Angry Lead Skies



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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.



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