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powers and becoming human—and so a beer was just the thing for Dipsophobic Dexter.
    I took a sip. The taste was bitter and thin, just as I would be if I had to keep the Dark Passenger buckled into his seat belt for very long. Still, I suppose beer is an acquired taste. I took another sip. I could feel it gurgle all the way down and splash into my stomach, and it occurred to me that with all the excitement and frustration of the day I hadn’t eaten lunch. But what the hell—it was just a light beer; or as the can proudly proclaimed: LITE BEER . I suppose we should be very grateful they hadn’t thought of a cuter way to spell beer.
    I took a big sip. It wasn’t that bad when you got used to it. By golly, it really WAS relaxing. I, at any rate, felt more relaxed with each swig. Another refreshing sip—I couldn’t remember that it had tasted this good when I’d tried it in college. Of course, I was just a boy then, not the manly mature hardworking upright citizen I was now. I tilted the can, but nothing came out.
    Well—somehow the can was empty. And yet I was still thirsty. Could this unpleasant situation really be tolerated? I thought not. Absolutely intolerable. In fact, I did not plan to tolerate it. I stood up and proceeded to the kitchen in a firm and unyielding manner. There were several more cans of lite beer in the refrigerator and I took one back to the couch.
    I sat. I opened the beer. I took a sip. Much better. Damn that Doakes anyway. Maybe I should take him a beer. It might relax him, get him to loosen up and call the whole thing off. After all, we were on the same side, weren’t we?
    I sipped. Rita came back wearing a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top with a tiny satin bow at the neckline. I had to admit, she looked very nice. I could really pick a disguise. “Well,” she said as she slid onto the couch next to me, “it’s nice to see you, out of the blue like this.”
    “It certainly must be,” I said.
    She cocked her head to one side and looked at me funny. “Did you have a hard day at work?”
    “An awful day,” I said, and took a sip. “Had to let a bad guy go. Very bad guy.”
    “Oh.” She frowned. “Why did—I mean, couldn’t you just . . .”
    “I wanted to just,” I said. “But I couldn’t.” I raised the beer can to her. “Politics.” I took a sip.
    Rita shook her head. “I still can’t get used to the idea that, that—I mean, from the outside it seems so cut-and-dried. You find the bad guy, you put him away. But politics? I mean, with—what did he do?”
    “He helped to kill some kids,” I said.
    “Oh,” she said, and looked shocked. “My God, there must be something you can do.”
    I smiled at her. By gum, she had seen it right away. What a gal. Didn’t I say I could pick ’em? “You have put your finger right on it,” I said, and I took her hand to look at that finger. “There is something I can do. And very well, too.” I patted her hand, spilling only a little bit of beer. “I knew you’d understand.”
    She looked confused. “Oh,” she said. “What kind of—I mean— What will you do?”
    I took a sip. Why shouldn’t I tell her? I could see she already got the idea. Why not? I opened my mouth, but before I could whisper even one syllable about the Dark Passenger and my harmless hobby, Cody and Astor came racing into the room, stopped dead when they saw me, and stood there looking from me to their mother.
    “Hi Dexter,” Astor said. She nudged her brother.
    “Hi,” he said softly. He was not a big talker. In fact, he never said much of anything. Poor kid. The whole thing with his father had really messed him up. “Are you drunk?” he asked me. It was a big speech for him.
    “Cody!” Rita said. I waved her off bravely and faced him.
    “Drunk?” I said. “Me?”
    He nodded. “Yeah.”
    “Certainly not,” I said firmly, giving him my very best dignified frown. “Possibly a little bit tipsy, but that’s not the same thing at