Damn Him to Hell

Control issues was my bet. She could have been given a draft, asked that it be stricken from her file, and never returned for a final to keep snoops like me out of her business. A bank could have had the documents witnessed and notarized without contacting a law office. If she had stored the final copy in a bank box, my assessment of the lady’s intelligence would drop by fifteen IQ points.

As I’d promised Paddy, I placed copies of the appropriate files on the judge’s desk along with Paddy’s message, or the message he would have left had I not cut him off so abruptly. Jill and Reggie would pry, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.

As a bonus, Reggie didn’t ask me for any more coffee. I returned to filing until almost closing time, when Jill came back to my cubbyhole with a peculiar expression on her face.

“Senator Vanderventer wishes to speak with you,” she announced.

I didn’t say a word or blink an eyelash. Nodding as if senators regularly called me, I picked up the extension and waited pointedly for Jill to get her ass away from my closet. With a scowl, she did, although I noticed she left the door partially open.

“Senator, how good to hear from you so soon,” I said in my best professional voice, before I got up and closed the door tightly.

“You didn’t answer your cell,” Max said with irritation. “What is this crap about Gloria getting it on with the pool boy? I’ll kill Andre myself.”

“I can’t take personal calls while on the job,” I chirped. “So this had better be business. If I were you, I’d delete the footage from the security cameras around the pool. Otherwise, did you want Gloria’s will, too?”

“Have you taken up mind reading? No, don’t answer that,” he said hastily. “Has the judge found it?”

“The judge wouldn’t know where to look if you shoved it up his ass. I scoured the files. There isn’t a will or any record of one being filed. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one somewhere else, just not here. I’m waiting for him to return. Want me to ask what he knows?”

“Yeah, or the next media blitz will be about the two families going at each other with axes, with me caught in the middle. Although I’m willing to cut Andre’s throat, too, if pressed. My father and sister are already moving in over there. They seem to think the place is theirs, since anything I inherit goes in the trust. When did Paddy come back to his senses?”

“When Gloria died would be the best answer.” Especially since I didn’t know if the gas attack had anything to do with it. “The man’s no fool, just not willing to fight his own mother or the forces of evil. Be careful, Max. It may be hard to believe, but I’m thinking the devil walks this earth, and Acme is his playground.”

“That’s almost ridiculous enough to believe. Talk to Snodgrass. Have him call me. I can’t believe I have to fight my father and Dane’s at the same time. I really don’t need this right now.”

Technically speaking, Max’s grandmother, Ida Vanderventer, had inherited most of her husband’s share of Acme. Apparently Ida had been letting her son-in-law sit on the board in her place. Ex- senator Michael MacNeill loved throwing his considerable weight around, and he and Gloria had apparently worked hand in glove. Paddy and MacNeill? Probably not so much.

MacNeill could be right. Gloria might have left her shares to him instead of Paddy. Or not.

I could hear phones ringing and voices in the background while Max waited for my reply. Senators were busy men. I sighed with regret. Talking on the phone, where I couldn’t see his Dane disguise, was almost like having the old Max back.

“I’ll do what I can,” I promised. “I hope you have someone guarding Granny’s house, because you’ll have your family all over it shortly.”

“The place crawls with guards,” he said sardonically, “all of them looking after their own asses. Have the judge call me.”

He hung up abruptly, leaving me with an image of all the black suits walking around, glancing over their shoulders at their pretty tushies. An amusing image, enough to leave a smile on my face when the judge entered.

“Clancy, I need to talk with you,” he thundered. He wasn’t a tall man, but he wielded enough stomach to give him an air of authority.

“Of course, sir. Do you want a report on Senator Vanderventer’s call, or should I just leave a message on your desk? It appears his grandmother hasn’t left a will, and there’s some consternation among the family.”

He frowned, diverted from his tirade. “Gloria refused to leave a copy in the office or let me file one. You mean to say she didn’t give a copy to anyone else, either?”

“Appears so, Your Honor. As I’m sure you’re aware, she’s not been entirely rational these past years.” It wouldn’t hurt to butter up Andre’s case while I was at it. “The family needs to know who is legally responsible for the upkeep of the estate and various enterprises.”

“Basic law, Clancy. Without a will, it’s her direct descendants, Padraig and Dane. I don’t remember her ever specifying anyone else. I’ll give them a call.” He went out shaking his head and muttering about giving millions of dollars to a crackpot who couldn’t comb his hair. I assumed that reference was to Paddy. Dane’s hair was never out of place.

My duty was done for the day. With my nose stuck higher than Reggie’s, I sailed out of the office and hit the Harley. I really needed to see that my home was still safe. Somewhere along the way, the world outside the Zone had become alien to me. I needed the Zone’s eccentricities to keep me grounded and provide the security I’d lacked most of my life.

And yeah, that was pretty pathetic.

18

I didn’t take time to eat after I got home from work but grabbed a handful of Nutribars and munched while shucking off my office clothes and changing into more functional jeans. I didn’t own an elaborate wardrobe and had opted for skirts for professional dress for years, but now that my leg was straight, jeans fit better than they used to.

I checked my tablet to see if any new rules had appeared, but Fat Chick’s message still scrolled across the screen.

Themis had said, Visualizing is an unusual gift. Use it for harm, and justice will be served. Use it for profit, and you will pay. Was this how Fat Chick had paid? Was that how she’d known about Rule #1? I hoped whatever she’d visualized for gain had been worth the wheelchair.

Milo opted for action and followed me over to Andre’s place. My former boss didn’t keep regular hours, so I never knew where he’d be or when, even on a workday like today. I just wanted to know that he was back to normal.

As usual, no one answered my knock. I let myself in and decided to check on our patients first. I figured if Andre was around, he’d know I’d arrived.

I fretted over Bill, but to be honest, the thought of another assault on the dungeon scared the crap out of me. There was no way I could blow my way out of a subbasement without bringing the entire plant crashing down on our heads.

But I could hope that, with Gloria gone and Paddy moving in, Acme would do the right thing. Maybe. Eventually. So I wouldn’t have to face the dragons in the dungeon.

Two of the baby docs were consulting over our homeless guys in the theater. One of them was the red- haired former soldier from yesterday. They’d set up a battery of equipment they’d probably borrowed from Johns Hopkins’ supply closets. Someone had trimmed the patients’ beards and hair and found clean hospital gowns for them.

I suspected most of these old guys were vets who would come up roaring in outrage if we discovered how to flip their switches. But they were polite pussycats for now.

“No news?” I asked when the docs glanced up. “I have a taker for a patient if anyone wants to make a run to Massachusetts.”

“Andre said it was okay to use this place if we can keep it staffed,” the red-haired doc replied. “The study