Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 (19 page)

Since I am now alone, and am dissatisfied with my previous legal counsel, I would appreciate someone from your firm contacting me to arrange for preliminary discussions. I would prefer a woman, since some things are more easily discussed when one is comfortable with one’s lawyer. I shall take the liberty of assuming you have a competent female on your staff
.
I expect you can understand my concerns, since my estate is considerable and I will not place it in the hands of anyone less than your best
.

Pandora read it again, considering the implications. Obviously the Larson estate was huge, and something her firm would be very happy to handle. And it was a compliment that she’d been given the assignment—she didn’t specialize in estate law, but she could hold her own. At least long enough to get the legal end of things into the right hands at the office.

It was the timing that gnawed at her. On the surface, this was a simple request for legal assistance and representation, the sort of thing that arrived on a daily basis. But from Victoria Larson? Someone she felt—along with Cheney—might be a
person of interest
, as they liked to say in law enforcement.

Glancing at the clock, she realized it was still the afternoon. There was nothing to be risked by calling and setting up an appointment. Whether Mrs. Larson would recognize her or not was immaterial. She would trust in Cheney’s illusion talents. She hoped it would be unlikely an elderly woman could make the connection between young lovers house-shopping and an attorney in a law office.

Her curiosity now thoroughly roused, she picked up her phone and dialed.

“Larson residence.” The voice was noncommittal. A maid? A housekeeper? It wasn’t the lady herself. Pandora would’ve recognized that deep voice in an instant.

“Mrs. Larson please. I’m calling on behalf of Clark, Felix and Merryweather. Our firm received a communication from Mrs. Larson on a legal matter.”

“Yes. Please hold.”

Drumming her fingers on the kitchen table, a minute or so passed until there was a click next to her ear. “This is Victoria Larson.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Pandora Jackson and I’m with Clark, Felix and Merryweather. I understand we might be able to assist you with some estate matters? Your letter of inquiry was referred to me.”

“Very good.” She sounded almost cheerful. “I’m pleased they found a competent female to handle this matter.”

“Your confidence is very gratifying. We’ll do our best to meet your needs. Now, if you’d care to give me an idea of your schedule for next week, I’d be happy to set up a preliminary consultation appointment for you? How does Tuesday look?”

There was a brief pause. “That long? I really would like to get this business out of the way as soon as possible…”

Pandora thumbed through her schedule. “I can free up some time on Monday if that’s better for you.”

“Hmm.”

Jeez
, thought Pandora.
Obviously used to getting her own way
.

“Why not today?”

“Uhh…” The question caught Pandora off-guard.

“My housekeeper brings me tea every afternoon around four. I’d be most pleased if you could join me. Much more comfortable, don’t you think? Could you work that into your schedule?”

She glanced at the clock once more, rapidly calculating the time it would take to change and drive out to the Larson place. “Well…I think I could make it…”

“After all, this is only a preliminary consultation. But I’ll feel much better knowing the process has begun and that my legal affairs will be in capable hands. And you’ll know what paperwork I should forward to your firm. There seems so much of it, I find it most confusing.” There was a chuckle, a rough sound that wasn’t very humorous. “Probably to be expected when you reach my age.”

Pandora shrugged. She wasn’t really being given much choice in the matter, but then again it was only a cup of tea and some initial consultation questions. How hard could that be? Plus it would give her another chance to check out Mrs. Larson and see if it really was a pure coincidence that all this was happening right
now
, right when there were a lot of unanswered questions revolving around this particular name.

“Well, if you’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience…”

“Not at all, dear. I’ll look forward to seeing you. Oh…how do you take your tea? Milk or lemon?”

“Milk please.” She smiled at the old-fashioned question.

“Good. Me too. See you around four then. Goodbye.” A click signaled the end of the conversation.

At least they shared something, even if it was only how they drank their tea.

Cheney stretched, a bone-cracking, muscle-tightening stretch that felt good but did little to ease his frustration. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.”

