This Case Is Gonna Kill Me (35 page)

He was smiling, but the expression was somehow murderous.
John was right—he’s losing it.
The thought of John made tears sting my eyes. I wanted him here to help me, protect me. Now I was on my own.

Maybe he’ll suggest a settlement,
the lawyer part of my brain suggested. Deegan turned into a wolf.
Or not.

Destiny and Chastity screamed. So did a lot of other people. I swung my head wildly, looking for a weapon. The garbage cans were chained down, and I probably didn’t have the strength to lift one and throw it even without the chain. Even the damn lids were linked to the cans with little chains.
Cars
. I could hit him with a car. Except I didn’t have a car, and in the time it would take me to carjack someone, Chastity and Destiny would be dead. And me, shortly thereafter.

A taxi pulled up on the other side of the street. David jumped out, flinging money like confetti. He scanned the street, spotted us, and plunged into the traffic. He didn’t run between the cars; he leaped onto the hoods and the roofs and used them like stepping-stones. Brakes screeched, horns honked, and people shouted.

Deegan gathered his haunches beneath him and leaped. Chastity and Destiny ran deeper into the park. I stood my ground. The thought of having that mass of fur and teeth land on my back was somehow more horrifying than seeing it coming, and maybe I could fend him off long enough for David to reach me.

David landed on the roof of the car closest to us and threw himself into an arcing dive that landed on Deegan’s back. The sudden weight broke Deegan’s trajectory, and they crashed to the ground almost at my feet. I scuttled backward, tripped on a sprinkler, and fell down hard on my butt.

David gripped Deegan’s elongated muzzle and tried to snap his head around. The wolf gave a violent buck and dislodged David. The vampire tucked and rolled, coming smoothly to his feet. He danced backward, out of reach of those massive claws.

It was surreal. Here was David in a two-thousand-dollar suit, power tie, and Gucci loafers fighting a shaggy beast. Since the fight was illuminated only by streetlights and headlights, I couldn’t see any evidence of tears or grass stains on the suit. The only sign the lawyer was locked in a life-and-death struggle was that his perfectly combed hair was mussed, a curl falling over his high, white forehead.

I’ve got to help him,
I thought, and I staggered to my feet and resumed my search for a weapon.

Deegan began to howl, the keening sound of a hunter closing in for the kill. It froze my blood, but David just looked even more bored and contemptuous. Deegan leaped at David. At the apex of the jump David caught him, one hand gripping Deegan’s arm/front leg, the other on his pelvis, and tossed Deegan over his head. As the werewolf sailed past I heard the sharp
crack
of the creature’s arm breaking.

Deegan howled in pain, then yelped again as he crashed into the trunk of a tree. I spotted a trash can with a broken lid chain. I ran over and grabbed the lid, then ran back toward the fight. I wasn’t exactly sure what I could do with my misshapen metal Frisbee, but it made me feel less helpless.

Regaining his feet, Deegan surprised me by not going after David again. Instead he bounded into the street. Traffic was hopelessly snarled. Nothing was moving except for a small van with a satellite dish on top, bearing the logo of a local television station. It was driving down the sidewalk while the driver and passenger leaned out of the windows shouting at pedestrians.

Deegan bent and gripped the undercarriage of a small convertible. The muscles beneath his hulking fur-clad shoulders bunched and strained. He flipped the car onto its roof. I heard a desperate screaming from the two girls inside, saved by the roll bars. But what in the hell was he up to?

My attention was briefly distracted by the men in the van. They jumped out, yanked open the side door, and pulled out a camera and microphone. One helped the other heave the camera onto his shoulder, and they started weaving through the cars. Their focus was on Deegan, which brought mine back to the werewolf.

Deegan gripped the gas tank and yanked it off the car. His powerful claws pierced the metal. Dread like liquid iron flowed into my belly. The pungent scent of gasoline overcame the smell of exhaust. Deegan, gas dripping off his claws, advanced on David carrying the gas tank. For the first time I saw a flicker of uncertainty on the vampire’s face.

Only two things could kill a vampire—decapitation and fire. Deegan, hulking, misshapen, and huge, advanced on David.

The reporter and cameraman wove and danced back and forth, trying for the best angle on the action. I screamed at them,
“This is not a fucking movie! Help!”
They gave no reaction.

