Pattikin looked dismayed, but kept on. “You have no witnesses to tell your side. It’s going to look . . . very compromising.”
“Not really,” Pookie said. “We have our own witnesses. Guys?”
The Earwig poked his head out from underneath the bed and waved a leg. Earwigs had the facility to hear and then repeat hours of verbatim conversations accurately. They were invaluable at court trials. The Shutterbug peeked out from behind the lantern. Pattikin looked at them and her face fell. Pookie went on.
“Now, I have proof that you came in here under false pretenses, to try to catch Mr. Skeeve in a show of depravity and corruption. Maybe you even have a bag of coins in that hold-all of yours. I’m going to put together quite a little photo album, containing our side of everything that has happened in here this morning. I’m going to make two copies, one for our office and one extra. What happens to that second copy is up to you. It could get incorporated into the next daily briefing, or it can disappear forever.”
Pattikin gathered up her cloak and wrapped herself in it. “What do you want?”
“Who sent you here?” I asked. “What do they want? Why do they want to smear me? Are they behind the other attack articles that I’ve seen?”
The Tipp shook her head. “Publish and be damned,” she said. “You can’t do to me anything worse than what would happen to me if I told you what you want to know.”
I regarded her with regret. “You never were going to tell me who was eavesdropping on us, were you?”
Pattikin smiled at me pityingly. “So it is true what they say about Klahds.”
“And what they say about Pervects,” Pookie said, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. Her yellow eyes seemed to glint with their own light. “Maybe you had better get out of here while you still have feet to walk on.”
Pattikin took her advice. With one eye on Pookie, she backed toward the door, felt behind her for the latch, and slipped out into the corridor.
When she had gone, I found that my muscles were tensed rock solid. I did my best to relax.
“Thanks, Pookie,” I said.
“Don’t mention it,” she said gruffly. “I owe you and Cousin Aahz plenty, though this wipes out a bunch of favors. I have lied, stolen, killed, hijacked, and taken the last string of beads from a crippled, blind old woman. I’ve done a lot of things on Perv you couldn’t get me to tell you about even under torture, but I have two firm rules: I never babysit, and I never get involved in politics. This is why.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“How could you possibly think I’m lying?”
—PINOCCHIO
Pookie went home with the Earwig and Shutterbug safely stowed in her satchel. I marched out into the pale sunrise and headed for the Evening Screed.
As Pattikin had said, the news-gathering business didn’t wait for daylight to begin its operations. The Screed office looked just like the Morning Gossip except for the faces of the reporters, typesetters, and editors. I asked for the managing editor.
“Romses Beleeger,” said the tall Tipp who came out of a private room to shake my hand. “How may I help you?”
“You can stop trying to slander me or my people,” I said conversationally.
“I beg your pardon? Are you sure it is I whom you seek?”
The way he phrased his sentences told me I had found my perfect grammarian.
“Only if you’re the person who runs this rag.”
Romses drew himself up. “I beg your pardon?”
I looked down my nose at him. “No need to beg. I will grant it freely, if you don’t print details of the phony attempt at seduction perpetrated on me by one of your reporters a short while ago.”
“One of my reporters tried to seduce you? Which one?”
“Pattikin Lockheart.”
Romses shook his head. “I regret to contradict you, sir, but no one by that name is employed here.”
“What?” I asked. I felt in my belt pouch for the card she had given me. I fished it out and handed it to Romses. He took it as if it were a fin from a week-dead fish.
“This is a forgery, sir,” Romses said, handing it back. “I promise you, I have no one by that name in my office.”
“But she said . . .” I realized I had been gullible, in more ways than one. “Someone sent her to me. We set up a private meeting . . .”
“Is that so?” Romses asked, the light of battle illuminating his light-brown eyes. “Tell me all about it.”
“No!” I said, not wishing to dig myself in deeper trouble than I already had. I should have led him to admit he had instructed her to set it up. “So she didn’t bring you material for an article about me?”
“Oh, yes, we received one from someone by that name. My people are setting it up now for today’s paper.” He gestured at the press running in the rear of the shop.
“You can’t print it!” I said.
“I refuse to allow our paper to be the only digest in town that didn’t,” Romses told me sternly. “The story is already in circulation.”
“Already?” I asked. “How? Where?”
Romses lifted an eyebrow toward one of the clerks slitting open envelopes at a desk near the door.
“Dag, send me today’s Morning Gossip.”
The young Tipp lifted a rolled-up newspaper and sent it flying toward us. It landed in Romses’s hands with a SMACK! He folded the front page outward and showed it to me.
I read the page with my temper flaring into a volcanic blaze. It was an account of the first few moments of my meeting with Pattikin, but after the point when she dropped her cloak it became a nauseatingly coy but vivid description of a tryst, with me as a willing participant if not instigator. It had not been written by Pattikin herself, but was billed “as told to” Milligan Stemplemeier, staff reporter. At least there were no images.
“None of this is true!” I protested. “This is complete fantasy!”
