why? 
 The girl. He doesnt know shes staying at my place. He hasnt seen me lift a finger to find her. Despite my having been told very plainly that it would 
be in my best interest to do so. 
 
Youre sure Chodos out of it? 
 
Absolutely. 
 
Then maybe Ill have some fun with Crask. But dont expect a lot. These people always have friends in high places. 
 
How well I know, I muttered. 
 
Block winked. Have a nice day. He strolled away, looking thoughtful, leaving me beached and sputtering. 
 I did notice that he had friends in the crowd, mostly his auxiliaries. Hed begun to enjoy his role as honest Watchman. I wondered if hed started turning 
all bribes away or only the most embarrassing ones. 
 I hoped the New Order thing didnt go to his head. Truly there can be such a thing as too much law and orderthough I cant foresee TunFaire ever suffering 
from that. 
 I bade a soft farewell to Barking Dog. He was on a roll, did not have time to set his brass megaphone down. He indicated his latest report on himself. 
I snagged it and moved away, awaited Crask. 
 
54 
Crask was displeased with me. What kind of creep are you, Garrett, hanging out with dogshit like Block? 
 Hes not so bad. Were old pals. Didnt you know? Sort of in business together too. The new order, like that. I couldnt get the caps in like Blocks creature 
Relway. Got a problem with that? 
 
I got a problem with you. You was hired to do something. You aint doing it. 
 Youre mistaken. Despite having had money forced upon me, I didnt agree to anything. Not to say I refuse the job. But I do have a couple other things 
to wrap before I get to it. So flutter away. 
 
No. Chodo hires you, youre on the job now. Its the only job on your list. 
 Aw, shucks. Here we go. How long you known me, Crask? Long enough. You know no matter how many ugly faces you pull, no matter how many muscles you flex, Im going to do things my way. I told you, I have things to finish first. 
You wait in line just like you was real people. 
 
Youre pissing me off, Garrett. 
 Eek. That was the idea. I have that effect on people. Especially the kind who jump lines or think they deserve special consideration. If he was going to do anything, I wanted him to do something stupid, in public. Look here. Look real close. I want you should see my heartfelt pain at how Im causing 
you distress. 
 I come here just going to caution you gentle, Garrett. Just going to take a minute out to show you the error of your thinking, so to speak. But now 
I got a feeling we need to go someplace and talk. 
 You arent half as slick as you think, Crask. That was Block, materializing out of nowhere. Why dont we all sit down on the steps here, like we was 
old buddies. 
 
Bug off, asshole, Crask said. Aint none of your business, what were talking about. 
 Maybe youre right. But maybe Im not interested in that. Block backed up a couple steps, settled onto the stone wall at the edge of the Chancery steps. He waved. A man stepped out of the crowd. Even I was startled. He 
seemed to have come from nowhere. Block said, Well, Blinky? 
 
Blinky replied, We removed the coach. We arrested three men. 
 
Well. How about that? 
 
Crask didnt look at Block. He put it all on me. What the hells going on here, Garrett? 
 
You know as much as I do. 
 
Block said, You could be going down. 
 
Shit. Whatre you pulling? 
 Block smiled. Times are changing, Crask. I been waiting for that to happen. He looked up at me, smile malicious. Me and Crask go way back. Same neighborhood. 
Same outfit in the Cantard, to start. We share a lot of memories. 
 Crask stirred uneasily. The strain in Blocks voice said this was old business coming to a head. Crasks confidence was less than complete. Things did seem to be changing. You mess with me, Block, youll think a shit avalanche fell 
on you. 
 I doubt it. Like I said, times are changing. Youre running out of friends. I been waiting. The day I made captain, I had a special cell fixed up in the Al-Khar. Im looking for an excuse to put you in it, hoping you make me break all your bones putting you there. I dont know why it works out that way, but almost every prisoner who was on the Watchs top-fifty-assholes list seems to end up committing suicide. Maybe its rough in there. He winked 
at me, said, Thanks, Garrett. Id almost forgotten what I owe this butthead. 
 At the same time, Crask put on his most menacing face. You want to be dead, 
Garrett? You dont mess with me like this and get out alive. 
 
What do I have to lose? Werent you going to do me and the kingpins kid as soon as I found her? 
 
Come on, Garrett! 
 
You think Im weak. By your standards. But do you really think Im stupid? 
 
Crask was ready to skin people alive. My plan to drive him crazy had worked. Only . . .  
 One of Blocks men stepped up and bopped Crask from behind, whaling on his head with a stick that was cousin to my own. Crask didnt go down first crack. The stick man stared at his tool for a moment, astonished. Then, before Crask regained his equilibrium, Blocks man whacked him half a dozen times real 
fast, making sure he got the effect he wanted. 
 
Traffic on the steps cleared back. Funny. Not one soul thought of hollering for the Watch. 
 
Block asked, What do you think? Shall I put him away? Let Sadler shit a few bricks trying to figure what happened to him? 
 
Youre not scared what theyll do? 
 Not anymore. Block smiled. Relway appeared. Though I had no solid reason to think so, I feared Relway was the most dangerous creature in this New Order Watch. Well lock him up for a few days. Just so hell know what it 
can be like. 
 
The show moved away from me then. 
 I worried for Block. This could cause him big trouble. He might have a cell fixed up for Crask, but I couldnt see Crask staying in it, no matter what Rupert planned. The kingpin had friends everywhere. Once Sadler learned about 
Crasks predicament, heavyweight wheels would start turning. 
 
Still . . .  
 
I watched Relway. 
 Block was creating his own personal secret police force. Fast. Possibly with the best of intentions, but if he pulled many stunts like snatching Crask, 
hed find himself riding a tiger. 
55 
I reported everything to the Dead Man. He was not pleased. 
 
You think I am, Chuckles? 
 Captain Block has grown overconfident. His act is premature. His organization, however extensive, cannot challenge the syndicate even in transition. I cannot see his men remaining loyal through a crisis. Corruption has its own historical 
momentum. 
 
