Wicked Bronze Ambition

44

All the rat men but Dollar Dan were on assignment. Well, Dan was, too, but I was his task. Dr. Ted and I were sitting on the steps to Shadowslinger’s front porch. There had been a flirtation with sunshine earlier, but the overcast was now back and I expected rain. TunFaire had become locked into that cycle.

Ted and I played with the dogs. Dan stood around looking left out. The mutts had not yet warmed to him, which was no surprise. And he didn’t exactly hunger for canine affection. Ted and I didn’t talk much, but we were trying to like each other because of, or in spite of, our having had Strafa Algarda in our lives. We talked around most everything of consequence while hiding our true selves, each trying to learn something interesting about the other.

Dollar Dan suddenly stood taller, slamming into a better mood suddenly, like everything he valued had just begun to shine.

“Oh. Ah,” I observed, in the secret cant of the polished modern philosopher.

Singe had eased through the pedestrian gate into Shadowslinger’s gaudy front garden. Penny tagged along behind, nervous, gawking, surprisingly well dressed. Her style set off the fiscal alarms. I wondered when she and Singe had gotten together.

Penny got distracted by the flower beds, which I had paid no heed before. That sort of thing isn’t usually germane. I asked, “Ted, does Constance have a gardener? Maybe I should talk to him.”

Ted considered the flowers. His gaze lingered uncomfortably on Penny. “I’ve never seen one. But I don’t spend that much time here. I suppose she would have to have one, wouldn’t she?”

An accented voice said, “She does the gardening herself, with help from Bashir and me.”

Mashego was home. Silent as midnight death, she had moved in behind us. She-I was by then confident that Mashego was the she-went on. “We are trying to keep up, but as you can see, absent her direction we are losing ground.”

I couldn’t see that at all. But all I know about plants, farming, gardening, whatnot, is that I have a championship black thumb. Crabgrass and kudzu die when I want them to grow.

Mashego asked, “Who is that girl? She is quite pretty. A few strategic tattoos would turn her into a total heartbreaker.”

I sincerely hoped that tattoos never became fashionable. One look at Constance Algarda was warning enough that an appalling future awaited anyone who acquired body art.

Singe kindly gave Dollar Dan a moment while waiting as I explained about Penny. Done with that, I told Mashego, “If you like, I can find somebody reliable to help with the garden.” I was thinking Saucerhead Tharpe. The man has some surprising skills.

Once I paid attention the garden began to grow on me. It wasn’t just pretty and perfectly kempt; the plants and plantings had been laid out artistically. That was what had caught Penny’s eye.

So for the dozenth time since I became involved with Strafa, I had to recalibrate my estimate of a member of her family.

Mashego told me, “No need for that, sir. Master Barate has made arrangements for part-time help.”

“Of course.” People who would inspire his confidence. “Good enough. So, Singe, true heart. You tracked me down. Is it critical?”

“Critical? I doubt it. Simply a report of general success. Lurking Fehlske has been taken into custody. Deployment of enough red tops can negate any individual advantage.”

I showed her my raised eyebrow, in interrogative mode.

“In such wise, Elona Muriat has been located and surrounded, too. She should be on her way to the Al-Khar by now as well.”

The underlying smugness said that she considered herself responsible. Equally, something in Dollar Dan’s stance said that he wasn’t so sure all that was something of which a rat person ought to be proud. Rat people and the law were natural enemies.

Singe winked at him, then dropped down and started scratching around Brownie’s big old floppy ears. Brownie not only tolerated it; she leaned into it. If she’d been a cat she would have purred.

Five seconds later every mutt but Dr. Ted’s favorite was in the love scrum.

Brownie backed out and came to sit watch beside me, abandoning her troops to their pleasures.

Dr. Ted observed, “Dogs are one of the good things the gods have given us. We’re always more relaxed and content when they’re around.”

“I’m not a dog person by nature. Never had one myself. But I do get what you mean.”

My remarks seemed to surprise Ted and Brownie both. Ted’s expression was one almost of pity. Brownie’s, adjusted for doggie nature, looked like serious confusion.

I told Singe, “Dan has some people out tracking. We’re basically loafing till we hear something.” I told the story.

“Vicious Min just got up and ran for it?”

“She was faking good enough to fool him.” I indicated Ted. “But I’m pretty sure she couldn’t do much real running.”

Ted agreed. “She lost a lot of blood. She couldn’t get far.”

He was distracted.

Penny began to play with the dogs, too. They really went for her. She won Number Two’s heart completely while gushing about the magnificence of Shadowslinger’s garden. She was inspired to try gardening in our tiny backyard at home. I thought, good luck with that. Those few square yards were a desert where weeds went to die.

Dr. Ted and Mashego both eyed Penny with an appreciation equaling what the girl showed for the flowers.

Singe winked at me, amused by the daddy stuff she knew must be going on inside my head. She was, probably, building haikus about karma.

While I had them there and thought about it, I asked Dr. Ted and Mashego to go see my partner.

Neither begged off, though Mashego probably understood the risk. I sensed strong reluctance. Dr. Ted, though, just wondered, “Should I stay away from Constance for that long?”

“The time will be in the journey. Old Bones is a clever interviewer. He gets right to the heart of the matter. And he’s a master at discovering clues and connections that you don’t realize you’ve made.”

Ted asked for directions. I provided them, considering Mashego as I did so. She didn’t want to get involved but was afraid that refusal would make her look guilty. Of something.