small chair, and I could see that his little legs dangled high above the floor and he wore no shoes on his furry feet. He set the card down, as if unimpressed, made a coughing harrumph, then picked up a dirty rag, dabbed it in a jar of silver polish, and began vigorously rubbing an inscribed silver chalice along with its accompanying silver-handled sacrificial dagger. Around him, other silver objects gleamed. Though the gremlin was little, he had bulging biceps, probably from vigorous and constant polishing.
He looked up at me. “Shiny,” he said, still lisping. “I like shiny thingth.”
At his left elbow, in a large stone stand that might originally have been a birdbath, sat a crystal ball a foot in diameter, marked Not for Sale. The gremlin touched the surface of the crystal ball and peered into the transparent depths. “Shiny,” he said again. When he removed his finger, he found a smear on the globe’s surface, which he rubbed away before heaving a contented sigh.
“Let me tell you about my client, Mr. . . . uh?”
“Thnaathzhh.”
I had never heard such a name before. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Thnaathzhh.”
The gremlin’s moist nostrils flared. “Not Thnaathzhh. Thnaathzhh!”
“Thnaathzhh,” I said again, precisely the same way he was pronouncing his name. In a huff, the gremlin tore a sheet from his receipt book and scribbled on it, Snazz.
“Oh, Snazz! That makes more sense.”
“Thnaathzhh,” the gremlin repeated, working his lips with such determination that spittle flew out. Luckily, the chicken wire blocked the trajectory, so the spittle did not make it to me and my jacket.
“Struggling with sibilants, I see? The sequence of so many esses does sometimes seem silly.”
The annoyed gremlin struggled to find a sentence that did not contain the letter S. He found a good one. “What do you want?”
“My client is a zombie named Jerry who works for the Hope and Salvation Mission. He pawned his heart and soul here, and he would like to purchase it back.”
“Already thold,” said Snazz.
“That’s what I hear.”
The gremlin continued to polish his silver. “Heavy demand on the combo packth, already thold theven thetth thith month.”
“Seven sets this month? I was hoping you could tell me who the customer was. I’d make it worth your while.” I lowered my voice. “I have some sparkly and shiny things I could pass your way.”
The gremlin’s eyes lit up. “Shiny . . .” He sounded very tempted.
He bent over to a credenza next to his stool, worked a combination lock to open the drawer, and pulled out a ledger book nearly as big as he was. He propped it on his lap, taking care to keep the contents out of my sight line. He flipped from page to page, humming, gurgling, until he found the correct entry. “Yeth, I know who bought it.”
I contemplated what sparkly or shiny objects I could use for trade. Snazz seemed like the sort of person who might even be delighted with strips of aluminum foil.
“Won’t tell you.” The gremlin slammed the ledger book shut. “Not worth it.”
“I haven’t even made an offer yet.”
“Thtill not worth it.”
Either the intractable gremlin had a well-defined sense of business ethics, or he was genuinely afraid to divulge the identity of the purchaser. Why would anyone want Jerry’s heart or soul in the first place? I tried a different tactic. “You said you’ve sold seven combo packs in the past month. All to the same customer?”
“None of your buthineth.”
“Actually, it is my business, Mr. Snazz. I’m a private detective, and this is a case.”
“Private meanth I don’t have to anther your quethtionth. Thith ith a pawnshop. Buy thomething, or go away.”
I could see that traditional negotiation would get me nowhere. If McGoo got a warrant, the pawnbroker would have to reveal the purchaser, but even though McGoo and I kept a running back-and-forth of favors, I didn’t have a legitimate legal reason to request a warrant—Jerry had pawned his heart and soul, and someone had purchased it. No crime committed.
Still, I needed information from that ledger book. Maybe, I realized, if heart-and-soul bundle packs were such a hot commodity, I could spot the avid collector if I kept an eye on Timeworn Treasures.
To be polite, I perused the objects on the shelves. On one of the high displays, I actually found a coffeepot to replace the one Sheyenne had broken when her brother Travis made his surprise visit. I didn’t even want to imagine the dire circumstances that would drive a person to pawn