"If it's a question of money-something extra?"

"I'm sorry." A firm shake of the head. "You'll have to try somewhere else."

"I was counting on this place."

"There are plenty of others. There's nothing special about the Southern Manor."

You got that right, thought Snake. What do I do now, pitch a tent in the street? The time frame starts tomorrow.

The front doorbell rang, and the landlady went to answer it. Snake caught a glimpse of a heavy-set woman standing on the porch. Mrs. Costigan said, "Morning, Ellen, right on time."

"You know me, like clockwork," said the woman. "How about this weather?"

"Pressure cooker."

"And it's gonna get worse." The woman came in, and disappeared down a hallway.

"Ellen Coombs, county nurse," Mrs. Costigan explained to Snake. "Comes by every day to see to Mr. Teague."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing wrong with the man except he's got the disposition of a junkyard dog. Believe me, I know, I was a nurse once, myself. And not any country nurse, either. I was an R.N. in a hospital, Buffalo General up north. Trained at St. Mary's."

Snake tried to look admiring. "If there's nothing wrong with him, why does he need a nurse?"

"It's just that he can't move around anymore, bedbound they call it. Stays in his room all day and all night. Ellen comes by to make sure he's clean and cared for. I could do it myself, but my nursing days are over.

"Sounds like he belongs in a nursing home."

"That's what they say, but he won't have it. Stubborn old goat, he says this is his home, and this is where he stays." She added proudly. "That's what I mean about my people. Real loyal."

"Bertha?" The nurse poked her head out of the hallway. "I have to shift his bed today. Can you get someone to give me a hand?"

"Hold on for a minute." The nurse's head vanished, and Mrs. Costigan said with quiet contempt, "County people. That woman doesn't know what real nursing is. Can't even move a bed by herself."

"Can I help?" asked Snake.

"Bless you, no. I'll get Barney." She went to the foot of the stairs, and called up, "Barney? Barney, you up there? Ellen needs some help."

There was the sound of a door opening, and a voice called, "Be right there."

A young man came scampering down the stairs. He wore only shorts and sandals. His torso was a muscular V, and his skin glistened. He looked as if he worked out daily. When he saw Snake, he flashed a smile at her. To Mrs. Costigan, he said, "What's up, Mom?"

"Ellen needs a hand with Mr. Teague. Would you mind?"

"Sure thing." He looked at Snake with interest. "Hi, you just visiting, or are you moving in?"

"I wanted to move in, but there's no room."

"I told her," said Mrs. Costigan. "I'd be pleased to have her, but there you are."

"Too bad." Krill was still showing teeth. "You'd be an adornment around here."

Mrs. Cotigan said, "Barney?"

"Right." He winked at Snake. "This place would fall apart without me." He went down the hall.

"Always willing to help," said Mrs. Costigan. "Not like some these days."

"Your son?"

"Lord, no, that's Barney Krill, one of the roomers. He just calls me Mom, that's his way. Well, if there's nothing else I can do for you…" Her voice trailed off, waiting.

Snake nodded, and said goodby. She went out on the porch and stood there, trying to figure her next move. The door opened behind her, and Barney came out. He stood next to her. He was cat-quick in the way that he moved.

"That didn't take long," said Snake.

"Just a bed to shift. I wanted to catch you before you left."

"Why?"

"Why not? Pretty girl like you."

Snake stared at him.

"Well, you know… I thought I could give you a hand, help you find a place. I know most of the cheap places, and if you came here you must be looking for cheap."

He looked down at her confidently, the smile still fixed on his face. The flesh along his pectorals jumped.

Snake said, "You flex them like that, you might break one."

"No problem, I've got spares. Listen, why don't we go get a drink, or something, and then we can find you that room."

"A drink at ten in the morning?"

"Okay, coffee."

Snake looked at him, considering the idea. He was obnoxious. His smile was insincere, and his flattery was clumsy, but there was the off chance that he might turn out to be useful. She was still debating with herself, when he said, "A penny for your thoughts."

"No, thanks." She reached into a pocket, and came up with some coins. She found a penny, and handed it to him. "That's my line. A penny for yours."

"Huh?"

She jumped into his head. She rummaged around, working her way past the blatant sexuality and self-esteem. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew it at once when she found it. She almost laughed, and when she came out of his head, she was smiling. She didn't smile often, but when she did she could light up a room.

Krill thought the smile was for him, and his own smile rose to his eyes. "Let's go," he said. "There's a place down the street for coffee."

Snake shook her head. She was still smiling. "No thanks. I don't think I'll have any trouble finding a room."

"Might not be so easy."

"I'll manage."

The smile disappeared. "Suit yourself."

"I always do."

She went down the steps to her car, leaving him to stare at her back. She drove around until she found a telephone. She called Sammy at the Center, and told him what she needed.

"He calls himself Barney Krill, but his real name is Barry Kagen," she said. "He's wanted in Akron, two counts of grand theft auto."

Sammy said, "So what?"

"So I want you to pull a wire in Akron, get the police there to call the county people down here. I want this guy picked up by tomorrow morning, the latest."

"You sound sore. What the hell did he do to you?"

"Not a damn thing. I just want his room."

Late the next night, installed as the newest roomer at the Southern Manor, Snake sat by herself on the sagging porch in a rickety glider, rocking back and forth as she went over the events of the day just past. It was a dark night, the street was unlit, and the only light on the porch came from a single yellow bulb. The air was light now, almost pleasant. The inside of the house was quiet with the silence of sleep, and the only outside noises came from insects, from a yapping dog, and from the faint rumble of trucks along the interstate, half a mile away. It was a time for reflection, and, under different circumstances, it would have been time for a daily report. But there wouldn't be any daily reports on a job like this, only a final summary at the end of the time frame. Still, she formed the report in her mind as she rocked back and forth.

Sammy:

Thanks for pulling the wire in Akron. The state police picked up Kagan, aka Barney Krill, about ten this morning. I was parked across the street, and saw them take him. I waited a decent interval, then went into the house and found Mrs. Costigan collapsed in a blubbering heap. Just couldn't believe that sweet, friendly Barney was a car thief. I told her that the world is filled with evil, and asked if I could have his room. She brightened up when she realized that she wasn't going to lose even one day's rent. She practically fell all over me. I made sure she changed the sheets.

Once I was inside, my first job was to check the physical layout for fire risk. What I found was part good, and part bad. First, the bad.

The building is stucco, which doesn't burn easily, but there is enough of a frame construction involved to make the place flammable. Just about anything will burn if you crank the temperature high enough, and the way that the professional torches are using accelerants these days, the house could go up in a flash. Am I assuming that Gemstone is a torch? I think I have to. Ogden picked him (her) specifically for this job, and I can't get it out of my mind that his instructions to him (her) referred to a burning villa in Nam, and the smile on his (her) lips when he (she) smelled the burning rose bushes. So I have to figure Gemstone for a pro who will know how to use an accelerant, maybe gasoline and maybe something more sophisticated, and probably placed at the bottom of the stairwell to create the maximum draft. So that's my key area of observation, but I can't defend it twenty-four hours a day, and that's the bad part.