there. “Sampson has
social disabilities. But he makes up for that. So. You’ve
reconsidered?”
“Possibly. I’ll need some information before I make
up my mind. It may have become personal.”
That puzzled him. He studied me. I was doing a boggle on
everybody today. It’s all in knowing how, I guess.
“Let’s have the questions, then. I want you on the
team.”
I never trust guys who want to be my pal. They always want
something I don’t want to give.
I showed him the coins. “You recognize these?”
He placed the card on his table, put on bifocals as he sat down.
He stared for half a minute and took his cheaters off. “No, I
don’t. Sorry. Do these have a bearing on our
business?”
“Not that I know of. I thought you might know who put them
out. They’re temple coinage.”
“Sorry. That’s strange, isn’t it? I
should.” He perched those bifocals on the tip of his nose and
eyed the coins again. He handed me the card.
“Curious.”
I’d tried. “More to the point. Did you hire somebody
else when I turned you down?”
He poked at that question before he admitted he had.
“It wouldn’t have been Pokey Pigotta, would it?
Wesley Pigotta?”
He wouldn’t answer that one.
“It’s a small field. I know everybody. They know me.
Pokey would have suited your requirements. And he took on a new
client right after I turned you down.”
“Is this important?”
“If you did hire Pokey, you’re short a hired hand.
He got himself killed last night.”
His start and pallor answered my question.
“So. A big setback?”
“Yes. Tell me about it. When, where, how, who. And why you
know about it.”
“When: last night after dark sometime. Where: an apartment
on Shindlow Street. I can’t tell you who. Four men were
involved. None survived. I know about it because the person who
found the bodies asked me what to do about them.”
He grunted, thought. I waited. He asked, “That’s why
you came? Pigotta’s death?”
“Yes.” That was partly true.
“He was a friend?”
“An acquaintance. We respected each other but kept our
distance. We knew we might butt heads someday.”
“I don’t quite see your interest.”
“Somebody tried to kill me, too. Me and Pokey both
doesn’t read coincidence to me. I talk to you and somebody
tries to off me. You hire Pokey, he gets it. I wonder why but even
more I wonder who. I want to cool him down. If that helps you, so
be it.”
“Excellent. By all means, if the people responsible for
Pigotta’s death tried to kill you too.”
“So who did it?”
“I don’t follow you, Mr. Garrett.”
“Come on. If somebody wants in your way bad enough to kill
anybody you talk to, you ought to know who. There can’t be so
many you can’t pick somebody out of the crowd.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. When I tried to hire you I
told you I think there’s a concerted effort to discredit
Faith, but I don’t have one iota of evidence that points in
any particular direction.”
I gave him my eyebrow trick in its sarcastic mode. He
wasn’t impressed. I’ll have to learn to wiggle my ears.
“If you want me to find somebody or something—like the
Warden and his Relics—you’ll have to give me somewhere
to start. I can’t just yell ‘Where the hell are
you?’ Finding somebody is like picking apart an old sweater.
You just keep pulling loose threads till everything comes apart.
But you have to have the loose threads. What did you give Pokey?
Why was he where he was when he got killed?”
Peridont got up. He prowled. He lived on another plane. He was
deaf to anything he didn’t want to hear. Or was he?
“I’m disturbed, Mr. Garrett. Being outside this you
miss the more troublesome implications. And they, I regret, tie my
hands and seal my lips. For the moment.”
“Oh?” I gave my talented eyebrow one last
chance.
He missed it again. “I want your help, Mr. Garrett. Very
much. But what you’ve told me puts matters into a new
perspective. Contrary
social disabilities. But he makes up for that. So. You’ve
reconsidered?”
“Possibly. I’ll need some information before I make
up my mind. It may have become personal.”
That puzzled him. He studied me. I was doing a boggle on
everybody today. It’s all in knowing how, I guess.
“Let’s have the questions, then. I want you on the
team.”
I never trust guys who want to be my pal. They always want
something I don’t want to give.
I showed him the coins. “You recognize these?”
He placed the card on his table, put on bifocals as he sat down.
He stared for half a minute and took his cheaters off. “No, I
don’t. Sorry. Do these have a bearing on our
business?”
“Not that I know of. I thought you might know who put them
out. They’re temple coinage.”
“Sorry. That’s strange, isn’t it? I
should.” He perched those bifocals on the tip of his nose and
eyed the coins again. He handed me the card.
“Curious.”
I’d tried. “More to the point. Did you hire somebody
else when I turned you down?”
He poked at that question before he admitted he had.
“It wouldn’t have been Pokey Pigotta, would it?
Wesley Pigotta?”
He wouldn’t answer that one.
“It’s a small field. I know everybody. They know me.
Pokey would have suited your requirements. And he took on a new
client right after I turned you down.”
“Is this important?”
“If you did hire Pokey, you’re short a hired hand.
He got himself killed last night.”
His start and pallor answered my question.
“So. A big setback?”
“Yes. Tell me about it. When, where, how, who. And why you
know about it.”
“When: last night after dark sometime. Where: an apartment
on Shindlow Street. I can’t tell you who. Four men were
involved. None survived. I know about it because the person who
found the bodies asked me what to do about them.”
He grunted, thought. I waited. He asked, “That’s why
you came? Pigotta’s death?”
“Yes.” That was partly true.
“He was a friend?”
“An acquaintance. We respected each other but kept our
distance. We knew we might butt heads someday.”
“I don’t quite see your interest.”
“Somebody tried to kill me, too. Me and Pokey both
doesn’t read coincidence to me. I talk to you and somebody
tries to off me. You hire Pokey, he gets it. I wonder why but even
more I wonder who. I want to cool him down. If that helps you, so
be it.”
“Excellent. By all means, if the people responsible for
Pigotta’s death tried to kill you too.”
“So who did it?”
“I don’t follow you, Mr. Garrett.”
“Come on. If somebody wants in your way bad enough to kill
anybody you talk to, you ought to know who. There can’t be so
many you can’t pick somebody out of the crowd.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. When I tried to hire you I
told you I think there’s a concerted effort to discredit
Faith, but I don’t have one iota of evidence that points in
any particular direction.”
I gave him my eyebrow trick in its sarcastic mode. He
wasn’t impressed. I’ll have to learn to wiggle my ears.
“If you want me to find somebody or something—like the
Warden and his Relics—you’ll have to give me somewhere
to start. I can’t just yell ‘Where the hell are
you?’ Finding somebody is like picking apart an old sweater.
You just keep pulling loose threads till everything comes apart.
But you have to have the loose threads. What did you give Pokey?
Why was he where he was when he got killed?”
Peridont got up. He prowled. He lived on another plane. He was
deaf to anything he didn’t want to hear. Or was he?
“I’m disturbed, Mr. Garrett. Being outside this you
miss the more troublesome implications. And they, I regret, tie my
hands and seal my lips. For the moment.”
“Oh?” I gave my talented eyebrow one last
chance.
He missed it again. “I want your help, Mr. Garrett. Very
much. But what you’ve told me puts matters into a new
perspective. Contrary
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