“Scandals sell papers, Mr. Skeeve, don’t they? And that’s our business—to sell papers.”
“But I just left Pattikin a few moments ago,” I said. “How did it get into print so quickly?” Then I realized the truth. “It must have been planted even before she met me at that hotel. This was all a setup!”
“I am certain that I have no idea of what you speak,” Romses said. “I am terribly sorry, but I have a great deal to get done. Thank you for stopping by.”
He carefully maneuvered me to the glass doors and out onto the street.
I stood on the public footpath, feeling like a complete idiot. In spite of the precautions I had taken, I had still been made to look not only corrupt, but depraved.
I thought about going to the Morning Gossip but realized an indignant denial would just confirm in their minds that I was guilty of something. A relationship between two adult beings was not illegal. It would be an issue only if I made something of it. I had a choice between calling further attention to the story or letting it die. If it would.
Bunny met me at our temporary office. The early papers were in a stack in front of her. She raised her eyebrows at me.
“We were prepared,” I said, “but not for everything.”
“Aahz thought something like that might happen,” she said.
“He told you? When?”
“This morning,” she said. “The papers are getting even with us for cutting them out of the circuit. They don’t want to give up control of the situation.”
“They’re not getting it back,” I said. “I don’t care what they say about me. I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Who’s going to believe that?” Bunny asked. “They make it sound like you did. Everything in the papers could be phony, including the horoscopes, and the average Tipp on the street would never know.”
I frowned. “The horoscopes are false?” On Klah, magicians wrote the fortunes.
“Yes. Ecstra told me. They’re written for entertainment value. Otherwise they might have to tell bad news some days, and that wouldn’t sell
papers. The truth can be a dangerous thing.”
“I know,” I said. I remembered a famous psychic in the kingdom where I grew up who had been hauled away by an angry baron and never seen again. “We’d better take precautions. Come back with me. I’m going to get some of the others.”
“No!” Bunny said. “We can handle this.”
“Well . . .” I thought for a moment. “At least let me bring Gleep back. This could turn physical, and I want to make sure you’re protected. The papers’ magicians are stronger than I am, but I doubt they can do much with a dragon. Besides, he’s a better judge of character than I am.”
Bunny touched my cheek. “No, he’s not.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I’m telling you the naked truth.”
—LADY GODIVA
I could tell my effectiveness was being hampered by the rumors in the papers. When we went out to a square on the second terrace above the main street to oversee the candidates offering speeches on behalf of Parents’ Day, reporters and onlookers alike kept glancing over their shoulders at us instead of keeping their eyes on the candidates up on the platform.
“. . . And I say that everyone who has had a parent, or who has ever been a parent, should appreciate the contributions that they have provided to society!” Wilmer thundered. He held a finger in the air and struck a pose.
No one clapped or cheered.
“I say, you should appreciate the contributions of parents!” Wilmer shouted. The Echoes picked up his voice and sent it around. The audience, aware that they were being addressed, turned and gave him a faint smattering of applause. “Thank you. As a parent and a grandparent myself, I am grateful for my fellow parents. I want all of you fine children to keep in mind all you owe to your parents. Without them, where would you be?”
“Nonexistent?” I muttered to myself, then realized I was surrounded by reporters. Gleep kept them at a distance, but they were still close enough to have heard what I said. They all wrote in their notebooks. My cheeks grew hot. I didn’t want to attract more attention.
Emo went next. He put a companionable arm around the statues of a mother and father Tipp cradling a baby. Somewhere, a melody struck up, and Emo burst into song.
“P is for progenitors of people. A is for affection in their eyes. R, responsibility they teach us, E, to emulate their ways so wise. N, wiping our runny little nooooo-ses, TS, telling stories nightly tooooo us. All of this together this spells out Parents! I love my parents. And you should love yours, too!”
The reporters turned openly to see if I was going to comment. I stayed steadfastly silent. It didn’t help. They wrote something down anyhow.
“Well?” Carnelia said, descending upon us when the speeches were done.
“I thought Wilmer did a fine job,” I said. “And Emo, too,” I added to Orlow. “That was quite a song.”
“As if anyone could tell,” Orlow said, sourly. “He gave the performance of a lifetime, and no one paid any attention, thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No offense,” Carnelia said, “but I am beginning to wonder if you folks are not taking away more from the process than you are contributing to it.”
“That story was phony,” I said. “We told you the papers are making things up now. They don’t want either of your candidates elected.”
“They made it up?” Orlow asked. “So it’s all a lie? You never met with that woman in a seedy hotel room?”
I hated to lie. “Well, I did . . .”
“So it was true!”
“I met her, but none of that happened! I have three witnesses!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carnelia said. “Public perception counts! You’re getting to be an embarrassment to the candidates.”
“Well, I’m not,” Bunny said, pushing in front of me. “You can deal with me in the future. Skeeve will just help me a little more behind the scenes.”
Orlow and Carnelia exchanged glances.
“Well, all right,” Orlow agreed. “We’ll keep our agreement with you for now, but no more surprises!”
