inform these gentle lords and ladies, every Jack and Jane of them my better, that they're all going to spend the night in the lockup. Gods have mercy.'
Tyrene moped off.
'Where is this castle?' Thaxton asked.
'Just follow the sun down to the sea,' Trent said. 'There's a bridle path that runs by on the other side of the pond. Takes you right there.'
'What say, Dalton, old boy? Ready to walk it? It's only five miles.'
'Oh, I suppose I'm up to it. I'm not much of a horseback rider.'
'I'd join you gentlemen,' Trent said, 'but I'm waiting for my wife. I sent word to her, and she sent back that she was coming, hell or high water notwithstanding.'
'Are you going to take Sheila to Peele?' Dalton asked.
'If she wants to come. I don't give a damn what anyone thinks.'
'Well, I suppose we'll see you both there,' Dalton said. 'Later.'
'Wouldn't miss the fun.'
The two erstwhile golfers circled the pond, in which grew a profusion of pretty water plants. On the other side they found the bridle path winding through hedges and thickets of forsythia. Here and there were lilac trees, all blooming in endless shades of lavender.
'How do you suppose they get horses up into the castle?' Dalton asked.
'Freight lift?'
'Have you ever seen a freight lift in the castle?'
'Can't say as I ever did, but that, as you well know, means nothing.'
'Right. More important,' Dalton said, 'do you think Trent is still as hotheaded as he was reputed to be in his youth?'
'Which was about two hundred years ago,' Thaxton pointed out. 'Who knows? Don't know Trent very well. He and Sheila don't come out of their island paradise much.'
'Myself, I've never found him to be anything but the soul of civility. But castle legend has it that he once challenged Incarnadine for the throne.'
'I've heard that. But that's all patched up, isn't it? Besides, what's it got to do with Trent's being a likely candidate for the viscount's killer? That is what you're insinuating, isn't it?'
'Yup,' Dalton said. 'He could have thrown the dagger, or simply slipped it in as he passed.'
'Odd way to do someone in, that,' Thaxton ruminated. 'En passant, at a picnic, with people around.'
Dalton said, 'And all because the guy made a pass at his wife.'
'Unless…'
'Hm?'
'Unless,' Thaxton said, 'there's something more to it. Something more to the pass, that is.'
'You mean Sheila… and the viscount were ??'
'Well, that sounds unlikely. We both know Sheila. But we don't know the circumstances of the alleged incident. _Long bomb into the end zone.' If I know my American rugby that's serious business. Suppose it were more or less a rape?'
'Okay, I see what you're driving at, but we don't know what happened, and I don't see how we could find out. Trent is certainly not going to elaborate.'
'Yes. But _sexual assault' is a tad bit more serious than a pass, isn't it?'
'I would have to agree,' Dalton said, smelling the lilac.
Eleven
Necropolis
It was dark in the alley behind the Pelican Club, a single bare bulb glowing above the back door of the oriental restaurant next door. Kitchen fans blew food smells to blend with the reek of garbage. A rat skittered across the broken concrete of the pavement, stopped to sniff at an oily puddle, moved on.
Carney and Velma waited in the shadows, her hand on his arm. He was in topcoat and hat, she hatless in a dark seal coat. It was chilly, but there was no wind.
A car made the turn into the alley and approached. It was a long cream-colored sedan with flaring fenders, a continental kit on the driver's side, white tires, and a big front grille of gleaming chrome. The radiator cap was topped with a winged Nike.
The car pulled up behind the nightclub. Montanaro was at the wheel. Carney ushered Velma into the front seat and got in, closed the door.
'So, boss,' Tony said, 'where to?'
'Velma's place. Tell him where you live, Velma.'
'The Tweeleries.'
Tony grinned. 'Boss, you either have some powerful mumbo jumbo workin' for you tonight, or you've gone nuts.'
'Neither. But I figure the straightforward approach is best.'
'You're just going to call him out, or what?'
'Actually, just going to call on him. Tweel likes to talk.'
'He likes to do the talking. Boss, I don't think it's a good idea.'
'No, but it's inevitable. Something's up, and I've got to find out what ? what his game is. What's eating him, maybe. Do you know, Velma?'
'Clare doesn't have anything eating him,' she said. 'He's an eater. He feeds.'
'It's a rough universe.'
'Yeah, yeah,' she said, pulling out a cigarette. 'Can I smoke?'
'Sure,' Tony said, as he slid the ashtray out of the dashboard. 'This baby has everything.' He took the cigarette lighter out of the dash, flicked it. Flame danced, limning her rouged cheeks, her glistening red lips. She puffed. He put the lighter back and closed the door to its tiny receptacle.
She inhaled deeply, then let it out. Smoke billowed against the windshield. 'Yeah, it's rough. There are the eaters, and those that get eaten. Clare's an eater.' She looked at Carney. 'You are, too.'
'How about me, babe?' Tony wanted to know.
'You're dumb, but cute.'
'Let's see if I have this straight now,' Carney said. 'There are bastards and simps, and the consumers and the consumed. Have I got it all now?'
'You got it.'
'Where do you fit in?'
'I just swim along with the current. Just swim along.'
'Okay, now you have a marine metaphor going. Big fish, little fish.'
'Big fish with big teeth, little fish with suckers. That's pretty much it.'
They pulled out onto Whiteway Boulevard, merging with the stream of late-night traffic. Crowds were just getting out of the darkening theaters, couples arm-in-arm on the sidewalks, still laughing at the gag lines, humming the tunes, occasionally pausing to window-shop. Drunks threaded in and out of the milling throngs. Beyond the canyon walls the many-footed city murmured in the neon night-mist, a monster stirring in its sleep
'They gotta be tailin' us,' Tony said.
Carney gave a look back. 'Don't see anything yet.'
'Wait till we turn off. Boss, this is gonna be suicide. One, they're gonna try to zotz us before we cross the river; two, if we do get into Hellgate, we get wasted before we drive a block; three, say you do get to the Tweeleries. They either let you have it at the check station, or they take you in and do it, maybe for Tweel to watch.'
'Drive to Manny's Garage first,' Carney said.
Tony nodded slowly, then smiled. 'I gotcha. Change cars, huh?' The smile faded. 'But they'll just wait for us
