Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (13 page)

“Way to ease him in,” Amy muttered, tossing an elbow to his ribs that I doubt he even registered. “But yeah, Bubba’s right. We need a favor. Well, actually, I need it. Well, actually, some friends of mine need it. Well, actually—”

“If possible, can we jump ahead to the details?” I asked. Amy had small green orbs rotating around her irises, which meant she, as usual, had tried one of her own potions. Without knowing how this one impacted her mind and thought pattern, it was best to try and corral the conversation toward productive ends.

“A mage died last week,” Bubba said. “Herbram Clover.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss. Was he a friend?” I asked Amy.

“Met him a few times at the swap meets for spell-casters. Decent guy, but after a few beers, he could talk the ears off a sphynx.” Amy didn’t seem particularly broken up about it, though whether that was due to her own feelings or the magical concoction coursing through her blood was anyone’s guess.

“Herbram did some work for Richard at times, along with a lot of other folks. He was a talented enchanter, very respected, very pricey.” Bubba walked over to my fridge and pulled out one of the recently restocked silver beer cans. At this point, everyone knew they were there for guests, so there was little need for formality. “Thing is, he had two children, Ainsley and Zane. He also left behind a damned hefty estate, and he actually drafted somethin’ of a will.”

“The problem is that he didn’t get nearly specific enough,” Amy added. “All he said was that the estate was to be split evenly between his children. That’s it; that was the whole will.”

A year prior, I might not have grasped what she was saying, but after becoming a Certified Public Parahuman Accountant and working with all my new clients, I’d learned a great deal about how parahumans regarded paperwork. Turns out that, much like regular humans, they despised it. And since they had so many ways to avoid it, very little was ever actually done. Putting all that together, I could instantly see the issue with Herbram Clover’s estate.

“He never had any of it appraised or insured, did he? It was just a note saying to split things evenly, trusting his children to work the rest out themselves.” I knew I’d hit the nail on the head by the long draw Bubba took from his beer.

“Right between the eyes,” Bubba replied. “It’s been a fine mess ever since. They’re bickerin’ over who gets what, what’s worth what, and meanwhile, Herbram’s business is falling apart.”

Amy took a seat at my dining room table, although I noticed the chair seemed to move when she reached for it, rather than when contact was made. “Herbram was a friend of Richard’s, and I’ve worked with Ainsley a few times, so we got them to agree to use a lawyer who would settle the matter fairly. Problem is, she doesn’t have the numbers background to properly work through Herbram’s books, and said it would take weeks longer unless we got an accountant. Well, actually, she said it would take an extra four weeks. Well—”

“Got it. Estate in trouble, accountant needed, and I’m one of the few in town who actually knows how to do parahuman books.” My mind raced as I tried to do some hurried guesswork. The fact that Herbram had kept books and made a will were both quite promising facts. They’d be terrible, of course—I’d yet to meet a single parahuman aside from myself who kept fastidious records—but it was still more than I was accustomed to starting with. With a lawyer to help and a confined estate to work with, there was a good chance I could get the job done in only a few days. It would be a tight squeeze, schedule-wise, but I couldn’t turn down a request from friends. Especially Richard, who I suspected might be the only reason there had yet to be any unfamiliar vampires knocking on my door.

“If I pull a lot of overtime this weekend, I should be able to clear some space out for early next week. Assuming things are remotely in order, I’d require roughly three to six days,” I told them. “However, you’ll need to take on the job of explaining to Krystal why I’m canceling our weekend plans. That task is non-negotiable.”

I’d expected some sort of relief or happiness at my willingness to help. Instead, Bubba and Amy exchanged a long glance between themselves. While not the most astute reader of body language in the world, even I could tell that meant something was wrong.

“What? Is six days too long? If the books are somewhat in order, I might be able to do it faster, but I can’t make any promises yet.”

