Still shaking, I went back and told him what had happened. The presence of a dying man didn't rattle him at all. He observed, "You're learning."

"Huh?"

"Case solved and wrapped in a day. You dig up your buddy Block, tell him where to find his villain, end up with your pockets stuffed with gold. You still have the luck."

"Yeah." But I didn't feel lucky. I didn't know that that little old man had gotten his thrills carving on pretty girls.

Morley closed the yard door, eased toward the street door. I said, "Hold it. I have to take a look around in the house."

"Why?" He said that sharply, like he didn't want me going that way.

"In case there's any evidence. I need to know."

He gave me the fish eye, shook his head, shrugged. The notion of a conscience was alien to him. "If you have to, you have to."

"I have to."

I tripped over the old man's sidekick as I stepped into the garden. Well! Another mystery. Some wicked soul had come along and stabbed him in his sleep.

I scowled at Morley. Morley wasn't abashed. "Didn't need him, Garrett. And now you won't need to keep looking back." Just because the guy had caused a scene at the Joy House.

I didn't argue. We'd had the argument more times than I liked to recall. Morley knew neither pity nor remorse, only practicality. Which, he had a habit of reminding me, was why I turned to him so often.

Maybe. But I think I go to him because I trust him to cover my back.

I'd grabbed the old man's lantern. It was out now, after my spill. I pushed it aside, dragged the body into the coach house, closed the door, and headed for the big house by the light of the lantern Morley carried. I snagged the extinguished lantern as I went.

The house wasn't locked. It took us only moments to get inside and find something.

We entered through a dusty kitchen. We needed go on no farther. Seconds after we entered, Morley said, "Check this, Garrett."

"This" was a three-gallon wooden bucket. A tribe of flies had made it a place of worship. Their startled buzz and the smell told me that it was no water pail. Rusty cakes of dried blood adorned it.

"They had to use something to carry the blood away." I shone my light around, spotted a set of knives on a drainboard. They were not ordinary kitchen knives. They were decorated with fancy symbols. They were decorated with dried blood too.

Morley observed, "They didn't take good care of their tools."

"You didn't see the way they moved. After they'd danced with Saucerhead they probably didn't feel much like doing housework."

"You satisfied now?"

I had to be. "Yeah." No point lollygagging around, maybe getting ourselves hanged with all that evidence.

Morley grinned. "You really are learning, Garrett. I figure maybe another hundred years and you can get by without a baby-sitter."

I wondered if maybe he wasn't a little too optimistic.

Being no fool, Morley went his own way. I found Captain Block the last place I expected, at the bachelor officers' quarters at the barracks the Watch shares with the local army garrison. Those troops are less use than the Watch, coming out for nothing but ceremonies and to stand guard at various royal edifices.

I got the usual runaround trying to reach Block, but it had no heart in it. Maybe he'd left word a certain battered old Marine might want to get hold of him sometime.

He was dressing when I walked in and started dripping on his carpet. "I take it you've got something, Garrett." For the life of me I couldn't figure why he wasn't thrilled to see me, just because it was after midnight.

"I found your man."

"Huh?" Dumbstruck is really amazing on a naturally dumbfounded face.

"That villain you wanted found? The fellow who entertained himself by whittling on pretty girls? If you want him, I've got him."

"Uh... yeah?" He didn't believe me yet.

"Put your slicker on, Cap. I've had me a long, hard day and I want to get on home."

"You found him?"

Ta-da! First thing you knew, he'd figure it out. "Yep. But you'd better get rolling if you want to cash in."

"Yeah. Sure." He was in a daze. He couldn't believe this. For a moment I entertained suspicions. They didn't get too rowdy. "But how? I had a thousand men looking. They never caught a whiff."

"Didn't know where to sniff. You get the nose when you have to make your living at it."

"Sounds like you plain got lucky."

"Luck helps."

"Should I bring some men?"

"You won't need them. They won't give you any trouble."

Must have been an edge to my voice. He looked me askance but was too shocked still to pursue it. He shrugged into an army overcloak, jammed a waterproof hat onto his head. "You don't know how much we appreciate this, Garrett."

"I have my suspicions. Just show me by making sure you don't forget to drop my fee off at my place."

"What?" He managed to look affronted. Somebody had the audacity to question the integrity of the Watch? "You think we'd screw you?"

"The gods forfend. Me? Think a thing like that about our brave Watchmen? Surely you jest, Captain."

He heard the sarcasm and didn't like it, but had become too excited to take offense. Hell, he took off like the proverbial bat, dashing boldly into the night and rain—till he realized he didn't know where the hell he was headed.

"I'm moving as fast as I can, Captain," I told him. And I was. I did want to get home. I had big ambitions in the night lumber trade. "I put in about two thousand miles of legwork today, tracking these monsters down."

"Monsters? There's more than one?"

The man didn't listen. I shook my head. He fell into step beside me, as bouncy as a five-year-old.

"One more than one, Captain. The big villain was a guy about a thousand years old who was some kind of wizard. The other was your basic street bruno, middle thirties."

"Was?" Now he sounded nervous, even wary. "You keep saying ‘was.' "

"You'll see."

He saw. He was less than thrilled. "Did you have to kill them?" He stared at the old man like he hoped the crazy bastard would rise from the dead.

"No. I could've let them kill me. But then you'd still be looking, wouldn't you?" I stared at the old man, rattled. Block didn't notice.

First, the old boy had crawled to the garden door before he'd checked out. Then he'd gotten naked. What there was of him was so dried up it looked like something had sucked out everything inside his skin. That skin was dead white. I wondered if maybe he wouldn't rise from the dead. If he hadn't already, a time or two. Then I shook off the fit of superstition and concentrated on a problem that was real and immediate.

Someone had been into the coach house in my absence. Somebody who had stripped the dead man and had ripped off a crazy miscellany from the tack and tool racks. That smelled of a crime of opportunity committed by some down-and-out amateur. By someone who had seen a door open, had darted in for a nervous peek, had taken what he could use, and had grabbed everything else he could carry that looked like it might sell for enough to make a down payment on a bottle of cheap red wine. Was I to go a-hunting this thief, I'd keep an eye peeled for a short, skinny wino all cocked up in a new suit of old clothes, complete with one of those absurd deerstalker hats.

Block complained, "Would've had a lot more impact if I'd been able to bring them to trial."

"I don't doubt it a bit. It would've been a circus. The show of the year. I would've loved to have seen it. But he was belching butterflies and staring green fire and getting ready to lay some serious sorcery on me. I couldn't talk him out of it. Come on. Let me show you some evidence."