Serious as a nun

“You are lucky Markus Lydell is fucking dumb as wet chalk,” Baggett said as soon as we emerged, taking a long pull on his cigarette and studying me from where he stood leaning against the building. “Anybody with the slightest bit going on upstairs would have noticed the unmissable trail you left on the floor after crawling through the dust under that wardrobe.” He cast a pointed look at my dark blue uniform where the dust bunnies were still clinging all over it.

“Right, and if you'll let me ex—” I began.

"—Not a word, constable." Baggett shook his head a single sharp no that somehow managed to also carry off an air of outraged incredulity. “If we have to work together someday I don’t even want to hear whatever incriminating shit is about to come out of your mouth—you drew and played your ace on the same turn. If anybody asks me to attest under verification, I don’t know anything past this was just two young constables trying to play detective, and they both learned their lesson that to threaten their appointment to a choice investigative assignment by interfering with a scene of interest relevant to an active case is an idiotic fucking idea.” He exhaled and took another drag with such a severe, irritable expression that I didn’t dare cut in until I knew he was done talking. “But since you both now intimately understand that fact, you’re going to drop whatever these dumb hijinks were, and let the real **** guards do their job without any interference that some asshole solicitor will use later to claim their guard-killing scumbag client didn’t have a fair shake. Right?”

I looked up at Curry, then back to Baggett. “I know, but there’s—” I started, thinking he might relent if we showed him the peculiar map and collection of pub menus.

“—right?” Baggett repeated firmly, catching and holding my eye with a steadily darkening expression. My heart and shoulders both sank. For a little while under Lamb’s bed, I had entertained the notion that him throwing me this unexpected lifeline meant we would get on well with Baggett. But I had squandered any goodwill we might have had with him. His help wasn’t an overture of camaraderie at all, but rather had sprung from his reasonable desire not to embarrass the serious crimes division.

“Right,” Curry answered for us.

Baggett held my gaze until I echoed Curry with my own **** concession, then stubbed his cigarette out and pushed off the wall. “Good answer. Because I’m serious as an Eibrish nun when I say, I’m paying attention now for anything that even remotely suggests shenanigans—and if I run across any further cock-ups of yours then you’re on your own with ID. See you in two years, kids,” he said, then walked off at his not-quite saunter without looking back at us.

Neither of us spoke on our dispirited walk home, except for when I had to rebuff first a woman with a flensing knife stuck through her neck, who wouldn’t stop planting herself in my path and hectoring me about something to do with bay scallops, and then a man with no tongue who kept trying to communicate with me via gesture—something about ships, or aurochs, or maybe armies. I really couldn’t tell beyond, there was a whole big mess of something he wanted me to know about.

By the time we got home I was so **** to be done with dead people that I ran straight upstairs and guzzled two doses of suppressant in one go. I set the empty vials on the bed stand, wriggled out of my awful, dusty uniform and into a pair of sleeping drawers and a simple cotton shirt, and collapsed onto the bed. “I feel really fucking stupid,” I said to Curry when he caught up and stood there in the door looking at me.

“How come?”

“I didn’t find Lamb, or do anything else worthwhile. All I did was piss off our best bet at an ally in serious crimes. Pointless. Worse than pointless, actually.”

“Well. You never could resist a chance to prove you can squeeze yourself through some impossibly small space,” he said, which made me snort. “This one might be a record.”

“No, my record is that time Mr. Seaborn locked himself out and his little dog in.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right. I was completely convinced we’d have to cut you out of his kitchen door.” Curry took a seat up by the head of the bed, leaning against it and making himself more comfortable.

“It was a tight fit today, I admit.” I turned on my side and looked up at him.

“Right,” Curry agreed good-naturedly. “I’m convinced your judgment on such things comes down to, will the tip of your nose fit? After that day at Seaborn’s I’ve always tried to keep you away from any big mouseholes lest they prove too tempting.”

This made me laugh despite my lousy mood. “If my shoulders fit and there aren’t any funny angles, I can usually manage it.” We fell silent for a minute, until I added, “Sorry I fucked up so bad with Baggett.”

“Well, I know you’re disappointed, but to my view today could have gone a whole hell of a lot worse,” Curry said. “You didn’t get stuck. You didn’t get caught by Lydell. Baggett’s pissed but he as good as promised not to tell anybody, if we behave ourselves after this.”

“Yeah, but—”

“—let’s call this lack of a loss a victory,” he told me, and I fell silent, because he was right, even though I sort of wanted to keep arguing the point. “Come here, dummy.” He motioned to me, and I scooted upward on the bed and let him sling his arm around my shoulders.

“I’m so tired,” I lamented. “I think it’s just being off my stuff. But I can tell I’m going to be worn out the next couple days. I hate being this tired going into a working week. Plus I filthied up two uniforms inside one week and didn’t launder the first, so I only have one clean one right now to get through all four shifts.”

“I’ve been feeling sort of guilty the last day or so that I encouraged you to do this,” Curry said hesitantly. “I had no idea what it was really like for you, off your suppressants.”

“No reason you would know that. You’ve never seen me off them before, not really off them, I mean.” I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. And it would have been worth it, if we’d found Lamb and been able to talk to him. I probably should have tried to tough it out longer.”

“A dead man showed you his penis, you’re allowed to acknowledge it’s at least kind of a big deal.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen plenty worse than that guy’s pecker.”

There was a short silence and then Curry asked, “Are you all right? After almost crossing paths with Lydell?”

“So much more all right than if he saw me,” I said, making myself smile up at him. “And hey, I didn’t piss myself this time, yeah? Good thing, too. I’m sure that would have made Baggett even less impressed with me.”

“Things will work out with Baggett, you’ll see,” Curry said.

“He strikes me, one of those people who holds a grudge.”

“Oh, just like you, you mean. So I guess you two will get on grand when it comes to it.” He reached over and messed up my hair.

I rolled my eyes, but obliged him with a little grin.

“Since your weekend got sort of shot to shit, is there anything particular you want to do tonight?” he asked.

“Lie around and not hear the varyingly plaintive supplications of the unquiet dead? Get kinda weeknight drunk and then eat take-away food that isn’t good for us?”

“The second I can do for you, at least.”

I wriggled away and slid off the bed. “I’ll get the whiskey. I can tell you’re dying to start reconstructing Lamb’s crazy-map right away. You can do that and I’ll lie on your bed and watch while we decide what garbage fry-up to get.”

“We don’t have to do the map.”

“Uttered by him in such a half-hearted tone she knew it for a lie,” I told him, then left to get the whiskey.