Historical momentum? He starts using terms like that, its time to batten down. Theres about to be a big, sententious blow. 
 
In the matter of Mr. Amato, his trepidation is understandable. Next time you see him, suggest he stop in and visit. 
 Just a down-home good old boy, my partner. I made a rude noise. Id spent 
three days burrowing through centuries past, and he showed no interest whatsoever. 
 He could ignore with the best of them. In the matter of the sorcerers Candide 
and Drachir, it appears that we should contact appropriate experts. 
 
I consulted experts already, Smiley. 
 Linguists and generalists. Both names excite vague resonances but no special memories. Before my time, I fear. My opinion is that Block should have saved 
his special cell for our special villain. 
 
He was racketing around all over the place. Probably. Itll take a tough lockup to keep whoevers wearing the curse. 
 
Till we get the appropriate wizards on the case. 
 Suddenly the Dead Man went shy. His tenor, tentative behind a display of confidence, baffled me, if only because I couldnt conceive of any situation 
in which he ought to be hiding something from his senior partner. 
 In the matter of Miss Altmontigo . . . Pause like he was fixing to feed me a line of bull so feeble he couldnt expect a moron to buy it . . 
. I had a visit from her stepfather. We enjoyed a turbulent session. 
 
Ill bet. You know how fathers get. 
 
He had to face facts. 
 Meaning somebody who considers himself my partner outstubborned somebody who knew he was on this earth for only three score and ten and saw time slipping 
away? 
 
Meaning that relentless bombardment with fact forced him to assume a cooperative stance. 
 
You got to him by dropping the Princes name. Hes not so hard to figure. 
 Actually, the real clincher was my observation that he no longer has any 
legal hold on Miss Altmontigos person, only on her property. 
 
I frowned. Each time he mentioned Miss Altmontigo he sort of stumbled. But I turned to his point. 
 For reasons unclear to me, Karentine property law assumes women dont have the sense the gods gave a goose. The law gives husbands and fathers veto powers over all transferseven where they have no other claim on money or property. I suppose thats meant to save those silly girls from giving everything to cults and/or con men. Only a widow can execute contracts in her own name. 
I guess good sense rubs off in bed. 
 I suggested she might get around him on the property, of which she has a great deal, inherited via his maternal grandmother, who was something of 
a feminist activist. He manages the property at a handsome profit to himself. 
 Hed hung a lantern on the loophole. A woman of legal age can marry without permission. She could marry a dying (or dead) man who had no other heirs, making herself a quick widow. This doesnt happen too often, but when it does and there is a fortune at stake, the cases become public entertainments. Witnesses sell their testimony to the highest bidder. You can guess about the lawyers. Everything not nailed down. It aint nailed down if they can 
get it loose with a prybar. 
 Youre home. Belinda invited herself in, rolled her eyes skyward. That 
woman. She may work at Hullars, but she has no concept of the real world. 
 
I frowned a question at the Dead Man. 
 
A juvenile female rivalry. Ignore it. 
 
Sensible advice, maybe. Though not taking sides can be dangerous too, if theyre really wound up. 
 
Belinda asked, Did we make any headway today? 
 
I told her about my day. The Dead Man didnt grouse about hearing it all again. Was my report on Drachir all that intriguing? 
 Belinda became preoccupied after I mentioned Crask. Twice I had to ask, Whats 
with him? before I got an explanation of the Dead Mans funk. 
 
That friend of yours, the big one, came by. 
 
Saucerhead? 
 
Yes. He brought some news about the Cantard. I dont think it was welcome. Excuse me. Belinda didnt like military stuff. 
 
Bad news, Smiley? I asked. Something you didnt want to hear? 
 
Your Marines have recaptured Full Harbor. 
 
I told you it would be a different story. I felt me a big surge of pride. They really do get you. 
 That is the least of it. Karenta has launched a general offensive on a shoestring and a prayer. Supported by morCartha auxiliaries, Karentine forces are attacking 
Venageti and republicans everywhere. 
 
Going to be a lot of regrets going out to the mothers of a lot of Karentine heroes, then. 
 A great many more will go to Venageti and republican mothers. The morCartha appear to be serving both loyally and with efficiency. If they persist, they will devour Glory Mooncalleds ability to gather superior intelligence, by harassing his scouts relentlessly. They are assuming all the traditional cavalry roles, including raiding and screening and holding. And they are doing it through the air, where neither Mooncalled nor the Venageti can touch 
them. They have wrested air supremacy from Mooncalleds flying allies already. 
 
So? 
 Do not be thick. It may mean the war is all but over, with Karenta the winner. Assuming the morCartha remain steadfast, we will witness a slaughter. Karentine troops will be in the right place at the right time in superior numbers, 
supported vigorously from aloft, every time. 
 
And? 
 The end of Mooncalleds dream may be the beginning of Karentas nightmare. Victory may be defeat. Our wiser leaders may have realized that long ago. That may be why the war dragged on. When the cost of victory exceeds that 
of continued warfare 
 
Huh? I was in one of my sharper states. 
 
You have, on occasion, commented on conditions that could arise should all the soldiers come home. 
 Oh. Sure. After generations of warfare, the economy depends on continued conflict. Whole sectors are managed by nonhumans. Peace would bring on dislocations of vast magnitude, social stress, and strife. Call it the war thats lost 
by winning. 
 
Exactly. 
 
Have we done anything to steel ourselves? 
 
We are nonpolitical. Our services will be in demand always. Against fate, even the gods conspire in vain. 
 
That sounded like a bowdlerized quote. I didnt mention my suspicions. It does no good to call him on a theft. Hes shameless. 
 
Belinda came back. Ive been thinking, Garrett. I need to see Captain Block. 
 A scheme worthy of your father, Miss Contague. But poorly timed. I do not think I can urge this strongly enough. This is not the moment to challenge Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler. Their side of the ledger has all the pluses. And your few reliable friends are preoccupied with this traveling curse. Even 
so, let me suggest a few steps we might take when the time does come. 
 
