Chapter Six
Ector Cobbler was asleep, curled up under a fishing boat that had been pulled up on the beach and flipped over to have its hull scraped. If he hadn’t been snoring the police wouldn’t have found him at all. He was snoring, and they rolled the boat from over him and booted him in the ribs a few times to wake him. They half dragged, half carried him to the square, hauled him into the town hall, and dumped him on the floor of the mayor’s office.
Ector looked up and blinked and rubbed his eyes. The room was lit by a few lamps. He was surrounded by the half-dozen policemen who had dragged him in. The police chief – a greenie in an orange tunic with brass buttons and blue piping – stood next to the mayor, who was seated behind his solid mahogany desk.
“Quam, it’s bright in here,” E
