indeed, they are not. After today’s events. Then you might return to that abandoned house and see what is to be seen down below.
‘‘I can tell you right now, it has a cellar that’s hooked into the underground world.’’
The Tenderloin has been in place for ages. And the kind of people who engage in the sorts of services provided there tend to have things to hide and a natural desire to have a secret way out ahead of angry competitors, customers, or the law. There are tunnels all over.
Tunnels and secret underground chambers are common in most neighborhoods, though. Hardly anybody trusts anybody very much.
Quite likely a safe prediction. With an edge of sarcasm.
He does know the city. In a historical context. Inasmuch as he’s been here for most of its history. He won’t be too clear on what it’s like at any given moment, though. He doesn’t get out much anymore.
Dean wandered in, looked around, shrugged fatalistically, collected the empty pitcher, and departed. He returned with the pitcher filled. ‘‘I’m turning in early tonight. I have a family obligation in the morning.’’
‘‘Really?’’ That did not come up often.
‘‘Really.’’
He didn’t want to talk about it.
The Dead Man didn’t clue me in.
Must not be any of my business.
26
Dean was long gone when Tinnie and I drifted downstairs. He’d left breakfast on the stove. Singe was hard at something bookish in her corner of the Dead Man’s room. Saucerhead hadn’t stopped snoring.
Tharpe had dedicated himself to getting outside all the free beer he could.
The Dead Man was awake but in a contemplative mood. He wasn’t inclined to be social.
I told Singe, ‘‘When you have time, see what we need to do to turn the small front room into workspace for you. The smell is almost gone. And we ought to keep it cooler in here.’’
That brightened her morning.
I told the brightness in mine, ‘‘I’ll walk you home. Then I’ll duck over to the manufactory to see if I can lay hands on Kip Prose. Or get a line on where I can lay hands on him.’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘No, what?’’
‘‘No, you don’t want to do that. If he’s there he’ll duck out when he hears you showed up.’’
Probably true. ‘‘But won’t he be a little nervous about you? I figure he knows you know me.’’ Me smirking. But her being literal.
‘‘Of course he does. It won’t be me that sets him up.’’
‘‘Then who?’’
‘‘Leave me in charge of the vamping.’’
‘‘I generally do.’’
There was a hint of amusement in the air. His Nibs enjoying himself at my expense. I told him, ‘‘I’m not as dim as you think.’’
He didn’t respond but he held a contrary opinion. Though if he peeked inside my head he knew I suspected that Tinnie wanted to keep me away from the manufactory.
They really don’t want an untamed conscience roaming around over there. That just isn’t best business practices.
Breakfast done, I readied myself for the world. Tinnie did the same. She needed to go home. She needed a change of clothing. Which observation you couldn’t have tortured out of me. Nor could slivers under my nails get me to suggest she keep a change or two at my place. Not because she’d think I was hinting at some deeper commitment but because she’d consider me presumptuous, assuming there was more going on than she was ready to admit.
And we’re both grown-ups.
Be careful out there.
‘‘Always.’’ I thought he meant to beware the weather, which had turned unpleasant during the night. Tinnie and I retreated to find winter coats, she helping herself to my best while I made do with a jacket I should’ve passed on to the street people early in the last century. My sweetie told me, ‘‘I’ll give it back as soon as we get to the house.’’
Grumble, grumble.
We hit the street, headed west on Macunado, uphill. We made it as far as the Cardonlos homestead before the darkness closed in.
I told Tinnie,
‘‘I can tell you right now, it has a cellar that’s hooked into the underground world.’’
The Tenderloin has been in place for ages. And the kind of people who engage in the sorts of services provided there tend to have things to hide and a natural desire to have a secret way out ahead of angry competitors, customers, or the law. There are tunnels all over.
Tunnels and secret underground chambers are common in most neighborhoods, though. Hardly anybody trusts anybody very much.
Quite likely a safe prediction. With an edge of sarcasm.
He does know the city. In a historical context. Inasmuch as he’s been here for most of its history. He won’t be too clear on what it’s like at any given moment, though. He doesn’t get out much anymore.
Dean wandered in, looked around, shrugged fatalistically, collected the empty pitcher, and departed. He returned with the pitcher filled. ‘‘I’m turning in early tonight. I have a family obligation in the morning.’’
‘‘Really?’’ That did not come up often.
‘‘Really.’’
He didn’t want to talk about it.
The Dead Man didn’t clue me in.
Must not be any of my business.
26
Dean was long gone when Tinnie and I drifted downstairs. He’d left breakfast on the stove. Singe was hard at something bookish in her corner of the Dead Man’s room. Saucerhead hadn’t stopped snoring.
Tharpe had dedicated himself to getting outside all the free beer he could.
The Dead Man was awake but in a contemplative mood. He wasn’t inclined to be social.
I told Singe, ‘‘When you have time, see what we need to do to turn the small front room into workspace for you. The smell is almost gone. And we ought to keep it cooler in here.’’
That brightened her morning.
I told the brightness in mine, ‘‘I’ll walk you home. Then I’ll duck over to the manufactory to see if I can lay hands on Kip Prose. Or get a line on where I can lay hands on him.’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘No, what?’’
‘‘No, you don’t want to do that. If he’s there he’ll duck out when he hears you showed up.’’
Probably true. ‘‘But won’t he be a little nervous about you? I figure he knows you know me.’’ Me smirking. But her being literal.
‘‘Of course he does. It won’t be me that sets him up.’’
‘‘Then who?’’
‘‘Leave me in charge of the vamping.’’
‘‘I generally do.’’
There was a hint of amusement in the air. His Nibs enjoying himself at my expense. I told him, ‘‘I’m not as dim as you think.’’
He didn’t respond but he held a contrary opinion. Though if he peeked inside my head he knew I suspected that Tinnie wanted to keep me away from the manufactory.
They really don’t want an untamed conscience roaming around over there. That just isn’t best business practices.
Breakfast done, I readied myself for the world. Tinnie did the same. She needed to go home. She needed a change of clothing. Which observation you couldn’t have tortured out of me. Nor could slivers under my nails get me to suggest she keep a change or two at my place. Not because she’d think I was hinting at some deeper commitment but because she’d consider me presumptuous, assuming there was more going on than she was ready to admit.
And we’re both grown-ups.
Be careful out there.
‘‘Always.’’ I thought he meant to beware the weather, which had turned unpleasant during the night. Tinnie and I retreated to find winter coats, she helping herself to my best while I made do with a jacket I should’ve passed on to the street people early in the last century. My sweetie told me, ‘‘I’ll give it back as soon as we get to the house.’’
Grumble, grumble.
We hit the street, headed west on Macunado, uphill. We made it as far as the Cardonlos homestead before the darkness closed in.
I told Tinnie,
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