I groaned. When we take steps, I do the stepping. 
 They conversed. I waited, left out. Belinda was full of bounce when she left, 
having delivered a potent and promising thank-you kiss. 
 
What was she planning? 
 
Her scheme involved transporting me to Mr. Dotess establishment . . .  
 
Say what? The woman is mad! I cant move him to sweep around him, let alone push him out of the house. 
 There was a certain elegant evil in her plan, he sent, rather wistfully. He did not explain. We will explore elements of it in our free time these 
coming days. This will require visits from numerous outsiders. Apprise Dean. 
 Right. And have Dean blame it all on me even when it was obvious the whole 
thing was one of the Dead Mans chuckleheaded schemes. 
 
56 So there we were, fooling around closing out one of TunFaires worst-ever serial-killer deals, up to our ears in Watch and informants, and the Dead Man was trying to set up some scam to get Crask and Sadler off Belindas back. I got to play gofer. Grumbling gofer. When Block didnt have anything 
better for me to do. 
 I must admit, though, that Miss Belinda Contagues gratitude stretched the 
limits of imagination and, almost, those of endurance. 
 We had so many villains in and out, I lost count. Most werent your basic thug type, they were magistrates and military men and entrepreneurs and, yes, even Watch officers. Men whose vision defects had made Chodo powerful and them wealthier than they should have been. They all knew Belinda. Her 
birthday parties had been Chodos annual excuse for gathering them together. 
 They came. Belinda talked about Crask and Sadler and her dad while the Dead Man poked around inside their heads. Those who would line up against Belinda 
left with their thoughts scrambled so theyd forget having seen her. 
 
Saucerhead and Morley and Morleys men Puddle and Sarge hung around being insurance. 
 The Dead Man was sure Winchell wouldnt go after Candy again even if we threw her out naked and gave him a big head start. Belinda offered to go dangle 
on the hook. 
 Came the night. This time I was determined to stick it out till it wrapped. 
Block and his all-thumbs boys werent going to screw it up again. 
 I wanted out. Id done work enough for three cases. The only up side was, 
I hadnt gotten pounded around, which happens too often in my line. 
 Hullars place was stuffed with picked Watchmen, most of them auxiliaries. More of the same were scattered around the neighborhood. The Tenderloin was lousy with law. The outside crew came and went, buying beer. We insiders 
bought more. 
 Hullar leaned against the bar, told me, This asshole with the knife is going to make me rich, all you guys in here sucking it down. You really got to 
catch him? 
 
We could let him do his stuff right there on your dance floor, let the mess draw the ghoul trade. 
 
Touchy. 
 Cant help it. The hour was late. Tension was rising. The troops worked harder and harder to pretend they were ordinary slobs. I shouldve told them to lean back and take it easy. They were plenty ordinary and they had slob 
down pat. 
 
We shouldnt be out here, Garrett. 
 
Hullar was right. Winchell might recognize me. Maybe the Watch was rubbing off on me instead of the other way around. 
 
Belinda came to the back room where Hullar and Crunch and I were killing time drinking. She needed reassurance. 
 So did Crunch. He was put out. Relway had ousted him from behind the bar. I could handle any whipper-snapper what went to bothering the girls, Hullar. 
No reason me being pushed off my job. 
 
Im sure you could, Crunch. But Im not in charge. 
 Crunch turned his glare on me. I said, Were talking about a psycho killer, Crunch. A total crazy. You dont know him. The man behind the bar does. I hoped Relways disguise would hold up. If you were out there, he could 
walk in and cut your throat before you knew it was him. Its for your safety. 
 This had played before. I was tired of it. I gave Belinda a peck on the cheek, 
squeezed her hand. Getting close. Hang in there. Break a leg. All that. 
 
He shouldve made some kind of move already, Garrett. 
 
I was afraid she was right. Somebody shouldve come to check her out, maybe tried to pick her up. I was worried too. 
 An hour later the consensus had spread to the street. Something had gone wrong. Our fish hadnt bitten. Somewhere a woman was dying because . . . 
 
 
But no one gave up playing his part. 
 I was in the shadows, looking into the dance hall, when Sadler walked in. He looked incredibly evil. His expression grew more wicked as he spotted 
Belinda. 
 She was dancing with a Watchman disguised as a sailor. She spotted Sadler. Momentary fire touched her eyes. Sadler headed toward her. Once he passed a certain point, everyone in sight moved. He realized hed walked into something. Fur started flying. Steel lashed the air. I stepped out to remind the boys 
that we werent killing people tonight. 
 
Barking Dog Amato waltzed into the place. 
 There you go. We have us a rousing brawl going, everybody closing down a setup in which everybody had a specific role, including those of Hullars girls whod stuck around to make it look good. We have maybe twenty people screaming and yelling. We have bodies flying everywhere. And in walks Barking Dog Amato looking for his daughter. He spots me instead. He ignores the uproar. Hey, Garrett! Thiss luck. A Watchman flew past him, thrown by Sadler, who was in a truly foul temper. I tried to get to Barking Dog so I could move him somewhere a little less violent. He demanded, Wheres my girl, Garrett? I come down here and come down here and hung out till I finally got me the nerve to talk to her, and when I do, I find out this Sas aint my baby at all. Her names Sasna Progel and all she knows about Lonie Amato is shes heard Hullar and his dwarf henchman mention the name. Another Watchman 
sailed by. Whatre you trying to pull? 
 
Were in the middle of something now. Could you maybe step over there out of the way and hang on a minute? 
 
Sadler roared my name like hed decided I was the root of every evil hed ever suffered. He charged. 
 
