Your Money's Worth: Seattle Elementals, Book 1 Page 8

  "What if they're not just targeting drones after a while?" I asked.

  Frank grimaced. "I worry about that, too," he admitted. "We haven't done anything with the software since we hired this firm to sue Fli-Bi-Net. I never thought it would take this long to get anything going."

  "It's going now," I sighed. If Geoffrey had still been alive, I might have killed him myself over that. He knew all along about the government contract and that Fli-Bi-Net stood to make a mountain of money off it. Instead, Geoffrey took ten million under the table, with the promise of much more if he let the lawsuit die. All that had been implied or written in plain English in his e-mail correspondence with Fli-Bi-Net. "Do you think you could have adapted the software, like Fli-Bi-Net has done?" I asked.

  "Hmmph," Frank almost chuckled. "We could have done a better job of it," he said. "They're struggling with the original design, because they had flawed intel. We have the original design. While Fli-Bi-Net's accuracy rate is around eighty-one percent, ours would be ninety-eight percent."

  "You've already tweaked it, haven't you?"

  "All I had to do was imagine what could be done according to the written descriptions exchanged in the e-mails between the government and Fli-Bi-Net," Frank huffed. "We're working on a prototype drone, now. As for the government contract, I figure they handed all that to Geoffrey, since he's the one hired by Fli-Bi-Net."

  "I know what you're thinking," I held up a hand. "Geoffrey should never have been involved in that; it was a conflict of interest. Geoffrey's death precludes disciplinary action and a court case against him," I added. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't sue the firm over it, too."

  "You've been straight with me so far—just like your father. Geoffrey did this. Why should you pay for what Geoffrey Gruber hid from everybody?"

  "I'm glad you see it that way," I said. "I don't intend to ask for a fee in this case—after court and filing fees are paid, you'll owe me nothing. Any proceeds will be yours."

  "We'll see," Frank said. "Have you gotten a reply from the government, yet?"

  "Nothing so far, but you understand how slowly they move at times."

  "I know that for sure," Frank agreed.

  * * *

  Cassie

  Guppy's was crowded when I arrived, so I waited in the vestibule with several others to get a table. The restaurant served great, handmade burgers, fried chicken and a few other Southern specialties. Definitely worth waiting for and since I'd found a parking place, didn't want to leave until I'd eaten.

  After fifteen minutes, my name was called and I followed a waitress to a small table near the restrooms. If you were alone, you didn't get the best table in the restaurant.

  Get used to it, I reminded myself, took the offered seat and accepted the menu. A glass of water was set in front of me while I studied the burger section—I could have anything from a barbecue burger with bacon to one covered in avocado slices.

  After deciding on the plain cheeseburger, I closed my menu to give the waitress a signal that I was ready to order.

  Halfway across the restaurant, I saw someone I recognized. No, it wasn't someone I liked, either. Ross' half-human attorney, Claude Ullery, sat alone at a table, a thick manila envelope at his elbow. He drank beer from a glass and had apparently been waiting for someone to join him.

  That someone showed up two minutes later.

  Claude's guest reminded me of my father. I knew it wasn't him, but it sent a shiver through me anyway.

  What would you do if it had been your father? The thought pricked my brain and wouldn't leave.

  I knew what I'd like to do—slap him several times and demand to know what happened to my mother. He had to know. He hadn't been surprised in the least when she didn't come home.

  Destiny and I had been devastated.

  Morton King just drank more.

  There'd never been a service or any memorial. Those things cost money, and Daddy was on the stingy side. Aunt Shelbie got us through our grief, although Destiny still held hope that Mom would come back the whole time we lived in Alabama.

  That hope was now gone and we'd never know what happened to our mother. I watched Claude as he pushed the envelope toward his guest, who gripped it in hands that, in my mind, resembled my father's. He then rose and left the restaurant without ordering a drink or anything else.

  In a hurry to get out, perhaps?

  You're imagining things, I scolded myself. Like Parke accused you of doing. If Shelbie were alive, I'd talk to her about Shakkor Agdah. Maybe she'd heard of them. I sure hadn't.

