I said, 'If somebody wanted a supply of corpses, she could make a deal with somebody at a work camp. Not many of those crooks finish their sentences still breathing.'
'The reason they die is that they get used up. They don't get fed right, they work long hours with primitive tools, and they get no medical attention. All part of the price of being a bad guy. Works has hundreds of prisoners and has to account for them only when their sentences are up. If a prisoner dies they report it so we can tell the family that what they expected has come to pass.'
I had an evil turn of mind. I imagined several ways that men more wicked than the prisoners could profit from the penal work system.
No doubt the bad guys out there had thought of them all and a dozen more.
Block said, 'We're looking at it, Garrett. Supposedly in regard to complaints about prisoner abuse.'
'The more I learn the more useless I feel.'
I expected to hear something reassuring. Instead, he said, 'That's because you haven't come to terms with having to be a desk jockey. You're sitting on your butt when you think you should be out kicking ass and taking names.'
Singe made a noise suspiciously like that from someone who snorts while breaking up inside but is compelled to maintain a straight face.
Block went on, 'How come you think you have to be useful? I mean, why now, suddenly, when you spent forever being an obstruction?'
I did not want to have this argument. It was the same crap I'd gotten from minions of the law since I went into business.
'I try and try but I can't figure out how me not being your brownnose butt boy qualifies as obstructionism. The gods didn't send me down here to wash your feet, kiss your ass, and whisper in your ear what a great stud you are. You know that's bullshit better than I do.'
Singe and Jon Salvation popped out of their chairs, tried to calm me down. Singe made my drinking cup disappear. Block gaped like he had opened a casket full of worms.
My mouth just kept running. 'I have no clue how you and that repugnant troll Relway got the idea that I'm supposed to be your tool but you need to get shut of the notion, now and forever.'
I was shouting before I finished. Penny came to see what was happening. Belinda clapped and cheered. Jon Salvation told Penny, 'Just a little trouble handling his drink. Ask Dean if he has anything useful in a situation like this.'
The man was right. I shouldn't have had that water-of-life. It had opened a door. The frustrations were getting out.
Singe, assisted by Jon Salvation and Dollar Dan, returned me to my former place of glory beside Morley, next door. Singe and Dollar Dan sat on me. I became fixated on that rat, wondering if he hadn't moved in when I wasn't looking.
He was never underfoot. He was invisible most of the time. But he was always there when someone needed him.
I faded into a nap wondering if he was more than a ratman. He might be a living metaphor for his whole race.
80
Business rolled along while I snoozed. People came, people went. General Block, Belinda, and Saucerhead all left. Some beer and a nap were all Tharpe needed. Singe and Jon Salvation got their heads together, scheming something. Morley woke up and turned crabby because he had missed Belinda. Salvation left after his confab with Singe.
Tinnie dropped in and spent some quality time with Singe, their banter getting heated. First, Singe would not let her wake me up. She used the words 'too much drama' more than once. Then the overdue dividend came up. The exchange went from heated to icy. Tinnie refused to believe that our shares had not been paid.
Singe said, 'I have received no deposit receipt from our bankers. Produce evidence that payment was made.'
This was when Morley entered and saw the actual exchange.
Tinnie replied, 'We have not failed, ever, to meet our obligations, on time and in full. What you claim is impossible.'
Singe countered, 'You handle the fiscal paperwork for Amalgamated. Even when you don't authorize payments you keep records of them. So I say again, show me proof of payment. Our bankers would have given you a receipt, too. Produce it.'
Morley was impressed by Tinnie's self-control. By this point most Karentines would have launched a vile rant about uppity vermin.
'Tinnie saves her bile for me.'
Evidently Singe's grim, firm, confident, no-nonsense attitude got the best of the redhead. She scribbled a note, then roared out of the house.
Morley said, 'I expect somebody at Amalgamated is hanging by his short hairs now. If what Singe claimed is true.'
Having seen Typhoon Tinnie Tate in a category-four rage I was glad the bad weather was headed elsewhere.
I read her note.
It was not signed.
Had anyone read it?
Singe? Almost certainly.
Morley? No. His odd sense of honor would forbid it.
Dean might have done had he known about it and been inclined to think being aware of the contents would help him protect the household.
Penny appeared while I brooded, bringing tea. She saw the unfolded note. She reddened.
So.
Why would she be nosy?
Did she have some vague notion about getting back at Tinnie for having fed her so much slime about me?
Morley watched Penny leave. He chuckled.
'What?'
'You missed some real excitement.'
'My head hurts.'
'It ought to. And you did it to yourself.'
Not only did my head hurt, it was still wobbly from the dizzy water. 'What did I miss? Besides Tinnie?'
'Winger. She came looking for her pet playwright. He was gone by then. She was hammered. She wouldn't believe Singe. Singe and Dollar Dan got her under control. She went away, then.'
'Bad shape, eh?'
'Blitzed pathetic. She's too old for melodrama.'
'Aren't we all? But still it happens.'
We shared a moment of silence, reflecting on the absurdities of our relationships.
Morley asked, 'Is it even possible for men to get past adolescence?'
'Maybe not. I'm missing Old Bones big-time right now. He could share centuries of observation.'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning he could answer your question. Me, I think we can't help but act like juvenile idiots till we can't contribute to the continuation of our tribes anymore.'
'If we were well behaved and thought with our heads. .'
