Sheyenne asked, “If Angela purchased those hearts and souls from the pawnshop using Smile Syndicate funds, then won’t all the Mason jars be considered company assets during the tax proceedings?”
“If this turns out as I suspect, they’ll have to liquidate the company in order to pay back taxes,” Robin said. “I’ll file an immediate claim on behalf of the original owners of the hearts and souls. We’ll arrange to buy them all back.”
“And what about his charity work?” I asked.
“Even though his reasons might have been corrupt, Irwyn knew what he was doing in the philanthropy department. Fortunately, all of his finances were locked into the nonprofit, shielded from Smile Syndicate operations. They should be immune from confiscation, no matter what the IRS finds in the audit.” Robin had been looking into the matter since Irwyn’s arrest. She had decided to join MLDW as a full member and legal advisor; Mrs. Saldana was the head of the board of directors and would be taking over the charities.
We stood there for hours, watching the proceedings and never growing bored. Yes, it was turning out to be a good day.
Now, when I take on a case, the job is all about getting the client what he or she wants, to solve a mystery or wrap up a crime. Gloating isn’t supposed to enter into it, but I did feel a warm glow of satisfaction as we watched the squad of agents herding goldenrod-haired Missy, her hands cuffed behind her back, forcing her to do the perp walk to one of their unmarked vehicles. I took a few photos for my scrapbook.
As the men in suits pushed her toward the car, Missy’s eyes met mine, and a flash of understanding crossed her face. Her lip curled down in vengeful fury—not at all like the smile the company sported on their logo. She tried to shout something at me, but one of the agents pushed her head down and strongly encouraged her into the backseat of the car.
Even though Missy couldn’t hear me, I said, “We hope your day is a sunny one.”
Chapter 52
The ghost of Alphonse Wheeler escaped from prison, to no one’s surprise.
Instead of simply drifting between the bars or walking through the solid walls, the ghost bank robber went the extra mile and arranged a daring escape, as his reputation required. He had obtained a jeweler’s file from somewhere (rumor had it that he slipped out one night and stole it from a hardware store, then sneaked it back into the prison) and patiently cut through the bars of a high window. He tied sheets together so he could drop down, even though he could just as easily float, then threw one of the sheets over a guard and tied him up so he could have enough time to slip away.
My suspicion was that Wheeler just wanted the attention, and he played by the rules to maintain his cachet of notoriety. During his bank-robbing career, Wheeler had been quite a showman, so his escape from prison couldn’t be as simple as floating away after he got bored with unlife behind bars.
Unfortunately, the uproar caused by his escape reignited the issue of effective punishment against ghosts, even after what had happened during the Shakespeare in the Dark performance. Not surprisingly, Senator Balfour’s supporters demanded widespread use of the ectoplasmic defibrillator in even the mildest cases.
Not one to miss an opportunity to speak out against unnaturals, Balfour called a press conference after Wheeler’s escape. In the crowd, his determined minions carried scrawled signs rife with misspellings. Sheyenne insisted that we attend the press conference; she was still angry with Travis, but even more upset at how the senator had used him as a patsy.
Robin, who was still battling the defamation and libel suit Balfour had brought against her, came along with us, determined to show that she intended to go down fighting. (Of course, her preference was not to go down at all, but to be victorious.)
Balfour stood at the podium like a stick-in-the-mud with lips. Surrounded by so many followers who expressed innate hatred toward anything that was different from them, we felt distinctly out of place. After all, we were certainly different.
The senator fixed his gaze on Sheyenne as he said, “The violent escape of the convicted bank robber Alphonse Wheeler only demonstrates the inadequacy of our means to protect ourselves against these unnaturals. That poor prison guard whom Wheeler assaulted in his escape will suffer severe psychological problems from his traumatic experience. We are all at risk! The only way to ensure that good normal people remain safe is to give them access to ectoplasmic protection! Any unnatural—whether it be a ghost, vampire, zombie, werewolf, or any other thing that breaks the law—must know it will meet the ultimate punishment.”
Balfour’s minions cheered and hooted. I noticed that the media cameras and reporters paid more attention to the antics of his knuckle-dragging supporters than to the senator.
From the other side of the crowd, counter-protesters shouted, “Ectoplasmic defibrillators are dangerous! They should be banned!” They had been rallied by MLDW in support of equal rights for the unnaturals.
“Conflict of interest! Senator Balfour is an investor with the defib manufacturer,” another MLDW supporter yelled. “He’s in this for the money.”
Balfour looked mortally offended. “Anyone who makes such an accusation had better show proof, or I’ll sue you for slander—just as I’m suing Ms. Deyer there.” He pointed directly at us.
Robin lifted her chin and put on a brave face. “The truth is the truth.”
The senator’s slack face finally showed a small smile. “At last I agree with you, Ms. Deyer: The truth is what shields us all.”
There was a stir in the crowd, and Balfour turned as a small man made his way to the stage, accompanied by a werewolf who cleared a path through the crowd. It was Harvey Jekyll. His pale and patchy skin suggested that he hadn’t yet invested in a better embalming job, even though I’d recommended Bruno and Heinrich’s parlor to him.
The senator looked uncomfortable to see the unexpected guest. “Ah, my . . . associate, Harvey Jekyll.” He didn’t want to say “friend.” Since Jekyll was the inventor and sole manufacturer of ectoplasmic defibrillators, however, Balfour could not deny his connection to the man.
The crowd muttered and grumbled. Both unnaturals and unnatural-haters found common ground in reviling Harvey Jekyll.
Though he was a small man, Jekyll shouldered Senator Balfour aside, took the microphone at the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome.” Jekyll must have heard something I hadn’t. “I don’t like to think of myself as a vindictive man, but . . .” He gave a small, helpless smile. “I am what I am. This man, however, is not what he seems.” He jabbed his finger toward the senator. “Senator Rupert Balfour is a fraud, a complete and utter fraud.”
The crowd exploded. “Security!” Balfour shouted.