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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.
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I opened the Dead Mans 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, its 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 Amatos feelings. The Dead Man could peek inside his head, see
why we didn t have to mount a major campaign.
You are correct, Garrett. This time. However unlikely, he believes his
theories. Which, you will understand, make them the reality in which he lives.
I suggest you do meet our principal, try to ascertain why he deems it
worthwhile to keep tabs on Mr. Amato.
Good morning, Mr. Amato. I have been anxious to make your acquaintance since
Mr. Garrett first undertook to trace your movements.
The rat was going to lay it off on me.
Uh . . . hi. Barking Dog was at a loss for words. Maybe I ought to check to
see if this was really him.
One breath and I knew I didn t have to check. Look here, Chuckles, don t you
go Mr. Amato and I have a great deal to discuss, Garrett. I suggest you visit
Mr. Hullar and see if you cannot unearth a reason for his interest.
Yeah, Garrett. What you been doing, anyhow? You was supposed to . . .
I fled, defeated. Would Barking Dog care that I d neglected him only to save
TunFaire from a vicious serial killer? He would be sure they had bought me
off. Even though he was the subject I was supposed to investigate for them. I
gave the stairway one longing look, then got into my rain gear. I checked my
pockets to see how much cash I had. Maybe I could rent me a room and catch a
few winks.
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I made a sudden sally into the small front room before I left, thinking I d
snatch Deans cat and drag it along. But the cat wasn t in evidence, only the
scratches it had left on my furniture. Then I realized that I had nothing to
report to Hullar. I trudged back and pried Barking Dogs report away from him.
He and the Dead Man were weaving drunken spider webs of conspiracy theory
already.
23
The Tenderloin is that part of town which caters to the side of people they
keep hidden. Any vice can be found there, any sin committed, almost any need
fulfilled. The hookers and the drug dens and gambling pits are just the
surface, the glamour. At least, those aspects of those things that can be
glamorous when seen from the street.
It s a glitzy street. Or streets, really. The area is bigger than Tinkery
Row, and more successful. Nothing sells like sin. After the Hill it s the most
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