Cruel Zinc Melodies

48

The Dead Man opened with an oblique, snide observation about pigeons coming home to roost. Singe helped me out of my wet things. She hustled the loaner coat into the kitchen for a drying session. Meanwhile, I nearly panicked, thinking Old Bones had found him a way to get the Goddamn Parrot back.

He was just being a pain.

We will access the library another way. Do we know a respected member of the community who owes us a favor?

‘‘And can read? No. People like that try to stay away from people like us.’’

Unless they go into business with us. Surely, there are those who might be induced. He offered suggestions, including Max Weider, Manvil Gilbey, even Tinnie Tate.

‘‘Tinnie? You looking to start a war?’’

I doubt there would be problems. What competition there may have been is over. I expect Miss Tate and the other woman would spend an afternoon amusing themselves by trading war stories. Or horror stories, as the mood demanded.

That was worth being nervous about.

Go to the World. See what Mr. Tharpe has to report. Ask Miss Winger to come see me.

‘‘What do you want with her?’’

Nothing. As I mentioned recently, I can use her shadow. Who will not come if he knows he is the object of my interest.

‘‘The Remora?’’ I’d thought he was just making mental bathroom noises. Jon Salvation was a standout among the dozen most useless human beings I’d ever met.

Indeed.

I shook my head. No more questions. He might give me answers I didn’t want to hear.

I will want Cypres Prose, too.

Had he mentioned that before? Maybe when I was more focused on beer? My mind wasn’t at peak today.

Or most any other day, inasmuch as you refuse to exerciseit.

‘‘Use it or lose it.’’ See. Mind at half speed. Handing him a straight line like that.

Of late, he’s made a habit of ignoring these opportunities. Leaving me to stew in my own humiliation.

I did not mention Kip Prose before. Perhaps your undermindis engaged even while the rest lies fallow.

It could happen. ‘‘If I run into him. If he’s willing to come back.’’ I reminded him, ‘‘He has been here before.’’

Yes. And I may have missed something important.

Oh, it pained him to confess. Especially when I observed, ‘‘Hubris.’’

Close.

He was irked with himself. He had gotten sloppy. Too full of himself, and sloppy.

Garrett!

Though you could not have pried it out of him with a giant’s crowbar.

I heard the front door open and shut. ‘‘Where is Singe going?’’

Miss Pular is on a mission.

‘‘And Penny Dreadful? I saw her hanging around out there.’’

She had a report. And hoped I would have more work for her. Likewise, Joe Kerr and his countless siblings.

Uh-oh. It’s not good when he starts playing general and king spider tugging strings from the heart of his web. He has too much fun. And I get scared. And too soon penniless.

Web-spinners are, generally, female. And the brewery is underwriting expenses.

‘‘There are limits, even for Max Weider. Who has a nose for financial bullshit better than Singe’s for a track. What about Barate Algarda? Did you get anything out of him?’’

Embarrassed pause.No. I was unable to gain control. His protection was stronger than before.

‘‘That’s kind of scary.’’ I told him about seeing the pear-shaped boy asleep on the steps of the Cardonlos mansion.

That is odd.

‘‘For a while I was thinking he might be on Relway’s payroll. But that wouldn’t make sense. If he was he wouldn’t be out where people could see him. So I figure he didn’t know where he was when he sat down.’’

Dean appeared. He brought a fine meal. I know that because Dean cooked it. But I was too distracted to enjoy it. I don’t recall what it was. He told me, ‘‘I’ve packed something for you to take along. Since you’ll be out late. Your coat is almost dry.’’

I suffered a fleeting inclination to visit my old-time haunts. Get a take on the pulse of the city today. Very fleeting. I ate. I listened to the Dead Man wax eloquent on the possibilities inherent in a rumor that Dean had stumbled over during a shopping run he hade made while I was off enjoying a lesson in humility.

Glory Mooncalled may be back.

That would have nothing to do with what we were into today. That was excitement from the past. Interesting to the fans of Glory Mooncalled, but, no way. ‘‘Anyone who claims he’s Glory Mooncalled is an impostor.’’

You think so? Is he really gone? He is a folk hero. A lovable rogue. The man who steals from everybody and gives to himself, but the poor and weak just see him thumbinghis nose at the rich and powerful.

‘‘Dean’s imagination is overwrought. I’ll believe it when I see it. Whatever the story is. What does it have to do with what we’re into?’’

Nothing. As you reflected, just a bit of news that might someday prove interesting to his many aficionados.

Not just women but whole societies sometimes love the bad boys.