treatment that monsters faced after the Big Uneasy, she’d found her calling in life. I think her parents would have preferred her to have a career in patent law or become a wealthy corporate attorney, but there was no swaying Robin once she set her heart on something. I knew that full well.
“Does that mean you’ll take our case?” Judy Patterson asked.
“With pleasure,” Robin said. “I’ll need copies of your paperwork, your financial records, the forms you filed, the denials you received. There are federal laws against housing discrimination. We have a potential suit against the homeowners’ association and also against the lenders for violating the Equal Housing Protection Act. If everything is as you say, it’s a clear-cut case, and I’ll file several discrimination suits on your behalf by tomorrow morning. I’ll stay up all night if I have to.”
CHAPTER 21
Even though the Goblin Tavern wasn’t the same under the new management, McGoo and I kept meeting there, at least for the time being. We were creatures of habit.
When I arrived, McGoo was waiting for me on his regular stool, already well on the way to finishing his first beer. He must have had a rough day, too—as usual. I glanced at my watch—only 7:10. He saw me, raised his mug. “I got a head start, Shamble.”
“I can see that, but I’ll catch up.” I worked my way onto the stool next to his, but something wasn’t right. I sniffed, realized that someone had cleaned the bar surface and stools with lemon wax. Francine never did that. When I raised my hand to call out for the usual, I stopped myself, remembering that our favorite bartender was no longer there. Instead, I saw a portly man in a tweed business suit, so cheery that his demeanor practically screamed, “My doctor upped the dosage of my antidepressants, and I’m fine now!” He came over, exuding friendliness.
“Welcome, welcome to the new Goblin Tavern! I hope your day is a sunny one.” He had a ready handshake, whether I wanted one or not. I just wanted a beer. “My name is Stu—I’m the new manager here. Still reviewing applications for a new bartender.”
Five seats down the bar, three gaunt and decaying zombies sat hunched with their elbows on the bar, their heads sunk down into their chests. One of them said in a gurgling voice, “Are you a human, Stu?” When the new manager happily nodded, the zombie continued, “Mmm, I like human stew.” The bartender kept the smile fixed on his face, so as not to offend the customers.
“Could I get a beer, please?” I said.
“Certainly, sir.” Stu stood at the tap and rattled off the selections, which had increased, mostly light and foreign beers. Francine had never asked what type of beer I liked. I picked one. Stu delivered the mug and said, “If there’s any way I can make your visit more enjoyable, please let me know.”
I held the beer in my stiff hands and felt a sadness come over me. “You could hire Francine back. That would be a good start.”
I meant it as a quick snide comment, but McGoo piped up. “For once, I agree one hundred percent with Shamble.” Several of the other monster patrons also called out their support for my suggestion.
Stu was flustered, and I think we hurt his feelings; he was trying so hard. “I’ll, uh, forward your feedback, but that decision was made by Smile Syndicate management, high above my pay grade. Until we get a genuine monster replacement, you’ll just have to satisfy yourselves with me.”
Down the bar, the decrepit zombies raked sharp fingernails along the wooden surface and gnashed their jaws together. “We’ll take what’s offered,” one said. Stu scuttled over to the cash register and kept himself busy as far from the zombies as possible.
McGoo glanced at them, leaned closer to me. “What do you call a zombie with no brains?” He didn’t wait for me to guess. “Hungry!”
Remembering my promise to him the previous night, I laughed politely.
He and I talked about our days, traded ideas and information about various cases. “I bumped into Maximilian Grubb yesterday,” I told McGoo. “Did you know he’s managing a storage unit complex now?”
McGoo finished his beer and ordered another one. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was selling encyclopedias door-to-door.”