  I'd told Parke that, too—that it was information I'd gotten from a werewolf and an earth sprite. Parke had scoffed and practically called me delusional.

  Perhaps I was. Since I'd run away from Alabama, I'd been afraid. Afraid Ross would find me. Afraid he'd kill me, once he did find me. Afraid he'd kill Destiny. Afraid of coming back to Alabama by myself, where so many bad memories waited.

  Parke didn't understand any of that. He wasn't afraid, so I shouldn't be, either. If I could find a paranormal shrink, maybe I should make an appointment.

  I'd have to trust him or her, first, I recalled, before I told them anything about my life. I was married to the Chancellor, after all, and blackmail was always waiting around every corner and in every alleyway.

  Parke would call me delusional again if I so much as mentioned that. Perhaps he'd led a sheltered life until last Christmas, but nothing about my life had been sheltered since my mother disappeared.

  Calling Parke to relay my fears was the last thing I could or would do, now. Sure, I could tell him that Ross' lawyer just passed a heavy envelope to someone who looked enough like my father to be related in some way.

  People looked like other people—it happened all the time. My fears were likely playing mind tricks, showing me things it was terrified of seeing. After all, Ross' brother had appeared from nowhere and tried to kill three others and me.

  Perhaps I would be imagining all my enemies in a slight resemblance to other people. "Ready to order?" The waitress was back.

  "Yes. I'd like a regular cheeseburger with onion rings to go, please," I said, handing her the menu.

  I'd decided not to stay. I couldn't sit there, watching Claude drink and not remember painful things. I'd eat at my apartment, which held some form of safety for me.

  * * *

  Parke

  I hadn't taken time to open mail, so I did that before going home for the day. Too much of it was plain junk, some of it important, and lastly, a manila envelope from a law firm in Birmingham, addressed to Cassie in care of my firm.

  "What's this about?" I mumbled while slitting it open with one of my dad's old letter openers. The opener had been a favorite of his—with a painted, rainbow trout on the handle. I'd taken it to use before sending his other things home to Mom.

  A letter from the law firm lay atop a copy of a will, belonging to Shelbie A. Foster. For a moment, I was surprised, before realizing I shouldn't be.

  Shelbie Foster, whom Cassie and Destiny had called Aunt Shelbie, had left her entire estate to Cassie and Destiny King.

  Ms. King, it is our understanding that you are now married and living in Seattle. You are named as the executor in Ms. Foster's estate. We have forwarded all appropriate information, and request that you contact us at your earliest convenience so we may hand house keys and banking information to you personally. Ms. Foster was very fond of you and Destiny, and mentioned you often.

  The will left the house and half the bank account to Cassie, with the other half of the money going to Destiny, who was a minor, still. I figured Shelbie knew that Cassie would do whatever was needed to meet Destiny's needs; therefore, she'd left the bulk of the estate to her.

  It wasn't a huge amount of money—less than fifty thousand, but the house was worth several times that. I wondered if Cassie would keep it or sell it. I doubted Shelbie had died there or someone would have surely said something. Cassie would have to go to the law firm herself to get
the keys and other items held for her, in addition to getting the probate started.

  Cassie should clear out the house and decide to sell or keep it afterward. I wrote a note on my calendar to call her the following evening, shoved the contents of the envelope into a file and left it in my top drawer.

  My cell phone rang as I closed the car door to drive home. Daniel was calling. "Another murder," Daniel didn't waste any time telling me the important news. "This time in Houston."

  "He's actually heading back into the States? That's foolish of him," I growled. "I'll get the Prince of Texas on the phone when I get home and have him help track Morton. I'm sure Texas doesn't want a rogue ice demon running loose and murdering its citizens. It could expose us, so close to the full moon."

  "I was hoping you'd say that," Daniel acknowledged. "It's all we can do to halfway keep up with the bastard. I still haven't figured out how things happened in Corpus Christi and McAllen on the same night."

  "Coincidence, maybe?" I suggested.

