Wicked Bronze Ambition

103

Playmate was fine. He was in his little office with Kolda, playing a simple rummy game that, never mind, I couldn’t figure out by watching. Naturally, once I confessed to that, I was invited to open my purse and buy myself a learning experience. Kolda was hiding out from his wife. Playmate fussed over the dogs and gave them treats they didn’t need. Then we moved on, me still thinking about visiting Strafa.

I shifted course to cut through Prince Guelfo Square, to get me a hot sausage. Franklejean was hard at it selling nothing from under a giant knockoff umbrella built with brighter fabrics than anything in the Amalgamated inventory. He had made it himself. He was unapologetic. Amalgamated wouldn’t produce umbrellas in the size he needed.

“I saw nothing. And nor will I ever-unless you try to sell them.”

“I just don’t want to get rained on while I’m working.”

He had nothing interesting to report. In fact, he pressed me, hoping I had something he would find interesting. I gave up the name Orchidia Hedley-Farfoul. That left him puzzled. He knew nothing about her.

My four-legged girls loved the visit. They piled sausage in on top of Playmate’s treats. Vegetarian boy Dotes, though, could work up no enthusiasm for the pork. He claimed, “You’ll have these mutts too fat to waddle.”

“They’re like bears getting ready for the winter.”

Which was true, in a way. Strays have to devour whatever they can whenever they can get it. Who knew when they might eat again?

“Winter is always around the corner. And, speaking of, what corner will you head around once we’re done here?”

For the moment I lacked any urgency. I had this ever-expanding feeling that what I most wanted right then was a nap. Failing that, I wanted to see Strafa. “I don’t know. I’ve lost my train of thinking. Where were we headed after we checked on Playmate?”

“Here, it looked like, then your place, I thought. Don’t ask me, though. I’m just here to keep the pixies off your back.”

While he let some problem with his sweetie cool down. Or fester.

“I think I’ll go to the cemetery.”

“Or to your house.”

“Dollar Dan will do that once he sees where they take Orchidia. Hell, he’s probably there already.” I hoped Singe would find it in her heart to pretend to show some sympathy. “You can go if you want. Belinda might be waiting.”

“I’ll stay with you. The fact that you haven’t been murdered today doesn’t mean that people who hope to see you dead have given up trying to arrange it.”

I started to argue. Contrary had become the Garrett ground state, it seemed. But my butt, with all its marvelous attachments, would have been well and truly deep in a sling repeatedly if people had given me the room I kept whining about wanting.

I’m overly inclined to think that I am as bad as I want to be bad. That I can handle anything that comes my way. But today had shown me that nastier things than me, by miles, were hoofing it around my town, and the tournament was all about bringing the nastiest ones out.

“Garrett shutting up on the macho teen posturing,” I announced. “If you really want to hang out amongst the headstones.”

“Oh yes. Definitely. I’m all about graveyards. I’m looking forward to being a resident someday myself.”

Sarcasm did not become the pretty boy.

The dogs were worn down, but they agreed with Morley. They would stick to the end. Or at least until they dropped.

So we headed south and west, alternately, block by block, till we hit Old King’s Way, which we followed till it T’d at First Wall Road. Once upon a time that had run along the inner foot of the original southern city wall. The cemetery had lain outside. The wall had been demolished long ago. The cemetery was well inside the city now. The sun was out down there, burning dark orange beneath the edge of the remaining overcast.

Morley indicated the sun. “How long will it be before we get another good look at that beast?”

There was that feel in the air. The break in the weather wouldn’t last.