There were subtle signs that some parts of Playmate’s place had been searched. I asked Winger, “Has anybody been in here since you took over? Since Playmate wandered off?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” She was irked. I was daring to question her faithfulness to her commission.
“I didn’t think so. So you have to quit going through Playmate’s stuff.” While she sputtered I took a lamp into Kip’s workshop. At first glance the only change there was the absence of the cart I’d ridden over here. Behind one or another of the grolls, mostly. As I’d anticipated.
Three blocks from my house Dojango was already trying to mooch a ride.
With Doris or Marsha pulling the cart, though, there were problems. Problems which sprang from their size. Neither could fit between the cart’s long shafts. So whichever one was on the job dragged the cart along one-handed. The ride became a series of wild jerks as the groll swung his arms.
Then there was the problem of height. The grolls’ hands were eight feet off the ground when they stood up straight. When they pulled the cart I ended up lying on my back.
But we had arrived at Playmate’s stable. Marsha had volunteered to carry me around in his arms when he saw how much trouble I had levering my stiff old bones out of the cart. “I’d take you up on it, too,” I told him. “Except for the fact that you’re too tall to go anywhere inside here.”
That was one big problem with being those two guys. Hardly any structure in TunFaire was tall enough to accommodate them.
So I limped a lot and leaned on things. I was crabby. I snarled at people for no good reason. And I didn’t find a single clue as to where Playmate had gone. But I did have Singe. She’d located Playmate’s newest track and was ready to move out on it long before I finished my rounds of Playmate’s digs. I swore there had to be something incriminating somewhere. Something to tie him into the evil equine empire.
I kept returning to Kip’s workshop, convinced that there was something I was overlooking. There was nothing missing and nothing wrong there but something deep inside me kept telling me to watch out for something.
I never did figure out what it was. But I trusted my hunch. I told Morley’s associates to keep a close eye on Kip’s junk. “Something here has something to do with what’s going on. I don’t know what it is yet. So I don’t want you to let anybody in. Don’t let anybody touch anything. And in particular, don’t let Winger touch anything. But otherwise, consider her to be in charge.”
I gave Winger a big grin and a glimpse of the old raised eyebrow trick.
Winger gave me the finger.
“Promises, promises.”
That earned me a matched set of flying fingers.