Giving Him Hell_A Saturn's Daughter Novel Page 5

  No tears. Classic sociopath. She was probably calculating if she could earn longer legs by offing a policeman.

  I rummaged in my tote and found my faithful compact. I’d bought a new one since beaning a senator with the old one. Never knew when I might need to kill another politician.

  I opened to the mirror and handed it to her.

  She barely looked at it, at first. Then apparently catching a glimpse of the Godiva tresses, she snatched the mirror and tried to study herself in the limited view. Her eyes widened, and she began tugging her curls in front of her face so she could see them.

  “I thought Papa waited until after midnight to bless us,” I said with sarcasm. That’s how it had worked for me. Sarah must be special.

  “That creep must have been really bad,” she whispered uncertainly. “I never get anything pretty like this when I kill people. And my ex deserved to die a whole lot more than most people.”

  So did her serial killer mother, but that was probably one of those things best not said aloud. I usually just damned people and they died in some freak manner and I got my wishes. Sarah simply killed them outright, but I had to assume the result was still damnation if she was rewarded. It’s not as if I meant to descend to hell to find out. I was still telling myself that Saturn was a good guy, but it made more sense that the devil rewarded us for sending him more souls. Ambivalence is me.

  Maybe creative marketing over the eons had turned Satan’s Daughters into Saturn’s Daughters. That almost made sense.

  “You killed your ex for yourself,” I reminded Sarah. “Maybe it’s because you killed the goon out there to protect me that you got prettier hair.” I’m a lawyer. I’m pretty imaginative at coming up with theories without proof.

  She dangled a silken curl in front of her nose until her eyes crossed. “I should kill for others?” she asked blankly. “How do I do that?”

  “Become a police woman,” I said cheerily, listening to the cops in the other room. “Join the army. I bet there are a whole lot of justice-makers there.”

  “Not ones who turn to chimps,” she reminded me.

  Well, yeah, there was that. A Zone occupation was the only one that would suit her—one of the many reasons I couldn’t let the bad guys take it down.

  Schwartz arrived with a handful of clothes, threw them on the desk and hastily departed. I turned my back as Sarah began to strip.

  My phone rang—saved by the bell. I groped through my tote and checked ID but didn’t immediately recognize the name.

  “Clancy here,” I answered in my clipped business tone.

  “Miss Clancy?” a vaguely familiar voice said. “This is Rob Hanks. You said you’d help us with the vagrants if we found them a healthy place to stay.”

  I kneaded my brow as a uniformed police officer loomed in the doorway, notebook in hand. He was straining to see over my shoulder. I hoped Sarah had dressed quickly. “Yes, Mr. Hanks, but this isn’t a good time. Have you found a building?”

  “There’s an old insurance office on the corner across from Chesty’s that’s in pretty good condition. Some of them stayed there last night.”

  I had a feeling he wasn’t calling me to brag. I held up a finger at the officer, who scowled impatiently. “And?”

  “And there’s a man out here with a ton of security guards claiming it’s his property and he wants us out. They’ve got guns.”

  Seven

  “Andre, we have a situation,” I shouted past the cop blocking my office.

  With his great sense of timing, Ned chose that moment to enter the front door bearing a spaceship-sized coffee urn. It looked like he’d just bought out the entire coffee stand at the mini-mart down the block.

  The delicious aroma of fresh-fried donuts permeated the air, and all gazes followed his shopping bag. Not a plastic grocery bag, mind you. He’d apparently used Andre’s funds to purchase an environmentally friendly sparkly tote to carry all the donuts and coffee makings. In the Zone. He wanted to save the Zone’s environment?

  “I’ll have this ready in a trice, gentlemen,” he sing-songed, well aware he was the current center of attention. My ex-jock assistant was finally releasing his inner rainbow.

  Andre appropriated one of the donut bags from the tote and approached my personal dragon, offering up the contents and slipping past when the cop was distracted choosing a fritter.

