Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (25 page)

Of course, even on the best of nights, I’d be hesitant to head into such a situation. With Lillian in tow, it was all the more problematic. Still, Albert was right. If I could figure out what in the documents had caused the issue and find a resolution, then it would be the best ending for everyone involved.

Except, possibly, me.

“Give me the address, Albert,” I said, noting the interest in Lillian’s expression. “We’ll head there right away.”

7.

It took us nearly twenty minutes to arrive at the destination, even with me breaking my usual fastidious adherence to the speed limits (I went up to ten miles over in some spots). I’d recognized the address as soon as Albert gave it to me; even in my line of work, the number of ranches I called on was minimal. The Capra Ranch was to the north of Winslow, in one of the most rustic sections. Unlike where Charlotte Manor had been located, this piece of land was never attempted to be industrialized, and in fact hosted a lovely farmer’s market on weekends that I would have happily attended, if it weren’t held during the day.

Gerda and Oskar were the kindly couple who ran and owned the Capra Ranch—a satyress and satyr, respectively. I remembered driving out to meet them a few months back, their goat legs carefully hidden under thick overalls and custom boots. They had served me delicious cheese and asked me to carefully go through their costs and incomes to see why business was up, but profits were down. It had been a relatively simple job. All I had uncovered was that they were overpaying a few suppliers, hardly the sort of thing I expected to cause a ruckus. Yet, as I pulled my car around to the rear, I could clearly hear heated voices yelling at each other from inside the farmhouse.

“Please don’t tell me to stay put again.” Lillian’s request came before I’d even gotten my seat belt off. It was prescient as well, because the next words out of my mouth were indeed going to be orders to sit tight while I handled this. “I’m here to learn about customer service, remember?”

“What’s happening in there is hardly a standard part of the job,” I told her.

“You do remember that we just came from subduing a rampaging therian, right? Seems to me it comes up often enough to be worth learning.” Lillian took off her own seat belt and slung her bag over her arm. “Besides, you might need backup. Once satyrs get going on a tear, it’s hard to calm them down.”

“Lillian, I know the last stop set something of a bad precedent, but at Fletcher Accounting Services, we do
not
go into meetings planning on physically engaging our clients.”

“No, but there’s something to be said for self-defense,” Lillian replied. “I promise not to lay a hand on anyone unless you tell me to, though. And don’t act like you don’t need the help. I know your assistant is stuck in there.”

This, at least, didn’t come as a surprise. I knew my own hearing well enough to expect that she’d been able to hear Albert’s side of the call. I still scowled at her nonetheless. “Privacy and confidentiality are important aspects of the work I do. From now on, I expect you to tune out my business calls.”

“Will do.” Lillian looked as if she meant to say more, but a loud thud from inside the farmhouse made us both jump. “Sounds like we should really get in there.”

Much as I tried to think of one, I didn’t have a good reason to offer up for why she should stay in the car. I could hardly pretend to be worried for her safety—the way she’d brought down an augmented Bubba made it clear that, of the two of us, she would be more capable in dangerous situations. Not to mention the fact that, with no idea what I was walking into, having the help might actually make a difference again. Most compelling of all, though, was the fact that Albert and Neil were stuck in the middle of whatever was happening, and that meant getting them extricated came before anything else.

With a begrudging sigh, I nodded, and the two of us stepped out of my eco-consciously sized car. Moving quickly, I knocked once on the front door, which caused it to drift open, as it had evidently not been closed in the first place. This gave us an excellent view into the living room, and a sight so strange we were both struck by a momentary pause.

Gerda and Oskar, the two lovely people I remembered from our original meeting, were literally locking horns (which I was certain they didn’t have when last I saw them) in the middle of the room. The furniture had been thrown about, and the dents on the wooden walls answered the question of what had been making the loud thuds. Backed in a corner, tucked behind what looked like the remains of a coffee table, were Albert and Neil. Albert had planted his sword, still sheathed, between the battling couple and them, while Neil was scratching some sort of rune into the coffee table and muttering under his breath. All of this came with the soundtrack of Gerda and Oskar both trying to yell over the other, so deep in anger and insults that I could barely piece together more than a few words of their dialogue, none of which I’d feel comfortable repeating in my retelling of the incident. I mean, there’s swearing, and then there’s two satyrs cursing at one another.

“Fred!” Albert popped his head up as he caught sight of me and Lillian in the doorway. Somehow, his one innocent exclamation got the attention of the battling couple, who yanked their horns apart and turned to face me.

“There he is!” Gerda yelled, voice nothing like the one she’d had when offering me glass after glass of sweet tea. “Tell this lying old bastard that the jig is up!”

“Fred, it’s about damn time,” Oskar hollered. “I’ve been trying to make your assistant explain to her that the truth is right there on the page.”

“They’ve been screaming a lot, don’t want us to leave, and I can’t figure out what any of it is about!” Albert yelped.

“This accounting stuff is a lot more interesting than I was expecting,” Lillian muttered, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted to hear from her.

All the voices were swirling around, trying to top the others and clamoring for attention. Rather than try and engage with any of them, I stormed into the room, grabbed the tattered (but not torn) packet I’d given Albert for delivery, and slapped it crisply against my hand.

“Gerda. Oskar. I want to help you, I do—”

My words were drowned out under a fresh tidal wave of yelling from each half of the couple, both trying to make their points so enthusiastically that they weren’t even bothering with an explanation. In spite of their aggression, I remained calm, waiting until there was a lull and trying again.

“I can’t offer any perspective on this unless—”

Another fresh wave of screaming. I continued to be patient, ready to wait for as long as it took to get them calmed down enough to explain the situation.

