"Shamus, " she said, her voice cooing hard like a bird flying into a jet engine, "You look like you've been through a lot of cases already today. Was 'Nam that bad for you?"
I sat up straight. Where the hell had she got that from?
She smiled: "Only someone from 'Nam would have used duct tape to cover over Incoming on his mail tray".
There was more than violet behind those eyes.
"Look, dickie boy, you are a drunk and a sexist pig, but I need someone who wouldn't look out of place in the last trashcan on Crap Alley. Here's the deal."
She suddenly reached back into her guitar case. I reached for my .45 dulcimer. She beat me to it, and brought out a fistful of General Grant's.
"There's this money in it for you, and if you are good I might even let you talk dirty to me when all this is over. I want you to find somebody for me. Name's Paper. Little Jackie Paper."
"Boyfriend?"
"Could be. Could be alive, could be dead. Dragons live forever, not so little boys, if you get my drift."
It ws more like an undertow, and I was only just keeping my head above water.