"Ah? I think I detect a hint of jealousy. A note of disbelief."

The law of averages suggests you should be capable of stumbling through unaided occasionally. It is true that I remain amazed at your ability to flout that law so frequently.

Yes. He was piqued. He'd put all that time into all those interviews, which we hadn't yet discussed, expecting to dazzle one and all with a startling indictment. Then I'd had to go spoil his game by tracking down that jinxed coach. Garrett the Killjoy, that's me. "You want to tell me what you thought was going on when Block first told us about the women?"

Somebody pounded on the door, timing it as though the Dead Man had had him waiting in the wings.

That will be Mr. Tharpe. I allowed him to return home last evening. He had personal matters to settle. Stay seated. Dean will handle the door.

I yelled, "Dean, throw that cat out when you let Saucerhead in." I waited till Tharpe came in before I started my story.

"You got lucky," Saucerhead said when I finished.

"Lucky, hell. That was a prime piece of deducting and detecting."

Tharpe grunted, unconvinced.

"I didn't see anybody else thinking about attacking it by looking for the coach."

"I still say you lucked out, Garrett. How about if the old geezer used some regular coach? How about if he walked?"

"But he didn't. And that's the point. And that's what cost him. He decided to break in on a closed house and use it for his base, and found him a spiffy, neato coach there and just couldn't resist going in style. And it cost him." For a second I wondered if the jinx had gotten old butterfly-breath. But I didn't care. I wasn't much bothered by having croaked him, now. I hadn't run into many people who'd needed killing more. I couldn't feel bad about doing the world a favor.

"You lucked out," Saucerhead insisted. And wouldn't be swayed. Neither would the Dead Man.

Mr. Tharpe, I have an errand for you, should you care to extend your employment.

"You pay, I play." Saucerhead liked the Dead Man for some reason.

This building has become suspiciously free of vermin. That was because I'd burned a dozen sulfur candles one day while he was taking one of his six-week naps. I thought I'd do him a favor. Bugs like to snack on him. I am accustomed to employing large numbers of insects when I examine the various permutations of action available to the forces operating in the Cantard. I cannot indulge my curiosity without them.

"You already heard what Glory Mooncalled done, then?"

Yes. I am excited. I need a few thousand insects with which to evolve through the options available to the surviving combatants.

He had a habit of lining bugs up on the wall, like soldiers, and running them through maneuvers. A disgusting vice.

"Now, wait a minute," I protested. "I just got this place deinfested." Bugs and mice are the Dead Man's worst enemies. Left unchecked, they would devour him in no time.

So. You are the villain responsible.

He knew darned well I was, he just hadn't brought it up before.

"I am he," said I. "I'm also the guy what owns this dump. I'm also the guy what's feeling damned put upon on account of I've got a housekeeper who's moved in uninvited and figures it's his duty to drag in every stray cat he can find. I'm also the guy what don't like the floor crunching under his tootsies whenever he starts looking for the chamber pot in the dark. Never mind about the bugs, Saucerhead. Let him use his imagination."

The Dead Man sent me an exaggerated mental sigh. So be it. I fear, then, Mr. Tharpe, that we have no further need for your services.

I gave the Dead Man a narrow-eyed look. He'd given up too easily. "He's right. What do we owe you?"

"Not enough so I don't got to go back to raising knots on heads for that creep Licks."

A sad story. Nobody liked Licks. Including me, and I didn't know him. "Guy has to make a living, I guess." I counted out a few coins, not much. Tharpe seemed satisfied. He hadn't done anything but answer the door.

"You might maybe add a little tip on account of personal hardship, Garrett."

"Personal hardship?"

"I had to be here instead of home. Though maybe from what I hear, you done forgot about women."

"Not quite. Not yet. But it's fading fast."

"So be cynical and self-serving. Go apologize to Tinnie." He liked Tinnie. Hell, I liked her. I just couldn't get along with her redheaded temper. For now. The songs you sing do change. Abstinence does make the heart grow fonder.

Saucerhead seemed in no hurry to leave. He and the Dead Man were wondering what might have snapped inside the butterfly man's head and left him wanting to carve up women. I figured this was my chance. I gathered my breakfast leavings, took them to the kitchen. Once I disposed of the evidence, I'd slide upstairs and catch me forty winks.

Somebody banged on the door.

What was this? I'd worked so hard to discourage customers that I didn't get this many visitors in a week anymore. Dean made like he was too snowed in cleaning up, so I took care of it myself.

Hoping for some randy sex goddess, I got Barking Dog Amato. I'd forgotten him completely.

"You forgot all about me, Garrett," he accused, pushing inside, forcing me back with his personal chemistry.

"No," I lied. "I figured you hadn't had time to get anything ready yet."

"Been raining. Not much else to do. Making signs and handbills gets old."

You'd think a drenching would wash the grunge away. Not so. Water just brought it to life. I considered propping the door open, maybe opening a few windows so the wind could blow through. If I'd lived on the Hill, I might have tried it. In my neighborhood you wouldn't dare. Even during a typhoon there would be some opportunist ready to accept the challenge. Besides, I only had one downstairs window.

Once past me, Amato halted, dripped, reeked, looked around. "You got that thing, that whatsit they call the Dead Man. I'd sure like to take a gander at that, you know what I mean?"

I tried shallow breaths. I don't know why we bother. It never helps. "Why not? You're a man he ought to meet." I wished Old Bones had him a working sniffer. I'd lock them in together till Amato sold him his whole zany conspiracy collection.

I opened the Dead Man's door, held it for Amato. Saucerhead, in my chair, half-turned, saw Barking Dog.

His face scrunched up into a world-class frown. He didn't ask, though.

He got a whiff, that's why. He gasped, "I see you got a client I'd better go good-bye," all in one long exhalation. He slid out the door almost before I got through. He tossed me a look that told me he wanted to hear all about it. Later. A lot later, after the miasma cleared.

I winked. "Make sure the front door is closed."

Barking Dog said, "My God, it's an ugly sucker. Got a hooter like a mammoth, don't it?"

Another missionary, Garrett?

"This is Kropotkin Amato. You recall the arrangement we made."

You know what I mean. You still intend to harass me? You will recall that your previous effort met with a singular lack of success.

"Me? No... "

Nor did you bother mentioning any arrangement, though I discern the details in your mind. We did not contract to have the man watch himself.

"We didn't contract anything, Smiley."

Barking Dog looked baffled. I would have too, hearing only half the conversation. I changed subjects. "You can understand why I did it." I didn't want to bruise Amato's feelings. The Dead Man could peek inside his head, see why we didn't have to mount a major campaign.