I was dwelling in lingering detail upon the charms of the strange Miss Contague when suspicion bit him. Garrett!

He knows me too well. "Yes?" Sweetly.

What are you doing?

"Filling you in on some odd occurrences."

Occurrences, incidentally, of but passing interest. Unless your passions have overcome your brain yet again. You could not possibly be considering involving yourself with those people, could you?

I thought about lying just to rattle his chain. We do a lot of that, back and forth. It passes the time. But I said, "There are limits to how much I'll let a skirt override my good sense."

Indeed? I am amazed and surprised. I had concluded that you have no sense at all, good or bad.

We do get going. Usually it's play, wit and half-wit. It's up to you to guess who's who.

"One point for you, Old Bones. I'm going to go put myself on the shelf for the night. If Dean explodes in another mad burst of energy and decides to dust you again, tell him he can wake me at noon." I have this thing about mornings. No sane man gets up then. They come too damned early in the day.

Think about it. All those early birds out there, what do they get? Ulcers. Heart trouble. Caught by homeless cats. But not me. Not old Garrett. I'm going to lean back and relax and loaf my way to immortality.

I wish you could sleep in. After your valiant rescue job and your heroic attempt to turn a profit off that Puddle creature, you deserve a reward.

"Why do I get the feeling you're about to stick it to me? Why shouldn't I sleep in? I don't have anything else to do."