Kill City Blues (Sandman Slim 5)

“I didn’t realize that civilians were as stupid as Hellions when it comes to the shit they’ll stick in their mouths.”

“I wouldn’t know about that and hope I never do.”

Mike detaches the clamp from his little fish and wipes his hands on his dirty rag.

“The commission sounds like a good thing for you. You’re moving up in the Tick-Tock world.”

“Yeah. Things are going okay. You didn’t come by just to check up on me, did you?”

Up until now I’ve been holding the 8 Ball under my arm like a loaf of bread. I take it and hold it up so he can get a good look at it.

“Nothing like that. I was wondering if you’d look at something for me. It’s a fake mystical object I’m guessing someone paid a lot of money for. I was hoping you’d have some idea who made it.”

Mike takes it gently, like he’s handling a baby duck.

“I’ll have a look but I mostly know animals. Those charm- and talisman-making assholes won’t give us the time of day. They talk about Tick-Tock Men like all we make are big-ass Tamagotchis. But we’re artists, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I brought it to you. I figure an artist knows an artist.”

Mike turns the 8 Ball over in his hands, looking over every inch of it. He pulls down a magnifier mounted on the edge of the table and examines every bolt and fastening.

“Beautiful work,” he says. “Incredible detail. And these materials. Brass-and-platinum skin over a core of surgical steel and cinnabar. You see these tiny sapphires by the base?”

He holds it up. There are a few blue specks on the 8 Ball’s belly.

“Someone’s charmed them. That’s what gives it a low-level magic signature. It’s gorgeous work. Does it have a name?”

“Qomrama Om Ya.”

“Never heard of it. I like animals.”

“If it helps, the guy had a raven in his room. Good work. Very convincing.”

Mike looks up from the magnifier.

“You didn’t happen to check under the tail feathers, did you?”

“You mean, did I look at the bird’s ass? No. It never crossed my mind. I’d go back and try, only by now the ass is probably blown halfway to Las Vegas.”

Mike goes back to the 8 Ball.

“Too bad. Lots of people sign their work in places most people don’t look. That way if the bird changes hands and needs repairs, they can find the original builder.”

“That’s truly fascinating. I’ll look under your ass if it’ll help you tell me something I can use.”

“Wait,” says Mike. “Gotcha. Right there.”

He hunches over the magnifier, holding the 8 Ball closer.

“I know who made it.”

“You sure?”

He crooks a finger at me and I go around to his side of the table. The 8 Ball is huge in the magnifier. He uses one of his delicate tools to point to a single sapphire stud.

“You see that little mark etched around the sapphire? That’s the alchemical symbol for verdigris. Only one Tick-Tock Man signs his work with that. You’ll love him. He’s a total asshole. Atticus Rose.”

“Do you have a number for him?”