[pshrynk]

Harv gritted his teeth. "Very well. Shall we try and find her, then?"

Vivaldi sniffed around a bit more and then started yapping manically and running around in circles.

"What? Do you know which way she went?"

"I just have to do that three times a day. It's in my contract."

Harv counted to ten. "So, what would you do if you knew which way she had gone?"

"I'd say, 'she whent that way, let's go.' What good does having a talking dog do if you don't talk? Sheesh." He kept on sniffing.

"Well?"

"She went that way, let's go."

The small gray dog started out at a trot in the general direction of the city. Harv followed at a distance, regretting the heat and humidity of mid-day Panama City.

Every now and then, Vivaldi stopped to sniff at a post or tree. Harv had learned long ago not to ask. Slowly, they made their way downtown, then on to the Old Town side. Here, there were various small shops run by down on their luck peddlers and ex-patriates.

They finally ended up in front of Miyatake's Flower Emporium, a small, lean-to shack with a few sad flowers in buckets of water that had started the day out as ice.

"She's in there," said Vivaldi.

"Hello, Mr Wallbanger," said a familar voice. "And greetings to Vivaldi-san, as well. My children miss you."

"They're heathens."

"Shh!" said Harv.