  "I didn't have time to go to McAllen, so there's no way to tell how similar the murders were. Could be a copycat, but it feels too early for that sort of thing. This hasn't made national news, you know."

  "Yes, I do know. Where are you now?" I thought to ask.

  "Port Lavaca, on the way to Houston. I figure he's staying close to the gulf so he'll have easy access to water come the full moon."

  "True. Look, keep me posted if you see or hear anything, all right? I'm concerned that he knows we're on his trail and now he's getting desperate. Have there been any reports of stolen vehicles associated with the victims?"

  "Stolen vehicles, yes. Associated with the victims? No."

  "Close by, then?"

  "Yes."

  "You think he's killing and then stealing, so the theft will get shuffled aside in favor of the murder investigation?"

  "Could be."

  * * *

  Morton King

  The human lay on the freezer floor, where I'd left him after going through his pockets and taking his wallet.

  He hadn't had much cash, and that's what I wanted. Cash to keep going. I'd been forced to leave the bulk of what I had in Mexico, buried in a safe place. My father said to leave it there and take what was needed along the way.

  I cursed the human, who'd had less than fifty dollars on him. The restaurant's alarm system was sounding, too, so I had very little time. I could hear the sounds of police coming through the small café, searching for me.

  It would take them less than a minute to reach the freezer, and I had no time to waste.

  I'd already stashed my clothes, the victim's wallet and other items in the stolen car I'd parked three blocks away. I felt the cold of frozen boxes of meat at my back and leaned into it, as if it were a lover's arms.

  My father, Dalton, had taught me this trick.

  "They won't search a thin glaze of ice," he'd said. "Spread yourself out over something already frozen. Humans won't think twice about it."

  They didn't. I'd been inside most of the freezers, watching as bodies were examined and evidence was collected. I wanted to laugh at the ineptitude of humans as they scurried this way and that before leaving.

  They'd lock up, too, but there was always a way out—from the inside.

  Chapter 6

  Cassie

  I stayed up late studying, because I couldn't get the images of Claude Ullery and the man who'd met him at Guppy's out of my head. Lack of sleep meant my first class Wednesday morning was filled with covered yawns and wishes for more coffee.

  That guaranteed I'd be called on to answer the professor's question. He blinked when I not only answered the question, but cited appropriate case law to support the answer.

  I hadn't had enough sleep because I'd studied the very thing I was asked about. My brain was tired, not dead.

  "Ms. Worth, please see me after class," the professor said before class was over. That's how I ended up walking along the hall with my Immigration Law professor when I wanted nothing more than to grab a cup of coffee from somewhere before I had to show up for my next class.

  "I thought perhaps you'd had a late night doing other things," Professor Sanders admitted as I hefted my book bag over a shoulder while keeping up with his longer strides.

  "I couldn't sleep, so I studied," I told him truthfully.

  "I can see that—now," he nodded. "Come with me; I'll get you a cup of coffee from the faculty lounge so you won't be yawning in your next class," he grinned.

  "I never expected to see a smile on your face," I blurted without thinking. "You're always so serious during class."

  "We have to be inhuman while we're teaching," he chuckled. "The human comes out once class is over. Don't spread that around; I have a reputation, you know."

  "I'll uh, keep that to myself. Wouldn't want you to be ridiculed and made a target of spitballs," I replied.

  "Spitballs. And we call ourselves civilized humans," he laughed.

  I got my cup of coffee, with cream and sugar, before Professor Sanders sent me on my way. I figured Binita would want to know why I'd been asked to stay behind; I intended to show her the empty coffee cup as evidence.

  * * *

  Cliff Young

  "That was a fiasco," I dropped my briefcase on Rob's desk and frowned at him.

  "How much time did he get?" Rob dropped his eyes.

  "Thirty years," I replied. "He should have gotten ten."

  "One more to clutter up the system for twenty years too many," Rob said. "I have Cassie's research if you'd like to look at it. One of those cases comes up next week. Ben is handling it, but you know how he hates somebody telling him what to do or how to handle anything."

