We both nodded. “That’s why. The kid had something he didn’t want his gang identified with, but the T-Rats wanted done. So, they let him wear their colors. Knots in a bandana are a heads-up that the kid isn’t a T-Rat but has their protection.”

“Sounds dangerous. If someone wanted to kill a Tunnel Rat, why would they care if someone was pretending to be one?”

Cal smiled. “’Cause they don’t know if they’re bringing double hell down on themselves. Someone might not be afraid of the T-Rats but scared spitless of an associate. Kill the associate, get the T-Rats and the associate’s gang in on your fight uninvited.”

“What can you tell us about this dwarf named Moke who runs the gang?” I asked.

Caught mid-drink, Cal almost choked on his laugh. “Moke’s no dwarf. He’s a nasty-ass troll straight from the Kingland. The only thing the T-Rats are afraid of is their own boss eating them.” He laughed and shook his head. “Moke a dwarf. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

I tried not to feel the heat in my face. Cal likes to know better than his little brother. Even after all these years, he could take something I was naturally ignorant of and make me feel stupid ignorant. “Why would dwarves answer to a troll?”

“’Cause he pays good money. Like I said, the T-Rats are hired fists. You run enough drugs down here, you need some strong-arm behind you. They are easy to buy.”

“Drugs? What kind?” asked Murdock.

Cal paused before answering. Murdock and I had seen that look before, the shuffling of the mental index cards deciding what to discuss and what to pass over. It did not make me happy that my brother had to play that game with us. I had to wonder how he had been spending his time these days.

“Fey stuff,” Cal said finally. “Small junk, mostly euphorics. Keeps him flush. The kind of stuff human kids go for instead of the hard stuff.”

“Like weed,” I said.

“’Xactly. Lots of cash in it. Small bills. Easy. A lot of competition, though.”

“Two nights ago there was a fight with the TruKnights,” said Murdock.

Cal’s eyes shot around the room as he hunched forward at the table. “Very nasty. The ’Knights are fairies and elves. The one thing they agree on is they’re better than everyone else.”

“Well, two elves ended up in the hospital. Would they have killed the kid to retaliate?” Murdock asked.

Cal shrugged. “Might’ve. The ’Knights aren’t afraid of anybody. I hear Moke’s poking at C-Note, and C-Note’s not happy.”

“C-Note?” Murdock said.

Cal got that look on his face again. He finished his drink and waved his hand in a circle over the table. The waitresses immediately came with a new round for everyone, including Murdock, who hadn’t touched his first.

“Let me get someone over here, see if he’s willing to talk,” said Cal. I felt him shoot a sending into the room.

Joe turned his head in the direction the sending went, then grinned. “I thought so,” he said.

A tall, thin man stumbled into a group of people near the pool table. He straightened up, flipping a head of curly red hair back, and bowed an apology. He continued toward us. I couldn’t help smiling as I recognized his essence. He dropped himself down in the empty chair and slumped.

“Well, well, well, the Grey boys together again. What’s it been, twenty years?” He had a grin that could only be described as jovial.

“Not quite that long, Clure,” I said. The Clure was an old buddy, a drinking one by definition. The Cluries are a clan of hard-drinking fairies, the friends of bars everywhere. The Clure was both name and title, though he didn’t insist on the “the” when you spoke directly to him. He led his local kin group, which basically meant he either started the party or knew where one was. We had gone on plenty of tears when Cal and I were in our twenties and not quite so at odds. “Clure, this is Murdock. Murdock, Clure.”

Clure extended his hand. “Felicitations, Officer.”

Murdock got annoyed again. He had to either drop the attitude or the clothes if he wanted to blend in. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

Joe was lying flat on the ashtray now. Alcohol did funny things to him. He hung his head upside down off the side of the ashtray and smiled. “Fatla genes, Cluricane?” he said in Cornish.

The Clure smiled down at him. “Just fine, my little pysky friend.”

Cal pushed one of Murdock’s glasses across the table, and the Clure downed it with relish. “We were just discussing C-Note,” he said.

The Clure let out a whoop that made several heads turn. “Talk of the town, that one. That troll’s making trouble for everyone, including himself.”

Another troll. Interesting. Trolls are disagreeable and contrary by nature. Given their nocturnal habits, they tended to have friends in low places. For that matter, they were the low places.

“C-Note runs the Tangle,” Cal said with a low voice.

“And he’s trying to run a lot more,” the Clure added.

“He runs the TruKnights,” said Cal.

“What happened to Gandri?” said Murdock. The TruKnights were high profile enough that most cops knew some, and everyone knew their leader. Former leader, apparently.

“C-Note took him out without blinking a yellow eye,” said the Clure. “The TruKnights didn’t protest. They respect power. Are you drinking that?” He pointed to Murdock’s other drink. Murdock pushed it toward him. At the same time, I felt the Clure broadcast a sending for a table round.

Joe took that moment to flutter up and drift away toward the pool table. Nothing bores him faster than talking about things he isn’t the slightest bit interested in. Getting me and Cal together apparently was the only thing he wanted to accomplish, and that was done.

“What’s this got to do with Moke?” I asked.

“So, you heard about that, huh?” said the Clure. “C-Note’s looking to expand, and he stepped up on Moke in his own turf. Moke had to smack that back. He sent the T-Rats in for a good show. He’s also got the T-Rats hassling C-Note’s runners.”

“What’s the run?” asked Murdock.

“A few guns, not many. Not C-Note’s style. Or the Weird’s for that matter. C-Note’s pushing some drugs Moke’s not happy about.”

Cal slowly swirled the dregs of his drink. “Float,” he said.

The Clure nodded. “Yeah, Float. The kids love to dance with it,” said Clure. The waitress dropped a new round on the table. Clure raised a glass. “I prefer the gift of the gods!” He downed the shot and pulled Murdock’s over without asking.

“I’ve never heard of Float,” Murdock said, voicing my own question.

Cal cleared his throat. He swayed in his chair. He’d killed three shots in less than a half hour and had a fourth in front of him. I doubted those were the first of the evening. “You will. It’s C-Note’s stuff. Makes you feel happy mellow high, like you’re in a cloud. Strong shit. He’s practically giving it away to seed demand. He’s turning kids into evangelists. When they’re not raving about Float, they’re raving about C-Note.”

“So, what, Moke’s looking for a cut?” I asked.

The Clure shook his head. “Not with this stuff. C-Note’s controlling distribution. Rumor has it he’s even manufacturing the stuff. Moke’s more worried about his own operations going under.”

Murdock looked at me. “So C-Note’s provoking Moke. Moke gives back. Turf battles. The Farnsworth kid got caught in the middle.”

“But why was he in the middle? What would Unity be doing that Kruge didn’t want anyone to know?” I asked.

Murdock shot me a warning glance. “That’s just speculation.” I let it drop. Cal might trust Murdock on my word, but for Murdock, Cal and the Clure were too unknown for him to discuss cases in front of them.

The Clure stepped right up to it, though. “Kruge! Poor guy. Wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass. He was C-Note’s thorn. Kept trying to mess up his drug running.”

Murdock played with an empty glass. “We’re not looking at that. I’m looking into the kid. The Guild’s taking care of Kruge.”