This time, however, they were the ones cut off. Not by words, but by the sudden audible crack of wood being fiercely splintered. We all turned to find that Lillian, still dutifully standing by the entrance, had driven her fist completely through the door with a single punch, and was now carefully brushing the splinters away from her unmarked hand.

“I believe Fred was trying to say something, before you interrupted him.” There was no threat in her words, yet the hole in the door spoke volumes. Gerda and Oskar both seemed to shrink back, looking at her, and me, with an expression I’d encountered more than once since my transformation, and loathed more with every occurrence.

Fear. She’d reminded them that we were stronger, and now they were scared of her. Of us.

“Lillian, go wait in the car.”

“But—”

“You are
done
here. Unless you want to be fired outright, go wait in the car. Now.” It wasn’t often that I found the nerve to be so forceful, but this was something I absolutely couldn’t tolerate. My business, my very life, was built upon other parahumans looking past the reputation that other vampires had cultivated. I couldn’t allow anyone to associate Fletcher Accounting Services with that kind of aggression, not unless it was a matter of life and death. Yelling didn’t qualify. Sooner or later, voices got tired.

Lillian stared at me for several seconds, then spun around and left, presumably heading back toward the car. I looked at Gerda and Oskar, suitably cowed for the moment, and decided to capitalize on their silence.

“I am very, deeply sorry for that. Lillian is a new employee; though, one more stunt like that, and that won’t be the case any longer. Fletcher Accounting Services is going to replace your door, and I’ll be doing the next six months of budgetary maintenance for free as an apology. If you no longer wish to do business with us, I understand, and will happily get whatever new accountant you choose up to speed on your situation.”

Some of the color that had drained from each of their cheeks began to return, and Oskar even took a step toward me. “Nah, Fred, you can’t control what someone else does. We accept the apology.”

“Thank you, very much,” I replied. “Now, can we please, in calm and rational voices, discuss what in my findings led you to suddenly begin fighting with one another?”

“A fight? This ain’t much of a fight. Barely even an argument,” Gerda informed me. “Guess it might seem that way from the outside, though. We satyrs and satyresses are just passionate. And a bit stubborn.”

“What caused the ‘discussion’ was that I looked through your pages and found out she’s been double paying for the cow’s feed,” Oskar told me, his tone beginning to heat up a bit more. “Now, I know that’s her cousin’s company, so she’s probably been paying twice just to squirrel a little money away from me. And the only reason she’d do that is if she was gambling again.”

“Like hell that’s what started it,” Gerda shot back. “We started a row because
you
’
re
paying three times what the fencing costs to your old drinking buddy who runs the company. And so help me god, Oskar, if you’re back on the bottle, I’ll break it over your thick skull. Again.” From the way she was flexing her hands, something told me she didn’t mean it as a figure of speech.

They were beginning to fume again, which was actually a relief, since it meant they weren’t afraid I’d forcefully shut them down. Plus, now that I knew what the actual issues were, it allowed me to dig through the report and see how much truth there was to the claims. As the satyr couple started squabbling once again, I sat down in the sole remaining chair to dig through my compiled report.

Even as I worked, though, my mind was out in the car with Lillian. I didn’t regret the choice I’d made in sending her away, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences to it.

My night might very well end with a fight that would put the owners of the Capra Ranch to shame.

8.

It took a while, but I was eventually able to piece together what had caused the errors. Double paying for feed was an innocent mistake—both Gerda and Oskar had thought they were supposed to set up the automatic withdrawals from their bank account and neither had checked with the other, causing the same amount to go out twice per month. As for the fencing, while the cost was exorbitant, it also matched the receipts provided by the company. I recommended that they find a new vendor, as this one was clearly gouging them. It was technically possible that Oskar was funneling cash through a friend to feed a secret drinking habit, but judging from the anger at hearing his friend was ripping them off, it seemed unlikely. That, or Oskar was a far better actor than I could have imagined. Either way, my work was done, and I liberated Neil and Albert, who were both handed cartons of baked goods from Gerda as apology for what she called “the slight inconvenience.”

I saw both of them back to Neil’s car—an old sedan most likely inherited from a family member who’d purchased cars back when they were made of thick metal frames and came with ashtrays in the armrests. It occurred to me as I watched their taillights fade down the road that I’d never actually met any of Neil’s family. Albert’s either, but that was understandable, as they all believed him to be dead. I knew I was stalling, avoiding heading back to my own car and facing the fuming vampire waiting inside. There was no getting around it, though. Not unless I was willing to abandon my car and run back to town—which was tempting, I will admit, but would leave Lillian for Oskar and Gerda to deal with. And that seemed like bad customer service no matter how I sliced it.

I rounded the farm house to see my hybrid still in one piece, which I hoped was a good sign. Lillian was sitting inside, staring out her window and away from my approaching form. She was still aware of me, her senses were too good for her not to be, but she was pretending not to notice. That was fine by me, as I would take frustrated silence over fury any day of the week. Popping open the door, I slid into my seat and started the car’s engine. I said nothing as I put on my seat belt, giving Lillian ample time to open the conversation with an explanation or an apology if she so desired. When my silence was echoed, it became obvious that I was going to have to start things off.

“I’m sorry if my tone was too harsh in there. The situation was chaotic, and I had to try and salvage things as quickly as possible, which meant you had to leave. Still, I do wish I’d found a gentler way to voice that.”

“Salvage things?” Lillian turned from the window, surprise overtaking the pinched annoyance she’d been wearing seconds before. “Fredrick, I had the situation perfectly in hand. They were silent, willing to listen, and ready to sign whatever you put in front of them. I fixed everything, and you cast me out for it.”