  "If he weren't appointed by the judge, I'd have assigned this to someone else," I said. "We have to live with it; I'll call him in and discuss it after I see what Cassie found. You haven't heard from her, have you? On what the Chancellor said?"

  "He, ah, dismissed it," Rob admitted. "He told her he wanted proof."

  "Well, we have no proof. No substantial proof, anyway. Only a half-heard conversation reported by a now convicted felon who said it during an interview with his attorney, who happened to be the Public Defender," I breathed a sigh. "Client-attorney privilege, and not something to report in a human court to begin with. The Chancellor will recognize it as the hearsay it is."

  "Which makes it impossible to give to anyone else," Rob agreed. "The judge ordered the records sealed, since a minor was involved. The Sheriff would love any excuse to get rid of both of us, so we have to be careful."

  "This is so fucked up," I said.

  "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad—if we lost our jobs," Rob mused. "That would give us plenty of time to investigate on our own."

  "What—let Sheriff Yee-Haw Haney have his way? I don't like that idea," I huffed. "Besides, how do we explain to the public that we don't need the money we're earning from the PD's office? I can imagine Haney looking into the matter and concluding that we took bribes, when both of us have been alive long enough to build up considerable wealth? If they discover we have bank accounts under different names to hide our longevity, well, you know what they'll think."

  "Yes. I do know. This really is fucked up."

  "I hope the Chancellor will change his mind and send someone to investigate, at the very least. Keep your head down for now and keep working. That's all we can do."

  * * *

  Cassie

  "He thinks I'm delusional," I informed Cliff and Rob at lunch on Thursday. Since Cliff asked me what, specifically, Parke had said during our conversation, I'd waited to discuss it when we were away from the courthouse. Lunch was a good cover for that.

  "So he wasn't even curious?" Cliff asked.

  "He called them a fairy tale."

  Rob hmmphed and looked away.

  "Now I'm seeing things in every shadow," I admitted.

  "What things?" Cliff was suddenly interested, and Rob turned his eyes toward me.

  "It'
s nothing. I just saw Ross' attorney, Claude Ullery at Guppy's Tuesday night."

  "That's not seeing things. That bastard gets around well enough," Cliff said.

  "But the person who showed up to take a package from Claude looked similar to my father. That's seeing things," I said. "I know it wasn't my father," I held up a hand to stop Rob from saying anything. He pursed his lips for a moment, as if he were holding back corked-up air. "Too many things were different between that guy and my father," I said, watching while Rob released his pent-up breath. "It just gave me the willies," I added. "Now I'm worried that I'm losing it."

  "Every law student thinks they're losing it—at one time or another," Cliff soothed. "It's a lot of work."

  "Yes, but does that include hallucinations?" I was beginning to feel sorry for myself, and recalled that I was expected to straighten my spine and suck it up.

  "I don't remember other interns having hallucinations, but they've never had your particular background," Rob observed.

  "Well, it's unnerving," I mumbled.

  "Did Claude see you?" Cliff asked.

  "No. I made sure he didn't—Guppy's was crowded that night. Seeing him brings back memories of Ross," I stifled a shudder.

  "I hate it when Claude is on the other side of a case," Cliff said. "His scent permeates the entire courtroom. The humans don't smell it, but I do."

  "Do you see him often?"

  "Once or twice a year," Cliff shrugged. "My nose is clogged up for at least two weeks afterward."

  "So he's a health hazard?" I asked, attempting to lighten my mood.

  "To me," Cliff grinned. "Nobody else is affected like a werewolf would be. Want to sit with me the next time he's on a case?"

  "No," I shivered. I must have looked pitiful for a few seconds; Cliff chuckled and patted my shoulder.

  "Where am I supposed to go Saturday night?" I asked, getting away from the subject of Claude Ullery.

  "Come out to my place; the dry ravine is a quarter mile behind the house and clear of brush and weeds. It's deep enough that you shouldn't be noticed," Cliff said. "The only time it has water in it is if the big pond overflows, and that's usually in the spring. Normal water shouldn't have an effect, anyway."