  After seeing splattered brain decorating my lobby, I figured I’d never eat again. I was suffering flashbacks to the time I’d seen Max crisped. Lawyers shouldn’t puke in front of clients. I shook my head at the greasy sack. Sarah had no queasy stomach problem. She took two fritters. At least she was half way decently garbed now in jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

  “The DGs have occupied the old Morgan building,” I told Andre as the others ate. “That’s one of yours, isn’t it?”

  “Do-Gooders are occupying my building?” he asked, narrowing his gaze. “Why?”

  “Housing the vagrants,” I said without mentioning my part in the suggestion. “That’s not the situation. Someone is down there with security guards and guns, trying to heave them out.”

  “Out of my building? Not on my request!” He already had his phone out, punching buttons. “Hurry up here. I’ll have your partner pull deeds on that property and have their sorry asses thrown out for trespassing.”

  My partner—his brilliant father. He was protecting his parents’ privacy.

  “Better find out whose sorry asses you’re tossing.” I glanced at the donut-eater’s nametag. “We may need your help down the hill, Officer Tallent. Could you take my statement on the way down there?”

  “I need to talk to Miss . . .” He glanced at his notebook. “Miss Jones, first. I’ll get you next, Miss Clancy, if you’ll wait outside.” He gestured at the brain-spattered lobby I didn’t want to see.

  I’d wait outside, all right. Way outside. I glanced at Sarah, who was eyeing the officer with curiosity. Sarah is not my client, I told myself. Conflict of interest.

  I just had to hope she didn’t have any more energy to unleash if she didn’t like the tone of Tallent’s questions. As I’d just proved, it’s not as if I could stop her from killing or damning anyone. It was depressing developing the maturity to know I couldn’t save the world.

  Andre escorted me to the lobby as if obeying the cop’s wishes. We were out the front door before anyone looked up from playing with our fancy new coffeepot.

  The fog hadn’t lifted much. Luckily it wasn’t cold, because all I had was my second-hand wool blazer.

  But through the gray wisps of moisture, we could distinguish a mob gathering in the center of Edgewater. Traffic up to the chemical plants had to perform U-turns and attempt alleys. The Dumpsters didn’t like their alleys disturbed. If they weren’t already rattled and blockading them, they would be soon. Wouldn’t the tourists love that?

  “How did the DGs get into the building?” Andre asked, studying the situation as we hurried down the hill.

  “That’s not as important as the identity of armed storm troopers,” I pointed out. A ring of khaki uniforms was holding back the crowd with what appeared to be automatic weapons. Automatic weapons in the Zone! I shuddered to think what could happen.

  “I’ve paid the taxes on that place for years. It’s mine,” he said grimly. “If anyone is doing the throwing out, it’s me. And I don’t need Nazis or Uzis.”

  Cora hurried up the street to meet us. Bill, the bartender for the Biker Bar, lumbered after her. Bill was a quiet bear of a man, usually peaceable, but he wasn’t smiling now.

  “What’s with the goon squad?” Cora demanded as soon as she reached us. “And why are the police up here instead of down there?” She lifted her chin to indicate the black-and-whites all around my office.

  “Sarah killed an intruder,” Andre snapped bluntly. “And since the cops want Clancy for questioning, they’ll follow us down soon enough.”

  Thanks, Andre, I thought grimly. Pin it all on me.

  B
efore Cora could question, we’d reached the outskirts of the crowd. I recognized some Zone residents, but the majority of the mob was young and outraged and probably part of the DGs that Max/Dane was supposed to call off. Saving the world apparently meant ignoring United States senators.

  My rebellious student self would have pumped my fist in solidarity. Lawyer Tina only saw trouble. What a drag it is, getting old.

  The Morgan insurance building was a boring three-story brick edifice much like my office. The windows had been boarded for as long as I’d known it. Most of the businesses down here had closed after the chemical flood. Sensible people feared a contaminated harbor and fled.

  Did no one have any common sense anymore?

  A couple of tourists in the crowd were pointing out the grinning gargoyles on the building’s roof. One of the stone carvings waved a ribbed wing, and the tourists gasped, then laughed and took a picture as if they were seeing a Disney special effect.

  Nope. No common sense here.

