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interesting, Mr. Bailey. I have something of a knack for that, myself--as you've no doubt heard. You will give the possibility of an alliance your keenest consideration, won't you?"
    Jack was relieved when Chase doffed his hat to Esther and strode out. Ned had something of a problem following; namely a normally docile croc snapping at his trouser cuffs.
    Jack gave up trying to contain a grin. "I think he likes you, Captain Hook."
    Ned glared at him. "Call it off. Call it off or I'll turn it into a pair of shoes." He reached under his coat, but Ox lurched at him and grabbed his wrist. Ned tried in vain to twist free. "Jesus, all right, all right. Let me go. I ain't shooting the damned thing."
    Ox gave him a push in the direction of the door and Ned kept walking. "Crocs and gorillas. You got a goddamned zoo in here." He tugged down his rumpled vest and smoothed his sleek head with the heel of his hand. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
    The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass. Esther burst out laughing and Ox and Harry joined in, Harry wheezing on cigar smoke. For one perfect moment, life felt honest-to-God normal again. Jack held on to the feeling, wanting to keep it. Maybe the first few months back had been bad, but Harry had looked after him with the ferocious devotion of a parent and Es was always sympathetic and Ox, who'd lost his own mother, carried a share of the grief. And then there was the damned crocodile, half-blind and older than Methuselah, that they hadn't yet found a home for. If that wasn't enough to make a fellow feel closer to sane, nothing could.
    Jack handed Ox a broom. "Here, scoot him out before any real customers show up."
    Ox obliged, tapping on Woodrow's tail to keep him moving toward the back. When they were out of sight, Esther threw up her hands in disgust. "He ain't afraid of a crocodile, oh, no. All teeth and claws, could eat him up if it took the notion, but that don't bother him at all." She muttered as she threw the leftovers into the basket, pushed a sandwich into Harry's hand, and stalked out with all the dignity of a woman fed up with being scorned.
    Harry shrugged and made himself comfortable in the armchair, propping his feet on the piano bench. "Roast beef, done to perfection. Ox must be out of his mind."
    "I'm starting to think I am, too," Jack said. "Ox--he can't really play so well, can he?"
    "He stinks," Harry said around a mouthful of sandwich.
    "Come on, Harry, reconsider, will you? Playing on the radio, it could make you famous."
    "I like my anonymity, thanks. Anyway, I don't play any better than Ox. Especially with a whole lot of people listening--" He grimaced. "You think war's bad? You ain't lived in real terror till your mother drags your eight-year-old ass to the piano to pound out something for all the neighbors at the tea party. Never again," he said, stabbing the air with his sandwich for emphasis. "Not while I can do sums, anyway. So you'd better keep Ox practicing what music we've got or your radio show's going nowhere."
    Nowhere was where the practice session went, though Ox did his best. Jack could tell by his morose face that he would rather have been uncrating deliveries or in the yard, feeding Woody chicken scraps. Another practice late in the day did no better and a frazzled Harry shut himself in the office to soothe his soul with a little bookkeeping. Jack swept out the store--not that it needed much with the lack of traffic--and turned the small handful of cash from the register over to Harry. "Any chance of that phonograph?"
    Harry brightened, but not enough to raise Jack's hopes. "Mr. Rosen's got one, all right, but it's busted."
    "Will he let me take a look at it?"
    The corners of Harry's mouth curled up. "He said if you can fix it, you can borrow it as long as you need. He's got about half a dozen records, though."
    "It's a start."
    Before closing for the night, Jack enlisted Ox to walk with him to Rosen's Second-Hand Furniture to pick up the phonograph. It