74

Fasfir decided she had to try her luck in person, one more time. No man could’ve faulted her enthusiasm. But something was missing from her makeup. She just wasn’t a Katie. Inevitably, direct participation left her disappointed. But she didn’t have problems enjoying what Evas or Woderact shared with her, mind to mind.

Weirder by the minute.

This latest time Fasfir had a different motive for joining me.

Of late we had been refining our communication skills until, using gestures, grunts, a few spoken words, some writing, and what I could pull out of thin air, she could get ideas across. She had a big something on her mind this time.

“You want to get your whole crew back together?” I tried to appear distraught, though that very notion had been worming around in my head for two days. As things stood, my having sicced Evas on Morley hadn’t changed anything for me. Except that I didn’t have to listen to the Goddamn Parrot anymore. “Could I count on you three to stay out of mischief?”

Absolutely.

That came through almost as clearly as one of the Dead Man’s messages. I didn’t swallow it whole. The ladies hadn’t lost their interest in going home.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Fasfir became quite excited and grateful.

Moments later an equally excited and grateful Woderact joined us.

Weirder and weirder.

I hired a coach, grumbled about the expense the whole time, put the lady Visitors inside it. I let them reclaim some of the fetishes Woderact had brought along to the house. They would appear to be human if they were seen on the street.

Casey got aggravated because he wasn’t allowed to come along. Neither of the ladies believed him when he told them that he’d help them get home.

“Lookit dis,” Puddle enthused as I pushed inside The Palms. “Somebody done fergot ta lock da goddamn door again.” Puddle wasn’t doing anything but loafing in a chair. His was the only body in sight. I’d timed my visit perfectly.

“Morley around?”

“What was dat?”

“Huh?”

“T’ought I heard somet’in’.” A huge grin drove suspicion off his face. “We ain’t seen much a Morley da past few days, Garrett. What wit’ him spendin’ so much time takin’ care a dat bird.”

Sarge shoved out of the kitchen, clearly having been eavesdropping. “Poor boy is gettin’ kinda pale, Garrett. I’m t’inkin’ he mought oughta get out in the sunshine more. What da hell was dat?”

“What was what?” I asked, as innocent as the dawn itself.

“I fought I heared da stair creak.” Sarge scratched his drought-stricken, failing crop of hair. He and Puddle both eyed me suspiciously.

“What?” I inquired.

Puddle demanded, “Whatcha up to, Garrett?”

“Actually, I just wanted to drop in to see if I had any good reason to gloat.”

Both men nodded and smiled. They could understand that. Sarge told me, “I don’ know where ya found dat little gel, Garrett, but I sure do wish dey was one or two like her aroun’ back when I was ’bout sixteen.”

Puddle nodded enthusiastic agreement. “Gloat yer heart out.”

“I will,” I said. “Well, if the man can’t come down, then things are going just wonderfully. If you do see Morley, tell him I stopped by. And that I’m thinking of him. But don’t let him know I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face when I do.”

A feeble groan limped, stumbling, downstairs.

Everybody snickered.

Before Sarge and Puddle discovered my latest maneuver seemed like a good time to move myself along somewhere else. “Later, guys.”

Both henchmen observed my retreat with abiding suspicion.

I set course for home, making plans for indulging in some serious rest and brew tasting. I kept breaking out in giggles, which inclined the streets to clear away around me.