At the last moment, Deegan ripped open the tank and went to splash the gas over the vampire. I didn’t know how he intended to ignite the gas, but I was willing to bet he had that detail covered. I ran forward, raised my garbage can lid, and caught most of the liquid on my makeshift shield. Some splashed on me and on David, but the bulk fell harmlessly onto the grass.

Deegan gave a scream of rage and slashed at me. His clawed paw ripped the lid out of my hands, nearly cutting it into two pieces. I was helpless before him. David stepped forward, caught me around the waist, and swung me aside. The blow meant for me took the vampire full in the face. The skin on his cheek hung in shreds, but there was only the tiniest trickle of blood.

Another TV station van arrived.

Fire seemed to flicker in the back of David’s eyes, and he bared his teeth, revealing his fangs. With the gore on his face, he didn’t look human any longer. Then he put on a burst of vampire speed, and in an eyeblink he was chest to chest with the werewolf, his hand on Deegan’s throat and his knee pounding the hound in his nuts. Deegan screamed at each blow, and with each scream he began to sound less and less like a wolf and more and more like a man in extreme pain.

David had forgotten to breathe. His mouth moved, but no words emerged. He realized he had no air to power sound. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Change,” in a voice that cracked like thunder.

The wolf’s response was to snap his jaws just in front of David’s face. The vampire reacted quickly, thrusting Deegan back a few inches to preserve his nose. David drove his knee one last time into Deegan’s crotch, then brought his hand down and grabbed his junk.

“I swear I’ll make you a eunuch. Now
change!
”

And he did. David laid Deegan down on his back on the grass, human, naked, bloody, and groaning, his hands cradling his crotch.

That’s when New York’s Finest arrived. I wanted to tell John that his cop buddies sure timed that well. Then I remembered,
John is lost.
Everything washed over me, and I burst into tears.

24

One week later I stood in a Manhattan courtroom with Syd Finkelstein, his severely shortened right arm swathed in a bulky bandage, and our clients.

I hadn’t intended to be there, but Syd, Chastity, and Destiny insisted, saying that none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me. Since that was undoubtedly true, I had agreed to be listed as co-counsel.

That meant I had to contact the Abercrombie brood and request a conflict waiver. Since I’d represented them initially, I couldn’t now represent the Jenkins women without the Abercrombies’ express approval. Naturally Marlene was completely opposed, and she seemed on the verge of reopening the entire case until I pointed out that if she did they might lose the twenty million. That got everyone’s head right.

Judge Mandel’s nasal and rather high-pitched voice brought me back to my surroundings. He accepted as authentic the last will and testament of Henry Lee Abercrombie and introduced it for probate. He pulled down his glasses and peered over the top, scanning the courtroom, which was filled with press, Syd’s family, and, to my shock, Gold.

“Is a Miss Chastity Jenkins present?”

“She is, Your Honor,” I said, while at the same time Syd said, “Yep.”

“Do you understand you have been appointed as the executor of this will?”

“Yes, sir,” Chastity said in a small voice.

“And do you understand that you and your daughter…” He pushed his glasses back up and read from the papers in front of him. “… Destiny Lee Jenkins are jointed beneficiaries of this will?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s get ’er done and off my docket. You’re very lucky women,” he concluded, then banged down the gavel. A scrum of journalists surged toward the mother and daughter. I slipped away while Syd, who seemed at least an inch taller, helped field questions.

Gold was waiting for me just outside the courtroom doors. He took my briefcase (I had abandoned the roller bag for a sleek underarm portfolio), linked his arm through mine, and tried to walk me away. I held my position.

“I’m not infirm,” I said. “And it’s not 1850.” He gave me an exasperated look and handed back my briefcase. His frown no longer had the power to intimidate me, and that felt good. I gave him a bright little smile. “Thank you.”

“So, another financial win for the firm.
Abercrombie
has been very good for you. But I do hope your future cases will be more … staid,” Gold said.

Outrage stopped me dead in my tracks. “What a terrible thing to say, and no, it hasn’t
been good for me.
Chip is dead. A lot of people who shouldn’t be dead are dead, and John is trapped. Money can’t make up for everything we’ve lost.”

