baffled. Cullen rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. The runt’s here.”
THIRTY-ONE
THE pinkie-swearing took less than five minutes and was, indeed, a solemn business. Cullen left the room right after that, saying he wanted to call Fagin’s lawyer then talk dirty to Cynna . . . “and you know how that makes Lily blush.”
Though Harry was the only brownie Lily met, the rest of his troop was nearby—out in the backyard, having fun hiding from the guards. Whatever magic brownies used to hide in plain sight didn’t work on Lily or Cullen, who was shielded against mind-magic. It worked great on everyone else. Very good spies, indeed.
“Dul-dul works on scent,” Harry said when Lily asked why the lupi couldn’t find him or his troop. He was perched on a small stack of books set on one of the chairs so he could join them at the table. “Not hearing or touch, though. Just sight and scent.”
“Why scent but not hearing?”
He rolled his big green eyes. He had long lashes and cute little eyebrows that made perpetually surprised arches. “Because we need it to work on scent, of course. We can learn how to move silently, but we can’t learn how to not smell, can we?”
That wasn’t exactly an answer. “How did you get in? Everything’s locked.”
That just made him giggle.
Before asking him about his ability to hide, Lily had asked several questions about Parrott’s meetings with Chittenden. It turned out that brownies loved watches and clocks and had a keen sense of time on the hours, minutes, and seconds level. They had very little grasp of calendars. Harry knew Chittenden’s last visit to Parrott had taken place the day Sadie’s cousin Hermie let the pigeons out of that coop over by the park with the cannons—and hadn’t that been fun? He didn’t have any idea what day that was. After some nose-wrinkled thought, he decided it might have been ten days ago. Or maybe five. Or fifteen?
Fortunately, Rule knew what day Harry had reported the meeting to Ruben: a week ago yesterday.
However lacking they might be with calendars, they were aces at details. The kind of details that interested them, at least. Lily learned a great deal about the flora and fauna in Parrott’s yard and a fair amount about his neighbors. The couple on the west side had three kids, two dogs, and a nanny—who was playing hide the pickle with the husband and oyster diver with the wife.
It was a rambling report, but there were some good nuggets in it. “I’m wondering if you could follow someone for me.” She glanced at Rule. “That homeless woman you talked to. If we knew where she sleeps, we’d have an idea where to ask questions, see if anyone else has seen anything. I’m thinking we could show pictures of Parrott, Mullins, Drummond, and Chittenden.”
They arranged for Harry to meet them at the Twelfth Street Kitchen at three. “How do you get around the city?” Lily asked.
“Cars, mostly. Motorcycles are more fun, but it’s hard to keep from touching the driver.” Harry hopped down—straight down to the floor, which seemed like a long drop for someone only eighteen inches high. But Lily knew Harry could jump a lot farther than that without harm. Like everyone else in the country, she’d watched videos of brownie acrobatics on brownies.com. The Wall Street Journal said the brownies made a tidy amount of money selling ad rights on their site.
“They perch on the bumpers, I’m told,” Rule said, rising. “Harry, you’ll take my good wishes to the others?”
“Sure.” Guileless green eyes beamed up at Rule.
“And this goes along with those wishes.” He knelt and held out a small plastic Baggie filled with Hershey’s Kisses.
Harry nodded happily as he accepted the Baggie. In the old days, brownies were happy with a saucer of milk. That was before they discovered chocolate.
Rule went to the back door. “And Harry?”
“Yes?”
“Give Lily back her ring.”
Lily’s gaze jumped to her left hand . . . which was bare. “How the hell—”
Harry chortled and slapped his thigh. “You’re getting better, big wolf!” He reached into one of his many pockets and took out her ring. “Here you go!”
Rule accepted it. “This ring is off-limits for the game.”
“Sure.” Harry nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Whatever you say.”
Karonski spoke. “Harry, what would you do if someone played the game with your grandmother’s ti-tutwelli?”
Harry giggled. “No one would do that!”
“Pretend someone did.”
The brownie wrinkled up his cute little face and thought about it. “I guess I’d pull their