37

The Dead Man wasn’t impressed. He refuses to be impressed by anything but himself. He’s afraid I’ll get a big head.

He did relent, though, when I returned from watching Block and his troops, with great fanfare, before numerous official witnesses, raid an abandoned brewhouse and nab a creepy old man who was, beyond doubt, the perpetrator of the most recent murder. Clothing and body parts were recovered. These monsters liked their souvenirs. Not to mention that the old boy spat a ton of butterflies, some poisonous, before they subdued him.

Subdued meant dead. Again. I didn’t see that part, but the dozen Watchmen they carried off on stretchers implied that Block was right when he insisted there had been no choice.

The Dead Man remarked, I do hope Captain Block exercises appropriate precautions.

“I think he will.”

Excellent. So it would appear that the matter is closed.

“Except for collecting from Block.”

Indeed. Take the rest of the evening off. Sleep in tomorrow.

“We’re sure generous with time that isn’t our own, aren’t we?”

Tomorrow you must resume the investigation as though nothing has been accomplished. Continue seeking Miss Contague. Try to identify potential victims. And take a closer look at this fellow you rooted out tonight. He may have had more than one associate.

“He did. But the other guy headed out of town before we finished arresting the first one. He lived in the same dump. So what the hell? You finally gone gaga? You think we got the wrong killer?”

I am confident your famous luck held and you swept up the very villain. But you got the right man before and Death did not miss a stroke.

“You don’t think it’ll take?”

I have strong hopes. But I think a wise man would prepare beforehand against the wiles of evil and the ineptitude of the Watch. It would be most excellent if everything worked out. But should it not, no time will have been wasted. Not so?

“All a matter of viewpoint. I’m not the guy who gets to sit here daydreaming. I’m the one who runs back and forth till his legs get worn down to the knees. I’m going to bed. Wake me up when the war’s over.”

Should the worst occur, you will regret having failed to take minimal precautions.

Sure. All right. So maybe I’d play with it some more. Just in case. What could it hurt? Did I have anything else going? Anyway, there were some pretty pretties around the edges of the thing. I might luck onto one who was sane and sociable.

Staying in just meant doing time with Dean’s cronies, anyway. The amount of beer those old boys were putting away while they were supposedly rehabbing upstairs, it would’ve been cheaper to hire professional help.