Better look out, Garrett, Amato said. He headed for a corner. That fellow dont look too friendly. 
 That fellow didnt at that. He trampled Watchmen. Then he tripped over one. I planted a strong right on his temple. It put him on his knees but didnt put him out. I threw a little of everything I had while he was getting up. 
He got up anyway. 
 I bruised some knuckles on my left hand. Then Sadler hit me back. I flew off to visit Barking Dog. Sadler came after me, ignoring all those other people giving him hell. It was like he was holding me personally responsible 
for his pain. He bent down to pick me up. 
 Barking Dog let him have it. Which was like a bee stinging an elephant if the bee dont pick his spot. Barking Dog didnt. But he did irritate Sadler 
enough that he decided to hammer Amato one. 
 Bishoff Hullar, strongman, popped Sadler with something that looked like a fist but couldnt have been because Sadler folded right up. Hullar breathed on his knuckles, said, Were supposed to be looking out for a girl, not 
having us a good time, Garrett. He pointed. 
 
Ill be go to hell. 
 Winchell had decided to drop in after all. There he was making his way to the bandstand, overlooked in all the excitement. Hey, we got a party now. Belinda eyed him uncertainly, wondering if he was the one she was supposed 
to fear. 
 
The whole place went silent. 
 
Winchell started moving fast. 
 
I yelled. 
 
Everybody joined in. 
 It was the battle of Sadler all over again, only Winchell was tougher. The curse had made him a superman. He got to Belinda, hoisted her onto one shoulder, headed for the door. When I tried to talk him into changing his ways, he deposited me on the back of my lap under a table. Nobody slowed him down till Crunch decided to take matters into his own hands, brought up a pony keg, and politely tossed it across the room to meet Winchells surprised 
face. The keg was full. Not bad for an old hairbag. 
 Winchell never got his eyes uncrossed. The boys from the street came in and helped close him down. They tied and gagged him, and most of the excitement was over. He looked small and old now, like the curse was turning him into 
the old green-eye whod started it all at Morleys. 
 
Then Belinda was all over me. 
 
Past her I saw Barking Dog buttonhole Hullar. 
 It was a while before the excitement faded. Block arrived. He circled Winchell smugly. I told him, You let him get away again, Im personally going to 
drop you in the river with a reminder boulder tied to your toe. 
 Relway. Get him sacked up and celled up. And dont let that gag slip. Winchell looked spooky enough with his eyes glowing. Grinning, Block bragged, Wont be no mistakes this time, Garrett. Thiss our future here. Were gonna be careful. Were gonna wall him up in the cell I let Crask stew in. Prince Rupert is gonna send for the wizard help we need soon as he knows we got 
him. 
 
I grumbled, hinting that I might be less than confident about the competence of a certain prince and his Watch. 
 
You got any bright ideas? 
 
Yeah. I got a real special one. 
 
So? 
 
I go hit the sack. You want anything else, come bug the Dead Man. Tomorrow. 
 
Tomorrow afternoon, Belinda said. Garretts going to have to get some sleep too. 
 
Huh? Us investigators have minds like steel traps. Too? 
 
She winked. I might let you catch a nap. If youre a good boy. 
 
Oh. Block had gotten it before I did. I was suitably chastened. 
 
Meantime, Barking Dog was in full cry. He had Hullar and Crunch both confused and on the run. 
 
57 
I was further chastened by fates unrelenting efforts to keep me chaste. 
 Winchell had had a strong suspicion he was headed into a trap. The curse had compelled him to go anyway but had permitted him some latitude in preparation. 
It was smart enough to allow its steed its head when that was appropriate. 
 I hit Macunado Street with visions of a wild night dancing in my headand found my front door shattered. Dean lay in the hall about halfway dead, his stray curled inside the curve of what looked like a broken arm, crying. Belinda 
said, Ill look after Dean. You find out what happened. 
 I opened wide but sensed nothing from the Dead Man. That scared me. Only once before had the villains gotten in, and then theyd gotten only a few feet. The Dead Man turned would-be intruders into living statuesusually while they were still in the street. Here there was no evidence hed been able to do anything. The invader (or invaders) had hiked straight from the 
entrance to the stairs. 
 
Had the Dead Man finally taken that long last step across to the other shore? I got no sense of his presence. 
 
Go on! Belinda snapped. 
 Be careful. I edged forward, my heart in my throat. Im not ashamed to admit I was scared. This had the same feel I recalled going into the worst raids we pulled back when I was one of Karentas brave young Marines. I crept 
along the wall to the Dead Mans door, nudged it open. 
 
I whirled inside, ready for anything. 
 
Nobody there but my partner. 
 He looked unchanged, but there was a difference. I felt a tension unlike any Id encountered before. I sensed that he was safe and awake but way too 
focused to spare me a thought. 
 
Which meant the trouble was still in the house. And he was a nightmare. 
 
Upstairs. He had to be upstairs. Candy was upstairs. 
 
But we already had Winchell . . .  
 
I felt for the Dead Man, seeking confirmation. He did not respond. Of course. 
 Whoever did it is still here, I told Belinda. And hes so strong hes fought the Dead Man to a standstill. I think hes after Candy. Im going after him. But Im afraid if I go upstairs he wont be there. Hell grab 
you and take off. 
 
So check down here first. She was calm and practical. Maybe it was hereditary. 
 
I guess Old Bones can hold out a few minutes more. 
 
Nothing in here, Belinda said, having entered the kitchen boldly. And the cellar door is locked from this side. 
 A shriek came from above, from Candys room in Candys voice. Could be bait. Something thumped the floor. It sounded like a body falling. Belinda grabbed 
my arm. I asked, You reckon its a trap? 
 
Garrett! 
 
Right. This is no time to make light. Tell me a better time. 
 I told me to pretend I was Morley Dotes. This might be a job that called for Morleys legendary cool. If my honey didnt just have a guy up to play 
. . . Morleys cool. I was tempted to send out for it. Only . . .  
 Only what the hell was going on here? I did my part. I got Winchell sewn up and delivered. It was time to collect my reward and ride off into the 
sunset. What was all this mess? 
 My office was clean. I traded looks with Eleanor. That calmed me. It reminded me that Id gotten through bad times before, that calm was my most potent 
weapon. A little reason would help too, sweetheart. 
 
