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a little past catching honeys. As a second
choice it didn’t sound bad.
    “How about
tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow it’s back to the old grind. Unless
it’s raining. Then I’ll stay in and make the
acquaintance of another bottle.”
    I got up. “Let’s walk over where you live, then. Get
you tucked in. Then I’ll see this Hullar clown, find out
what’s shaking.” Nobody likes being made a
fool—and I was developing the sneaking suspicion I’d
done it to myself. I should’ve asked more questions when I
was talking to the Dead Man.
    I decided to start with him, work my way back to Bishoff
Hullar.
     
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7
    Dean let me in. “What in the world are you doing
home?” He hoisted his nose at the dripping I did.
    “Need to consult the genius.” I pushed past but hung
a surprise left into the small front room. Huh. No cat. No sign of
a cat. But I smelled it.
    Dean shuffled from foot to foot. I gave him my most evil look,
pretended to twist a neck to the accompaniment of dramatic noises.
I headed for the Dead Man’s room.
    He was pretending to sleep.
    I knew he wasn’t. He wouldn’t nod off before he
heard the latest from the Cantard. He was obsessed with Glory
Mooncalled and expected news of the republican general’s
adventures momentarily.
    I went inside anyway. Dean hustled in with a raggedy blanket he
tossed over my chair so it wouldn’t get wet. I settled,
stared at the Dead Man, said, “That’s a pity, him
drifting off just when we finally hear something from the war zone.
Make me a quick cup of tea before I hit the street
again.”
    What news from the Cantard? . . . You
are a treacherous beast, Garrett.
    “The treacherousest. As bad as the kind of guy who’d
send you out to follow a nut case as a joke.”
    Joke?
    “You can come clean. I won’t hold a grudge.
I’ll even admit it was a good one. You had me out there for
hours before I figured it out.”
    I hate to disappoint you, Garrett, but the fact is we
have
been hired to report the movements of Barking Dog Amato.
The client paid a fifty-mark retainer.
    “Come on. I admitted it was a good one. Let up.”
    It is true, Garrett. Though now, seeing the thoughts and
reservations and questions rambling across the surface of your
mind, I grow curious myself. I wonder if I, too, have not been the
victim of an elaborate hoax.
    “Somebody
really
paid fifty marks to have Amato
watched?”
    There would be nothing under my chair otherwise.
    I was sure he wouldn’t take a joke that far. “You
didn’t ask questions?”
    No. Not the questions you wish I had. Had I known what a
Barking Dog Amato was, I would have asked them.
    Somebody had begun pounding on the front door. Dean, apparently,
was too busy to be bothered. “Wait a minute.”
    I looked through the peephole first. I’d learned the hard
way. I saw two women. One was hugging herself, shivering. Neither
seemed to enjoy the weather.
    I opened up. “Can I help you ladies?”
    I used “ladies” poetically. The younger had twenty
years on me. Both were squeaky clean and wore their finest, but
their finest was threadbare and years out of style. They were gaunt
and threadbare themselves. One had a trace of nonhuman blood.
    Both put on nervous smiles, as though I’d startled them by
being something they didn’t expect. The younger screwed up
her courage. “Are you saved, brother?”
    “Huh?”
    “Have you been born again? Have you accepted Mississa as
your personal savior?”
    “Huh?” I didn’t have the foggiest what the
hell was going on. I didn’t even realize they were talking
religion. That doesn’t play much part in my life. I ignore
all the thousand gods whose cults plague TunFaire. So far
I’ve seldom been disappointed in my hope that the gods will
ignore me.
    Apparently my not slamming the door was great encouragement.
Both women started chattering. Being a naturally polite sort of
guy, I halfway listened till I got the drift. Then I grinned,
inspired. “Come in! Come in!” I