He held the book up to his eye and aimed across the page at the light. O’Reilley’s breathing became audible. Norris put the book down, folded two thicknesses of handkerchief over the blade of his pocketknife, and ran it down the seam between the pages. He took the sheet he wanted, folded it, and stowed it in his vest pocket. O’Reilley was stuttering angrily.
Norris turned to face him coldly. “Nice erasure job, for a carbon copy.”
The old man prepared himself for exploding. Norris quietly put on his hat.
“See you in court, O’Reilley.”
“Wait!”
Norris turned. “Okay, I’m waiting.”
The old man sagged into a deflated bag of wrinkles. “Let’s sit down first,” he said weakly.
Norris followed him up the stairs and into a dingy parlor. The tiny apartment smelled of boiled cabbage and sweat. An orange-haired neutroid lay asleep on a small rug in a corner. Norris knelt beside it and read the tattooed figures on the sole of its left foot—K-99-LJZ-351. Somehow he was not surprised.
When he stood up, the old man was sagged in an ancient armchair, his head propped on a hand that covered his eyes.
“Lots of good explanations, I guess?” Norris asked quietly.
“Not good ones.”
“Let’s hear them, anyway.”
O’Reilley sighed and straightened. He blinked at the inspector and spoke in a monotone. “My missus died five years back. We were class-B—allowed one child of our own—if we could have one. We couldn’t. But since we were class-B, we couldn’t own a neutroid either. Sorta got around it by running a pet shop. Mary—she always cried when we sold a neut. I sorta felt bad about it myself. But we never did swipe one. Last year this Bermuda shipment come in. I sold most of ’em pretty quick, but Peony here—she was kinda puny. Seemed like nobody wanted her. Kept her around so long, I got attached to her. ’Fraid somebody’d buy her. So I faked the receipt and moved her up here.”
“That all?”
The old man nodded.
“Ever done this before?”
He shook his head.
Norris let a long silence pass while he struggled with himself. At last he said, “Your license could be revoked, you know.”
“I know.”
Norris ground his fist thoughtfully in his palm and stared at the sleeping doll-thing. “I’ll take your books home with me tonight,” he said. “I want to make a complete check for similar changes. Any objections?”
“None. It’s the only trick I’ve pulled, so help me.”
“If that’s true, I won’t report you. We’ll just attach a correction to that page, and you’ll put the newt back in stock.” He hesitated. “Providing it’s not a deviant. I’ll have to take it in for examination.”
A choking sound came from the armchair. Norris stared curiously at the old man. Moisture was creeping in the wrinkles around his eyes.
“Something the matter?”
O’Reilley nodded. “She’s a deviant.”
“How do you know?”
The dealer pulled himself erect and hobbled to the sleeping neutroid. He knelt beside it and stroked a small bare shoulder gently.
“Peony,” he breathed. “Peony, girl—wake up.”
Its fluffy tail twitched for a moment. Then it sat up, rubbing its eyes and yawning. It looked normal, like a two-year-old girl with soft brown eyes. It pouted at O’Reilley for awakening it. It saw Norris and ignored him, apparently too sleepy to be frightened.
“How’s my Peony-girl?” the dealer purred.
It licked its lips. “Wanna g’ass o’ water, Daddy,” it said drowsily.
Norris caught his breath. No K-99 should be able to make a speech that long, even when it reached the developmental limit. He glanced at O’Reilley. The old man nodded slowly, then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She drank greedily and eyed her foster-parent.
“Daddy crying.”
O’Reilley glowered at her and blew his nose solemnly. “Don’t be silly, child. Now get your coat on and go with Mister Norris. He’s taking you for a ride in his truck. Won’t that be fine?”
“I don’t want to. I wanna stay here.”
“Peeony! On with you!”
She brought her coat and stared at Norris with childish contempt. “Can Daddy go, too?”
“Be on your way!” growled O’Reilley. “I got things to do.”
“We’re coming back?”
“Of course you’re coming back! Git now—or shall I get my spanking switch?”
Peony strolled out the door ahead of Norris.
“Oh, inspector, would you be punching the night latch for me as you leave the shop? I think I’ll be closing for the day.”
Norris paused at the head of the stairs, looking back at the old man. But O’Reilley closed himself inside and the lock clicked. The agent sighed and glanced down at the small being beside him.
“Want me to carry you, Peony?”
She sniffed disdainfully. She hopped upon the banister and slid down ahead of him. Her motor-responses were typically neutroid—something like a monkey, something like a squirrel. But there was no question about it; she was one of Delmont’s deviants. He wondered what they would do with her in central lab. He could remember no instance of an intelligent mutant getting into the market.
Somehow he could not consign her to a cage in the back of the truck. He drove home while she sat beside him on the front seat. She watched the scenery and remained aloof, occasionally looking around to ask, “Can we go back now?”
Norris could not bring himself to answer.
When he got home, he led her into the house and stopped in the hall to call Chief Franklin. The operator said, “His office doesn’t answer, sir. Shall I give you the robot locator?”
Norris hesitated. His wife came into the hall. She stooped to grin at Peony, and Peony said, “Do you live here, too?” Anne gasped and sat on the floor to stare.
Norris said, “Cancel the call. It’ll wait till tomorrow.” He dropped the phone quickly.
“What series is it?” Anne asked excitedly. “I never saw one that could talk.”
“It is a she,” he said. “And
