Chapter Four – In which an encounter with a local service provider goes badly for the Watch, and the crooks begin to wonder how far their luck will hold.

'Sarge?'
'Yes Nobby?' said Colon.
'How come we're always the ones who end up poking around in the dirt?'
'That, Corporal, is because we're proper watchmen. Used to field work, not paper. Now Carrot, he's a good lad and he's got a knack for talking to people, but could you see him spending days in a sewer searching for one tiny clue that'd solve a murder?'
Nobby considered this. 'No.'
'Exactly.'
'Sarge?'
'Yeah?'
'Are we going to have to dig through this lot?'

'This lot' was the contents of Harry King's Yard, full of pretty much everything people didn't want, but mostly manure.

'Gentlemen, what a pleasure!' Harry was crossing the Yard towards them. 'Please, come into my office.' He waved a hand towards his shed.

The shed was filled with things Colon didn't understand, but he was immediately possessed with a burning desire for Harry's coffee maker. You put an empty cup in, waited for about a minute, and then a full cup of coffee popped out. Colon had drunk four cups just so he could see them refilled before Nobby kicked his ankle and he remembered why he was there.
'Ah, Mr King, are you aware that there was an incident at the Palace yesterday?'
'The explosion? Yes, I'd heard.'
'Well, we have reason to believe that the chemical used for the explosion can be, er, found in abundance in your yard, and we were wondering if you'd had any new customers lately?'
'Gentlemen, you have to understand that I can't just give out names of my customers to anyone who asks for them. There are reputations at stake.'
'How come?'
'Well, hypothetically, if there were certain people who were mixing dried dung in with some kind of meat-based food products in bread, they wouldn't want anybody knowing about it, so I tend to keep my customer list confidential.'
Colon leaned forwards. 'Mr King, we are The Watch. It's your duty to help us, and if you refuse we may have to poke around for ourselves. There are some very funny rumours about exactly what's in some of your steaming piles.'

Harry put his cup down, and said pleasantly 'I wouldn't advise it - those steaming piles seem to be a bit... sticky. When the cats dig around in them, they somehow get sucked right into the middle and die.'

---

Maxim was still on his first beer, and Art had yet to start eating, when they were joined by their patron, who didn't bother sitting down.
'Excellent work Gentlemen,' he said. 'I can see that you're well on your way to becoming fine agents, and I expect to use you again in the future.' He placed a small bag on the table and left.
Max opened it a tiny amount. 'Looks like it's all there.'
'What do think he's got lined up for us next time?' said Art, poking his sandwich suspiciously.
'Who knows. We can always say no if we want.'
'I guess.' He surprised himself by giving the rest of the sandwich to the small dog sitting under a chair. 'Wouldn't want to mess with him though.'
'No. And I don't really fancy going near the alchemists for a while, either.'
'They wouldn't recognise us, would they?'
Max shrugged.
'D'you think we should leave town for a while?'
'Not yet. We'll wait and see what the next job is.'

They wandered back in a gloomy mood, despite the money.
'Art?' said Max.
'Yeah?'
'What's that smell?' They both looked round.
'It's that dog. I fed him, so he's following me home. Probably thinks I'm wonderful.' The dog stared at them as they went into the building. 'If he's still there in the morning I reckon we should give him some of our breakfast.'
'If you do that, we'll never get rid of him, and you know what the rules are about pets.'
'Yeah, well, I probably wouldn't get caught.'

As they shut the door on him, the dog looked up at the doorplate.
'Bloody hell,' he said. 'I'd better tell someone about this.'