The two detectives stood behind the one-way glass and watched the interrogation of the suspect they’d delivered an hour before. He was furtively glancing around, his fingers locked tightly together until the knuckles showed white.

Cheney hit the speaker button and they listened carefully to the dialogue.

“Honest, man. I don’t remember.”

“C’mon, Jantzen.” The officer questioning him was a pro, Cheney knew. Give the perp time and he’d end up hanging himself if he was guilty. “We have your DNA. The clothes from your place were covered in the vic’s blood. Got an explanation for that?”

“No.” Jantzen looked frantic now. “No, I don’t. I told ya before. I went out that night, had some drinks—the rest is a blank. I woke up miles away from that place where that dude got offed. Dunno how his blood got on me. I didn’t even know it was his, for Chrissake. You think I’d have kept those clothes? I ain’t stupid enough to hold onto somethin’ that would make me look like a killer.”

The questions went on as Cheney and Buck watched, both less than happy with the answers.

“My best guess?” Buck glanced at his partner. “He’s telling the truth.”

“I know.” Cheney ran a hand through his hair. “Mind you, he’s no saint. Dodged a couple of murder raps a while ago for lack of evidence and got a sheet a mile long for aggravated everything, assault on a couple of women, armed robbery and so on. He’s done time for some of it, but not enough if you ask me. If he goes down for this it’ll be no great loss.”

“Agreed.” Buck nodded. “But if you’re thinking what I’m thinking…”

“He was controlled? He’d be a real good choice. Yeah. I’m getting that itch that tells me we caught ourselves a perp, all right. Neatly packaged too. I just don’t know if he was at home in his head for this particular killing.”

“So what do we do?”

Cheney was silent for a few moments, considering the options. “It’ll take a while to get anything formalized. They’ll hold him for the standard seventy-two, get him a lawyer, whatever.” He turned to Buck. “I think it’s time for a field trip out to the Larson place. I really don’t give a shit if Jantzen takes the fall. He’s dirt that should’ve been swept off the streets long ago. But if he can’t remember—if he
was
controlled—”

“Yeah.” Buck shrugged and turned to the door. “Your car or mine?”

“Come in, dear.”

Pandora tucked her briefcase under her arm and walked inside the Larson mansion, following a charmingly friendly Victoria Larson. It was a hundred-eighty degree change in attitude since the last time they’d met, without a doubt. Although with luck Ms. Larson wasn’t aware of it.

“Thank you for your interest in our firm.” Politely, Pandora referred to the reason for her visit. Her skin was a little clammy—there was something about the house that made her uncomfortable, no matter how luxurious the surroundings.

She dismissed it as she was led into an airy room ringed with bookshelves and containing an elegant antique desk in front of a window. It was lush, obviously expensive, and the addition of a very modern computer system didn’t detract from the overall impression of elegance. The carpet was thick and rich with bold colors against a highly polished wood floor.

“What a lovely room.”

“I like it.” Victoria gestured to a small table containing a silver tea tray and bracketed by two comfortable chairs. “I work in here quite a bit. And read too, of course. Still a great pleasure in spite of all the technological advancements.” She stroked a book as she walked past to settle herself. “There’s nothing like the feel of a book in one’s hands. Never will be as far as I’m concerned.”

They spent a few moments observing the customary pleasantries and the tea ritual, pouring, adding milk, stirring—all in a manner not unlike an old-time video. Pandora was still on edge, but kept the cup from clattering against the saucer as she lifted it to her lips. “Mmm. Very good. Thank you.”

She sipped, observed Victoria’s satisfied smile, then returned the cup to her table and reached for her briefcase. “I’d like to take a few notes, if I may. Some preparatory information to set up your account with us and make sure the right people are assigned.”

“Of course.” Victoria watched her, back straight, legs crossed at the ankles. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes—well, the word
menacing
came to Pandora’s mind.

For some reason, she felt rather like a small mouse facing a snake. There was definitely something going on—some aura that was affecting her on a variety of different levels. Which was totally absurd. This woman was over eighty. What could she possibly do to Pandora?

Inside her case, her phone was flashing. Damn. It was Cheney.

