Tipsy, bloodthirsty excitement on Belinda's part. Block was less nasty but equally thrilled.
I said, 'There is a problem. The bad guys are people who should have been out of it years ago.' I explained what Playmate and Barate Algarda had told me.
Block mused, 'The guy's name stays the same. Hmm? Do we have ghosts, like at the World? Or a father- son-grandson thing? Or the undead? You have a theory, Garrett?'
'We haven't yet seen any of them out in the daytime.'
'Vampires?'
That would have seemed silly a week ago. Now, though. 'The bodies they're rebuilding could be those of their victims.'
'Problem,' Block said. 'We got forty or fifty zombies but no missing persons. We took out nineteen but that leaves thirty to go. We for sure haven't had that many people the right age die.'
Belinda was well toward becoming inarticulate but, stumbling and bumbling, she managed, 'Roger keeps whining about his business getting so awful. His customers don't want to be embalmed. They just want a ride to the crematorium.'
Poor Cap'n Roger.
How does a resurrection man stay in business if all the dead get burned? 'What's the story in the refugee shantytowns? They wouldn't be honest with the red tops since they think you're persecuting them.'
'We would know,' Block said. 'Deal would know. His intelligence gathering has improved since your day.' He sighed. He took a long, forlorn look into his mug. I could not believe he was still speaking coherently. Belinda had started talking to herself. She could not understand a word she said. 'Garrett, our problem is that we're drowning in intelligence. We have so much we can't pick out the important bits.'
'What?'
'Occasionally, lately, we've found that everything we needed to know to prevent or solve a crime was in the system but the information just didn't get to the right people.'
'Uhm?' I hoped he was making excuses, not fishing for suggestions.
Singe had some. She held us spellbound while she brain-stormed an analytical hierarchy that would sort reports on arrival, evaluate them, then move them to people whose job it would be to determine connections or threats. Those folks would pass information to the people who would take action. The process depended on individual responsibility, with the hierarchy built so that shifting blame would be difficult. Penalties for failure by pettiness or indifference would be rough.
Block was awed. 'Magnificent! Pure intellectual genius, Miss Pular! I see just one flaw.'
'Sir?'
'Human nature. Even with penalties built in not everyone will strive to achieve the common goal.'
Singe was deflated. 'Oh. Humans. Right.'
'It's still the best idea I've heard. Definitely something to build on. We'll dedicate a holding cell in your name.' Which, grinning, he said to her back. She was up and moving into the hallway. 'Uh. . Did I hurt her feelings?'
79
Singe's feeling were not bruised. She had heard a knock that eluded the rest of us. She was back in a minute with Kolda, the poisoner.
Damn! Now I was doing it.
The company made Kolda nervous. He refused a seat when Singe offered it. 'I can only stay a minute. I just wanted to drop off some medicines. This bottle, with the green powder in it, is for Mr. Dotes. It will help his body flush poisons. Have him use it till it's all gone, no matter how good he thinks he feels. And this bottle, with the stuff that looks like ground amber, is for the man with the cancers. Very expensive but very effective. It's exuded by an exotic tropical beetle. Give him a pinch with every meal. No more than a pinch. More could kill him. Even a pinch may leave him feeling so nauseous that he might try to talk you out of giving him any more. Make him stick it out.'
'Kolda, thank you, man. You've gone beyond the call. What do I owe you?'
'This is on me, Garrett. But I figure it makes us even. I'll charge you next time.'
'Something to drink?' Singe asked.
'I shouldn't. It's a bit early.'
'You sure? Not even one beer?'
'Well. . One can't hurt.'
Singe headed for the kitchen.
Kolda glanced around, decided to sit after all. He leaned toward me. 'There was one more thing.'
'We're all friends here.'
Kolda shrugged. 'When I was going around the trade looking for something to fight tumors several chemists and apothecaries hit me up for Jane's mint seed. I don't have any. Not to wholesale. It's rare. After I'd been asked a few times I started asking back, about why.'
'Uhm?'
'Jane's mint only grows in boggy places. It's not really mint but crushing the leaves produces a juice with a mint smell. It shouldn't be ingested. It used to be used to poison mice. The seeds are hard to collect. You have to catch them at exactly the right time.'
'We're interested in Jane's mint seeds because?'
'Because the powdered seeds have an almost miraculous healing effect. And someone has been buying them up. The price has gone up tenfold in a month.'
I exchanged looks with Block, then held up a restraining hand when he wanted to press for details. Kolda didn't notice.
Belinda didn't care. She was having trouble staying conscious.
Singe returned. Kolda accepted a mug, took a long pull, was pleasantly surprised, belched, then told me, 'And that's about all I know, heading west.' He drained his mug and got his feet under him again.
Singe released him into the wild, then hustled back to eavesdrop while Block and I quarreled over whether the Guard or the Outfit should make the rounds of the town's chemists. I thought Belinda's thugs would be more effective.
I wondered, 'Did you get anything from the bodies you hauled away the other night?'
'They got confiscated by people who had the right warrants but not the right look.'
'I smell obfuscation,' Belinda said, suddenly awake. She had on a big smile. She had been faking the drunk. And she knew more than the Civil Guard thought she should.
Block said, 'We did what we could in the time that we had.'
'And that would be?'
'Two zombies had faces resembling those of known criminals. It wasn't for sure. The outsides of the bodies were more like leather than normal skin. The forensic sorcerers said they were dressed in whole human skins after the surgical rebuilding. The major seams were in the back. Not all of the skins fit right, which might be why they wear the woolen tights. The helmets hide the faces, which are in bad shape. The hair falls out in patches, even in the beards and eyebrows.'
I hit the key point. 'You recognized two of them.'
'We think we did.'
'And?'
'And what, Garrett?'
'Who were they? How did they die? Where? When? What were the circumstances?'
'They were housebreakers. They were sent to the work camps. Once we give them to Works they're not our problem anymore.'
Things might have been starting to line up. The Dead Man's compound minds might have pushed on past what had to be obvious even to a general.
