There ain’t no justice, I guarantee absodamnlutely. There
I was, comfy as could be, feet on my desk, a pint of Weider’s
porter in my hand, Espinosa’s latest potboiler in my other
hand, and Eleanor reading over my shoulder. She understood Espinosa
better than I did. For once the Goddamn Parrot wasn’t
squawking. I sucked up that sweet silence more enthusiastically
than I did the beer.
Some fool went to hammering on my door.
His pounding had an arrogant, impatient edge. Meant it would be
somebody I didn’t want to see. “Dean! See who that is!
Tell him to go away. I’m out of town. On a secret mission for
the king. Won’t be back for years. And I wouldn’t buy
what he’s selling anyway, if I was home.”
Nobody moved. My cook-slash-housekeeper-slash-factotum was the
one who was out of town. I was at the mercy of wannabe clients and
the Goddamn Parrot.
Dean had gone to TemisVar. One of his herd of homely nieces was
going to get married. He wanted to make sure her fool fiance
didn’t wake up before it was too late.
The pounding continued bruising my door. I’d just
installed it, replacing one broken down by a villain who
couldn’t take a hint. “Damned insensitive jerk!”
I muttered. Hollering and threats backed the hammering. The
neighbors were going to get upset. Again.
