hook for the murder, Shamble. I’m still pissed off about the breaking and entering.”
“Are you going to arrest me for that?” That would put a damper on my day.
He sighed. “I have too much pain-in-the-ass paperwork to do already. No need to add more to it.”
“So, does that mean I can have a look at that ledger now?” I knew I was probably pushing him too far.
“Evidence techs are still testing it, nothing released yet. But what exactly are you looking for? I might be able to sneak a peek.”
“Sales of several heart-and-soul bundle packs, particularly the one belonging to Jerry, Mrs. Saldana’s zombie helper. Snazz wouldn’t tell me the name of the purchaser. We’re trying to buy it back so he can be his old self again, as a favor to her.”
He groaned. “For Mrs. Saldana? All right, I’ll see what I can find.”
CHAPTER 26
After the autopsy, and being cleared of murder, I returned to the office just in time for Harvey Jekyll to come in and try to hire our services.
Robin was at her desk, having worked all night long. At dawn, she had filed a housing discrimination action on behalf of the Pattersons, sent out a barrage of press releases, made contact with the housing authorities. She was already drawing a lot of attention, and she was just getting warmed up.
Back at my desk reviewing case files, I kept kicking myself for not getting a look at the pawnshop ledger before I reported the gremlin’s murder. That would have saved me a lot of trouble. What had my hurry been? Snazz wasn’t going anywhere, and a few extra minutes wouldn’t have made any difference in scheduling his autopsy.
I also needed to contact faux-Shakespeare about the theater props that I had found in Timeworn Treasures. Even though that was good news for the actors, the pawnshop crime scene was locked up tight, and the ghostly troupe couldn’t get their property back until it was released from evidence. Nothing I could do before that.
Our door swung open, and the bristle-furred Larry the werewolf stepped inside, scanned our offices with slitted eyes as if assessing threat potential, then gestured with a clawed hand. “Clear, Mr. Jekyll. You can come inside.”
Harvey Jekyll sauntered in, a gnomish man that no gnome would ever claim as a relative. He had a wrinkly scalp, large owlish eyes, fidgety fingers, and black burn spots around the back of his head and across his brow, permanent reminders of his ride on Sparky, Jr.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that Harvard Stanford Jekyll was one of the men I loathed most in the entire world.
The moment he set foot through the door, Jekyll acted as if he owned our offices, but since his financial ruin and subsequent death sentence, he wasn’t in a position to buy much of anything. Nevertheless, it took a while for ingrained attitudes to change.
“Unimpressive.” Jekyll frowned in disapproval. “I expected Chambeaux and Deyer to have more elaborate offices.”
Robin stood next to me, coiled and furious. “We don’t have extravagant tastes.”
I put a hand on her arm, and she jumped. “Breathe, Robin,” I said quietly, then raised my voice. “What do you want here, Jekyll? I hoped we’d never have the displeasure of your company again.”
Larry prowled our offices, circling the perimeter with his biceps bunched, fangs bared, claws exposed, trying to look like a tough guy. That was what he got paid for, I suppose.
“I’d prefer not to be here myself, Chambeaux. How’s the arm, by the way?”
“Reattached and perfectly functional.” I made a fist. “Care to see for yourself?”
Jekyll ignored this. “Good, because we might need your services, although my current problem falls more under Ms. Deyer’s purview.”
“I’m not interested in taking your case,” Robin said.
“Really? That’s ironic. Now who’s practicing discrimination?” The comment startled her, and Jekyll talked quickly. “I saw your recent filing on behalf of the Pattersons, and I wish to file an identical one for my own circumstances.”
“What could you possibly have in common with that nice couple?” I said.
“I have encountered exactly the same problem. I wish to move away from the Unnatural Quarter to a pleasant residence out of town. I don’t feel welcome here anymore.”
“That’s an understatement,” Larry growled under his breath.
“I, too, applied for a mortgage to buy a small home in the suburbs, and I, too, was turned down. I’ve been shunned.”
“Not used to that, are you?” I smirked. “How are you going to make the down payment or afford our fees?