probate. We need to see that he has full access to Acme. We have problems that no normal lawyer can address. And you have the key to justice.”
He had a point there, possibly in more ways than he understood. I pushed the heels of my palms into my eyes and tried to work around it. The legal system didn’t recognize shape-shifters and snake conjurers like Sarah and Cora. It didn’t understand dollar bills that turned to winking Georges or traffic lights that blinked purple. The law liked black and white and not the shades of neon that existed here.
And once I had enough evidence for a case, I could make my own justice—without court approval. Heady —
“Julius is on board with this?” I asked, stalling. I’d seen that look Julius and Paddy had exchanged. This was their friggin’ idea. They’d just had to run it by Andre first.
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” he said, as expected. “If nothing else, it will give my father something constructive to do besides mope over what can’t be changed. I wouldn’t ask if I thought you couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t ask if I thought you would move on and have a life. But whatever you are, Clancy, it’s not normal.”
“You’re such a flatterer.” I pushed off the wall and snapped on a light. Andre appeared paler than he should have, but there wasn’t anything wrong with the rest of him. Giving his bulging trouser front a look of regret, I headed for the kitchen.
“I can set up an office for you across the street,” he called from the front room. “It’s still clear from Zone interference and not too damaged from the explosion. You can have the latest equipment, access to online libraries. I can’t promise you’ll make a living wage.”
Which would mean a huge step up for me, actually. With my own office and equipment, I could make more money than I was as an intern. It would be far more satisfying than serving coffee and answering phones. Although I’d have to answer my own phone. I couldn’t afford a secretary.
I needed to cool off and quit thinking with my hoo-ha, which was twitching with a desperate craving for what Andre had started. I took a couple of cold drinks out of the refrigerator and returned to the parlor. Andre hadn’t moved from the floor. His weird blue-green eyes were light against his dark lashes and regarded me questioningly, but he took the drink and gulped half the can while I settled back on my floor cushion.
He was wearing brown silk tonight, with the buttons half undone. Khaki trousers, so he was going for informal. I had a hunch that T-shirts and jeans represented his old life, and he was making a statement with his choice of business attire. I could dig that.
I sipped my drink and tried to settle my rampaging hormones. He could have taken my ribs out with that bat. He would practically own me if he provided office and equipment. I always looked gift horses in the mouth. I’d learned a lot of life lessons by watching westerns. I surely hadn’t learned any from my nonexistent father or hippie mother.
“I can handle probate,” I told him. “Traffic court, zoning violations, petty civil stuff, with Julius’s knowledge, sure. A murder case, no way. I’d have to list Julius as senior partner just to keep the judge from throwing me out. The state’s attorney would have to send all evidence to your father, let him make the inquiries we’ll need into the background of the witnesses. . . . I don’t suppose Paddy can give us any insight into his mother’s state of mind or even on the goons she hired?”
Andre almost purred in satisfaction. I had to check that Milo was still asleep in the bay window to be sure they weren’t one and the same. Andre finished off the rest of the drink in a few more swallows, then stood up.
“We’ll set the office up in the morning. Paddy won’t testify for me. He needs to stay neutral so he can have access to the plant. The new and improved senator might say a good word, if you provide incentive. I give you permission to spend whatever you need to investigate Gloria or anyone else. My father can handle the paperwork as long as you make the court appearances. Start with Paddy’s probate, though. I’m still dubious of his new sanity. Let’s get Acme settled before he dumps blue goo or pink fairy dust in MacNeill’s coffee. Two murder cases might be pushing your limits.”
That was the Andre I knew, back to being Boss of the World and the reason we were not going to get it on. Ever.
I didn’t get up to see him out. I was thinking I’d rather he’d hit me with the bat. Bumps on the skull merely rattled the brains. Andre was rattling my soul to the core.
He honestly asked the impossible. Licensed or not, no way could a law student step out of class and into a courtroom alone, especially on a case like this. I could be a freakin’ genius for all I knew, but I really wasn’t an arrogant idiot.
Except, with Julius as my senior partner . . . He’d been out of the world too long to realize the respect he’d earned in these past years of writing textbooks. His name would open doors.
If I could legally put Paddy in charge of Acme, we could rescue Bill and Leibowitz before the next disaster, knock wood.
I could hope I’d gather enough evidence to justifiably red-rage Andre’s accusers into another dimension.
Damn, I was actually going to do it. I needed my head examined.
Instead, I unlocked my stolen tablet computer. Someone—presumably Andre—had left a charger and Boris’s invoice on the table. I plugged in the tablet and began surfing websites, hoping to find knowledge in my mother’s graduation gift. Looking for evidence that I wasn’t out of my skull was probably a better description.
Computers are only a minor weapon in my arsenal. I’m no expert. But from my first quick scan, I judged the websites listed on Saturn’s page as amateurish. Themis only had a page advertising her services, with no obvious means of e-mailing her.
Fat Chick’s page was little more than a blog. It contained links to sites containing everything from scientific analyses of obesity to far-left political diatribes to academic-sounding astrological advice. Unlike at Saturn’s site, however, I could leave comments on her blog. Not many people did.
Words are another weapon I know how to wield. I pondered mine carefully.
I didn’t have a website—I’d have to hire Boris to set one up for the law office—so I just signed in on Facebook before typing it.
By the time I’d worked through half the sites on Saturn’s page without learning anything except that the participants were as weird, and varied, as I was I had a direct message waiting on my Facebook page:
I’d found another Saturn’s daughter? And she didn’t have a rulebook, either?
I didn’t know whether to sob or laugh. Saturn was a deadbeat dad.
20
Tuesday morning, I’d barely rolled out of bed when my door knocker rattled the dishes.
“Emergency evacuation!” a stranger’s voice shouted.
I froze. Had those earthquakes disrupted gas lines? I waited for the low rumble I feared would blow the neighborhood sky-high.
Nothing.
Milo growled from his nest at the foot of my mattress. Milo’s growl is my paranoia alert.
Thinking on my feet, I jerked on jeans and a hoodie, shoved Milo in my bag, stepped onto my balcony, and shimmied down the support. I know that’s not a normal reaction to a knock on the door, but my few attempts at normality usually got me hurt. After Andre’s lesson the previous night, I was taking security to new levels.
Hitting the ground, I pondered my next move. I could take the Harley and get the hell out, or satisfy my
