"Honest, sir, I meant to tell you," Fred Colon said. "We always meant to tell you, only we were waiting -" he paused. Vimes could almost see the mental gears frantically turning and grinding. "Waiting for an opportune moment," Fred concluded.

"Waiting to tell me what, Fred?" Vimes asked.

"What Foul Ole Ron said, sir. Someone's bribing young Frank Easy with drink. Thing is, sir, the kid's too simple to be worth bribing. He does whatever he's told anyhow. And Ron says the Duck Man reckons they're giving him some of the most expensive wine on the Disc."

A few moments after Fred fell silent, Vimes heard someone step on the creaky step. With an ease born of practise and experience, Vimes slid back his chair, seated himself at his desk and grabbed a document from the nearest pile. "Thank you for your report, Sergeant. However-"

When Nobby tentatively knocked and pulled the door open, only an unusually keen observer could have deduced Vimes' agitation. (1) "Mrs Palm says she needs to see you urgently, sir, so I brought her up here." He opened the door fully to admit her.

"Vimes! What are you doing about the Vetinari case?"

Vimes looked up. "Mrs Palm, have your colleagues at the Council of Guild Heads not informed you that the Watch are no longer involved in that case?"

"Commander, I thought you had more backbone than to meekly bow down to Downey and concern yourself with ducks." Mrs Palm's pronunciation of the last word fully expressed her disgust.

An expression of puzzlement settled on Fred Colon's face.

Vimes glanced down and read the title on the page in front of him.

Nobby snapped to attention. "Permission to leave, sir?"

"Yes, go," Vimes said. "You too, Fred."

"Now, Commander," said Mrs Palm, "why don't you tell me what's really going on."

Elisabeth stepped into the house and paused. Something was wrong. Her father's workroom was almost silent.

She put down her bag, lifted her skirts and walked over to the workroom as quietly as she could. When Father was in one of his moods, he didn't tolerate unnecessary noise. She found him hunched over at his desk, holding his head in hands.

"Father? Are you alright?"

He groaned. "Keep your voice down, girl." Elisabeth breathed out slowly – silently – and waited. "I haven't had a headache this bad in years. Not since I – not since your mother died." Elisabeth scowled. It was difficult to cry while scowling. Besides, she was still angry at her father for deserting her to drink himself into oblivion that day.

"Father," she began sharply. He winced and she modulated her voice. "You're not planning to drink that wine yourself, are you?"

"Of course not!" His surprised expression reassured her and she did not see that it became a thoughtful one after she left the room.

Corporal Cheery Littlebottom was doing paperwork at the front desk when the girl arrived. "Can I help you, Miss?"

The girl scowled, deepening the frown lines on her face. "I need to see Commander Vimes."

"The commander is a busy man, Miss. Are you sure I can't help you?"

"Tell him it's a delivery from Neil Jenkins, Corporal. I think he'll have time."

Cheery went up to Vimes' office. "Sir, there's a girl downstairs who says she has a delivery from Neil Jenkins. Do you want to see her?"

Vimes sighed. "I suppose you'd better send her up," he said.

"You're quite popular with the ladies today, I see," she said as she left.

"Cheery!"

"I'm only making an observation, sir."

"Go fetch the girl, Corporal."

The girl introduced herself as Elisabeth Jenkins and gave Vimes his Disorganiser and a complimentary bottle of wine.

"The imp had been infected with a virus," she explained. "Viruses are tiny creatures that make people sick. Recently they have developed the ability to affect imps too. This imp had become delirious, but it's been entirely reset now."

"Thank you," Vimes said. "I believe that's all."

"Indeed," Elisabeth said as she left.

Cheery looked at the bottle of wine on Vimes' desk. "Would you like me to take that for you, sir?" she asked.

"No thank you, Cheery," Vimes said, opening the Disorganiser "I'd prefer to keep that where I can see it."

Cheery hadn't quite left the room when she heard the now familiar voice.

"Kill leader of city."

1 Such an observer would have noticed that the document Commander Vimes was so diligently perusing was entitled Complaint to the Traffic Department Regarding the Manner in Which Live Poultry are Conveyed Through the City of Ankh-Morpork.

A/N: Thanks again to Virtuella for beta reading.