"Musicians," Saucerhead muttered, as though that explained the ills of the world. "I didn't hear, Garrett. What's he done now? Found you another cat?" Dean was going through a stray-collecting spell. I'd had to get firm to keep from ending up up to my belt buckle in cat hair.

"Worse. He says he's moving in. Like I don't get a vote. And he goes on about it like he's making some kind of supreme sacrifice."

Saucerhead chuckled. "There goes your extra room. No place left to stash you a spare honey. Poor baby. Gots to make do with one at a time."

Grumble grumble. "Ain't like I'm overstocked. I been doing with none at a time since Tinnie and Winger ran into each other on my front steps." Puddle laughed. Heathen.

Tharpe asked, "What about Maya?"

"I haven't seen her in six months. I think she left town. It's me and Eleanor now." Eleanor is a painting on my office wall. I love the gal but she has her limitations. Everybody thought my situation was hilarious—except Tharpe's friend. He wasn't hearing anybody but himself anymore. He started humming. I decided he couldn't be much of a musician. He couldn't carry a tune in a handcart.

Puddle stopped snickering long enough to say, "I knew you was up to something. Not your usual, but you still looking to get bailed out."

"Damnit, I just wanted out of the house. Dean is driving me buggo and the Dead Man won't take a nap on account of he's expecting Glory Mooncalled to do something and he don't want to miss the news. I defy anybody to put up with those two for half as long as I have."

"Yeah, you do got a hard life." Saucerhead sneered. "My heart goes out. Tell you what. I'll trade you. I take your place, you take mine. I'll throw in Billie." Billie being his current flame, a little bit of a blond with temper enough for a platoon of redheads.