‘‘Daddy wants to get into the theater business. He has a theater under construction. The World. It’ll put three or four different shows on at the same time.’’

Max the innovator. How would he do that?

Tinnie interjected, ‘‘They’ll have staggered starting times. Each play will show three times a day.’’

‘‘Tinnie, please!’’ Alyx whined.

So Max had found a way to move a lot more Weider beer. I gave Alyx a nudge. ‘‘The problem you need solved is?’’

‘‘Sabotage.’’

Tinnie explained, ‘‘It’s actually kind of petty but somebody keeps getting in and breaking things.’’

‘‘Criminals? Trying to shake him down?’’ That’s how the protection racket starts.

Most crooks are smart enough to steer clear. Max Weider is rich. And doesn’t scruple in a fight. He’ll play fair, businesswise, but try strong-arming him and there’s an excellent chance somebody less personable than me will help you get started on an attempt to swim across the river. With granite in your undies.

Not even the Contagues, the emperors of TunFaire crime, would risk making a run at Max Weider. Unless the payoff prospects were beyond my ability to imagine.

Near as I can tell, all hands are happy with the status quo. Possibly excepting the law-and-order extremists at Watch and Guard headquarters in the Al-Khar.

Alyx chewed her lower lip fetchingly. Reluctantly, she said, ‘‘Maybe. But there’s, like, ghosts, too. And bugs.’’

‘‘Ghosts?’’ Just thinking out loud. Ghosts happen, but I hadn’t run into any recently. The residual personality haunting the Eleanor painting being the last. ‘‘It’s the wrong time of year for bugs.’’ Unless you kept your house too warm. Which nobody can afford to do. Other than on the Hill.

Around here we can see our breath in the winter. Except in the kitchen. And in the Dead Man’s room when we have company.