Guiltily, she ignored it. She’d left him a message before she headed out, written on a large sheet of paper and positioned prominently on the kitchen counter. Okay, she probably should have called him, but deep inside she knew he’d forbid her to go. Or at least try and talk her out of coming here for this meeting.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to give him that much power over her actions. Doing someone else’s bidding ran counter to her inclinations. Even if that someone was Cheney. The fact that she felt guilty about it said a lot about where they stood in relation to each other. And perhaps he was right, but what the hell. It was a chance to gather information and one she just couldn’t turn down.

“Did you notice the portrait?” Victoria’s voice recalled her from her wayward thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“The portrait.” The older woman nodded to the wall just behind Pandora.

She turned to see a large oil painting of a formidable-looking man, seated in the traditional pose, with papers and a pen on a table next to him. “Very impressive. Who is he? A relative?”

Victoria’s lips curved into a faint smile. “My grandfather. Laurence Prendergast.”

“Ah.”

“He was a great man, you know. Before your time, of course. But his ideas were revolutionary, and his corporation laid the foundation for so many technical advances.”

“I see.” Pandora blinked as a little ripple of dizziness blurred her vision for a second. She should have eaten something more substantial for lunch.

“I doubt that you do.”

“Do what?”

“See, girl. See clearly.”

Victoria’s face was wavering now, and Pandora found herself gripping the arms of her chair. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.” There was nothing polite or gentle about that tone of voice. “My grandfather was the greatest man who ever lived. Few recognized it, and those who did were put to death because of it.”

“Uh…”

“His work. His work with DNA mutations. Brilliant, groundbreaking. The stuff of scientific miracles. But was he revered for the genius he was?” She bared her teeth and answered her own question. “No. Of course not. He was ruined.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Pandora fought for clarity. “I can’t say as I recall the matter.”

“You wouldn’t.” Victoria sighed. “But all that’s about to change, you know.”

“It is?”

“Oh yes.” The woman placed her cup on the tray and leaned back to stare at Pandora. “I imagine your wings are starting to ache, aren’t they, dear?”

Blurrily, she became aware of the distinctive sensation. A nagging urge to release her hold on her Fae talent. “Mmm.”

“Good.” Victoria nodded and stood. “Just a mild stimulant, one that will encourage your abilities to manifest themselves. I find Fae so much easier to deal with when they’re fully engaged. Weak creatures, Fae.” She leaned down. “You are a Fae, of course. I sensed that when you and that detective of yours paid me a little visit. Trying to put one over on
me
? Really. It was quite insulting. He barely displayed any of his talent at all.” She chuckled, a harsh sound, oddly vibrant considering the age of the throat it came from. “Come with me, dear. I have lots of things to show you.”

Chapter Sixteen

The two men were silent as they rolled away from the precinct and onto the road that would take them out to the Larson estate, both busy with their thoughts. Finally, Buck spoke.

“You got any ideas of how we’re going to handle this?”

Cheney shook his head. “Nope. Figured we’d wing it. First thing is to check out the lay of the land.” He frowned. “Can’t figure out why I haven’t been able to reach Pandora.” He glanced at the screen on his phone.

Buck snickered. “Pussy-whipped and you’re not even married.”

“Yeah. Like you can talk.”

“Hey, I made it legal for her to pussy-whip me.”

“Give the man a gold star.” Cheney turned the wheel.

“So you think you’re gonna get that far with Pandora?”

“It’s a done deal, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Whoooeee.” Buck whistled. “Dayum. Well congratulations, my friend.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, and for God’s sake keep it under your hat.” Cheney slowed down as they neared their destination. “I haven’t discussed it with the lady in question yet.”

A chuckle greeted his words. “I don’t envy you. That red hair and legal background…if she takes offense, you’ll find yourself up to your balls in contempt of court suits instead of your future wife.”

Cheney grinned. “I’m not worried.” He put his foot on the brake and eased to a halt. “Think this would work? We’re still a block away by road, but I figure through those trees and we’ll be at the back end of the Larson place.”