The small front room contained nothing but an odor cat haters know well. You little shit. You blew it. 
 I jammed my rain hat onto my head, set course for the kitchen. I banged around in there till I found the cheesecloth Dean bought the time he had a blue-sky idea about saving money by making his own cheese. I told him: did I want to cut financial corners, Id do without a housekeeper. Anyway, to date we were out the cost of cheesecloth without no cheese to show. I hacked off a few yards, folded the cloth over my rain hat, and tucked the edges under 
my collar, front and back. 
 
What in the world are you doing? 
 
Beekeeper trick. You might want to try it yourself. 
 
Youre insane, Garrett. But she followed my example. She even made herself crude mittens. 
 I dug through drawers and poked into closets till I found my sulfur candles. Try not to breathe the fumes once I light these things. Theyll knock you 
on your ass. 
 
Belinda shook her head, muttered obscenities, but went along. Youre completely paranoid. You know that, dont you? 
 
I have been ever since I found out they were out to get me. Anyway, I couldnt stand it if you was to get butchered now. 
 
Youre a born romantic too. 
 Thats me. The man of a thousand faces. All this was punctuated by repeated thumps and yells from above. Then the yelling stopped. The silence seemed 
particularly ominous. 
 
I think you better get on your horse, Garrett. 
 Yeah. I checked Dean. He was doing as well as could be hoped. He had his hairball buddy to look out for him. I wished we had time to send out for reinforcements, but the silence upstairs told me I was all out of time. White 
knight to the rescue. Well, it was white back before the rust set in. 
 
Lets do it, Garrett. 
 
No style, this one. But one hell of a set of legs. 
 
 I knew it! I moaned. It had to be something impossible. There were butterflies on the second floor. They were big and green and unpleasantly carnivorous but blessedly few and stupid. Watch those things. I got a feeling if they nip at you it could spread the curse the way mosquitoes spread yellow fever. People in TunFaire didnt generally know that, but in the islands you learned 
from the natives. If you were smart enough to listen when they told you something. 
 
So light some candles. 
 
Belinda wasnt exactly supportive. Pushy, even. It wasnt time to light candles. 
 First I visited my goody closet, dug out a nasty knife, offered it to her. Whoever he is comes near you, carve your initials on him with that. For myself I chose a knife with a blade nearly long enough to qualify it as a 
shortsword. I used it to point toward Candys room. 
 I went first, macho clown that I am. And there was our interloper, a monster of a man, moving almost imperceptibly as he hoisted Candy toward the ceiling. He had rigged a block and tackle on a beam wed exposed while rehabbing. 
He was ruled by the curse and he was going to do a girl on the spot. 
 
It really is multiplying, Belinda whispered. 
 
I kept my mouth shut. My throat was too dry for chatter. 
 
The man kept moving against all the Dead Mans power. What incredible strength the curse gave! 
 
Why hadnt Candy run out on him? With the Dead Man slowing him down, he couldnt hardly keep up with her. 
 
Huh! Belinda. Dont look this clown in the eye. I have a feeling that if he lays the green eye on you youre a goner. 
 Right. She wasnt nervous. Not my gal Belinda. She was as cold as her daddy. You want to do some candles before the bugs carry me off? They tended to 
leak from the corners of the villains mouth. 
 I lighted a sulfur candle off the tallow candle Belinda had thought to bring, set it on the floor just inside the doorway to Candys room. As I set out 
the second candle, the bad boy realized he had company. 
 Gods, he was huge! He looked like Saucerhead Tharpes big brother. Where did Winchell find him? Nothing that big should have been running loose. He 
turned his head slowly. 
 
Why dont you stick him, Garrett? You want to make a career of farting around, dont you? 
 I do. Its because I have this hyperactive conscience. In this case it was also because I was completely lost. This wasnt suppose to be happening. The girl-killer problem was supposed to have been solved at Hullars place. 
I was supposed to be in bed now, if not asleep. 
 The big guy had Candy hoisted up till only her head was touching the floor. He let go the rope. It squealed through the block. Down she crashed. She 
started making noises behind her gag like she was trying out my name. 
 I really hoped she wasnt trying to relay a warning. I didnt have time to fish it out of her. The big guy had begun to get him a case of the green eye. He was barfing butterflies. Most of those were green too. Old Drachir 
had had a thing about green. 
 The big man was aging before my eyes. Hed put on a year or two in the past few minutes. Hed gotten shorter, too, though I wasnt ready to jump in for 
fifteen rounds. 
 
He got a good look at Belinda. 
 He charged like he was headed into a hundred-mile-an-hour wind. He puffed and snorted. Moths leaked from his nostrils. They were pretty stupid mothsor 
the curse controlling them was pretty dumb. They mostly went after him. 
 I held a lighted sulfur candle in front of him. He roared out butterflies that couldnt get me because of the cheesecloth. He didnt seem to care, 
though. He had eyes only for Belinda. 
 Dont look the bastard in the eyes, I reminded her, sliding to one side. I dropped to hands and knees, scooted forward while the villain continued his glacial charge. I cut the tendons behind his right knee and left ankle. It took a while for his brain to get the word, but he fell. Then he started to lift himself up again. I drove my knife through his right hand, pinning 
it to the floor. 
 
Belinda did his other hand. You might try to get a gag on him, Garrett. She did have the Contague flair. 
 The cumulative pain and damage shocked the man enough that the curse slipped 
control. The Dead Man jumped on that. The villain became as rigid as stone. 
 
Like a far, far whisper on a contrary wind, came, You took your sweet time. 
 I got Candy loose. How come you keep fooling around with these perverts? 
I asked. Whats wrong with a nice straight guy like me? 
 She threw her arms around me. She didnt say anything, even when Belinda cracked, Maybe she figured you were taken. She just clung like she didnt 
plan to let go during this lifetime. 
 Butterflies zoomed around drunkenly. The sulfur fumes were getting to me too. The bugs discovered bare areas on Candy. They called their friends. I didnt know but what the curse could be carried by the little devils. Lets get out of here. Lock them in with the candles. I considered sliding a few 
candles into the Dead Mans room while he was preoccupied, just for effect. 
 