It was as if his skin had become ice as he reacted to my disrespectful tone.
Watch it, he could fire you,
the cautious Linnet whispered in the recesses of my brain. Then I discovered that the Linnet who lived front and center didn’t give a shit. I noticed a man in a wheelchair waiting by the far wall. It was Jolly.

“If you’ll excuse me, I see one of my clients. I need to speak with him.” I walked away.

I couldn’t swear to it, but I thought I heard Gold say very quietly, “Congratulations, Ms. Ellery.”

I reached Jolly’s side. “You could have come over.”

“I didn’t wish to disturb,” he said. He opened the briefcase that he had tucked next to him in the chair and pulled out an envelope. “I received this today.”

He extracted a sheet of paper. The letterhead read
City of Brooklyn.
I read quickly through the letter.
Your analysis … correct … property shall remain an equine facility …

When I’d finished, I looked up to find him smiling at me. “They agreed with you. Thank you. I get to keep my barn.”

“You’re welcome, but this one was easy.”

He began to push his chair toward an exit. I walked with him. “Unlike your last one. The reports in the papers were frankly terrifying,” he said.

“It was not fun,” I admitted.

“But you won,” he said.

“Yeah, mostly because I’m too stubborn to know when to quit.” Jolly looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head. “I know I sort of ran out on you, but do I still get to ride Vento?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Of course.”

I sagged with relief. “May I come today?”

“Both he and I would be delighted.”

We stepped through the broad brass doors and onto the portico of the courthouse. A summer storm was snarling through heavy gray clouds and setting the flags in front of the building to snapping. The air smelled of rain and ozone. We both looked up at the rapidly approaching clouds.

“Thank God for that indoor arena, eh?” Jolly asked. “Well, I’m going to roll for a taxi.” He headed off toward the retrofitted concrete ramps and went whizzing down toward the sidewalk.

A few fat drops spattered on the granite steps, and a few splashed against my scalp. I ran behind him for the taxi stand.

*   *   *

Norma beat a tattoo on her steno pad with the end of her pen. “A lot of people have been calling for appointments.” She had thrust several pencils into the teased and sprayed hair helmet and obviously forgotten about them, so now she looked like an odd occidental geisha.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” I said. I stood beside her desk riffling through the pink telephone message slips.

“I guess this proves there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Norma sniffed.

“Hey!”

There was a whisper of sound like surf washing onto a beach. It flowed across the commons area, and I realized it was indrawn breaths and faint gasps. It was followed by silence broken only by footsteps on the slate tile. I looked over my shoulder.

Ryan Winchester walked through, head high, eyes straight ahead, carrying a box. I could just make out the tops of frames over the edge of the box. Assistants backed out of his way. He was heading for my old office. His eyes fell on me, and it felt like acid had bathed my skin. The only other time I had experienced such a hate-filled gaze was when Deegan had been taken away by the police with a shock collar clasped around his throat to prevent transformation.

I rushed to David’s office. It was empty, stripped of diplomas, honors, and pictures. The top of the desk loomed like a desert. I raced back out and went charging up the stairs to the seventy-third floor.

The awful Bruce looked up as I came slamming through the stairwell door. “Hey, is David Sullivan up here?”

Bruce sniffed and made a show of looking down at his phone list.

“He is,” came David’s voice. It fairly throbbed with pride and excitement. I turned. He stood in the doorway leading to the private offices. “Want to tell me where to hang my art?”

*   *   *

That evening, I begged off from a dinner with Ray and Gregory. Instead I stopped at a little local produce stand and picked up fresh tomatoes, basil, onion, garlic, and oregano. Next I hit the small Italian market for a bottle of red wine, pasta, mozzarella, capers, and olives. It was a warm early September evening, and
spaghetti con pomodoro crudo
sounded like the thing.

When I came through the door lugging my purchases, Gadzooks threatened to send me ass over teakettle as he twined through my legs, mewing piteously. I had used a combination of helpless charm and bullshit on the super at John’s building until he let me in. Then I whisked the cat away. For the moment I was paying the rent on John’s apartment too, but since it was rent controlled and I’d gotten a nice raise at work it wasn’t a big hardship. If his absence went on for too long, I’d consider putting his things in storage. Hopefully that wasn’t going to happen.