“I have a kind of crazy idea. I want to go meet the Lucella at the next port she calls in and have it out with Bledsoe—find out what he’s been up to and whether Grafalk’s telling the truth and whether the chief engineer or the captain could’ve monkeyed with my car. I know there’s stuff I can do down here. But it’ll wait three or four days. I want to talk to those guys now.”

Lotty pursed her lips, dark eyes alert. “Why not, after all? They won’t be back here for—what did you say? Seven weeks? You can’t wait that long, anyway—their memories will have gone stale.”

“The way to do it is to track them down through Grain News. It lists contracts and when and where they’re to be picked up. That way, Bledsoe’s office won’t be able to warn him that I’m coming: I like to catch people au naturel.”

I got up and stacked the plates in the sink, running hot water from the tap.

“What is this?” Lotty demanded. “Your head wound must have been worse than I thought.”

I looked at her suspiciously.

“When did you ever clean up dishes within two days of using them?”

I swatted her with a dish towel and pursued my idea. It sounded good. I could get my corporate spy, Janet, to find out how much Phillips earned. Maybe she could even snatch a look at his bankbook, although Lois probably guarded that with her fiery dragon breath. If Bouchard was in town he could find out who this guy was who was interested in buying a share of the Black Hawks. That was the person who’d introduced Paige to Boom Boom last Christmas.

Lotty rubbed Myoflex into my shoulder before I went to bed and fixed me up with a sling to keep me from twisting the joint in my sleep. Nonetheless I woke the next morning barely able to use my left arm. I wasn’t going to be able to drive that damned car anyplace, and I’d planned on taking it down to my cousin’s apartment to look at his copies of Grain News. The police were through there; as soon as I collected the keys I could go back to it.

Lotty offered me her car, but I couldn’t see one-handedly driving a stick shift. I stomped around the apartment, enjoying a first-rate tantrum.

As she left for the clinic, Lotty said dryly, “I hesitate to interfere, but what problems will your rage solve? Can’t you do some of your business by phone?”

I stiffened momentarily, then relaxed. “Right, Lotty. Pit-dog Warshawski will be called off.”

She blew me a kiss and left, and I phoned Janet at Eudora Grain to see if she could find out how much Phillips earned.