Belinda helped with Candy, though with poor grace. 
 
I glanced at my unwanted guest. Butterflies still crawled out of his open mouth. Belinda said, We cant leave him here. 
 
Why not? 
 
Hell croak. 
 
Ask me if I care. 
 
Think, genius. 
 
Indeed. Boggle us with a first. 
 You keep out of this. I grunted, disgusted. If the villain died, Id be the only place for the curse to migrate. I didnt think that was such a great idea. We do need to keep him unconscious. He might commit suicide. I had a sudden conviction that the curse had driven Winchell into Hullars place 
to provide a diversion from the attack here. 
 
The Dead Man sent, I can keep the man under control. 
 
Like you were doing when I got here? 
 
Bind him if that makes you more comfortable. 
 Right. I peeked inside Candys room. The big guys breath problem had improved. The floor was covered with fallen butterflies. Only a few showed any life. I said, Ive got an idea. Get the curse to jump to the Dead Man. Then it 
wouldnt 
 
Then it would be able to talk to you direct. 
 Miss Practical. I rounded up a ball of linen cord and went to work on our villain. I used it all, then gagged him good. Then I saved him from the fumes. 
I gave Belinda my nightstick. Bop him if he even twitches. 
 
Where are you going? 
 
To get Block. To get this character out of here. 
 
I didnt get that far. Not right away. 
 
59 I might have known. I should have expected it. Hell, I should have counted on it. It had to be in the stars. It started out being about Barking Dog Amato, and no matter how I wriggled, Amato kept getting in the way. So why on earth should I have been surprised to find Barking Dog camped out in my hallway with Sas and Dean, Sas looking mightily distressed while Amato fussed over Dean and Dean groggily insisted there was nothing wrong. Dean was so 
woozy he didnt know he was hurt. 
 
How do I get around this? I muttered before anyone spotted me. At the moment I didnt much care about Barking Dogs troubles. 
 
Garrett! 
 Id been spotted. Dont start. Ive got problems of my own and its going 
to be real hard to give a rats ass about whatever is bugging you. 
 
Hey, yo, no problem. I kind of figured youd be distracted when I saw this mess. 
 The curse managed to split somehow. Ive got another killer upstairs. Damn. 
That put a sparkle in his eye. What now? Im going to get Captain Block. 
 
Thats all right. I understand. Ill hang out here, keep an eye on things. 
 
You dont need to. Go on home. Get some shut-eye. The Dead Man can be pretty handy when he wants. 
 I got a smug snicker from the other side of the wall and a denial from Amato. I wouldnt feel right, Garrett. After everything you done for me. Anyway, 
I got to talk to you about my girl. This here Sas aint my girl. 
 So Id gathered earlier. I didnt stay around to find out anything more. I nurtured some small, vain hope that the Dead Man would pity me and run 
him off before I got back. 
 The only good thing about finding Block was I got to wake him up. Again. I never had a big case before where I got to wake other people up. It was always somebody coming around wanting me to be bright-eyed at some absurd 
hour of the morning. 
 Yes! I insisted, after getting through to his quarters. You get off your fat political butt and come on over, you can see for yourself. The curse has spawned. You dont grab this guy, it keeps right on going like we never met anybody called Winchell. I guarantee. You think Im running around at 
this hour because Im nursing a grudge? You know me better. 
 
Block grunted. Unfortunately. You cant just bring him in tomorrow? 
 Im going home. When I get there Im handing this guy over to whoevers around. If thats nobody, he walks. And I dont have nothing more to do with unraveling curses by old-time lunatic wizards. You really want to give me a thrill, come up with some excuse for arresting Barking Dog Amato. Material 
witness, maybe. Hes set to drive me crazy. 
 Block observed me under his brows briefly, maybe wondering if he ought to jump on such a great straight line. A nasty smile crawled around on his lips. 
I said, Dont go getting any ideas about doing something Im going to regret. 
 Me? Forsooth. Maybe even more sooth than that. Echavar! A servile type materialized as though hed been lurking outside, just hoping Block would holler. Inform Relway that I need a squad to accompany me when I arrest 
another curse carrier. Or, failing that, a leading public nuisance. 
 
I got the impression he wasnt talking about Barking Dog. 
 Block didnt recognize the man whod invaded my place. Neither did his troops. After checking him over and taking statements from Candy and the Dead Man, 
Block grudgingly admitted, It looks like you did the right thing, Garrett. 
 
I always do the right thing. 
 
Tell it to your smelly buddy downstairs. 
 Barking Dog hadnt gone home. The girl called Sas had, but only because Blocks men had pried her loose from Amato. Block and Barking Dog still werent wasting 
any love on one another. 
 
Block and I observed while Relway and crew bagged my villain. Block asked, You want me to vag him? 
 
Say what? 
 Vag Amato. Oh. Sorry. You havent been in on discussions of the tools were getting to attack crime. Vagrancy laws. Relways idea. Came out of the research on those old wizards. Had those kinds of laws in imperial times. You cant show youre gainfully employed or have money in your pocket, bam! You got a sudden choice of getting into a cell or getting out of town. Amato would 
be had if we went after him. He never has had a job. 
 
Dont do that. This was some scary shit. Since when do you go around nailing people because one of your guys has an idea? 
 Since Rupert liked it so much he got it decreed as law. Applies to anybody inside the walls. Race dont matter. Theres enough slack in the treaties to let us handle layabouts and social parasites as criminalsif we treat 
everybody the way we treat humans. Nasty smile. 
 We might have us some unpleasant times ahead. I hadnt a doubt that the law-and-order 
gang would deal with human undesirables more nastily than they would others. 
 Meantime, my pals Crask and Sadler are out at the kingpins place scheming up some special way to pay me back for whatever they think I did. That irked me. Block and his boys were panting with law and order, but Crask and Sadler 
had walked away because of their connections. 
 
