Cruel Zinc Melodies

21

Singe approached slowly. She sniffed the air and looked around nervously. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

‘‘They never laid a hand on me. Thanks to good timing.’’ I indicated Saucerhead and Playmate. I told it. That being the easiest way to calm her. Once she knew she wouldn’t lose her meal ticket, I asked, ‘‘What did you come up with?’’

‘‘They went to a house about a block past the theater. Down to that first corner, then turn left. It looks abandoned. Only we know there aren’t any abandoned buildings in TunFaire.»

The contractions came fast and furious today.

It isn’t strictly true that there are no abandoned buildings. But a place has to be nasty beyond belief not to accumulate squatters. ‘‘Same as what keeps them from sneaking into the World at night?’’

‘‘Could be.’’

‘‘Something you’re not telling me?’’

‘‘Only that I think there is a connection. The same smell is coming out there. But stronger.’’

‘‘You didn’t go inside?’’

‘‘Of course not. I am not that brave. The smell is that strong.’’

‘‘Bug smell?’’

‘‘Yes. But something else, too. Powerful and frightening.’’

‘‘Let me think about this.’’

Three teenage boys. On the brink of the Tenderloin. But interested in a derelict building instead.

If the others were like Kip, that might mean something. Due to the overwhelming weight of shyness and fear of failure in front of friends.

On the other hand, if they were like Kip, they’d all be mad geniuses. Who didn’t have a clue.

Kip would be seventeen or eighteen now. And still desperately in need of Mom’s help to make himself presentable in public. He could come up with amazing things—like the three-wheel, the folding knife you carry in your pocket, and the drawing compass—but he hadn’t yet caught on how to deal with real, live people. Especially those special, real, live people who come equipped with soft curves.

Singe said, ‘‘I remember what that smell is. We smelled it that time with the shape changers.’’

‘‘I didn’t want to hear that.’’ That had been a rough time, chock-full of horrors, wonders, and amazements. Max had lost his wife and several children. I’d met Singe. The Dead Man had left the house for the first, last, and only time. And we’d all learned how nasty shape shifters could be. And how hard it is to kill them.

‘‘Not the monsters. The smell around them. That yeasty, beer-making smell.’’ She preened.

Tinnie observed in silence. Her having no opinion became distracting. Tinnie Tate always has an opinion. Whether she knows anything or not. All Tates come that way.

‘‘Max makes good stuff at reasonable prices. So why would those boys try to make it when they can buy it ready made, cheaper? Boys their age think work is a curse word.’’

‘‘I did not say they were brewing beer,’’ Singe growled. ‘‘I said the smell suggests fermentation.’’

‘‘There you go again.’’

‘‘Can I ask a question?’’ Tinnie said.

‘‘As long as you understand that I might not give you an honest answer.’’

‘‘Why fuss about that creepy kid making beer when your mission is to make sure the World Theater is finished on time, in budget, so Alyx and Bobbi and me have a place to show ourselves off?’’

I grinned.

‘‘Oh gods!’’ she burbled. ‘‘Don’t you dare even think what you’re thinking.’’

I kept grinning. ‘‘But, darling! Light of my life. Why not be generous and give you my second floor to strut your stuff?’’

‘‘Garrett.’’ That was Playmate, distracting me by pointing out another bunch of teenagers. Unfortunately for them, the tin whistles were lurking. The little thugs got rounded up before they knew what hit them.

For Relway’s mob probable cause can be as improbable as they like.

Impatient, Singe asked, ‘‘Do you plan to do anything but crack wise and take up space?’’

Tinnie chimed in, ‘‘Here comes something about sharp snake’s teeth, hen’s teeth, frog fur, or some other folksy observation about how unfair we all are.’’

So. Once again it was teak on Tommie Tucker season with Mama Garrett’s baby boy starring as poor, sad Tommie. The damned horses pulling Playmate’s coach were ready to join in.

Horses are all out to get me. Some just fake innocence better than others.

Singe said, ‘‘Response please. Take up space? Crack-wise? Or?’’

‘‘All right. Show me the damned house.’’