The Law (The Dresden Files #17.4)(22)

“Well,” she said, without much hope, “Good luck.”

“Indeed,” Max added. “Ms. Maya,” the little lawyer added, offering his arm gallantly.

She smiled down at him and took it, and he walked her off toward his old truck, parked further down the block.

I leaned against the fender of the Munstermobile, turned enough to be able to see the door to Talvi’s office, and waited.





Chapter Thirteen





It didn’t take Tripp Gregory long to wear out his welcome with Inverno and Lapland. Twenty minutes later, Lapland opened the door, and the jerk walked out, making sure to brush his full body against the pretty woman as he did.

She gave him a look full of more venom than a cobra convention, and stalked away to the office’s interior, letting the door swing closed on its own.

He swung out onto the sidewalk with a confident stride and had walked most of the way to me before he noticed that I was lurking there in the lengthening shadows of the evening, tall and dark and threatening in my duster. I beamed at him.

“Tripp,” I said. “Got a minute?”

He slowed in place, hesitating, his weight on one foot, as if deciding whether to keep walking forward or to turn away.

“I know about St. Louis,” I said. “I know why you’re so desperate.”

He stopped in place, staring at me.

“What’s the vig up to?” I asked.

Tripp looked up and down the street nervously, like maybe he was scanning for a car with Missouri plates. “The fuck does it matter to you? It ain’t your problem.”

“You’ve made it Maya’s problem,” I said. “That’s why it matters to me.”

He sneered. “Like she really spent that money on stupid kids,” he said. “She’s got it hidden somewhere. Whores always hide money.”

I managed to keep from clenching my fists so hard the knuckles popped. Who says I have no restraint?

“She doesn’t,” I said. Max had looked. I think maybe he’d been hoping for a way to back out of joining in the conflict with me, but Maya had checked out clean. “You’re doing this for nothing. It isn’t going to save you from St. Louis.”

“Once I own all them franchises, I sell them,” Tripp said, staring past me.

I rolled my eyes. “To who, dude?” I asked. “The people already running them are the only ones interested in a subsistence business model. And if you take their businesses away from them, what are they going to buy them back with?”

“Subsistence,” Tripp sneered. “You think they’re really just doing it for the kids? Fuck, you idiot. There ain’t people like that. Everyone is in it for the money.”

I didn’t know whether to punch Tripp or feel sorry for him. I suppose there was no reason not to do both, but neither seemed like it was going to get me any closer to solving Maya’s problem.

So I ground my teeth. “Okay, asshole. I’m a little startled that I’m about to say this, but here it is: I have an offer for you.”

Tripp tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Drop the case,” I said. “And I’ll talk to your suppliers in St. Louis on your behalf.”

“Talk to them?” Tripp sneered. His eyes flicked nervously past me. “And tell them what?”

My stomach roiled. “That you’re under my protection. That they’re to leave you alone.”

Tripp Gregory tilted his head back and burst out into nervous laughter. “Oh, oh God. That’s rich,” he said. “You can’t even tough-guy me, and you think you’re gonna do it to those fucks?” He shook his head, his eyes shifting between me and… my car? “You don’t know what tough means.” He started forward briskly, as if dismissing me from his consideration—walking a little too fast. “But you will.”

I eyed the little snake. And then I got it.

“Hell’s bells,” I said in disgust, stepping in front of him and blocking his way. “You had someone wire my car while we were inside, didn’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” his mouth said automatically—but his eyes had widened when I spoke, and he seemed to visibly recoil from me, and possibly from the vehicle behind me. “You got the Heebie Jeebies now, huh?”

That’s the thing about hitting guilty people in the face with the truth. Mostly, they aren’t quite sure what to do with it. If they’re in a formal setting and they’ve had time to prepare, they’ll just deny it and try to attack you instead—but if you just give it to them out of nowhere, they aren’t usually ready for it. Tripp’s reaction showed me that I was bang on.

I hooked a hand into the collar of Tripp’s jacket and half-flung him onto the Munstermobile’s hood. He flew onto it with a yelp, most of his weight transferring to his chest and stomach. I glanced around. The street was too busy for me to get away with that kind of thing without someone calling the authorities, so I had to be quick.

“How about I give you a ride back to your car?” I asked him brightly.

“Fuck you!” Tripp responded, with his typical brilliance. He tried to push himself off my car, his face pale and panicked. “I don’t need a ride.”

“No, no trouble at all,” I told him, slapping a comradely arm around his shoulders as he rose. “You can sit right there with me while I start it.”