Way it goes, Garrett. I couldve let Relway deal with them, but youda bitched about that too. 
 
Huh? 
 Crask coulda hanged hisself while he was inside. Out of remorse, maybe. He grinned. Remorse? That was a good one. Somebody coulda stuck Sadler tonight. But if thatd happened, youda pissed and moaned until we was all 
ready to help you swallow a chicken bone. 
 He was right. Morley was right. I really did have to hone me up a more practical set of ethics. Its a proved fact, fanatic adherence to ideals can be fatal in the real world. Especially in TunFaire, where ethics and ideals are mystic 
words in a tongue unknown to ninety-nine percent of the population. 
 I admitted he was right, possibly. But pretend Im your conscience sometimes. Dont get so eager taking back the streets that you forget why we have laws 
in the first place. 
 
Thanks, Garrett. Any day now I figure to see you in a long gray robe, howling on the steps of the Chancery. 
 I had to get away. He might brainwash me. I was that tired. He had me halfway 
gone already. That was scary, agreeing with the Watch about anything. 
 Going home wasnt much improvement. I got rid of the worst of my uninvited guests, but then there was still Barking Dog. I wasnt especially kind. Ive been awake more hours than I know how to count. During that time three different people tried to kill me. Maybe I exaggerated. Who knows what might have happened had certain parties had their way? They tried to kill friends of mine. The state Im in, Im not going to listen to much complaining. You got a bitch, bring it around in a few days. I didnt remind him that I wasnt 
on his payroll and he had no bitch coming. 
 So much for restraint. My remarks won me all kinds of points with the ladies. Belinda opened her trick bag and discovered she had eleventeen varieties of hell she could give me for mistreating my elders. Candy got thoroughly huffy and completely forgot whod just saved her delicate posterior. She 
took Barking Dog home and didnt return. 
 
She is his real daughter, the Dead Man told me. 
 
I figured that out. Didnt even have to count on my fingers. 
 
It is a long story. 
 Then dont waste your time telling it. Im going to bed. I sped Belinda a meaningful look. It didnt have any meaning for her. She fussed over Dean, who had set up in the small front room again. Things she told him suggested 
she wouldnt be following through on earlier threats. 
 
Her mother entered a liaison with a man Candy truly believed to be her father till quite recently. 
 Must we? Now? I eyed the front door. The door that wasnt anymore. Could 
I trust the Dead Man to stay awake while I got some rest? 
 He indicated he could be trusted. Amidst his tear-jerker story, in which our beautiful young heroine overcame all obstacles to be reunited with her 
real father. 
 
Right, Chuckles. We all saw how she was just foaming at the mouth to be reunited. 
 I figured shed be sick of him in about two days. In fact, she already knew enough that she hadnt wanted anything direct to do with him till tonight. 
Maybe never forever after once she got a look at the dump where he lived. 
 The Dead Man went on but I was stubborn. I shut him out. I shut out all their demands and went up to bed. During the several seconds it took me to fall asleep, I waxed nostalgic about the good old days when I lived alone and 
sometimes got to do things the way I wanted. 
 
60 Dean let me in through the new door. His arm wasnt broken after all, and our disaster hit the spot for a busybody like him. Hed had workmen in, and was nagging them green, as soon as the sun rose. When Id been able to sleep through the end-of-the-world racket no longer, Id gotten up and gotten out, 
pursuing the Dead Mans suggestion that I double-check on Block and his boys. 
 What they did, I told the Dead Man when I got back, was stuff them in cells while they were unconscious. Then they bricked up the doors. The cells 
dont have windows. Theres a slot in the door so food can be passed through. 
 
That may be enough. Or a sewage chute . . .  
 
I jumped in smugly. All taken care of, Smiley. Taken care of. I noticed the business about the rope belts. 
 
The what? 
 Rope belts. All our villains wore them. And then Winchell turned up at Hullars with his belt partly unbraided. The guy that tore up our place had on what looked like it was what was missing from Winchells rope. I knew what was 
happening, then. The rope carries the curse. 
 
You failed to mention that. 
 
I snickered. So I cheated a little so I wouldnt get all the glory hogged away. 
 What glory? There will be none for you. The public is going to believe that 
the triumph over the curse is all Captain Blocks fault. He will see to it. 
 
Killjoy. Block has the ropes locked up in a box stashed inside a sealed coffin in another bricked-up cell. 
 The Dead Man remained dubious, given the ineptitude of the Watch. I was worried too. I concealed it. Got some final translations on my research. I was right. The whole thing started over a woman. They even found me a portrait of Drachir 
. . .  
 
Who was a ringer for the old man in the coach, I presume. 
 
Yeah. You cant hold out on a determined mind reader. And he wore butterfly earrings. 
 
He had a strong interest in butterflies. 
 
Apparently. 
 
And a stronger interest in outliving his rival. 
 He was stealing my thunder. Here Id come home chock-full of news and he was stealing it out of my head or hed figured it out already. Yeah. Hed figured out how to become immortal the hard way. When he set up the curse thing, he put an extra twist on it so the Candide woman, whod spurned him, would be sure to get got. Then he let himself get killed. Didnt matter to him. He would come back to life through his curse. Except his curse always 
gets stopped just before it finishes recreating the man who created it. 
 You have to wonder about people like Drachir, who are willing to sacrifice hundreds on the off chance they might whip death for a while themselves. There are people out there, masquerading as human beings, who never see you and me as having any more value than a beetle. Its a pity they arent content 
to devour each other. 
 I expected either prisoner to kill himself at the curses behest. The Dead Man disagreed. That would serve no purpose now. Suppose one of them did bite through the veins in his wrists? What then? Not even Block is stupid enough 
to enter the cell without a first-line wizard backing him up. 
 
Assuming any ever shows up. 
 
