Cruel Zinc Melodies

89

Singe wakened us. ‘‘John Stretch is on his way. So is Playmate. Joe Kerr and his siblings will do your shoveling for you. You’d better hurry if you want breakfast before we go.»

Tinnie wouldn’t let me out of bed.

Breakfast had to wait.

No one else dillydallied. John Stretch, his rats, his henchrats, and his transportation all failed to wait. Dean’s lips were pursed in abiding disapproval when we finally reached the kitchen.

He had been good enough to keep our breakfasts warm.

Tinnie didn’t eat much. ‘‘I have to show my uncles.’’ She waved papers copied from Singe’s collection. ‘‘My copies. We made them before we went to bed.’’

I’d already been dead asleep. She hadn’t wakened me. ‘‘Copies?’’

‘‘This got past me, Garrett. Maybe because I didn’t want to see it. It took a ratgirl to notice. I know you. You’ll tell Max. I want to be there. To try to explain. To intercede, if I can.’’

Intercede? The Tates would keep rescuing Rose till she scuttled them all. Yes. Max was fond of Tinnie. She stifled Alyx’s worst impulses. Her presence might soften his rage enough for me to make my case. ‘‘All right. Good on you.’’

See me before you leave.

I headed for the Dead Man’s room.

Singe intercepted me. ‘‘You are going to see Mr. Weider?’’

‘‘It’s got to be done. I thought you went with your brother.’’

‘‘I had paperwork. I would like to come with you. To explain.’’

I started to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary.

The Dead Man stroked my mind with a feather’s touch of warning. ‘‘Sure. It’ll be more convincing from somebody who can add up two times three. They don’t think I can count past my fingers and toes.’’

The redhead said, ‘‘Lucky you’ve got those extra toes.’’

‘‘What extra . . . ?’’ I went to see what Old Bones wanted. That was a fast review of everything, especially what he’d learned last night, and what he’d have Penny Dreadful poking into today. He had work for Winger and the Remora, too. If I stumbled across them. They seemed to have disappeared. They were supposed to be looking out for Kip and Kyra but hadn’t been anywhere in sight last night.

Vintage Winger.

Lurking Felhske had departed while I slept, but a faint souvenier of his visit hung in the air.

‘‘That’s it?’’

That is it.

Maybe. But I was sure he had done some digging inside my head.

Singe and Tinnie were in the hallway, waiting impatiently. Tinnie was simmering again.

I wouldn’t want to be Rose Tate tonight.

I could not believe that the Tates would be dim enough to let Rose get close to money. Though I would’ve thought she was too lazy to be this clever.

Things at the World were calm and under control. Workmen were at work. Rats were down below. John Stretch told me they were finding nothing but bug scraps and broken pupae. Saucerhead’s guys were on patrol outside, cocky because they’d thwarted a feeble raid by some dead-ender Stompers during the night. They’d rounded up the gangster wannabes and handed them over to the Guard. The kids would be off to labor camp before the end of the day.

Otherwise, Tharpe’s report was excellent. No inside trouble. No bugs, no freaks, and only a ghost of a ghost, seldom seen. The workmen had found nothing to bitch about yet.

Tharpe told me, ‘‘There was music last night, though. But it was, like, contented. Sleepy. Not that loud, aggravated shit. Hell, it was purring.’’

The workmen were really getting on with it. I had a good feeling as I led Tinnie and Singe on toward our fateful encounter at the Weider shack.