Whispering Nickel Idols

42

Saucerhead dropped in. “They done forgot me already out there, Garrett. Nobody yelled nothing about there goes the guy what tried to rape the little boy the other night. Speaking of which, that nasty little critter is sitting on Elmer Stick’s steps, bold as brass, eyeballing your place. Was I a betting kind of guy, I’d put money on she’s trying to figure out how to bust in here, then make a getaway. The big guy still awake?”

“Once he wakes up he tends not to go down again till he drives the rest of us buggers. Unless him going to sleep will inconvenience somebody in some really huge way.”

“I need to see him. See if Dean’s got-”

“Dean’s out shopping. On account of we’re out of everything, especially tea and beer.”

“Damn! I need something liquid.”

The Dead Man let an implied sneer ride along on my shoulder as I headed for the kitchen. Drink some water. Water is your only reliable antidote. There wasn’t an ounce of beer in the house.

I grumbled and mumbled but did as I was told. He was right.

I handed Saucerhead his water. Muttering about Bittegurn Brittigarn.

Excellent. Though you have to grant the priest his due. His sleight of hand was so fine I cannot pinpoint the instant when he made the exchange.

The more I reflected, the more I wanted to spank BB till he gave up something useful. The roc’s-egg story was a bushel of salamander dust. But the stone must have some bizarre, rare quality. And value.

He must be lured here somehow. Although unlikely to be part of the puzzle, he may hold the key.

I considered Saucerhead. Tharpe was babbling a report that was a waste of breath. The Dead Man was sucking info straight from his head.

Old Bones was impatient.

Saucerhead had been out getting the skinny on human combustions, the when, where, and who. The latter being the most difficult because the victims hadn’t been anybody anyone missed. Too bad we don’t have connections on the Hill anymore. One of the heavyweights up there might be able to save me tons of work.

Good work, as always, Mr. Tharpe. Miss Pular will pay you. If you wish further employment, there is a man in the Dream Quarter I want to see. Chances are, however, that he will not come here voluntarily. Explain, Garrett.

I told Tharpe about Bittegurn Brittigarn.

“Drinks a bit, eh?”

“Like a school of fish.”

“Then he won’t be that hard. He passes out down there. He wakes up here.”

“He does have a guardian harpy,” I explained.

“Maybe you could get Morley to go with me.”

“I doubt that we’ll see Morley for a while. Too much excitement in the underworld. He’ll want to stay out of the way.”

“Best thing, till it settles. I reckon. Guess I’ll have to sweet-talk her myself.”

I said nothing. That wasn’t easy. For Saucerhead sweet talk means hitting things with a smaller hammer.

Singe paid Tharpe and recorded the outlay. Saucerhead cooled his bunions for a while, grumbling about his love life. It was the usual story. He had him a woman who treated him bad.

“Pity there’s nobody in our circle who’s musical. We could set your life to music and create us a tragical passion play.“

“It ain’t funny, Garrett.”

“So you keep telling me. Then you go pick the same kind of woman and make the same dumb mistake all over again.”

“Yeah. Only I never see it out until it’s too late. I’m on my way. Do I got any expense latitude?”

Just bring the man here.

“Hey!” I protested. “That’s my money you’re throwing away.”

Cost it out in your Keep On Breathing account.

“This puzzle really grabs you, eh?”

Your cases always wander the tombs of chaos. This time more than most. Good luck, Mr. Tharpe. Help us create order out of incoherence.

I said, “It only looks chaotic because there’s a bunch of different things going on at the same time.”

True. But those things keep banging into and tripping over one another because they have you in common.

A couple of kittens grew bold enough to enter the Dead Man’s room. Tentatively, though. “That’s kind of scary.”

It is, indeed.