  Until recently, Acme had scared off the tourists, often with goons like Ned had been. Only the locals had learned that the weirdnesses were real. These last weeks since Gloria’s demise had been . . . interesting, in a creepy sort of way.

  I waded into the fray after Andre. People stepped aside for us until we reached the armed guards with ugly automatic weapons across their chests. You see this kind of thing on the news in photos of third world countries. It’s not the kind of sight you want in your own front yard.

  “You’re trespassing and causing a disturbance of the peace,” I announced loudly to the uniform in front of me. I might not be the tallest person around, but I have an excellent courtroom voice.

  The crowd grew silent as if watching their favorite cop show.

  The security guards didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Like the royal guards, they glared straight over my head.

  Andre strode up, picked a uniform taller and wider than he was, and swung his fist at the guard’s nose. In the same motion, he yanked the automatic from the jerkwad’s arms, and slammed the stock into his groin.

  The guard bent in half with a groan, holding his nose and his man parts at the same time. Before the other guards could find someone to tell them what to do, we’d broke past the circle and sprinted for the door.

  “Assault and battery,” I murmured in Andre’s ear. I couldn’t let him know his lawyer approved of his behavior.

  Cora and Bill were right behind us, protecting our backs. The Do-Gooder crowd spilled through the break in the ranks faster than the armed guards could react.

  Sometimes, it just took one person to bring down fascists.

  Of course, I had enough experience to know we had about ten minutes before men in riot gear arrived, but triumph felt good as we surged past the bewildered creeps.

  Bill held the door just long enough for Andre, Cora, and me to enter, then slammed it before anyone else could follow. He leaned his bulk against the wood and threw the latches, leaving the DGs to block the outside.

  Tall, sleek and stylish in her fitted jacket and leggings, Cora hid her snakes well. I didn’t know if she’d released them from their tattooed form yet. She merely glanced around as if sizing up the room for potential décor.

  Smarter than the students in the ways of the world, the vagrants had apparently already fled. The shabby DGs sat cross-legged on the floor, refusing to budge. Men in khaki were hauling them by their arms and physically heaving them out the back door.

  Fists on hips, Cora took an Amazonian stand over a female protester, and defied anyone to haul the kid away. Now that I knew to look, I could see an asp flicker defiantly from her coat sleeve and another above her neckline. Shades of Cleopatra.

  Andre and I zeroed in on the silver fox in a tailored suit overseeing the proceedings with a smug air of satisfaction. Always go for the fat cat is my motto.

  I yanked out my phone, hit speed dial, and said loudly. “Officer Leibowitz, we’ll need help clearing trespassers. Assault and battery charges are likely, along with disturbing the peace. There may be some connection to the shooting Schwartz is handling, so call in as many cars as are available.”

  In reality, I was talking to a Chinese restaurant—in China.

  Crossing his arms, Andre entered into a stare-down with Silver Fox, apparently leaving me to be his mouthpiece.

  Silver Fox had a head full of expensively highlighted salt-and-pepper hair, a beaked nose, a sardonic smile, and his tailored suit coat needed padding to disguise his sloping shoulders. Well-groomed and weak was my totally unbiased conclusion.

  “You’ll have to remove your men from the premises,” I said authoritatively. “Mr. Legrande has not authorized the use of force in removing the occupants.”

  “The property is mine and I don’t allow squatters.” He held out his hand. “Graham Young, CEO of Medical Science Inc. And you?”

  I didn’t accept his hand. Color me less than impressed. “Justine Clancy, attorney for Legrande Enterprises. There has apparently been some mistake. Mr. Legrande owns this property.” And most of the others on the street, but I didn’t like revealing all my cards.

  I heard frantic knocking at the front door but left Bill to deal with it. Cora was smiling coldly at a uniform, daring him to approach her asp, one of which was now wrapped around her coat sleeve and hissing. Andre had balled his fingers into fists. The tension escalated like steam in a balloon.

  If I wanted to avoid Andre’s knuckle-swapping methods, I really needed the deeds Julius was looking up. I didn’t know how long I could delay before the inevitable explosion.