“No, that’s not the problem. Well, actually, it is, since they need it done soon. Well, actually, we need it done soon. Well—”

This time, it was Bubba who cut Amy off, which I was grateful for. “Ainsley and Zane ain’t exactly the most chummy of siblings. Things are gettin’ heated the longer it goes on, and when mages get heated, that can cause trouble all around.”

“I see. So, how soon were you hoping I’d be able to get started?”

Bubba’s eyes darted down to the half-cracked watch on his wrist, which told me all I needed to know before he even spoke. “The lawyer was hopin’ to meet us in about an hour.”

“An hour?” While I’d technically finished all my work for the day, having stayed at my computer through the sunlight hours to keep at it, that didn’t mean I relished the idea of zipping off into the night for a sudden job. There were still things that needed doing, and if the job took half as long as I was expecting, it would cause me to miss deadlines, something I considered an unforgivable sin for a fledgling business. “Look, you know I’m always happy to help out, but this is just too little notice. I can’t abandon everything else at the drop of a hat.”

“Lawyer said you might feel that way, so she got the Clover children to authorize an extra fee on top of what you usually charge, for the short notice,” Bubba said.

“I can’t imagine there’s a number that would justify me tossing my entire schedule out the window for one unexpected client.”

That sentiment lasted exactly as long as it took for Bubba to tell me the number.

“Then again, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to at least take a look at the books,” I said, backpedaling quickly. It wasn’t greed that motivated me so much as pragmatism. With a sudden income influx that high, I might be able to lure in some other parahuman as an employee, whether they liked the work or not. Besides, I could always forgo my daily sleep for another week or so to rebuild the lost time. I didn’t usually get loopy until it had been at least ten days without nodding off. Seriously loopy, anyway.

“Great, I’ll drive,” Amy said. A jolt of fear raced through me, but Bubba shook his head before she’d even gotten out of her chair.

“We took my truck, remember? I’ll drive. Fred, get whatever you need.” Bubba finished off his beer and tossed the can in the recycling. He didn’t go the fridge for another, which I appreciated. Therian constitution or not, I preferred my guests limit their drinking to one an hour if they were getting behind the wheel. Given that he could probably polish off a keg on his own and not pass out, Bubba was a surprisingly good sport about it, and Amy always preferred her own work anyway. In fact, the resistance most parahumans had to mortal vices like alcohol was what fueled her business. Those who wanted a buzz needed something stronger, products that only a talented alchemist could provide.

As I stuffed my laptop into the bag already filled with other supplies, hefting my remote scanner under my arm, I heard Amy’s voice from the kitchen. “Maybe we should warn him.”

“Warn me about what?” Despite my reluctance to admit accidental eavesdropping, I’d long ago learned that if there was a warning to be had, then it was something I wanted.

“Nothin’ dangerous,” Bubba said, a hair too quickly. “She just means we should let you know what to expect before we get there.”

“Is this place hidden in a dark forest that’s only accessible through magical means, or something?” I asked.

Bubba shook his head. “Pretty much the opposite. Just try to keep in mind, everybody mourns in their own way.”

2.

As it turned out, what Bubba meant was that some people mourned by surrounding themselves with people. While most of us might go the route of having loved ones nearby, evidently Zane Clover was one to prefer quantity over quality. I could see the people milling about on his yard even as we made our way up the long driveway, Bubba’s truck an anomaly amidst the more ostentatious luxury vehicles already parked on the side of the drive. The valet booth at the front explained how so many cars were so neatly arranged, and we watched as a sleek black automobile pulled up, a pair of stunning people tossing over their keys without a second thought. If you’re wondering how there was room for so many vehicles—and who could blame you?—it turned out that there was a reason Bubba and Amy had referred to the inheritance as an “estate.”