Indeed. They may never. They may never leave the Cantard. 
 And meantime we got a corpse rotting. Someday somebody gets sick of the stink, opens the cell . . .  The Dead Man had stopped listening. Vaguely, he admitted there might be something to my concern. But Id made the mistake of nudging his thoughts toward the Cantard. Suddenly he was preoccupied by 
the south. 
 Thered been a flood of news. Id been picking it up all morning, but hed gotten a big dose from Saucerhead already. That was my buddy Tharpe, rush right in with anything newsworthyif it was going to make Garretts life a little more miserable. I love the guy, but he doesnt know from consequences. 
If brains were glaziers putty, he couldnt weatherproof a windowless room. 
 Word out of the Cantard made it look like we were in for a Karentine triumph. 
We could look forward to endless parades and countless mind-numbing speeches. 
 Karentine losses were as heavy as Id predicted, but the morCartha had rewritten the Cantard equation completely. The Venageti were done for. Theyd collapsed. Quarache was their northernmost outpost now. That was so far to the south, 
even our long-range commandos hadnt reached it till recently. 
 And Glory Mooncalleds republican armies, while still motivated and courageous, couldnt overcome the combination of numbers, sorcery, and vastly superior intelligence now ranged against them. These days our commanders knew what 
the republicans planned before they started doing it. 
 
Didnt take any military genius to see that theyd soon be on the run and the morCartha would be employed to hunt them down. 
 Hardly anyone believed the news. Many didnt want to believe it. But it was hard to deny evidence that said three generations of warfare would end within a year, that all-out peace might erupt at any time. And all because of some 
flying things that everybody considered vermin when they were visiting TunFaire. 
 
Goes to show you, as Saucerhead says. You never know. A real philosopher of the street, Saucerhead Tharpe. 
 
The future was becoming scary territory. 
 Belinda never got the Dead Man down to Morleys place. She did manage to see all the underworld heavyweights and most of her fathers nominally legitimate 
associates. First thing I knew, she was headed home. 
 
Crask and Sadler had slipped away from Chodos place. But they were still around somewhere, biding their time. 
 Candy faded from my life. She returned to the Hill, probably to escape Barking Dog, who was not welcome up there. Amato kept making a pest of himself, wanting things from me that were beyond my capacity to provide. I could not force open a door into a family that did not want to let him in. I could feel sorry for the guy, maybe, but not much more. I could continue delivering periodic reports to Hullar, without telling Barking Dog, so Candy could keep track. But I couldnt give him what he thought he wanted. I wouldnt give him Candys 
adopted family name. 
 Belinda sent a letter inviting me out. I rented a buggy from Playmate and dragged my bones out to see her. She knew me better than I thought. She waited 
till after playtime to roll her dad out. 
 Same old Chodo. Frisky as a wedge, alert as a potato. She was using him exactly the way Crask and Sadler had. I was repelled. I left as soon as I could without 
leaving anyone angry. 
 I was disappointed. Belinda was no better than the men shed ousted. Shed 
become the new kingpin by climbing over her fathers still-warm flesh. 
 
Must you? the Dead Man whined. I was about to doze off. About to abandon this vale of sorrow for the land of sweet dreams. 
 
Come on! Thats really laying it on thick. 
 
Report, then. Get it over. I need my sleep. 
 
He couldnt have been too depressed, regardless of the war situation. He didnt threaten to close up shop for good. 
 I have suffered countless disappointments at the hands of your feckless race. 
One more will not nudge me over the edge. Get on with the report. 
 
I described my visit to the Contague establishment. Most of it. Being a gentleman, I did employ some discretion. 
 Just to drive me crazy, he observed, It might be interesting to have Mr. 
Contague visit sometime. I suspect that all may not be what it seems there. 
 
What do you mean by . . . ? Hey! Hed drifted off. At a very fast drift. And wasnt interested in awaking to explain himself. 
 
Leaving me hanging was the root of his plan, of course. 
 No more Belinda, no more Candy, and Tinnie still hadnt come around to tell me I didnt need to apologize for what I hadnt done. You and me again, lady, I told Eleanor. Alone at last. Maybe. Fingers crossed? The Dead Man was really working out on his napping, and there was a chance Dean would be getting back out of the housefor a while, anyway. One of his horde of ugly nieces had sold her soul or something and found a blind man to propose. Though Im not religious, I was praying. No atheists on the battlefield. I wanted the engagement to take. I wanted Dean to travel to the wedding, which would take place out of town if it happened at all. I would get rid of the cat. I would burn a thousand sulfur candles. Or I might sell the place and contents and disappear before the one woke up and the other returned. Simplify my life. Move across town and change my name and get me an honest 
job. 
 I did learn that I have the second sight. My prophecy was correct. The next fad was revolution. It stumbled out of the cafes and failed abysmally. Peopled by the very young, the revolution neither asked nor accepted anything from the old and experienced and wise. Westman Block and his secret police, directed by Relway Sencer, ate them alive. The rebellion collapsed without having stirred any dust. Afterward, Block bragged that five members of the seven-man 
Joint Revolutionary Direction had been Relways agents. 
 Need any more convincing that those fools were fools of the first water? In the real world Block had to pay me to save his bacon when he ran into 
real troubles. 
 He hasnt been around lately. Happily. Word is, a whole cabal of wizards has agreed to research and unravel the Candide Curse (how come it isnt called the Drachir Curse?) and keep their eyes on one another so nobody gets any 
advantage from the spell. Just as soon as they catch Glory Mooncalled. 
 
Might be a while. 
 
The Dead Mans hero hasnt given up. Neither the morCartha overhead nor the Venageti proposal of an armistice has daunted him. 
 
Life was good. Life was normal. I could sit back and do some serious thinking and beer tasting. 
 Then Morleys nephew Spud showed up with the parrot. Supposedly a present from my leg-breaker friend. The parrot could talk. Morley figured I could use it to drive Dean crazy and get rid of his cat. The bird hated cats. It 
swooped on them, clawed at their ears and eyes. 
 Word of advice. Word to the wise. Voice of experience. Dont ever bring a 
talking parrot within thinking range of a dead Loghyr. Not ever