No brownies? he asked.
Christy has taken over my kitchen, I told him as I wrote the last check for the garages bills. No stress relief for me. No chocolate for you.
No chocolate? he said, leaning on the counter. Thats terrible. He waited hopefully, and when I didnt say anything more, he asked, So what did she make for us today?
I waved him at the brown paper bag sitting next to my keyboard.
He sniffed, then opened it. Cinnamon rolls?
You can eat these in here, I said, and licked the last envelope closed. Eat them both. They have Christy cooties.
The muffins were good, he said. So was the apple pie. I guess I can do without chocolate if the alternative is cinnamon rolls. There was sympathy in his voice if not his words.
Blasphemer, I told him. There are no cinnamon rolls better than chocolate.
He sniffed again. These might be.
I left him to it and retreated to go work on cars. In my garage, I ruled without questionand had since Zee had retreated to the fae reservation. Her makeup case wasnt going to end up in my garage.
But as soon as I put Christy out of my mind, I started fretting over my inability to find Coyote. Id been pretty optimistic after Honey had grilled Gary Laughingdog. But I hadnt had any brainstorms about how to be interesting enough to attract Coyotes attention.
Last night Id resorted to yelling Coyotes name to the open air (well away from home to make sure no werewolves would hear me making an idiot out of myself). Id tried talking to Coyote as if he were in the same room to see if he would come out of hidingand wondered if I was going to have to mastermind a bank heist in order to attract his attention.
I was contemplating criminal activities when Hank called. I peeled off the stupid latex gloves, so I didnt get grease on my phone. Christy had done that much for me: since I started wearing the glovesmy phone was staying cleaner.
Hey, Hank, I said.
You talk with Gary?
Something in his voice had me straightening my spine. Yes.
Hope you got the information you needed.
Whats wrong?
Last night or this morning, Laughingdog escaped. One of his relatives called me to see if I thought you might have had something to do with it.
No, I said. I wondered who Gary Laughingdogs relatives were and if they might be able to tell me how to get in touch with Coyote. I dont think so. Did you know that he has some kind of foresight?
Yes, said Hank. And much joy hes ever gotten from it. Gets him into trouble and never out, he says. You think he saw something and broke out?
I dont know him well enough to say that, I said. He had a couple of visions while we were there. Mostly a bunch of nonsense But hed known Honeys name. Something to the effect of CoyotesI remembered that odd pronunciation somebodys children breaking the night with their cries. I dont know anyone else besides the two of us who qualify. Maybe he saw something that made his escape necessary.
And maybe Coyotes kin dont do well in lockup, Hank said. No more than does anyone, but Coyote was always good at getting out of places he didnt want to be. Anyway, you can expect to see police sometime. Theyll talk to everyone on his visitors list, and there are about four of us up in the Yakama Nation and you. Hes not bigtime, but breaking out might make him more important to them. They dont like being thwarted. They, I knew, referred to the authorities of whatever flavor. Hank didnt like people who could tell him what to doand he avoided them by being a very lawabiding citizen.
Thank you for the headsup, I said.
Probably hes just gone walkabout. Show up with another name in ten or twenty years. He does that.
Walkabout? I said doubtfully. Isnt that an Aussie Aboriginal term?
An Indian is an Indian, Mercy, no matter what continent they come from, he said with a grin in his voice. Before I could disagree, he disconnected.
So I wasnt surprised when the police showed up in the afternoon.
Mercy.
Tony? I looked up from the Passat I was working on. There was something wrong with the injectors, but it was intermittent, and
I was afraid that meant it was electronicand probably something to do with the computer. And that would explain why the cars computer hadnt been able to tell me what was going on.
Mercy, I need you to clean up and come talk to me.
I blinked at the tightness in his voice and focused on his face. Trouble, that expression said, and in response, I backed out of the job, pulling bolts and pieces out of my pockets and putting them on the car where they wouldnt be lost. I peeled off the latex gloves and tossed them.
Tad? I said.
The sound of the crawlers hard wheels on pavement signaled his emergence from under the Vanagon he was repairing.
Im headed off with Tony for a bit. Dont burn down the garage or run off the customers while Im gone.
Tad glanced from Tonys face to mine, and said mildly, Is it okay if I call in a few strippers to put on a show and charge it to the garage? Ive been thinking it might pull in some more customers.