Herbram Clover’s mansion was in the Cloudy Meadows community—easily the most expensive, exclusive area of Winslow, Colorado. Just to get in, Bubba had been forced to drive past two guard gates, where they checked his name and ID, along with another guard in front of Herbram’s actual driveway. The grounds were sprawling, with large trees separating the property from their neighbors—not that the next house was in earshot, anyway. As for the house, it seemed more akin to a castle than a home, albeit one with modern lighting and a DJ booth set up out on the lawn. At least a hundred people were milling about in front of elegant tables with fine food and expensive liquor that had been set up at careful intervals. White-shirted wait staff made their way around, blending into the background as they cleared off finished plates and made sure drinks never got below half-empty.

“The good news is that if this is the rate they’re blowing through the inheritance, I doubt it will take much time at all to figure out how much to split.”

“You’d think that, but the parties are all out of Zane’s trust,” Amy said. Since leaving, she’d drunk a test tube of purple liquid that changed the orbs around her irises to long, shapeless blobs. It had also lifted the tone of her voice by several octaves, but since she’d stopped with the “well, actually” stuff, I considered it a more than fair trade.

“
Parties
? As in, he’s done this more than once?” With just a cursory glance, I could see thousands upon thousands of dollars spent in every corner of the lawn. What it cost as a whole boggled the mind, let alone multiplied into multiple events. Part of me wondered if I’d gotten low-balled on the extra fee.

“Done one just about every night since his dad passed.” Bubba pulled behind a bright yellow sports car and killed the truck, popping the door open and tossing his key to the approaching valet. The red-vested man seemed a touch confused by the beat-up truck amidst a sea of luxury, but he didn’t let it stop him from doing his job.

“He took the loss hard,” Amy added.

“So I can see. What exactly did Herbram Clover do, again, that afforded such a lifestyle?”

“Enchanter,” Amy told me. “Brilliant work, passed down through the family for generations. The Clover name is synonymous with power and craftsmanship. And that’s the sort of thing you pay a premium for.”

There was no debating that part, as Amy and Bubba led me into a front hall filled with more staff, offering drinks and to take coats, along with a fresh wave of partiers. All around me, I saw designer labels and surgically perfected faces. The scent of plastic was practically overwhelming, at least for my vampiric nose. We got a few strange looks as Bubba politely cleared a way through the crowd, Amy’s flowing, simple dress and my professional attire likely costing less than anyone’s individual shoe. Thankfully, they did move, as a man Bubba’s size commands an instinctual respect, regardless of how much his clothes are worth.

Finally, we made it to a stairway with only a few partiers drifting about, climbing quickly past a velvet rope with a guard who’d have seemed intimidating if Bubba didn’t have at least half a foot on him. To my surprise, the guard greeted us with a genuine smile, pulling the rope aside and letting us pass as he and Bubba exchanged a few words. My best guess said that he was a fellow therian, as they were renowned for being good muscle, though he didn’t look at me with as much disdain as I’d have expected. Perhaps he was just a muscular human who appreciated dealing with regular folks instead of an endless stream of the wealthy.

After navigating several long hallways, we at last arrived in front of a pair of double doors, blocked by two more guards who nodded at Bubba and Amy on sight. They looked at me suspiciously, but Amy whispered a few words and they stepped aside without comment.

“We got Ainsley to hire the guards after the first few drunks wandered in and bothered the lawyer,” Bubba whispered as one of the guards unlocked the door. “Moved the work to a secure room, too. Used to be Herbram’s study; supposed to be warded six ways to Sunday.”

It occurred to me that I’d never asked for more information about this lawyer of theirs. Everything else had been so overwhelming it was a detail that slipped through the cracks. I was about to inquire when the door opened, and I saw a figure flipping through files, free hand dancing along the nearby notepad as it jotted down the bits deemed worth remembering.

“Asha?”

Sure enough, a familiar face looked up from the notepad, and there was Asha Patel. She looked a little different since I’d last seen her—hair cut shorter, clothes less formal. She also didn’t look half-terrified, most likely because this time, we weren’t trapped in Charlotte Manor under threat of death. In Charlotte’s defense, it had been an issue of self-preservation, and she’d apologized for the incident several times since.