Max called after I’d tucked Paddy’s documents into my messenger bag and was on the bike, ready to head home. I would have to buy a briefcase, I realized. Carrying legal papers in a messenger bag full of cat hair wasn’t very professional. It would have been nice if I’d had a loving normal family showering me with congratulations and fancy briefcases for graduation instead of one that sent me links to strange websites, but I’d make do. My lack of family had taught me a self-sufficiency that had kept me alive all these years.
“Temporary probate filed,” I told Max when I answered. “You and Paddy will share equally unless a will is found. Want me to set up a meeting between the two of you?”
I shouldn’t be so malicious. I had no idea what the relationship had been between scientific Paddy and his son, the materialistic, greedy Dane, but I was pretty certain it hadn’t been great. Throwing Max’s social conscience into the scenario would bollix it up nicely. I didn’t have to have my own family to understand the meaning of dysfunctional.
“I’d rather you sent me back to hell,” Max growled. “Except I think you’re right. I think Dane’s in hell, and he’s trying to kill me. The gas logs exploded this morning.”
My concern was instantaneous. I gunned the Harley and prepared to turn toward his condo instead of home. “What happened? Are you all right? I don’t want to be visiting you in a hospital room ever again.”
“I’m all right. The fire department called it a malfunction and turned off the gas. I’m having the gas stove replaced with electric.”
“Consequences,” I sighed, turning off the engine again so I could hear. “I knew playing with fire had consequences. I just didn’t know what they’d be. If I’m opening mirrors on hell, it can’t be good.”
I hadn’t been visited by any of the other cretins I’d dispatched to their just rewards. But maybe the Vanderventers were as privileged in the afterlife as they had been in this one. An affinity for wealth and power sounded evil enough to entice Satan.
“You didn’t take out Gloria, so you’re safe,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll probably look for a Realtor, but I’ve got the condo under control for now. I am not ashamed to admit that I want no part of Gloria’s hell house. Paddy can look for a damned will if he’s not happy sharing. Andre might want to stay out of the mansion, too. Logic has even less purpose on the other side than it does in the real world. All that bottled-up rage, hate, and fear is pretty raw and gruesome.”
“My expert on hell,” I said dryly, hating to think about my bighearted Max suffering such horror.
And I was fretting because I realized that, technically, Andre had brought about Dane’s death as well as Gloria’s, even if they’d caused their own demises. My very own demon slayer—and if she could, Gloria would go after him.
I wasn’t precisely innocent in Dane’s death. I figured illogical rage would find me if it haunted the mansion. I didn’t want any of us out there.
“Without a will, your trustees have to work with Paddy against your parents and grandmother for control of Acme,” I warned. “Divided this way, neither of you will have a controlling share. And I suspect Paddy won’t be satisfied until he’s searched the mansion and found Gloria left no surprises that might blow up in his face should MacNeill get to them first. It would be better if he had witnesses.”
“I don’t think Paddy is ready to work with anyone,” he said cynically. “Can you trust me to send out a team to help him?”
“You can try. Don’t feel bad if Paddy rejects them.”
I debated whether I should tell Paddy about the Dane/Max soul transference, but I still wasn’t positive Paddy was sane, and I doubted whether Max wanted his scary secret spread to the world if Paddy talked. I’d have to play that one by ear.
We agreed on a time, and I roared home, enjoying the ride down country lanes struck with more autumn colors with each passing day. I wondered what would happen if I tried to plant a tree in Pearl’s backyard. I would have to clear out the dead appliances and old sinks first.
I wheeled home, grabbed a sandwich, added Milo to his new tote bag, then trotted next door. Julius had crates of books stacked in the foyer, ready to be moved to our new office. I was already having second and third thoughts about Andre’s grandiose scheme.
“Won’t you need these?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if I just came over here when I need your library?”
“I have a photographic memory,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve read these enough that I can recall what page each case is on. I’ve kept them up to date because I don’t want to memorize ever-changing computer pages. But reading law and practicing it are two different things. I can tell you what cases are most applicable, but you have to decide how to apply them.”
That sounded like more responsibility than I had the experience to handle, but I pretended I agreed. Maybe I could learn to hypnotize a jury before I went to court. In Andre’s case, I was hoping we wouldn’t get as far as a courtroom.
After learning there’d been no change in our patients, that the cloud can hadn’t been found, and that Julius would give Paddy my message about probate, I shouldered a small box and crossed the street to my new office.
The block of buildings across from the town houses had been abandoned for years, as far as I could tell. The long brick warehouse that had been the site of our run-in with Acme’s paratroopers gaped emptily, like a bombed-out relic of a war zone. The showroom windows in several of the other brick buildings had been boarded up. The four-story edifice the helicopter had landed on had been designed for offices.
That was the one Andre had opened for me. Guess we knew the roof was sturdy if a helicopter could land on it.
Entering the foyer, I admired the unboarded and newly washed windows that let in the late-afternoon sunlight. The lingering odor of bleach explained the lack of any musty smell in the tile-floored entrance. Someone had been busy while I was at work. Desks, filing cabinets, credenzas, and chairs were scattered willy-nilly all over the lobby. The space still seemed enormously empty.
I wandered in carrying my box of books, wondering which cubicle Andre had decided was mine. Given that the place was otherwise empty, I hoped he’d chosen a room with a window, but his paranoia might demand solid walls.
Before I’d gone ten paces, a dozen people leaped from behind doorways and desks screaming and waving their arms. I nearly peed my pants until I realized they were shouting, “Surprise!”
Julius had warned them of my arrival, the old sneak. Tears of shock welled. I dropped my box and sat down on it so I didn’t reveal how weak-kneed I was. I swallowed and stared in amazement at gold and black balloons erupting from some hidden gate, scattering upward to bounce on the high ceiling. Cora and Frank opened a foldout banner with gold lettering that shouted CONGRATULATIONS, SUPERLAWYER TINA!
I almost choked on a sob. A suspicious wetness gathered in the corners of my eyes. Boris the Geek was there, and some of the staff from Chesty’s, and Ernesto, and Tim—totally visible and wearing pink-and-green plaid shorts. Sarah hung out in the back, a bit confused but wanting to be part of the crowd—just like me.
Andre emerged bearing a beribboned briefcase, the kind I’d vaguely wished I’d had family to bestow on me. How did he know these things?
It was beautiful, supple, camel-colored leather with brass zippers and clasps and pockets for everything. And it was big enough for Milo and a laptop. Not that I had a laptop, but it would last long enough for me to acquire one. The tag said it had metal-reinforced security straps. My kind of bag. I hugged it. I actually hugged it.