Winchell never got his eyes uncrossed. The boys from the street came in and helped close him down. They tied and gagged him, and most of the excitement was over. He looked small and old now, like the curse was turning him into the old green-eye who'd started it all at Morley's.

Then Belinda was all over me.

Past her I saw Barking Dog buttonhole Hullar.

It was a while before the excitement faded. Block arrived. He circled Winchell smugly. I told him, "You let him get away again, I'm personally going to drop you in the river with a reminder boulder tied to your toe."

"Relway. Get him sacked up and celled up. And don't let that gag slip." Winchell looked spooky enough with his eyes glowing. Grinning, Block bragged, "Won't be no mistakes this time, Garrett. This's our future here. We're gonna be careful. We're gonna wall him up in the cell I let Crask stew in. Prince Rupert is gonna send for the wizard help we need soon as he knows we got him."

I grumbled, hinting that I might be less than confident about the competence of a certain prince and his Watch.

"You got any bright ideas?"

"Yeah. I got a real special one."

"So?"

"I go hit the sack. You want anything else, come bug the Dead Man. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow afternoon," Belinda said. "Garrett's going to have to get some sleep too."

"Huh?" Us investigators have minds like steel traps. "Too?"

She winked. "I might let you catch a nap. If you're a good boy."

"Oh." Block had gotten it before I did. I was suitably chastened.

Meantime, Barking Dog was in full cry. He had Hullar and Crunch both confused and on the run.

57

I was further chastened by fate's unrelenting efforts to keep me chaste.

Winchell had had a strong suspicion he was headed into a trap. The curse had compelled him to go anyway but had permitted him some latitude in preparation. It was smart enough to allow its steed its head when that was appropriate.

I hit Macunado Street with visions of a wild night dancing in my head—and found my front door shattered. Dean lay in the hall about halfway dead, his stray curled inside the curve of what looked like a broken arm, crying. Belinda said, "I'll look after Dean. You find out what happened."

I opened wide but sensed nothing from the Dead Man. That scared me. Only once before had the villains gotten in, and then they'd gotten only a few feet. The Dead Man turned would-be intruders into living statues—usually while they were still in the street. Here there was no evidence he'd been able to do anything. The invader (or invaders) had hiked straight from the entrance to the stairs.

Had the Dead Man finally taken that long last step across to the other shore? I got no sense of his presence.

"Go on!" Belinda snapped.

"Be careful." I edged forward, my heart in my throat. I'm not ashamed to admit I was scared. This had the same feel I recalled going into the worst raids we pulled back when I was one of Karenta's brave young Marines. I crept along the wall to the Dead Man's door, nudged it open.

I whirled inside, ready for anything.

Nobody there but my partner.

He looked unchanged, but there was a difference. I felt a tension unlike any I'd encountered before. I sensed that he was safe and awake but way too focused to spare me a thought.

Which meant the trouble was still in the house. And he was a nightmare.

Upstairs. He had to be upstairs. Candy was upstairs.

But we already had Winchell...

I felt for the Dead Man, seeking confirmation. He did not respond. Of course.

"Whoever did it is still here," I told Belinda. "And he's so strong he's fought the Dead Man to a standstill. I think he's after Candy. I'm going after him. But I'm afraid if I go upstairs he won't be there. He'll grab you and take off."

"So check down here first." She was calm and practical. Maybe it was hereditary.

"I guess Old Bones can hold out a few minutes more."

"Nothing in here," Belinda said, having entered the kitchen boldly. "And the cellar door is locked from this side."

A shriek came from above, from Candy's room in Candy's voice. "Could be bait." Something thumped the floor. It sounded like a body falling. Belinda grabbed my arm. I asked, "You reckon it's a trap?"

"Garrett!"

"Right. This is no time to make light." Tell me a better time.

I told me to pretend I was Morley Dotes. This might be a job that called for Morley's legendary cool. If my honey didn't just have a guy up to play... Morley's cool. I was tempted to send out for it. Only...

Only what the hell was going on here? I did my part. I got Winchell sewn up and delivered. It was time to collect my reward and ride off into the sunset. What was all this mess?

My office was clean. I traded looks with Eleanor. That calmed me. It reminded me that I'd gotten through bad times before, that calm was my most potent weapon. "A little reason would help too, sweetheart."

The small front room contained nothing but an odor cat haters know well. "You little shit. You blew it."

I jammed my rain hat onto my head, set course for the kitchen. I banged around in there till I found the cheesecloth Dean bought the time he had a blue-sky idea about saving money by making his own cheese. I told him: did I want to cut financial corners, I'd do without a housekeeper. Anyway, to date we were out the cost of cheesecloth without no cheese to show. I hacked off a few yards, folded the cloth over my rain hat, and tucked the edges under my collar, front and back.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Beekeeper trick. You might want to try it yourself."

"You're insane, Garrett." But she followed my example. She even made herself crude mittens.

I dug through drawers and poked into closets till I found my sulfur candles. "Try not to breathe the fumes once I light these things. They'll knock you on your ass."

Belinda shook her head, muttered obscenities, but went along. "You're completely paranoid. You know that, don't you?"

"I have been ever since I found out they were out to get me. Anyway, I couldn't stand it if you was to get butchered now."

"You're a born romantic too."

"That's me. The man of a thousand faces." All this was punctuated by repeated thumps and yells from above. Then the yelling stopped. The silence seemed particularly ominous.

"I think you better get on your horse, Garrett."

"Yeah." I checked Dean. He was doing as well as could be hoped. He had his hairball buddy to look out for him. I wished we had time to send out for reinforcements, but the silence upstairs told me I was all out of time. "White knight to the rescue. Well, it was white back before the rust set in."

"Let's do it, Garrett."

No style, this one. But one hell of a set of legs.