sheets of dark wood paneling on two sawhorses. Using a circular saw, she cut the sheets to the proper length. She wore overalls and a tool belt. Bill stood next to her with a stack of two-by-fours balanced on his clay shoulder and a dozen nails in his mouth. Tiffany plucked one of the nails from his lips, snatched a hammer from her tool belt, and with swift sure strokes pounded the paneling onto a support beam.
Because the Pro Bono Mobile’s muffler was so loud, they heard me arrive (probably from miles away). As I shuffled up the driveway, Bill grinned at me and two of the nails fell out of his mouth. While the two-by-fours teetered on his shoulder, he bent down to pick up the nails.
I made my announcement. “Good news for you and your golem friends, Bill—we found you all a benefactor.”
Bill looked giddy as I described the Adopt-a-Golem program and how Irwyn Goodfellow had promised to help. “And Maximus Max has been slapped with a mountain of permit violations and fines. He’ll have to find a new line of work, and he won’t bother you anymore.”
“Need to find someone to rewrite all those animation spells, Chambeaux,” Tiffany said. “Old mimeograph paper fades fast, and I don’t want my friend Bill here to crumble into a pile of dirt in the middle of my garage.”
“I apologize in advance for the mess,” Bill said.
“Not the point, Bill. What did I tell you before?”
The golem was sheepish. “That I’m a person, just like everyone else.”
I could see they were getting along well. “Thanks for taking care of him, Tiffany.”
“Goodfellow’s not the only one who can do good deeds,” she said. “Besides, Bill’s the perfect houseguest, kind of useful in his own way. He insists on doing the laundry, he cooks, he cleans—and he doesn’t get in the way. He puts the toilet seat down, he doesn’t make a mess, doesn’t play loud music of a kind that I don’t like, and he even makes himself useful with my home-improvement projects.”
Bill beamed at the compliment. “She calls it a win-win situation. I’ve never won anything before.” He kept smiling, and this time he managed to keep the nails in his mouth when he talked. “Doing a few chores for room and board is a lot better than slaving to make souvenirs. I hope my comrades can find a good situation, too.”
“Glad to hear it’s working out for both of you. Still, we’ll find him a real job and get him out of your hair as soon as possible.”
“No hurry on that, Chambeaux. You’ve got a hundred other golems to worry about. Meanwhile, happy to have him here.”
“Tiffany, I’d like to return the favor,” I said. “I’ve got a client, the madam of the Full Moon. She’s been having some trouble, needs to hire private security, and I thought of you.”
“Rowdy clients?” she asked.
“Outside troublemakers, although I doubt she’d turn down the services of a good bouncer. You’d be a natural for it.” I eyed her solid build. “If you’re interested, I’ll introduce you to Neffi.”
As a private investigator, I knew plenty of unsavory types—both monsters and humans with a natural knack for being unpleasant and intimidating. In other words, good candidates to work private security. But if I recommended someone to work the brothel, I was putting my own reputation on the line. I couldn’t suggest just any scumbag who liked to growl at suspicious customers; Neffi wouldn’t want to scare away potential clients. Tiffany seemed a good choice.
She looked down at the paneling and circular saw. “Although nobody enjoys knocking heads together more than I do, I’m in the middle of remodeling the basement to make it a nice lightproof den. And once I finish that, I’ve been wanting to take up gourd crafting, unlock my inner creative spirit. I read an informational brochure at the gym, and it sounded interesting to me.”
“Could I be a security guard?” Bill asked.
I eyed his big frame. “I bet you’d be good at it.”
“Would I get to wear a uniform?”
Tiffany said, “I thought you wanted to make sure your friends got situated first. Besides, I could use your help on some handyman projects.”
Bill looked embarrassed. “Yes, my friends should come first. And I will help in any way necessary, Tiffany.”
“No pressure,” I said. “You know how to find me if you change your mind.”
I stopped at the Transfusion coffee shop to pick up a bitter coffee for myself and a cappuccino for