Cruel Zinc Melodies

58

Morley Dotes invited himself in to tour the monster destined to be the talk of high society. My first hint of his presence was him saying, ‘‘I’m impressed, Garrett.’’

Startled, I stopped watching Rocky crunch bugs. The midget troll wasn’t fast but didn’t have to be. He’d found the hole that the biggest insects used to get into the cellar. He let them come to him. The rats had gone down by lesser ways and were driving the bugs toward him.

Morley twitched as I turned. A ghost had bumped him from behind. He looked back, didn’t see anything, but twitched again when the ghost touched him again.

Interesting. I hadn’t seen a ghost touch anyone before.

‘‘What the devil?’’ Morley said. ‘‘You have practical joke spells floating around in here?’’

‘‘No joke.’’ I explained. ‘‘You really don’t see anything?’’

‘‘No. But I feel it. It’s like being touched by cold, wet hands.’’ He twitched, turned quickly. Several times.

‘‘We need to get you out of here. You’re drawing them like you might be good to eat.’’ Six were in touching distance. The rest were drifting our way.

The Dead Man should find that interesting.

We ran into Belle Chimes at the door. He didn’t recognize Morley. Nor Morley, him, either. I didn’t bother with introductions. I told Bill my best friend seemed to attract ghosts but couldn’t see them.

‘‘He might be psychic,’’ Bill suggested. ‘‘Which would make him more obvious to them than the rest of you are.’’

‘‘Why can’t he see them?’’

Bill shrugged. ‘‘Garrett, I’m just a guy who lives over top of a third-rate bar.’’

«But …»

‘‘Not my field of expertise. What’s his problem?’’ He pointed.

I looked.

Morley hadn’t stopped twitching just because we’d gone outside.

‘‘The spooks came out with him. A couple of them.’’ By squinting, cocking my head, and looking slightly to one side, I could detect them. But they were fading. ‘‘Morley. Scoot your ass on across the street. See if they can stay with you.’’

My best pal said unflattering things. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t like it. But he did what I said.

‘‘Try getting into shadows,’’ I told him. ‘‘The spooks are easier to spot when they’re not in the light.’’

‘‘They’re gone.’’ He’d moved only a few steps into the street.

‘‘You sure? How do you know?’’

‘‘I know because there’s nobody painting me with cold porridge fingers anymore.’’ He came toward me, a step at a time. And defined the range of the spooks in seconds. ‘‘Three steps make all the difference.’’

I wasn’t happy. I’d just found out that the ghosts could come outside a good ten yards. Would their range increase again tomorrow?

About the time Saucerhead was set to christen his sudden new guard shack, we discovered that Morley’s escape marked a supernatural high water. The ghosts’ range dwindled fast, afterward. Possibly because of the chill winter air flooding the World.

John Stretch told me, ‘‘We do not like this cold. But the rats definitely like what it is doing to the bugs down under.’’

‘‘Good?’’

‘‘Good. This time we may get them all.’’

‘‘You’ll need to find their eggs,’’ Belle Chimes told us. ‘‘Otherwise they’ll just keep coming.’’

‘‘That’s true,’’ I said. And thought about the Grinblatts.

I’d heard nothing from the dwarves.

I worried. There should’ve been something, if only a ‘‘Screw you very much!’’ ‘‘Hey, Rocky. I’ve got a mission for you.’’

‘‘More fun than squashing bugs?’’ His outside was covered with insect insides.

‘‘I can’t tell you a lie. No. It could even turn unpleasant. I’ve got some dwarves that might’ve got themselves into a tight spot.’’

Troll faces aren’t especially expressive. But Rocky managed to betray his thoughts without saying that tight spots are right where dwarves belong. The tighter the better. A pine box, eight feet down, being ideal. Or maybe farther than that, just to be sure they didn’t claw their way out.

‘‘They love you, too. We’ll make it a compromise. You go check, see if they’re all right. That’s all you got to do. Just come back and tell me. Anything that needs doing I’ll take care of myself.’’

Rocky glowered. Volcanic rumbles started up inside him. Digestive distress? I hoped.

‘‘And all this will pay exactly the same as having fun. Right?’’

‘‘Exactly.’’ I wasn’t going to hand out a bonus because an employee did what he was told. ‘‘Come on.’’

I took Rocky to the abandoned house. I explained again. Rocky grunted, muttered something about if a man wanted a job done he ought to have the stones—snicker —to get in there and do it his own self.

He didn’t understand. I was management. Management don’t get its hands dirty. Management concentrates on making conflicting decisions and issuing orders with no obvious rationale behind them.

I’d make a fine manager. I had the example of my partner to emulate.

Rocky was gone long enough to get me worrying. But he did turn up eventually.

‘‘Your dwarves ain’t lost. You’re wasting your time worrying about them.’’

‘‘Why’s that? And what took so long?’’

‘‘It takes a troll time to sneak, Garrett. And I didn’t want them to know I was listening.’’

‘‘Tell me.’’ I sensed a disappointment coming on.

‘‘They were talking about how to fix things up after they move in. And how to clean out the mess. And where they could sell some of the stuff that’s lying around down there.’’

‘‘What kind of stuff?’’ Evidently they’d had no trouble with the stuff that had frightened me. But, then, Kip and the kids had had plenty of time to change the whole lay of the underground land.

‘‘Glassware. All kinds. And funny tools. And stuff.’’

I muttered. I grumbled. I groaned. That would be the Faction’s laboratory stuff.

Belle or Saucerhead or somebody had suggested, in passing, flooding the down below. I spent a few seconds wondering about how I could get the water.

There would be difficulties. The neighbors would be disgruntled. And wouldn’t be understanding. Unless they had unwanted big-ass bugs in their own secret basements.

Reassured about the Grinblatts, I went back inside the World. Rocky filled me in on what he’d overheard as we walked.

Rindt Grinblatt had talked himself into thinking that he’d stumbled across the pot at the end.

Friend Rindt was due some disappointment.