climbed the steps, kicked the door, and hollered They didn’t bother me. I felt the Dead Man touch me, just to make sure it wasn’t somebody trying to get past Dean disguised as a freshly slaughtered side of beef.
Dean opened the door after peeking through the spyhole. He looked at the girl. “Got lucky again, eh?” He stepped aside.
I took her into the small front room, put her down on the daybed “See what you can do while I clean up.” I sketched what had happened. He gave me one of his better looks of exasperation.
“You missed supper.”
“I ate out. At Morley’s. Get a light in here so we can see. I’ll be back in a minute.” I left him and dashed upstairs faster than a wounded snail. After I washed my face and rechecked it for missing parts, I put on clean clothes and scooted downstairs and stuck my head into the Dead Man’s room “Company, Smiley.”
I am aware of that, Garrett. Try to restrain your animal urges. She may be of some help, though I cannot get anything yet. She is too frightened and confused.
“Restrain myself? I’m a paragon of restraint. I’m the guy they invented the word for. I’ve never burned the house down around you.”
It was one of those rare times when he didn’t try to get in the last word Chalk one up in the history books. Might not happen again in my lifetime. She knows something, Garrett.
Hell. Score one for him. That was worse than one of his standard digs. It was tone rather than words. He was accusing me of goofing off.
I stomped into the small front room.
Dean was bent over the woman, blocking her from view, talking softly. I paused, looked at him with an affection I’d never show to his face. He had been the luckiest find of my life. He did everything around the house that I hated, cooked like an angel, put in absurd hours, and more often than not was as emotionally involved in my cases as I was. I couldn’t ask for much more but maybe a little less lip and a little more enthusiasm about keeping the Dead Man clean.
If he has a failing, it’s his disapproval of my work habits Dean believes in work for its own sake, as a tonic for the soul.
I coughed gently to let him know I was there. He didn’t hear Was he going deaf? Maybe. He had to be pushing seventy, though he wouldn’t admit it.
“How is she, Dean? Settled down any?”
He tossed a glower over his shoulder “Some. No thanks to you.”
“I should let somebody run up on me and maybe change the shape of my head?” I was getting irritable Can’t understand why My face hurt? My head ached? My shoulder throbbed? My legs were cramping from all the walking and running? That’s no excuse I was headed for despair mode, where you keep on fighting the fight but you’ve decided it isn’t worth it You just can’t stop.
Facts don’t bother Dean much. He’s still fifteen years old inside. He never stopped believing in the kind of magic kids carry around inside them before reality beats them down. He gave me another look at his glower. He was on a roll, He said, “Give me a couple more minutes.”
“I’ll go report, then.” I went and told the Dead Man about my excursion into that world where Dean’s brand of magic has died.
He had no direct comment. Go meet the girl. Chuckle. You will be surprised.
The Dead Man scores his points I was surprised.
She was gorgeous. Luscious. I’d had my suspicions, of course. I’d carried her in and there’s nothing wrong with my sense of touch. But there hadn’t been light enough to reveal all that red hair.
Yeah She was a ringer for the gal who’d told the Baron Stonecipher story, who was a ringer for the naked gal This one with a difference This one had an air of innocence “It’s raining redheads, Dean.”
He grunted. Like he didn’t care.
She was sitting up now, no longer green around the gills. She looked at me. Green eyes. Again. Gorgeous big naive green eyes Lips like I only dream about. Freckles.
Down, boy.
I gaped. Dean gave me the
Dean opened the door after peeking through the spyhole. He looked at the girl. “Got lucky again, eh?” He stepped aside.
I took her into the small front room, put her down on the daybed “See what you can do while I clean up.” I sketched what had happened. He gave me one of his better looks of exasperation.
“You missed supper.”
“I ate out. At Morley’s. Get a light in here so we can see. I’ll be back in a minute.” I left him and dashed upstairs faster than a wounded snail. After I washed my face and rechecked it for missing parts, I put on clean clothes and scooted downstairs and stuck my head into the Dead Man’s room “Company, Smiley.”
I am aware of that, Garrett. Try to restrain your animal urges. She may be of some help, though I cannot get anything yet. She is too frightened and confused.
“Restrain myself? I’m a paragon of restraint. I’m the guy they invented the word for. I’ve never burned the house down around you.”
It was one of those rare times when he didn’t try to get in the last word Chalk one up in the history books. Might not happen again in my lifetime. She knows something, Garrett.
Hell. Score one for him. That was worse than one of his standard digs. It was tone rather than words. He was accusing me of goofing off.
I stomped into the small front room.
Dean was bent over the woman, blocking her from view, talking softly. I paused, looked at him with an affection I’d never show to his face. He had been the luckiest find of my life. He did everything around the house that I hated, cooked like an angel, put in absurd hours, and more often than not was as emotionally involved in my cases as I was. I couldn’t ask for much more but maybe a little less lip and a little more enthusiasm about keeping the Dead Man clean.
If he has a failing, it’s his disapproval of my work habits Dean believes in work for its own sake, as a tonic for the soul.
I coughed gently to let him know I was there. He didn’t hear Was he going deaf? Maybe. He had to be pushing seventy, though he wouldn’t admit it.
“How is she, Dean? Settled down any?”
He tossed a glower over his shoulder “Some. No thanks to you.”
“I should let somebody run up on me and maybe change the shape of my head?” I was getting irritable Can’t understand why My face hurt? My head ached? My shoulder throbbed? My legs were cramping from all the walking and running? That’s no excuse I was headed for despair mode, where you keep on fighting the fight but you’ve decided it isn’t worth it You just can’t stop.
Facts don’t bother Dean much. He’s still fifteen years old inside. He never stopped believing in the kind of magic kids carry around inside them before reality beats them down. He gave me another look at his glower. He was on a roll, He said, “Give me a couple more minutes.”
“I’ll go report, then.” I went and told the Dead Man about my excursion into that world where Dean’s brand of magic has died.
He had no direct comment. Go meet the girl. Chuckle. You will be surprised.
The Dead Man scores his points I was surprised.
She was gorgeous. Luscious. I’d had my suspicions, of course. I’d carried her in and there’s nothing wrong with my sense of touch. But there hadn’t been light enough to reveal all that red hair.
Yeah She was a ringer for the gal who’d told the Baron Stonecipher story, who was a ringer for the naked gal This one with a difference This one had an air of innocence “It’s raining redheads, Dean.”
He grunted. Like he didn’t care.
She was sitting up now, no longer green around the gills. She looked at me. Green eyes. Again. Gorgeous big naive green eyes Lips like I only dream about. Freckles.
Down, boy.
I gaped. Dean gave me the
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