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The lanky figure stood tall, lean, and broad-nosed; he wore a jacket with a high-necked collar. Even Gartogg held his breath, trying not to snuffle unnecessarily. Dannik Jerriko, an assassin, was the only one in the palace he feared except for Jabba himself. Gartogg had never seen this killer in action, but he had heard all the rumors about how Jerriko conducted his business: he was a snot vampire.

When the assassin had passed, Gartogg covered his upturned snout protectively with one hand and hurried in the other direction.

As Gartogg plodded along the corridors on his usual patrol, he worked his way through the back hallways and neared the main entry. He heard shouts from the direction of the kitchen and hesitated, wondering if he should go and look. Then he remembered that he liked going to the kitchen. He could always find a snack.

At first, Gartogg saw no one in the kitchen. He walked inside, pausing to pick up a handful of plastifoam to munch on. Then he saw someone in the receiving room.

Still crunching plastifoam, he moved forward. He stopped when he saw Ree-Yees, the three-eyed, goat-faced crook, kneeling by a shattered box. Porcellus stood to one side, over Phlegmin, the kitchen boy. Unlike Ak-Buz, Phlegmin lay in a tangle of arms and legs with his eyes closed.

“He sleeping?” Gartogg asked from the doorway.

“I didn’t do it!” Porcellus screamed.

Ree-Yees started in surprise, almost knocking himself over. His three eyes froze on Gartogg. Silvery-green goatgrass, smelling sweet, had been scattered on the floor from the broken box.

“Kitchen boy sleeping, huh?” Gartogg asked again.

“Uh …”

Gartogg blinked, waiting, and grunted encouragingly.

Suddenly Ree-Yees scrambled to his feet, knocking Porcellus aside, and spoke breathlessly. “You’re just in time! I found him—just like this—down the hall—near the tunnel to Ephant Mon’s quarters!” His three eyes narrowed. “I brought him here to—to—to perform resus—suspiration!”

“Huh?”

“You know—emergency culinary resuspiration! The smell of food so—so—so ripe it can bring the dead back to life! An ancient art, one I learned from my great-uncle, Swee-beeps. We call it—er—garbage-sniffing of the last resort. But alas, I was too late.” His eyestalks drooped and he sighed.

Gartogg shuffled forward, bent his knees, and leaned forward slightly. He wondered if the emergency culinary resuspiration would work belatedly, and still wake up the kitchen boy. When he sniffed, though, he didn’t smell any garbage. Maybe it was too late.

“So you see?” Ree-Yees said anxiously. “Someone must take over now. Someone with authority. To investigate, put together clues, solve this crime. Jabba will be impressed—and grateful.”

“Kitchen boy murdered!” Suddenly understanding the problem, Gartogg bent down to grab one of Phlegmin’s ankles. He straightened and dangled the body up where he could see it clearly. Blood covered Phlegmin’s face.

Ree-Yees stared at Gartogg, not speaking.

Gartogg nodded and flung the body over his left shoulder. Turning, he snorted thoughtfully and plodded back out through the kitchen, grabbing another handful of plastifoam with his other hand.

“Don’t forget!” Ree-Yees called out. “I found him near Ephant Mon’s quarters!”

Gartogg walked down the corridor away from the kitchen with unaccustomed cheer. If he could find out who killed this kitchen boy, Ortugg would at last be impressed. Gartogg might be assigned to the sail barge’s next outing after all.

• • •

As Gartogg plodded endlessly through the dank, shadowed halls of the palace, wondering how he could solve the mystery, the weight of the kitchen boy began to tire even him. He shifted the body to his other shoulder, which helped for a while. On this third pass by the guest quarters, he finally remembered an important clue: Ree-Yees had found the corpse near Ephant Mon’s quarters. Thinking that perhaps he could ask Ephant Mon about the crime, he knocked on the door. When no one answered, Gartogg sighed and trudged on down the corridor.

Wearily, Gartogg snuffled in resignation. It probably wouldn’t matter.