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foreign lipstick as I headed back toward the freshly painted red house by the cabstand and the labyrinth of streets beyond it. I figured Darla and Gertriss would be back by the time I got to the dress shop, which would leave me about three hours to deposit Gertriss back with Mama and get ready for dinner with Darla.
    I decided that after I got the finely dressed Gertriss tucked safely away I’d make one more stop before calling it a day. I hadn’t seen Evis in nearly a week, and it was my turn to show up on his stoop. And while I’d never seen much in the way of paintings adorning the dark wood walls of House Avalante, Evis or one of his staff might know more about what happened to Lady Werewilk’s late fiancé than even the knowledgeable Mrs. Hemp.
    I briefly considered taking Gertriss along to Avalante. She’d need to meet Evis sooner or later, if she was going to work for me. And that was just the kind of needling I thought Mama needed. But then I made a rough estimate of the pitch, volume and duration of the screeching Mama was likely to emit in the wake of such a visit, and I decided to put off any visits to halfdead Houses until they were absolutely necessary.
    I backtracked, using the Big Bell’s spire for reference, and made it back to Darla’s right on time, and a full half an hour before the girls did.
    Gertriss was radiant. She’d had a manicure, a pedicure and tutelage in eye makeup, and I swear she was already losing the farm-girl stomp and barnyard voice.
    Darla saw it too. “She’ll never go back to the pig-pens,” she whispered, as Mary and Gertriss giggled and chirped in front of a tall mirror.
    “Not dressed like that,” I agreed, chuckling. “Mama is going to have a spitting fit.”
    “Seven o’clock sharp,” said Darla. “I’ll be here. Someone put me behind in my work today.”
    “Seven sharp,” I said. We stole a kiss, and I got Gertriss out of there before she bought anything else.
     
    Visiting my halfdead friend Evis is a little more complicated than just walking up and knocking.
    House Avalante is monstrous. I often wondered how long it would take me to jog around the thing, even if fences and gardeners and butlers would allow it. And that’s just the five stories above the ground—most of Avalante is well below that, and even though I’m privy to Evis and his inner sanctum I’ve never seen the bottom of the subterranean House.
    I make sure I wear my Avalante pin, and even then I introduce myself a half a dozen times to a half a dozen blank-faced minions. They know me by now, but the questions and the hard looks never change. I’m frisked for weapons, I’m told to sit and wait, once I even brought a bag with an apple and two sandwiches, and they searched that too.
    Evis always apologizes, and I always shrug it off—my reception at most of the other halfdead Houses would be far worse, and would most likely culminate in unpleasantness of the fatal variety. So being patted down for knives or siege-engines doesn’t upset me too much.
    Evis was sleepy-eyed and yawning that afternoon, and by his standards, he was hardly dressed—his jacket was unbuttoned, his shirt was wrinkled and his tie was draped across the back of his chair.
    “Long night?” I asked, settling back into his luxurious leather reclining chair.
    “Annual House financial meeting,” said Evis, with a toothy yawn. “Takes forever. Boredom would have killed me, if I weren’t already dead. Cigar?”
    “Certainly,” I said. Evis grinned and produced a pair of Southlands, and we cut and lit and puffed.
    “I doubled my staff today,” I said, once we got the stogies going and the brandy decanted. Evis lifted an eyebrow and chuckled.
    “Did Three-leg Cat take a wife?” he asked.
    I explained about Gertriss and Mama. Evis guffawed and grinned throughout.
    “You’re a soft touch, Markhat,” he said. “Mama’s got you wrapped around her little finger, and you know it.”
    I nodded. It’s never wise to