Death Warmed Over (Dan Shamble, Zombie PI #1)

Miranda glanced at her gold watch. “Of course not, sweetheart. That’s what I pay you for. I haven’t been home to spend the night in more than a year. I’m staying at the Grand Plaza Hotel in the Full Moon Suite, and it’s costing Harvey a pretty penny . . . but he considers it worth the expense not to have me around.” When she smiled, Miranda’s teeth looked more pointed than when she’d entered the offices. “Now, I have to be off to my dental hygienist. Good work so far. I’ll add a little bonus when I pay this week’s invoice.”


Robin seemed flustered. “But how exactly are we going to gain access to the evidence? Shall I file a discovery request to see documents or items in his study? I don’t think we have grounds—”

“If you do that, he’ll make sure that anything interesting is long gone,” Miranda said.

I reassured her. “I’ll come up with something.”

Harvey Jekyll had made a point of how effective a ghost could be in corporate espionage. It might just be time for Sheyenne to do a little legwork.





Chapter 28

After Miranda departed, but before I could lay out my plans to dig up dirt on Jekyll, the phone rang. When Sheyenne answered, I could hear a frantic voice on the other end. She said, “Mr. Fennerman? Stay calm, Mr. Fennerman. Yes, he’s right next to me.”

She handed me the phone, and I heard the nervous vampire’s voice warbling over the line. “They’re back, and they’ve ignored the restraining order! Please help!”

I said in the calmest voice possible, “What are they doing, Sheldon? Are you safe?”

“For now. They can’t get in, but they’re pounding on the door. They broke my windows. I can hear them outside! They’re coming to get me.”

“Did you call the police?”

“They put me on hold. Mr. Chambeaux, save me!”

“I’ll be right there, Sheldon. Just hang tight.”

I’d thought the morons would lie low for at least a day or two, but something must have egged them on. I tucked my piece in its shoulder holster and headed out. With the pistol I could scare the Straight Edge dweebs away for now, but they could always harass the vampire again. Since I did not intend to set up a new career as a doorman at Sheldon Fennerman’s brownstone, I needed a more permanent solution, one that would make the Straight Edgers leave my client alone.

As I hit the street, I took out my phone and punched in another number. Time to call in reinforcements.



Splattered raw eggs left gooey starbursts on Sheldon’s front door. Rocks had broken the black glass of his windows. The three young men—Patrick, Scott, and Todd—wearing red T-shirts with the white line down the front, lounged on the street corner as if pretending to be hoodlums, but they didn’t look old enough to smoke. Priscilla, the shrewish young woman, stood beside them waving a new hand-lettered sign:




UNDEAD

UNCLEAN

UNWANTED




I was surprised they had the balls to be so overt; I’d thought they were nothing more than armchair terrorists. Maybe Jekyll himself had coerced them into this underhanded retaliation. It was common knowledge that Fennerman was a Chambeaux & Deyer client, under our protection, and Harvey could well have riled them up just to cause trouble after Robin and I visited him in his factory office. Maybe he’d even promised these kids their own secret decoder rings if they completed their mission.

The Straight Edgers recognized me as I approached. “Did you have trouble reading the restraining order I served you? Too many big words?”

“We’re on a public street,” Priscilla sneered.

“You’re harassing my client. I can see the broken windows.”

“It was an accident,” Todd said. “We’d apologize and offer to pay, but we can’t go within fifty feet of him.”

“And the eggs?”

“We were delivering groceries,” Scott said. “I tripped, and they went flying.”

The Straight Edgers were so full of themselves they didn’t seem to realize where they were. The unnaturals already despised them and their intolerant activities. Priscilla, Scott, Todd, and Patrick were close to being fatally clueless.

Hearing the ruckus, a few monsters had stepped out of their front doors or emerged from their businesses, looking with disdain at the demonstrators. Some of the unnaturals rolled their slitted eyes, viewing the Straight Edgers as ill-behaved children who needed a good scolding and a weekend of public service. Other creatures, though, seemed happy for an excuse to return to their baser natures.

“We have a right to free speech, man,” Patrick said. “Our opinion is our opinion.”

“And everybody has one,” I said, stepping closer, in their faces. “Like a*sholes.”

This confrontation had the potential to degenerate into one of those interminably stupid “I know you are, but what am I?” debates. The mood of the gathered unnaturals was getting ugly. Claws extended, fangs bared. I had already rescued the beanpole Todd from a troll’s deep fryer; now maybe I’d have to intervene to keep these dweebs from becoming a Straight Edge smorgasbord—and that really annoyed me. I was here to protect Sheldon, not his harassers.

I looked up with relief to see the black-gowned bulk of Mavis Wannovich waddling toward us, accompanied by the huge sow, as if the two were out for an afternoon stroll. Mavis carried her spell book now, confident and unafraid. And thanks to an anti-glamour spell Mavis had worked on her sister, Alma now smelled like sauerkraut rather than delectable pork, which kept her safe from the unnaturals who had considered her a snack a few days ago.

“Ah, Mavis! Thank you for coming down to help.” I raised a hand to greet her.

Both sisters seemed renewed, self-esteem bolstered by their new positions at the publishing house. “Delighted to be of assistance, Mr. Chambeaux. One small way we can repay you for your kindness.”

The Straight Edgers hooted and jeered. “Ooh, he’s brought in a pig as reinforcements. I’m scaaaared!”

“Throw water on the witch and see if she starts melting,” Priscilla suggested.

Mavis glared at them with a gaze that nearly turned them to stone. “Just try it, you little snots, and we’ll see who starts melting. Better watch out, or I’ll turn to page sixty-two!”

While the sow stood guard, Mavis opened her spell book. I slipped down the two steps to Sheldon Fennerman’s front door and rapped with my knuckles. “Open up, Sheldon. It’s Dan Chambeaux.”

“I’m not coming out! It isn’t safe!”

“I’ve got your back, don’t worry. I need you to watch this, trust me. It’ll be the end of all your troubles.”

The door opened a crack, and the vampire poked his face out. “Is it going to bring my friends back? All the other vampires in the neighborhood?”

“I’m afraid they’re not coming back, Sheldon, but at least you’ll be safe.”

Undeterred, Priscilla kept pumping her sign up and down, but she didn’t continue her insults. All four looked queasy, trying to summon nonexistent courage from one another. The angry unnaturals on the street growled, as if they didn’t want to wait for what I intended to do. “Humans, go home!” yelled a man who looked very human, probably an un-transformed werewolf.

“Fresh meat,” a shambler said in a voice that sounded like a rumbling stomach.

A tall, pasty-faced necromancer moaned, “Why can’t we all just get along?”

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