reminder I had not left the house without my convincing stick, eighteen inches of oak with a pound of lead in its active end. It proved useful on this unfriendly night. I tapped my new friend just below the kneecap on each leg, not hard enough to break anything. Just hard enough to turn his legs to water temporarily. I didn’t want him able to put up much of a fight when I took his precious boots. He understood before I got the first boot off. He started yelping. He called for help. He begged for mercy. The Goddamn Parrot came down and chimed in, carrying on loudly in several obviously nonhuman voices. Not that any witnesses were likely to drop their street sense in order to jump in and rescue any of us. That was not the way of the city. “You sonofabitch, you want to keep your pretty boots, you’d better get real cooperative real sudden.” I thumped Mr. Gonlit once atop each shoulder, briskly, not far from the sides of his neck. Instantly, Bic began to have trouble lifting his arms. The little man was tough in his way. He never stopped struggling—until I dragged the second boot off him. Then he went limp again. Without volunteering to make my life any easier. “Bic, I’m gonna take your shoes home with me. Maybe give me a good shine.” It had been my intention to drag him along with me, too, but I’d just heard a troubling sound, one I’d honestly never expected to hear. But rumors had been circulating for weeks so I recognized it in plenty of time. The sound was a whistle. Rather like the shrill of a boat-swain’s pipe. Somebody from the guard’s foot patrol wasn’t far away and he’d heard that there was trouble. He was summoning assistance. Changing times. Relway and Block just have way too many ideas for advancing the case of law and order. Not that I mind too much when they interfere in someone else’s business. But my business is mine. I said, “My friend and I have to run. I’ll take good care of your boots. You know where to find them. When the mood hits you, drop by the house. You can pick them up.” I was drawing to an inside straight, betting his boots were that important to him. I would’ve talked more but now whistles from several sources were sounding closer and closer. I headed for home. I was halfway there before I realized that the Goddamn Parrot wasn’t with me. When I got home I went straight to the Dead Man to find out why. The manner in which you dealt with the exigencies of your situation seems well chosen. However, it did leave considerable leeway in the hands of Mr. Gonlit. It seemed prudent to keep watching eyes and a nagging voice somewhere near him. Lest he surrender to a fit of common sense and just abandon his boots. You do have those still? Excellent. Would you summon Miss Pular? She is in the kitchen helping herself to a snack. Dean has retired for the night. We will try to discover why the boots mean so much to our rotund nemesis. Did you, by the by, discover how it was that he was able to see in the dark? “ ’Fraid not. The question went right out of my head when I heard those whistles.” Old Bones was wide-awake and in rare form, nothing escaping the notice of his several minds. I wasn’t going to be allowed anything less than wide-awake myself until he sucked up all the outside information he wanted.
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18 Singe sniffed Gonlit’s boots. That wasn’t a task I envied her. Their fragrance had been less than appealing while I was toting them, even carried at the ends of their strings. But ratpeople don’t seem to be repelled by odors the same way we humans are. Nor are they offended by the same scents. Hard to credit in some cases but I’ve been around Singe long enough to know that it’s true. The famous Gonlit boots had soles layered more than two inches thick. They had fake glass emeralds and rubies and little brass rivet heads all over them. I thought they looked pretty shabby these days. Maybe old Bic was farther down on his