Red Iron Nights

22

What was this? I'd worked so hard to discourage customers that I didn't get this many visitors in a week anymore. Dean made like he was too snowed in cleaning up, so I took care of it myself.

Hoping for some randy sex goddess, I got Barking Dog Amato. I'd forgotten him completely.

"You forgot all about me, Garrett," he accused, pushing inside, forcing me back with his personal chemistry.

"No," I lied. "I figured you hadn't had time to get anything ready yet."

"Been raining. Not much else to do. Making signs and handbills gets old."

You'd think a drenching would wash the grunge away. Not so. Water just brought it to life. I considered propping the door open, maybe opening a few windows so the wind could blow through. If I'd lived on the Hill, I might have tried it. In my neighborhood you wouldn't dare. Even during a typhoon there would be some opportunist ready to accept the challenge. Besides, I only had one downstairs window.

Once past me, Amato halted, dripped, reeked, looked around. "You got that thing, that whatsit they call the Dead Man. I'd sure like to take a gander at that, you know what I mean?"

I tried shallow breaths. I don't know why we bother. It never helps. "Why not? You're a man he ought to meet." I wished Old Bones had him a working sniffer. I'd lock them in together till Amato sold him his whole zany conspiracy collection.

I opened the Dead Man's door, held it for Amato. Saucerhead, in my chair, half-turned, saw Barking Dog.

His face scrunched up into a world-class frown. He didn't ask, though.

He got a whiff, that's why. He gasped, "I see you got a client I'd better go good-bye," all in one long exhalation. He slid out the door almost before I got through. He tossed me a look that told me he wanted to hear all about it. Later. A lot later, after the miasma cleared.

I winked. "Make sure the front door is closed."

Barking Dog said, "My God, it's an ugly sucker. Got a hooter like a mammoth, don't it?"

Another missionary, Garrett?

"This is Kropotkin Amato. You recall the arrangement we made."

You know what I mean. You still intend to harass me? You will recall that your previous effort met with a singular lack of success.

"Me? No... "

Nor did you bother mentioning any arrangement, though I discern the details in your mind. We did not contract to have the man watch himself.

"We didn't contract anything, Smiley."

Barking Dog looked baffled. I would have too, hearing only half the conversation. I changed subjects. "You can understand why I did it." I didn't want to bruise Amato's feelings. The Dead Man could peek inside his head, see why we didn't have to mount a major campaign.

You are correct, Garrett. This time. However unlikely, he believes his theories. Which, you will understand, make them the reality in which he lives. I suggest you do meet our principal, try to ascertain why he deems it worthwhile to keep tabs on Mr. Amato.

Good morning, Mr. Amato. I have been anxious to make your acquaintance since Mr. Garrett first undertook to trace your movements.

The rat was going to lay it off on me.

"Uh... hi." Barking Dog was at a loss for words. Maybe I ought to check to see if this was really him.

One breath and I knew I didn't have to check. "Look here, Chuckles, don't you go—"

Mr. Amato and I have a great deal to discuss, Garrett. I suggest you visit Mr. Hullar and see if you cannot unearth a reason for his interest.

"Yeah, Garrett. What you been doing, anyhow? You was supposed to... "

I fled, defeated. Would Barking Dog care that I'd neglected him only to save TunFaire from a vicious serial killer? He would be sure they had bought me off. Even though he was the subject I was supposed to investigate for them.

I gave the stairway one longing look, then got into my rain gear. I checked my pockets to see how much cash I had. Maybe I could rent me a room and catch a few winks.

I made a sudden sally into the small front room before I left, thinking I'd snatch Dean's cat and drag it along. But the cat wasn't in evidence, only the scratches it had left on my furniture.

Then I realized that I had nothing to report to Hullar. I trudged back and pried Barking Dog's report away from him. He and the Dead Man were weaving drunken spiderwebs of conspiracy theory already.