earlier. He
always kept track of the royals.”
“He won’t be doing anything but whine about his
headache for a week.”
“You in a hurry?”
I wondered. “Maybe not. No apparent jeopardy. Just a
puzzle. Maggie didn’t seem in any hurry, just
worried.”
“You buy the woman’s story?”
I never take a client’s story at face value. Some natural
law compels them to lie part of the time. “Maybe. Some. It
feels like the truth being used for something else.”
“I’ll put out feelers. Meantime, you ought to corner
Winger.”
“That occurred to me.” I didn’t relish trying
to get anything out of her, though. “It’s not an
appetizing idea.”
Morley chuckled. “She’s a handful. The trick is get
her thinking what you want is her idea.”
“Ingenious. How?”
“With great difficulty.”
“I can get advice like that from my parrot and save the
price of this fish food.”
“Way I hear, Dean is out of town and the Dead Man is
asleep. You being hard up for company, I just wanted you to feel at
home. Crumbs! You try to be a pal.” He grinned a diabolical
dark-elf grin.
“You want to be a pal, find out about Maggie
Jenn.”
His grin dwindled. “Try to be a pal.” He shook his
head.
He would check around because he thought he owed me. And I
agreed. I collect like a loanshark.
“Bed is starting to sound good,” I thought aloud.
“It’s been a hard day.”
Morley grunted. His nephew came to the table. Getting no hint
that he ought to take his big ears elsewhere, he spun a chair
around and straddled it. Around us, Morley’s people, moving
slowly and muttering about their aches and pains, put things
together again. Spud asked, “How is Mr. Big, Mr.
Garrett?”
I cursed.
Morley had sent me the Goddamn Parrot when he was in an Eggwhite
mood. That was far enough out of character that I suspected Sarge
and Puddle had a hand in developing the scam. The bird came
guaranteed to have a major hatred for cats and a habit of attacking
them from above. I accepted him because Dean had a habit of
accumulating strays.
Spud gave me a dirty look. He was the only one in the world with
any use for that foul-mouthed jungle chicken. Make that any love.
The Dead Man had a use. Wherever I went, he could send Mr. Big
after, nagging.
I had tried to give the beast away. There were no takers. I gave
it every chance to fly away. It wouldn’t escape. I was
getting near taking heroic measures. “Spud, you’re so
worried about Mr. Big why don’t you come get him? He needs a
home where he’s appreciated.”
“No, you don’t,” Morley sneered. “That
there is
your
bird, Garrett.”
I scowled. This was a squabble I couldn’t win.
Dotes showed all those pointy teeth again. “I hear some
parrots live a hundred years.”
“Some, maybe. In the wild.” I could donate Mr. Big
to a charity. Like some hungry ratman. “I’m out of
here, friend.”
Morley laughed.
----
----
16
It was dark out. That did not help.
Neither did the fact that I didn’t see them coming. I had
no chance to get ready.
I put up a fight, though. I dented some heads good with the
weighted oak head-buster I carry when I go out. I tossed one guy
through the only glass window in the street. But I just never got
rolling. I had no chance to use the tricks I had stashed up my
sleeves.
Somebody whapped me up side the head with a house. I think it
was a house. Had to be a house. No mere man could hit me that hard.
The lights went out—with me still trying to figure out who
and why.
Ordinarily, I come around slowly if I’ve had my conk
bopped. Not so this time. One minute I was in dreamland, the next I
was bouncing along face downward, wrapped in something soggy,
staring at a floor sliding past inches from my nose. Four guys were
carrying me. I was leaking red stuff. I couldn’t recall
drinking any wine. I had the worst headache anyone ever had since
the dawn of time.
A fine pair of female legs strode along practically in
always kept track of the royals.”
“He won’t be doing anything but whine about his
headache for a week.”
“You in a hurry?”
I wondered. “Maybe not. No apparent jeopardy. Just a
puzzle. Maggie didn’t seem in any hurry, just
worried.”
“You buy the woman’s story?”
I never take a client’s story at face value. Some natural
law compels them to lie part of the time. “Maybe. Some. It
feels like the truth being used for something else.”
“I’ll put out feelers. Meantime, you ought to corner
Winger.”
“That occurred to me.” I didn’t relish trying
to get anything out of her, though. “It’s not an
appetizing idea.”
Morley chuckled. “She’s a handful. The trick is get
her thinking what you want is her idea.”
“Ingenious. How?”
“With great difficulty.”
“I can get advice like that from my parrot and save the
price of this fish food.”
“Way I hear, Dean is out of town and the Dead Man is
asleep. You being hard up for company, I just wanted you to feel at
home. Crumbs! You try to be a pal.” He grinned a diabolical
dark-elf grin.
“You want to be a pal, find out about Maggie
Jenn.”
His grin dwindled. “Try to be a pal.” He shook his
head.
He would check around because he thought he owed me. And I
agreed. I collect like a loanshark.
“Bed is starting to sound good,” I thought aloud.
“It’s been a hard day.”
Morley grunted. His nephew came to the table. Getting no hint
that he ought to take his big ears elsewhere, he spun a chair
around and straddled it. Around us, Morley’s people, moving
slowly and muttering about their aches and pains, put things
together again. Spud asked, “How is Mr. Big, Mr.
Garrett?”
I cursed.
Morley had sent me the Goddamn Parrot when he was in an Eggwhite
mood. That was far enough out of character that I suspected Sarge
and Puddle had a hand in developing the scam. The bird came
guaranteed to have a major hatred for cats and a habit of attacking
them from above. I accepted him because Dean had a habit of
accumulating strays.
Spud gave me a dirty look. He was the only one in the world with
any use for that foul-mouthed jungle chicken. Make that any love.
The Dead Man had a use. Wherever I went, he could send Mr. Big
after, nagging.
I had tried to give the beast away. There were no takers. I gave
it every chance to fly away. It wouldn’t escape. I was
getting near taking heroic measures. “Spud, you’re so
worried about Mr. Big why don’t you come get him? He needs a
home where he’s appreciated.”
“No, you don’t,” Morley sneered. “That
there is
your
bird, Garrett.”
I scowled. This was a squabble I couldn’t win.
Dotes showed all those pointy teeth again. “I hear some
parrots live a hundred years.”
“Some, maybe. In the wild.” I could donate Mr. Big
to a charity. Like some hungry ratman. “I’m out of
here, friend.”
Morley laughed.
----
----
16
It was dark out. That did not help.
Neither did the fact that I didn’t see them coming. I had
no chance to get ready.
I put up a fight, though. I dented some heads good with the
weighted oak head-buster I carry when I go out. I tossed one guy
through the only glass window in the street. But I just never got
rolling. I had no chance to use the tricks I had stashed up my
sleeves.
Somebody whapped me up side the head with a house. I think it
was a house. Had to be a house. No mere man could hit me that hard.
The lights went out—with me still trying to figure out who
and why.
Ordinarily, I come around slowly if I’ve had my conk
bopped. Not so this time. One minute I was in dreamland, the next I
was bouncing along face downward, wrapped in something soggy,
staring at a floor sliding past inches from my nose. Four guys were
carrying me. I was leaking red stuff. I couldn’t recall
drinking any wine. I had the worst headache anyone ever had since
the dawn of time.
A fine pair of female legs strode along practically in
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