Sigismund had just come out of the library, when a calico cat rubbed against his leg. 'Look, Tintinella,' he said to his granddaughter, 'this is a friendly cat!'

'Her name is Melissa,' said a voice several feet away. Looking up, he saw a fortyish brunette crossing the street. She wore a light green hat and trenchcoat.

'I take it she's yours,' Sigismund said, doing his best to seem pleasant. Not many attractive women paid him much attention.

'Yes. I live in that house.' She pointed to the house he had just been looking at. 'Melissa is a good cat, but she won't stay home. She goes anywhere she wants – the post office, the choir loft at the Congregational Church, even the judges' chambers. The dome of a county courthouse was visible behind the library. You'll see her in that library a lot of the time too. Her sister Lucrezia is just the opposite. She never lets me out of her sight.' Sure enough, another calico cat could be seen at the window looking distressed.

'Do you have kids?'

'Not yet, but we're hoping.' Now, why on earth had she said that? Sigismund could surely see through a line like that. 'Actually, we do have one, but he's no longer a kid. He has a family of his own, somewhere in Australia. We might as well be childless. I gather this is your granddaughter Tina.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Tintinella said, curtseying the way her charm school had taught her to do. She had no problem answering to Tina or even Ella. It was the adults who hangups about proper and formal names. 'We're here for videos! Mom and Dad are in Denver on business, so Granddad is letting me watch all the shows I want to see!'

'You have good taste,' Bright Comet said. 'Maybe I'll look for some, too.' She headed for the library's entrance.

'Sorry, I didn't catch the name,' Sigismund said, realizing that he had seen this woman before. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. How did she know his granddaughter's name?

'Becky. Becky Rosen. I'm a writer. For what it's worth, I used to wait tables in the Teutonic Gourmet restaurant. '

T'hat's been closed for some years,' Sigismund said. 'My parents did all the cooking there. Wiener Schnitzel, Choucroute, bratwurst and sauerkraut, cream-filled pastries. When they died, there was just my sister and me. We sold the business to a Chinese couple. They must've retired or died, too, because it's a Thai place now.'

'It's near Happy Harbor. it's called 'Tiger's Lady.'

'That's right. Lanny – that's my son – and I go there every New Year's Eve for old time's sake. The food is kind of blah, and I always get blue because I'm remembering how things used to be. '

Tintinella was getting cold and fidgety, so Sigismund walked her to the car and helped her get in.

He doesn't seem to have really recognized me, bright Comet thought as she paused in the library doorway. The next time I accidentally run into him, maybe I can get him to discuss Renfrew's investigation. If all else fails, I can go to Tiger's Lady on New Year's Eve. Melissa ignored her until she was in the building, then dashed through the door just before it closed.

Beatrice was not amused when Renfrew suggested digging Orly up. What would that accomplish she exclaimed. Her temper was a bit short, as she was in the middle of totalling an order of 60 androids for one of the royal families of Europe.

'We would accomplish several things,' Renfrew said blithely. First, we would know whether he fell forward or backward when the bathmat was pulled out from under him. Second, we would establish whether he was flesh and blood or an android, whereas now we are just guessing.'

'But some of this is personal too, right?' added Curlew, who had been following the conversation.

'Well, yes,' Renfrew admitted. 'I feel like a fool for assuming I could communicate with the great beyond, when the most likely explanation is that Orly was flooding my androidnet receptors. Plus, there he is in a grave somewhere, completely in the dark, and taken seriously only by Sigismund and me. I feel sorry for him, okay? If that's personal, so be it.'

'All of that is probably true, but why mess with a successful arrangement?' Beatrice reasoned. She had gotten to the end of her order, so her disposition had become a bit more relaxed. 'You can still get some useful clues from him. But messing with his gravesite is sure to attract the attention of the press, and then whoever murdered him will be onto you. But I agree that it would make sense to know whether he really is an android. Since no one suspected foul play, and since his age and health argued for natural causes, there wouldn't have been an autopsy. Still, wouldn't a regular doctor have figured out that he wasn't human?'

Beatrice might as well have saved her breath. Renfrew's repairs were now complete, so he ran home to get a shovel. Beatrice's shift was over, so she followed him fifteen minutes later. She found him ransacking Sigismund's condo in a futile quest. If Sigismund's place had still been messy, Sigismund would have been none the wiser, but now he would know something was up when he returned. Without a word, Renfrew traipsed halfway around the building to the maintenance shed. Beatrice reluctantly gave him a boost over the fence, and he soon emerged with a couple of small spades.

Coordinius told me what Orly's coordinates are, Renfrew said as he and Beatrice trudged along the country lane that led to Orly's graveyard. The leaves that blanketed the roadside cushioned Renfrew's awkward steps as he walked (he was getting used to the new parts in his legs). Beatrice made a rustling sound as she slithered.

'Yes, and as I keep telling you, as soon as your shovel hits Orly, it may well knock him out of commission, and he will then be useless to you. The only upside is that he is technically dead anyway, so you won't go to prison for killing him. It's beginning to snow. Shouldn't you put on your hooded poncho? I'd hate to see you rust so soon after getting repaired.'

Paulh

17.04.23 Front Page

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