Cruel Zinc Melodies

50

I found Winger in an alcove fifty feet away, snuggled up with Jon Salvation, smoking a pipe. ‘‘Gods, woman! What are you incinerating in that thing?’’

She passed the pipe to her biographer. ‘‘What’s up, G?’’

‘‘Gee?’’

‘‘Whatever. You’re cool running. What’s the beef?’’

Must have picked up a new dialect. ‘‘Looking for work? Old Bones has something for you. He wouldn’t tell me what.’’

A winged lizard whiffed overhead. Winger observed, ‘‘I hope them bastards never figure out how to shit on the fly. Get up, little man. I found us a job.’’

The stuff in the pipe had worked its magic on Jon Salvation. He was limp. Winger hoisted him with one hand.

‘‘Whatever he has you do, try not to kill anybody. And don’t do anything to make the brewery look bad.’’

‘‘Yeah. Yeah. I know the drill. Hey. You got some weird shit going on around here, Garrett. I been thinking about it.’’

‘‘There’s a scary notion.’’ Really. Winger gets to thinking, she comes up with ideas.

‘‘Smart-ass. Everybody that goes in there, they see ghosts. Right?’’

‘‘Seems like. Sooner or later.’’

‘‘Sooner and sooner, the way them carpenters tell. Only two of them had the stones to go inside and work.’’

‘‘And? So?’’

‘‘They seen stuff. But they didn’t let it scare them.’’

‘‘Got a point?’’

‘‘Yeah. Them two was breeds. But not very. They was brothers with maybe one half-breed grandparent between them. So I was thinking maybe some of the Other Races wouldn’t react the same as people do.’’

An interesting notion. The ratmen hadn’t had much ghost trouble. I’d have to experiment. Exercising great caution. Because the human rights thugs would be all over me if I replaced a cowardly workforce with nonhumans.

Winger said, ‘‘See you in the morning, sweetheart.’’

I told Saucerhead, ‘‘I officially declare Winger only half as dumb as she acts.’’

‘‘How come?’’ Tharpe stared at the entrance to the World like a mouse watching a snake it hopes will overlook it.

‘‘She came up with what might be a useful idea. What’re you watching for?’’

‘‘Spooks.’’

‘‘Just remember that they’re not real. Whatever you see, it’s really all inside your head.’’

‘‘And I declare you officially batshit, Garrett. Officially a walking, talking blivit.’’

‘‘I’ve been in there. I’ve seen my own ghosts.’’

‘‘Yeah? Like who?’’

‘‘Maya. You remember Maya.’’

‘‘Yeah. And that girl ain’t dead. I seen her last week. Her an’ her old man. That guy’s even older than you. But she definitely married up, ’stead of down.’’

Meaning me, of course. Maya used to insist she was going to marry me. ‘‘Good for her.’’ Through clenched teeth.

One problem for me had been our age difference. Maya was a decade younger. Physically. It was the other way round on the maturity scale.

‘‘Who else?’’ Tharpe asked.

‘‘Kayanne. Eleanor. And my brother Mikey.’’

‘‘All right. I’ll cut you a cubit of slack. Your ghosts don’t count much. Excepting your brother. Did they sing? I hear tell some a’them sing.’’

‘‘I’m grateful. No. No songs. Who did you see?’’

‘‘Not gonna talk about that.’’ Absolute. Final.

Other people seemed to see ghosts connected with guilt. I never feel guilty. Much. Despite my mama’s effort to raise me in the faith. Other people feel guilty about all kinds of crap, all the time.

‘‘I have the perfect experiment,’’ I said. ‘‘You guys will be fine as long as you don’t go inside.’’

‘‘It gets a lot hairier after dark, Garrett. And we don’t got no place to get in out of the weather. Not to mention, no food.’’

‘‘It’s not so bad out here.’’

‘‘You spend the night with us, then.’’

‘‘I’ll get some kind of guard shack put up. Tomorrow. Look. I got to go. I need to see Morley.’’

‘‘Tell him we need some takeout. This is hungry work. And ain’t none of us seen the color of no money yet.’’

I was getting so trusting of the Civil Guard I actually had money in my pocket. I handed it over. ‘‘Sorry, brother. I should’ve thought about that.’’ I made a mental note to let Gilbey know there was no place to get a meal anywhere near the World.

Hold on.

Did I know anybody in the restaurant racket? Somebody maybe having business difficulties but who was skilled at mingling with punters from all up and down the social scale?

Sure I did.

‘‘Garrett, you got that starry look. You just figure things out?’’

‘‘No. I just got a great idea. A new business opportunity.’’

‘‘I hope it’s better than the ones Singe says you been coming up with.’’

‘‘Ha! What does she know?’’

‘‘From what I hear, enough to keep you from going down for the third time, financially.’’

‘‘Humbug. I’d be rich if it wasn’t for her, Dean, and the Dead Man spending all my money. Look. I’ll get some food headed your way. I promise.’’

I headed out without looking the World over any more closely. I nearly jogged.

The Dead Man would be irritated.