"You got me. Never said a word. Just came in looking scared, sat by herself, then three guys blew in and dragged her out."

He grunted. "I didn't know about that. Thanks, Garrett. I'll give you one back. Tell Tharpe it ain't going to be healthy hanging around with those guys trying to mess with the musicians."

"I was going to suggest that anyway after I saw you in there." I started moving, planning to put some distance between us before it occurred to him to bring up old business.

"Garrett."

Damn. "What?"

"You see the girl around again, pass the word. We'd like to know."

"Sure. But why? Who is she?"

"Just do it." He went inside without turning his back.

I hustled away, breathing hard. It had been an encounter I'd dreaded more than necessary. Maybe. Maybe the street in front of Hullar's place didn't strike him as the best stage for my demise.

Peace and harmony broke out all over. I had nothing to do but loaf, deliver the occasional report to Hullar, and keep an eye on Dean's crowd whenever he had them over for one of his rehab parties. You wouldn't believe how rowdy old men can get.

There weren't any cats around, and except for his barbs about me not working, Dean wasn't a nuisance. The Dead Man went to sleep, visions of Glory Mooncalled dancing in his head. Saucerhead resigned from the musician-organizing racket just before Morley reported that he was no longer obliged to endure the custom of that human smudgepot Licks. I got out and visited, bought a few rounds for friends, reforged contacts, even dropped by the brewery and spent a few days checking employee theft for Weider. As always, he wanted me to take the job full-time. As always, I couldn't overcome my horror of holding down a real job.

Nobody's life stays on that high and relaxed a level. Especially not mine. The gods have a special Garrett harassment squad dedicated solely to my persecution.

So I should have known the good times were over the morning I went out to run and found that the rains had returned.

I was in my office busting my skull trying to fake up numbers that would impress the tax thugs with the depths of my destitution. Somebody hammered on the door. I groaned. It was nearly suppertime and Dean was fixing a standing rib roast that would be bloody rare and would melt in my mouth, with all the extras. Smelling the odors from the kitchen had me drooling already.

Dean asked, "Shall I ignore it?"

"No. It's probably Saucerhead." Tharpe had been around a lot lately. His flame had walked. His luck hadn't been good since. "There enough to feed him too?"

"Barely." Saucerhead does put it away. "There won't be anything left over."

I shrugged. "I'll get even with him someday."

"You just want to get away from what you're doing." He tottered down the hall to the accompaniment of renewed pounding. Somebody was awfully anxious.

Dean was right. I did want to get away. I hate the whole idea of taxes. What have I ever gotten from the Crown? A pack and a collection of weapons and a five-year adventure in the war zone. I had to give back the pack and weapons. They just wanted to rip me off so they could give some other kid a chance to see the acne on the ass of the world.

I got out of having to be creative, but, all things considered, I'd rather I'd stayed with the taxes.

It wasn't Saucerhead. It was a guy I'd hoped never to see again, Captain Block. Dean showed Block into my office. Block looked frazzled.

I couldn't help myself. "Now what?"

Block planted his behind, settled his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. "Same as before. You'll have to see it."

"Look, I bailed you out once. Isn't that enough? Dean's cooking supper. It'll be ready in half an hour."

"So he told me. Also told me you were busy doing taxes."

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't be the kind of guy who'd forget to report a fat cash payment from the Watch, would you?"

Damned right I would be. "Why?"

"One mission of the Watch is to investigate alleged tax fraud. We don't do much of that, but when there's a report, we have to act to cover our butts."

"I'll find my hat. How far do we have to go?"

"Not far." He smiled weakly. "I knew I could count on you. And I'm sure your purse won't get hurt this time, either."

No happiness came through his smile. He looked more stressed than last time. What had him by the short hairs now?

Something that would be politically painful, surely. By getting out, tapping the wind of rumor whispering through the streets, I knew Block had turned catching old bug-breath into a big score. Suddenly there was a lot of stuff going on in the shadows. Prince Rupert was getting behind Westman Block. Block had hidden irons in the fire. It all had the knights of the street feeling nervous.

I made sure I was equipped for trouble, just because of the company I'd be keeping. Trouble followed Block.

We talked about the Cantard as we walked. Glory Mooncalled had abandoned his effort to capture Quarache but had hamstrung the Venageti ability to project their power far into the desert. I'd also been on the mark about the Marines getting the job of retaking Full Harbor. That operation had begun. I had mixed feelings. They brag that when they turn you into a Marine they make you a Marine forever.

The more we talked, the more I realized that Block was thoroughly spooked. Whatever his problem, it was going to be something I wouldn't like.

Now I was spooked.

"Identical," I said, staring at the gutted, naked girl. She hung in an alleyway behind abandoned tenements on the near south side. Those tenements had been occupied by ratmen squatters until a few hours ago. They were long gone now.

In the rain and poor light the dead girl was a ringer for the one Block had shown me in the Bustee. "This can't be, Block. I got them." I had to believe I'd gotten them. I'm not made to shake off killing the wrong villains.

Block wasn't so scared for his behind that he couldn't see what was bothering me. "You got the right guy, Garrett. Don't doubt that for a minute. After we got the Prince's go-ahead, we took that place apart. You wouldn't believe what we found. They'd been in there a long time. They kept pieces of all their victims. There were bodies in the cellar, girls, but not the type. My guess is they used them for practice before they went after the real thing."

I stared at the new corpse, listened to the flies sing. "There was one thing... " I told him about that missing clothing and knives. I'd discovered that Morley hadn't taken away any souvenirs. I didn't mention Morley's name. It wouldn't appeal to Block.

"You didn't mention any of this before."

"I thought everything was wrapped up before. But—"

"Yeah. But. Elvis!"

A nondescript Watchman hurried over. "Captain?"

"Show Mr. Garrett what you found."

Elvis had a folded scrap of paper tucked into a pocket inside his rain cape. Inside it were three green butterflies. I shivered as though the rain had turned to sleet. "How long since the last murder?"

"Twelve days. This one was right on schedule."

"I was afraid you'd say that." I'd been confident he would. I don't know why I asked. Maybe I hoped he'd show me I was wrong.

"The killer is dead but the killing goes on. How can that be, Garrett?" Now I understood why Block was so rattled. This wasn't just a matter of his career being in jeopardy.

"I don't know. What happened to the old man's body?"

"It was cremated. I saw them both go into the ovens."

"What did you do with the old man from the Bustee? Did you get anything out of him?"