16

Morley’s place, that’s what now.

It wasn’t that far out of my way. I dropped by. My reception was no more charming than before. Maybe not as good. More people departed. The others seemed edgy, except for Saucerhead’s pal Licks, who was at the same shadowed corner table stoned out of this world.

Puddle gave me a huge scowl, glanced down at his keg. I told him, “That rat Sarge said he was going to blame it on me. Morley here?”

Puddle already had a finger pointed skyward and an eyebrow up. I nodded to make sure he understood that I wanted to see Morley as well as to know if he was home. With Puddle you have to take it by the numbers. He don’t fill in the gaps so good.

He was the kind of guy who thought if you couldn’t solve a problem with a right cross or a club, then it wasn’t a problem in the first place and therefore didn’t need solving. Ignore it and it would go away.

Puddle grunted, growled at the speaking tube, fluttered a hand to indicate that I should go on up. Apparently Morley didn’t have company.

I climbed the stairs, tiptoed to Morley’s door, listened before I knocked. I didn’t hear anything. Usually there was scurrying as somebody’s wife headed for cover. All I heard was Morley telling me to come in.

I opened the door. Something zipped past the end of my nose. Morley was behind his desk, his feet up, leaning back, tossing darts. I didn’t recognize the painted face serving as his target. “You doing the hoodoo voodoo on somebody?”

“Not really. Found all that in a junk shop. Velvet painting of a guy who looks like my sister’s husband.” Zip. Wham. Another eye put out. “What’s up?”

“No company tonight?”

“Too wet out there these days. Nobody’s going to be seeing much company as long as this weather keeps up.” Zip. Wham. Right in the end of the nose. “Want to get those darts for me?”

“You’re a bundle of ambition tonight.”

“Yeah. Long as you’re doing my legwork, you see that creep Licks downstairs? So I don’t have to go look for myself?”

“He’s there. Unconscious, I think. The smoke was pretty thick.”

He snagged his speaking tube. “Puddle. Toss that creep Licks out now. Don’t leave him where he’ll get run over.” Morley put the tube down, looked at me. “I hope he gets pneumonia.”

“You have a problem with the man?”

“Yes. I don’t like him.”

“So bar him.”

“His money’s as good as yours. Maybe better. He spends it here.” That didn’t get a rise, so he asked, “What’s up? You look like you can’t wait to get something off your chest.”

“I got a line on the coach.”

“Coach? What coach.”

“The one out front that they tried to drag Chodo’s kid into. I found the man who built it. He told me where I can find it.” I explained.

Morley sighed, took his feet down. “Isn’t that just like you? Here I am, having the time of my life, and you have to walk in and mess it up.” He got up, opened a closet, dug out a raincloak and fancy hat that must have set him back a dozen broken bones.

“What you doing?”

“Let’s go check it out.”

“Huh?”

“Way I see it, that beats hell out of trying to get to see Chodo. You carrying?”

“Here and there.”

“Finally started to learn, eh?”

“I guess. What’s the problem with Chodo? I thought you were tight. It’s me that’s on his list.”

“I don’t know. I sent word I needed to talk. That it was important. I never got an answer. That’s never happened before. Then comes a roundabout kind of hint that nobody out there wants to hear from me and if I’m smart I won’t bother them ever again.”

“Odd.” I couldn’t figure that. Morley was an important independent contractor. Chodo owed him a listen.

“Been odd ever since you and Winger went out there. And getting odder every day.” We were headed downstairs now.

I asked, “What’s with the mustaches? That the coming thing?”

“Huh?”

“I’m seeing them all over. On you it don’t look bad. On Spud it would look good if he could grow one. But on Puddle it looks like some damn buzzard built its nest on his lip.”

“He doesn’t take care of it.” Morley darted to the counter, spoke to Puddle briefly. I noted Licks’s absence and Puddle’s wet shoulders. Licks remained with us in spirit. The smoke was thick enough to slice.