  “I’m sure you believe your boss owns the land,” Mr. Smug said, “but MSI has acquired the rights to all the property along the harbor, which includes every building on Edgewater. They’re scheduled for demolition as soon as we have the final paperwork, and we don’t want vagrants taking up residence.” He continued to look amused as he spoke to me and ignored Andre.

  Demolition! Even if I didn’t believe a word of this spiel, he was blithely talking of demolishing the homes and jobs of Zone inhabitants as if we were inconsequential termites! I was seriously considering damning him to hell just because I couldn’t stomach his arrogance. If Saturn was testing my temper, he’d picked the wrong damned day to it.

  Happy birthday, Tina, indeed.

  Andre had raised his dangerous fists when I regained the sense to grab his arm, throwing him off balance enough to stop his swing. Andre normally tried not to get his hands dirty, but some smirks were simply meant to be swiped.

  Bill opened the door. I could feel the rush of cold air, but I didn’t hear him greeting anyone. I was praying for deeds or Schwartz or someone useful but my luck didn’t run that way.

  The whole Zone? This character thought he owned the Zone? This was such seriously bad shit that I was having difficulty coping.

  My tongue finally caught up and by-passed my panic. “I suggest we agree to meet at the courthouse records office,” I said as Andre ripped his muscled arm from my puny grip. “Mr. Legrande has at no time sold part or all of any holdings in this area.”

  Something poked me in the back. I swatted at the air behind me and encountered paper. Neither Andre nor Mr. Smug seemed to notice. I glanced over my shoulder and saw no one.

  Tim. Whenever I saw no one, I could count on it being Invisible Boy. I grasped the thick folder he was shoving at me and tugged. He let it go. Anything Tim held disappeared with him, until he released it. I didn’t think it wise to produce papers out of thin air, so I faked removing them from my tote.

  “I’m sure you’ll find my documents are in order,” Young said, while I flipped through the copies of deeds.

  I found the one with the Morgan building address and skimmed through it. All perfectly legitimate. Andre had bought the property at a tax auction sale. I assumed he’d acquired the others the same way after all the respectable citizens abandoned the area.

  I held up the deed for inspection. “All seems to be in order. The prope
rty is owned by Legrande Enterprises, as noted in the deed.”

  Silver Fox didn’t even bother looking but gestured dismissively. “Those are no longer valid. The EPA is condemning the entire area by eminent domain in the interest of public health. We’ll dig out the polluted land and build a much needed medical facility here.”

  I stepped in front of Andre before he could fling another punch.

  We knew who had been trying to grab this land for years.

  Acme. Acme and their mysterious cancer-curing, coma-inducing pink and green particles were behind this. Mr. Smug, Acme, and the mysterious MSI were threatening my home and my adopted family and grating nerves already frayed by the dead body in my office. Eminent domain! That abominable law had to have been invented by Satan.

  Listening avidly, the DGs started chanting Nazis, go home.

  While I struggled to smother my rage, one of the uniforms smacked a particularly loud Do-Gooder. The kid cried out in pain. Cora seized the abusive snot’s arm to prevent another blow. Violence seethed while my friends waited for my reaction.

  A second storm trooper rushed up to jerk Cora around. Her snakes hissed.

  My restraint snapped. I would not tolerate more shooting, splattered brains, or risk snake poisoning. Uniformed Nazis did not belong on my turf, yanking my friends around. The red rage for justice started smoking my mind, rendering logic invalid.

  Maybe my crazed brain truly believed I was saving the uniform from an asp fastening its fangs into his wrist. Or my subconscious could have been hoping to prevent a full-scale riot. Given that Bill was unlocking the door to let in a mob, that was a very real, very explosive possibility with all the guns in here and outside.

  Whatever. In full blown Saturn mode, I never operated lucidly. Instead, my warped imagination visualized Smug and Company as garden gnomes with pointy red hats and ugly grins.

  Startled, Cora was suddenly shaking off a concrete garden ornament, while the Do-Gooders screeched in appalled horror. Bill swung around to study the dozen foot-high gun-toting gnomes where uniformed guards had been, and re-locked the door.