"Do." I saw him into the drizzle, then went to find out what the Dead Man thought.

30

"Another thousand marks if I wrap it permanently?"

So the man promised. He delivered before. The Dead Man was pleased with himself for having wangled another cash commitment from Block.

"Occasionally I've complained about the way you—"

Occasionally? Would you not prefer ‘frequently'? Or ‘consistently'? Possibly even ‘persistently' or ‘continuously'?

"Once in a while. Whenever the seven-year locusts sing. But I did want to make the opposite point. That was a coup, getting him to pay again."

He is desperate.

"And desperate times are the best times for those who are alert to opportunity. I understand. What do you think about interviewing Chodo's daughter?"

Morley had invited himself out of my office into the Dead Man's room. Now he invited himself to comment. "This came up before. My overtures were not greeted with cries of joy."

"Leave it to me. I got style. Get word to Crask that I want to talk about the girl. Don't say what girl. He don't know I know who she is."

"I don't get it. How can he not know?... "

"You don't have to get it. Just tell him I want to talk to him about a girl. You don't say which one, he'll know what I mean. Him and me can take it from there."

"You're working an angle, Garrett. You ought to know better. You always get yourself into deep shit. What is it? Don't try anything with the kingpin's kid. You get a notion like that, slash your wrists and save the rest of us some grief."

"What do you think?" I asked the Dead Man.

An interview with the girl may prove unproductive, but an interview is necessary to demonstrate that. If possible, arrange to see her here.

"The very core of my master plan."

You lie. But I do trust your sense of self-preservation will deflect your inclinations.

"I am a mature human being, sir. I do not look upon all members of the opposite sex as objects of desire."

Morley sneered. "Only those over eight and under eighty."'

"You're not helping. Sure, I don't plan to be in bed alone when I go. But I don't plan to go for a couple centuries, either."

Ha. I convinced me. All but one tiny part that wondered what I'd do if Chodo's daughter suffered some miraculous remission and not only became able to see me but decided to whisper sweet nothings... Sometimes even the stoutest-hearted of us white knights find the dictates of reason, conscience, and survival overruled by parts not amenable to the dictates of the mind. There's a sociopath in each of us just waiting to miss the connection between an act and its consequences.

"Right." Morley didn't believe me.

I got the impression the Dead Man didn't either.

My own doubts were less apocalyptic. I'd seen enough of the woman to have become deafened to the sirens of that fantasy. I might snort and stamp, but I wouldn't lose control. She wasn't my type.

We talked about this and that till Morley decided he'd heard enough bad news. He said, "If I'm away too long, Puddle and Sarge and the kid will have me set for the poorhouse."

"Sure. Let's go watch them race the flying pigs." I saw Morley out, rejoined the Dead Man.

What now, Garrett?

"I'm thinking real hard about taking a nap."

Indeed? And what was that Mr. Amato brought? I trust that you do recall that we have another iron in the fire?

"Come on. You want me to drag that mess down to Hullar?"

It occurred to me that doing so might be useful in more than the obvious way. When you deliver the report, invest a few minutes in trying to learn if anyone knows why the Contague woman turned up there.

"I did wonder about that."

But you were not ambitious enough to pursue it. You really must make TNT your motto, Garrett.

"TNT?"

Today, Not Tomorrow. Take it from an expert. The only thing one should defer is one's final appointment with Death.

Hang around with the Dead Man long enough and you can read him well enough to get messages that aren't in his words. What he hadn't said but meant was that if I didn't go make myself a nuisance at Hullar's place, I wouldn't get any peace at home.

You compromise. That's life. Every day you make deals that buy you peace—or an opportunity for a good night's sleep.

I decided the path of least resistance lay through Bishoff Hullar's taxi-dance place.

31

Crunch and I were getting to be buddies. After only five minutes of squinting and thinking he remembered that I preferred beer. That saved him one question in his routine. I saved him the others by asking for a pint of Weider's pale lager, then told him, "Tell Hullar Garrett's here."

"Garrett. Right." He tiptoed away. I waited for his feet and beard to disagree. No such luck. That dwarf defied the laws of nature.

He took a while. I sipped beer and surveyed the place. I'd never seen it so busy. It was jumping. Three couples were dancing while the band snored through something I might have recognized had it been played by real musicians. Three tables boasted customers. There wasn't a girl left over to hustle me—though by now they had me pegged for a waste. They remembered better than Crunch did.

One of the girls caught my eye. She was new. She had some life left. And she was a great actress—unless she really was having a good time. She was younger than the rest, an attractive brunette who looked enough like the brunette I'd seen earlier to cool my fantasies.

"Be out in a minute," Crunch said behind me. I'd turned to lean against the bar while I studied the local wildlife. I glanced over my shoulder. Crunch looked back, puzzled. He didn't understand what was going on. He had an idea I was a bagman for the outfit, only I made deliveries instead of collections.

I'd caught him on a real good day first time around. Most of the time he was like this. Puzzled. By everything.

"Who's the brunette there, Crunch?"

He squinted, had trouble making her out. He fumbled out a pair of cheaters, perched them on his nose, pushed them back with a finger like a dried-out potato. I was surprised. Glasses are expensive. "That there's the new girl, mister."

Right. "Come with a name?" Her or me?

He puzzled it but didn't come up with anything before Hullar descended on the stool beside me, his back to the bar too. He accepted a mug from Crunch. "It don't get no better than this, Garrett."

I glanced his way. I read no more from his expression than from his tone. Was he saying this was heaven on earth? Was he stating a fact about business? Was he being sarcastic? Maybe he didn't know himself.

I handed him Barking Dog's latest.

"Shit. Don't you got nothing else to do? All I want to know is, is the crazy bastard getting his tit in a wringer? I don't need to know every time he picks his nose."

A point I kept trying to get across to Barking Dog. I said, "First time I dropped in here, Crask was here."

"Crask?" Wary, suddenly.

"Crask. Like from the outfit. He was talking to the musicians."

"If you say so. I don't remember."

He remembered fine. Else he wouldn't have so much trouble with his memory. "A girl walked in just as I was going to leave. She headed for Crunch like she had something on her mind, only she spotted Crask and suddenly hightailed it."

"If you say so. I don't remember none of that."

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Nothing." He was real definite about that. So definite it was a cinch I'd be beating my head against a wall if I kept after him. I've used my noggin to dent a few walls in my time. All that banging has taught me how to tell when it's going to be the head and not the wall that gets broken.