Wicked Bronze Ambition

38

Elwood and Leon didn’t get the borrowed tailors back to Flubber Ducky before we returned there ourselves. That business was plugging along without them or us.

“Guess that makes sense. They had farther to go than we did.”

On the other hand, though, the Dead Man could manage his interviews faster. He didn’t have to work out who was lying and why.

Trivias had put on a great show of cooperation, but I was not convinced of its sincerity. I should get Trivias together with the Dead Man.

“You’re thinking again!” Belinda snapped. She had begun to limp. We were headed toward Macunado Street, to meet her coach in transit. Her footwear remained inappropriate for hiking. “Why is it so hard to pay attention?”

A damned good question. “A damned good question. I don’t know. I just wonder about something and suddenly everything else goes out of my head.”

“It worries me. It can’t be healthy.”

No kidding. Intellectually, I knew with absolute conviction that distraction could get me killed. A lot of things could, at the best of times, but most lethal stuff can be ducked if you pay attention.

I confessed, “It scares hell out of me sometimes, getting lost inside my head trying to figure out why I keep getting lost inside my head.”

Belinda cursed her shoes, then said, “I’d rather not lose you, Garrett. You’re precious.” Which earned her an odd look from the nearest bodyguard.

She didn’t mean that the way it sounded. That was all a long time ago. But she did count on me as an emotional and moral resource.

“I know. I’m precious to me, too.”

“Can it be because you can’t get your head out of the hole left when Strafa went down?”

“Probably, but that can’t be the whole story. It was a problem before.”

“But not so big till the last few days.”

“Yeah.” And I went away-till she hammered me on the right biceps. “Damn! You got a vicious punch, girl.”

She scowled.

“You’re right. It’s worse lately. Maybe the Dead Man can straighten me out.”

“Maybe he can fix you so you’ll help yourself stay alive.”

“Maybe.” That was worth consideration. . “Ow!”

She hammered me again. “I just had an idea.” She looked downright evil.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it is. Especially for wiseasses. But you’ll thank me later. Assuming you live. Assuming I don’t kill you myself.”

Some people don’t get my sense of humor.

This Belinda reminded me of Mom and a covey of aunts, mostly related by friendship instead of blood, who had rejoiced in doing stuff for my own good when I was a kid.

I couldn’t resent Mikey in that area. He’d gotten it worse than I did.

Punch!

“That’s going to leave a bruise!” She had hit me in the same spot.

“Good. It’ll be a reminder. Meanwhile, nap time is over. Here come Elwood and Leon.”

The Contague coach rolled up. Belinda yakked it up with her brunos. Me and Brownie and the girls roamed the immediate neighborhood, staying inside rock-chucking distance. Good on me, I was alert the whole time.

A whiff of Lurking Fehlske helped my concentration.

Brownie pawed at her sensitive nose, trying to make it stop.

Belinda finished. Her coach rolled on. It had to make a delivery to Flubber Ducky. I rejoined her, suggested that Tribune Fehlske might not be the only watcher. A couple of clever loiterers, dressed too well to be homeless, felt like Civil Guard Specials. Then there was a woman, I think in brown, only glimpsed in the corner of my eye, come and gone so suddenly I couldn’t tell anything. Old Bones could work on that. Even her sex was just an assumption. She’d been done up in old-woman dress.

I’d never done a job as a girl, snarky accusations on the part of the jealous aside, but it was a traditional, respected false-flag ploy.

“Do I have to slug you again?”

“I’m awake, Mom. I’m on the job. We’re being watched. Tracked.”

“I’m not surprised. Let’s hope they don’t work for your Operators.”

“Crap! That wouldn’t be good.”

“It wouldn’t. I’ll make adjustments once Elwood gets back from dumping those poofs.”

I grunted, checked Brownie, wasted a second on wishing that she and hers were pliable dire wolves. I could have them go round up. . Right. How would I deliver my instructions? I don’t speak fluent dog even after several quarts of beer.

Punch!

That arm was going to be useless if I had to defend myself.