“None,” Bunny promised.
We went back to our office, feeling chastened. Gleep circled around us as we walked, growling in low tones at anyone who came close to us. Mothers with children retreated to the far side of the street. They were afraid of Gleep, but at that moment I was probably more dangerous to them. I felt angry and embarrassed.
“Who would ever have thought we’d be told to clean up our behavior by politicians?” I blurted as soon as our door closed behind us.
“I’ll never live this down at home,” Bunny said.
“None of our partners would ever tease you about it,” I said. “Not even Aahz. He’s on our side.”
“I don’t mean on Deva,” Bunny said. Someone started pounding on the door. “I don’t care who it is, tell them to go away. I need five minutes to pull myself together.”
I put on the guise of a Tipp in a white jacket and leaned out the door. It was Ecstra.
“I’m sorry, but the office is closed just now.”
“Skeeve, I need to talk to you!”
I frowned. “How do you know it’s me?” I asked.
“You may look like a Tipp, but you smell the same,” she said. “Kind of like coffee and dust.”
Since those were two scents prevalent in our home on Deva, I had to admit she had me there. “Sorry, you still can’t come in.”
“Gleep!”
My dragon shot around my legs, cut around Ecstra, and herded her inside. When I tried to protest, he turned his long neck and slurped me in the face with his tongue. I went sprawling. His tail hit the door and shut it.
“He knows I want to help you, even if you don’t,” Ecstra said.
“How?” I asked.
“I want to get the truth out there,” she said. “I know you’re not the type to get involved with strange women. Both of you have been very honest and straightforward since you got here. It’s been a nice change. And now I understand why you’re keeping all the journalists at a distance. Something is going on.”
“So you can understand why we have to ask you to leave.”
“Gleep!” my dragon said, warningly. Ecstra put her arm around his neck and appealed to us.
“No, I want to help! I’ve been steered this way and that by people I trusted. I know I can believe what you say. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
Gleep was there to help protect us. When he let her get close to us, I realized he must know something I didn’t. I had to relent.
“All right. You can stay. For a few moments.” I pulled out a chair and helped Ecstra to sit down in it. She smiled up at me as she whipped out her notebook.
“Thanks. I’m working on a special report. I have to investigate this. I hope you’ll cooperate with me. It’s really important. It is not about the polls, I promise.”
Bunny and I exchanged glances that turned from reluctant to resigned.
“I guess,” I said.
“I appreciate it,” Ecstra said. She turned to Bunny. “It’s an exposé about you.”
“Me?” Bunny asked. “What about me?”
“Uh, well, it’s kind of hard to explain,” Ecstra began, clearly embarrassed.
“Try.”
“Well, I have received information from an unnamed source—”
“Naturally,” I said.
“—who says he has proof that the only reason you have gotten the candidates to cooperate is by your feminine wiles.” Ecstra was almost hiding her face by the time she finished the sentence.
“What?” Bunny asked, dumbfounded. “I mean, I am proud of my feminine wiles, but let me assure you that I have never used them and will never use them on any Tipp, particularly not our two clients. Of all the stupid things to imply!”
Ecstra glanced at me uncomfortably.
“Well, my source had some specifics, how you interested the gentlemen with . . .” She leaned forward a
nd whispered in Bunny’s ear. “. . . And absolutely hypnotized them by . . . and then, you took your . . .” I watched Bunny’s eyes and open mouth grow wider and wider with every word. I expected her to explode in fury and throw Ecstra out of the room. Instead, she burst out laughing. Ecstra and I watched her with growing bemusement. Bunny wiped her eyes.
She took the reporter’s hand. “Come on,” she said. She pulled her toward the bathroom. I started after them. She shook a finger at me. “Not you, Skeeve. Ladies only.”
The door closed firmly behind them.
Ecstra’s voice echoed hollowly in the tiled room. “I’m not sure if you have to . . .”
“C’mon, we’re just girls here,” Bunny said. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Never mind, you don’t have to. Look.” I heard the sound of rustling cloth swishing to the floor.
Ecstra gasped.
I became very interested in what was going on in there. I took a step toward the door. Gleep zipped around in front of me. He snaked his long neck up so we were eye to eye and gave me a severe stare.
“Gleep!”
“I just want to check to see if they’re all right,” I said.
“Gleep!” he told me, reproachfully.
“Oh, fine,” I said. I sighed. I stared at the door, wishing I could see through it.
Ecstra’s voice was filled with wonder. “You mean there aren’t any . . . ?”
“Nope,” Bunny said.
“And what about the spikes on the . . . ?”
“No,” Bunny said.
“And the line of extra . . . ?”
“No, not there, either.”
“Wow,” Ecstra said, admiringly. “And you do all that without needing . . . ?”
“I’ve never needed anything like that.”
I was agog by the time Bunny and Ecstra emerged. Rather than seeming embarrassed by the private display, Bunny looked confident and in control. Ecstra scribbled madly in her notebook. She was very excited.
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