Larry let the scrub brush drop into the bucket of gray soapy water. I asked, “Do you get hazard pay for that?”
“Mr. Jekyll says it’s part of my job.” The bodyguard let out a low growl. “The employment agreement defines my job as private security and lists all the tasks I have to perform in detail. But at the end, another clause says ‘and other duties as assigned. ’ The boss insists that includes scrubbing shit off the front door.”
“You should have had a lawyer look over the agreement,” Robin said.
“I thought lawyers were scary, until I started working for Mr. Jekyll,” the werewolf answered. He let us inside. “Hey, boss—Chambeaux and Deyer are here to see you.”
The apartment was austere, and the drapes—blankets tacked above the windows—blocked most of the light. Cinder blocks and plywood served as makeshift bookshelves. The end tables were orange crates that held mismatched lamps. The coffee table was a large cable spool. The only artwork on the wall was a kitschy print of big-eyed zombie puppies painted by the famed ghost pop-culture artist Alvin Ricketts.
Other pieces of salvaged furniture were strewn with electrical components, gadgets, and countless spare parts dismantled from old motors, stereos, and television sets.
Jekyll looked up from his work and regarded us with owlish eyes. His lips drew back in a sneer, as if he expected some sort of provocation from us, but then he smiled. “Ah, I knew you’d come around, Ms. Deyer. Honorable people are so predictable. That’s what makes villains much more interesting.”
Robin screwed up her courage. “You caused me to do a lot of thinking, and I’ve decided I will indeed file your antidiscrimination complaint, just as I did for the Pattersons. Provided you have a sufficient down payment and meet the other standard loan qualifications, there is no legal reason why you should be denied the right to own a home in any part of the city you choose.”
“My feelings exactly,” Jekyll said.
I looked at all the junk strewn on the work table, wondering if any of it had come from the Timeworn Treasures pawnshop. Maybe he’d stolen it from the pack-rat gremlin? How I would have loved to pin Snazz’s murder on Jekyll, get him convicted and executed all over again—permanently this time! But that wasn’t likely. I didn’t see any connection.
“Our services aren’t free,” I said. “How do you plan to pay our retainer? I thought Miranda took everything in the divorce, and that was after the company collapsed because of the scandal. How can you afford to buy even a modest house?”
“And pay the bills,” Larry growled, “including my salary.”
“I’ve had to reinvent myself.” Jekyll rummaged among the electronic debris on the table. “I took a self-help seminar, learned how to meet my inner potential. I looked at everything I have to offer and figured out how I could use it to make a living. Follow a new dream.”
He poked at his hand and forearm, pinched his cheek. “Short-term, I just want to afford a better embalming job. It was never done properly after my visit to the electric chair.” His skin did have a greenish sheen, the color and consistency of spoiling meat.
I’ve heard that a second embalming after the fact is quite an unpleasant process, like going through an adult circumcision. “I highly recommend you try it,” I said.
“My main priority is to leave the Quarter and all those bad memories behind. You saw the vandalism to my door and mailbox. It happens every day, no matter which security systems I put out, no matter how often Larry patrols.”
“A couple of poltergeist hooligans,” Larry explained. “They’re hard to catch.”
“Ever since my demise, I’ve tried to keep a low profile, become a recluse,” Jekyll continued. “But they won’t leave me alone. You can understand why I just want to have a fresh start, go to a normal neighborhood, live like a normal person.”
I had to point out, “You’re dead, Jekyll, and a wannabe mass murderer. You left normal in the rearview mirror a long time ago.”
Robin inspected the inventions strewn all over the table. “And what is all this?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Jekyll smiled. “I may have lost everything else in the scandal, conviction, and execution, but I didn’t lose my intellectual genius. I commercialized one of my inventions. You may remember the ectoplasmic defibrillator that I developed at JLPN? A way to defend against criminal ghosts and spectral practitioners of corporate espionage?”