Willard‘s beam failed and his brow creased. I don‘t know, Kate. Short-term memory was not Willard‘s strong suit. His long-term memory was even worse. Were you bothering Cindy again?

He hung his head and mumbled something at his shoes. I don‘t remember. He peeped at her and looked away again. Hey, Mutt! He reached through the bars to give Mutt a rough pat. Mutt‘s tail gave a halfhearted wag.

The thing about Willard was he really didn‘t remember, or he didn‘t remember much. Jim had probably locked Willard up more for Willard‘s own safety than because Cindy had caught him stealing Reese‘s Peanut Butter Cups from her store again. Cindy had threatened to shoot him last time. That Chopper Jim, Kate said, shaking her head. He sure can be tough on a guy.

He sure can, Kate, Willard said mournfully. He sure can. But he‘s a nice guy anyway, you know?

Kate had extensive, detailed personal experience as to just how nice Sergeant Jim Chopin, pride of the Alaska State Troopers, could be. With an effort she kept her face solemn as she nodded back. Where‘s Howie, Willard?

Howie Katelnikof, amateur blackmailer, professional thief, and practicing weasel, was Willard‘s roommate. His one redeeming feature was that he took care of Willard. He took goodcare of him, as even Kate, unwilling to grant Howie the slightest virtue, had to admit. Howie saw to it that Willard was dressed in clean clothes appropriate to the season, had at least one hot meal a day, even if it was nuked out of the freezer, made sure his sheets and towels were clean once a week, and, when Howie wasn‘t off stripping a carelessly parked snow machine for parts, Howie was Willard‘s constant companion. Given the low life expectancy of most FAS/FAE victims, Howie was the main reason Willard, now in his early forties, was still around. Since no one wanted to see Auntie Balasha burdened with Willard‘s care, Howie had a free getout-of-jail card with most Park rats.

Of course, should he cease caring for Willard in the style to which the Park had become accustomed, said get-out-of-jail-free card was liable to be revoked, immediately and without notice. Where‘s Howie? Kate said again.

I dunno, Willard said. Around somewhere. He brightened again. Say, Kate, you know Maggie, up front?

I do know Maggie, Willard.

She‘s got some of those Girl Scout cookies, you know, the ones with the chocolate in ‘em?

Willard was always hungry and he had a fatal predilection for anything sweet. You want some? Kate said.

Willard nodded, his head bobbing so hard he knocked Anakin Skywalker out of his shirt pocket. His eyes went wide with dismay and he caught the little action figure in clumsy hands just before it crashed on the floor. Wow, he said, patting Anakin on the head and tucking him back into his pocket with reverential care. That was close. He looked at Kate. So will you ask her, Kate? Cookies he could remember. I‘ll ask her, Kate said.