Giving Him Hell: A Saturn's Daughter Novel (Saturn's Daughters Book 3) (7 page)

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 property 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.

Andre stared down at a miniature silver-haired statue with raised fist—and started to chortle.

It was no laughing matter. I’d just converted live people into garden statuary in front of an audience.

Admittedly, the gnome’s shocked expression was priceless.

Eight

“Out,” I yelled at my startled audience, in the same urgent tone as one would shout “fire.” I pointed at the back door.

Not stupid, the student protesters fled the office, leaving scattered garden gnomes rolling about the filthy floor. My handiwork seldom resembled my creative imagination. These were damned mean looking elves. I wondered what was happening to the half dozen or so guards outside.

Stifling his laughter, Andre studied the fallen statues, crossed the room, and locked the back door after the last fleeing student. Then he turned and regarded me. “Now what?”

“Umm, we take them to Acme and set them on the conference table while we discuss the eminent domain suit that we were never told about?” I suggested. “Tim, are you still here?”

Invisible Boy popped into view, managing to look sheepish and shocked at the same time. He’d grown a few inches since I’d last taken him Goodwill hunting. His jeans barely covered his ankles, and his suede boots had holes in the sides. He needed a haircut. He looked like a shaggy character in a Scooby-Doo cartoon.

“I was just hanging out to see if you needed me,” he said.

“Impolite to hang out when no one knows you’re around,” I corrected in big sister mode. “It’s like eavesdropping. Find some newspapers and wrap up the statues and let’s box them up. We’ll let Paddy deal with them.”

Andre was chuckling again as he toed one of the little monsters. “Can we keep them? What if we built shelves for them on the walls at Chesty’s?”

“Seriously, Andre? You’ve just learned the EPA is in the process of condemning everything you own, and you want to dance with garden ornaments?” I had my phone out, punching numbers again.

“Would anyone care to explain what just happened here?” Cora asked in righteous bewilderment. “Am I losing my mind or is this a mass hallucination?”

Cora knew I was peculiar but hadn’t actually witnessed my earlier weirdnesses. Neither had Bill, but he remained a stoic observer. Andre just left me to explain, as usual.

“We’re fine,” I said curtly, “The Zone is just fucked. Let me speak to Padraig Vanderventer, please,” I said to the receptionist answering my call.

I had a lot of experience in bad vibes, and I was quaking with them now. Andre had to unlock the back door for Tim to slip out in search of newspapers. I followed on his heels. We still had a situation back at my office and cops would be hauling me into jail if I didn’t put in an appearance soon.

I didn’t bother checking the mob out front to see if the guards still held them at bay or if the tourists were taking home garden gnome souvenirs.

“
Mr
. Vanderventer,” I said in my snottiest voice when Paddy answered. He used to wander the Zone like a homeless bum, scrounging meals from Chesty’s kitchen, until I’d got him to start talking to his nephew/son, Max/Dane. Now he was a trustee on Acme’s board and had a real lab to play in.

“To what do I owe the honor, Miss Clancy?” he asked warily.

“To the visit of one Graham Young, CEO of MSI and apparently new owner of the Zone. Know anything about that?”

“Owner of the Zone? Since when?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Probably since MacNeill sold us down the river,” I said with a sigh. MacNeill was the real Max’s dad. Max’s mom owned half of Acme, but she let hubby run things.

I’d hoped Paddy hadn’t joined the forces of evil after returning to work. But he wasn’t much interested in the politics of a corporate board, so his offense was that of ignorance and neglect.

“You might try attending a meeting or two occasionally,” I told Paddy. “I don’t suppose you recall hearing anything at all about this Medical Science Inc.?”

I was half way up the hill with Andre hot on my heels. Cora and Bill must have obediently scattered in search of newspapers and boxes with Tim. They still didn’t know for sure that I’d done the dirty deed, but a few more episodes, and they’d work it out.

“MacNeill has been dealing with MSI,” Paddy confirmed. “They have some kind of grant from the university to research our formerly comatose patients. We probably should have shot those med students before they spread the word about the miracle cures.”

I snorted. “Thanks, Padraig. I’ll keep that in mind next time Acme poisons the town, and we need medical help. Shoot the doctors.”

“Shoot MacNeill.” He hung up. Paddy lacked a sense of humor. He probably meant it. Former senator Mike MacNeill was a felonious asshat who had been booted from his senatorial office for nefarious dealings years ago.

I had to shift gears when I arrived at my office just as the coroner’s office was rolling a body out on a gurney. I offered up a good thought or two for the goon’s family, then cringed, wondering how many families I’d just affected with stone statuary.

Maybe the fascist guards would take up gardening once they came back around. It wasn’t as if Saturn had given me a rule book. I simply didn’t know.

Officer Tallent didn’t look any too happy about my departure. Since he hadn’t bothered coming to look for me after I’d requested his help, he didn’t get any sympathy. I told him clearly and concisely what very little I knew. He threatened to take me downtown when I refused to repeat myself. I retaliated by telling him Julius was my lawyer, and he could direct any further questions to him. He shut up and left me alone. I sought Sarah in my office.

She wasn’t there, naturally.

Ned carried in a cup of coffee, which I gratefully accepted.

“I’ve hired a clean-up crew one of the officers recommended,” he said. “We probably should close for the day.”

“You’ve earned a day off,” I acknowledged. “This is good coffee. Where did you find the urn so quickly?”

“Malik at the mini-mart had just ordered new ones and hadn’t set them up yet. He was more than happy to make a profit on one. We may have to charge by the cup to pay back Mr. Legrande.”

“We’ll just call it part of his capital improvements in the building.” I dismissed his concern for Andre’s money. We had bigger problems on the line. “You go on and I’ll lock up in a few minutes.”

As soon as Ned left, I called Jane the journalist and my access to the latest local news. She only worked for an online rag and had to supplement her income by asking people if they wanted their order supersized, but she was no slacker.

“I’m on my way out,” she said breathlessly in answer to my call. I could hear her toddler yelling in the background. “Have you got something interesting?”