Hostile Takeover (Vale Investigation Book 1)

by Cristelle Comby

  “How’s it stack with this figure?” Kennedy asked, holding her open notepad up to Zian.

  Zian read what was written there and whistled. “That’s about three times the city’s offer if you wrote that down right.”

  “That’s what Fairwinds is offering Nicholls’ heirs per my sources. I doubt they were exaggerating.”

  “Okay, what’s so damn valuable about an old-time movie theater?” I asked, trying to conceal the fact that I already knew the answer to the question. “I loved that old place as much as the next regular, but from a real estate standpoint, it’s worthless.”

  “When it comes to land, near all of it’s worth something to somebody,” Kennedy countered, picking up her phone. “Back in Texas, my grandma and grandpa had this little tar shack house they lived in for fifty years or so. They made all the improvements that you’d expect, installing air conditioning and water heaters and so on, but that poor place was a health and safety inspector’s worst nightmare. I loved the place because it was their home, but nobody’d have shed any tears if it had burned to the ground. Just the same, they kept getting uninvited visitors … the corporate kind.”

  I put it together. “There was oil on the land where the house was?”

  “You got it, Vale. One of the last untapped fields in all of Texas and, once the oil companies figured that out, Grandma and Grandpa couldn’t get any peace. They kept offering them small fortunes to sell but they wouldn’t hear of it. The fools had to wait until both Grandma and Grandpa had passed before they could grab it.”

  “So the real question is, what’s so valuable about the ground under the theater and everything else around it?” Zian deduced.

  Kennedy gave him a kiss on the cheek for getting it. My friend’s face turned fire-engine red.

  Kennedy looked at her phone again and frowned.

  “See something else we need to look at?” I asked.

  “No, just noticed the time,” she answered, pulling the drive out of the phone. “Okay if I keep this?”

  “I made sure there were three drives for a reason,” Zian told her with a smile and a nod.

  “So you’re working the day shift today?” I asked her.

  “Just so I can catch up on what I missed the day I was out,” Kennedy explained as she got up. “It’s hard to do that when you’re chasing stories all over town all night long. This was my lunch break. Gotta be back in fifteen.”

  “Okay if … if I walk you down?” Zian asked, looking about as shy as a high-school freshman asking the prettiest cheerleader out on a date.

  She shot him a smile that lit up the room. “Love you to.”

  I watched the two of them from the door as they headed for the stairway. No reason why I should, except my instincts were telling me that I needed to keep a close eye on them.

  When it came, it was quick, eye-blink quick. Something like a shadow flashed past behind the two of them. Without warning, Kennedy’s left heel snapped, sending her down the stairs. Poor Zian tried to catch her but all he managed to do was get dragged down with her. As I heard both of them yelp and hit the bottom, I ran out after them to check they were all right.

  Kennedy had landed right on top of Zian, who was groaning from the fresh jolt he had just given the previous night’s injuries. Given how many stairs there were between the top and the bottom, I knew for a fact that my little hacker pal had just saved our favorite reporter’s life. Kennedy’s breathing was ragged—the kind you hear when a person is terrified at what is happening to them, what keeps happening to them. Zian gave me a look over her shoulder. I nodded. Coincidence is overrated as a working concept.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Grave markers

  Zian wasn’t happy about it but Kennedy and I insisted on looking him over. A peek under his shirt revealed bandages around his chest. His ribs had gotten cracked in the crash the previous night and we learned that his doctor had advised him to avoid any further hard collisions like that for the next couple of weeks.

  “And here I go and set your recovery back by who knows how long,” Kennedy murmured.

  “Isn’t your lunch break almost up?” I asked her as Zian put his shirt back on.

  “It was up about three minutes ago,” Kennedy said. “Whatever’s going on with me today seems to enjoy putting me in these lose-lose situations. This keeps up, I might even be fired when I get back.”

  She gave Zian another peck on the cheek and an apology for hurting him. He bore it as best he could but let us help him out of the building.

  Once outside, Kennedy waved goodbye to both of us and climbed into her Nissan. As she sped off, Zian turned to me.

  “Your new girlfriend’s in serious trouble, Bell.”

  “What is it going to take to convince everybody—” I began irritably.

  “Her coming out as a lesbian and you marrying Ramirez in a public ceremony,” Zian interrupted without missing a beat. “Now if you’re done being offended, you mind having me elaborate on the trouble that I was talking about?”

  “You saw that shadow-shape thing too, just before she fell?” I asked.

  Zian looked surprised that I’d seen it.

  “She’s had escalating bad luck for the entire morning, Zian,” I explained. “The last instance before the heel-snapping happened right before you got to my place. My tea mug broke in her hands.”

  “But nothing else happened while she was in your place, right? Nothing like what we witnessed just now?”

  “No. Might have been because of the protection I’ve got on the place. It wasn’t until she got back outside that her first near-fatal bit of bad luck kicked in.”

  “Sounds like we’re dealing with a Yattery Brown,” Zian muttered.

  I raised an eyebrow. He hastened to explain.

  “It’s an old story about a fairy that a farmer saves. It pays him back by doing all the chores, but fairly incompetently. The farmer then does the one thing he’s not supposed to do—he thanks Yattery Brown aloud—and his troubles go from bad to worse. Eventually the bad luck kills him.”

  “No offense, Z, but that’s hardly what’s going on here,” I pointed out.

  “Didn’t say it was, but it’s the usual shorthand around my family for this kind of curse. Things’ll just keep getting worse for Kennedy unless we figure out how to break it.”

  “The girl gives you a couple of pecks on the cheek and you’re all in when it comes to saving her?” I asked. The situation was serious but picking at Zian helped keep my nerves steady.

  “Hey, if you blow it with her, I want her to know that I’m an available option,” he retorted.

  I tried to hold back a chuckle.

  “But seriously,” Zian went on, “who’d want to do that to her? And who’d have the chops to pull it off?”

  “The only fae creature I’ve been in contact with is that changeling dealer Bran Connor,” I told him. “But all Connor’s dealings have been with me. Why would she bother with Kennedy? Or know enough about her to curse her in the first place?”

  Zian stroked his chin. “Well, Connor would have seen Kennedy the night she got arrested … I think maybe this has something to do with this investigation the three of us are involved in.”

  I felt a frown tug the corner of my mouth. “Makes sense up to a point. Lady McDeath won’t let anybody kill me but her. Your dad probably spends half his time protecting you. With Kennedy not having any protection and not knowing anything about Alterum Mundum, she’s the weak link in the chain.”

  “But then we’re back to how they knew about her being involved,” Zian pointed out. “Guess it doesn’t matter in the short term. Until we can figure this out, I’d prescribe a good luck charm for Kennedy.”

  “Assuming you brought my car with you, I know just the place to get one,” I told him.

  Zian waved me towards the far end of the parking
lot. “Surely you’re not going to Mad Mao for this?”

  “What if I am? That old Taoist wizard might be touched in the head but his charms are worth their weight in gold.”

  “Well … it’s just that I’ve heard stories,” Zian ventured.

  “In other words, you’ve never actually been to see the man yourself?”

  “Hades damn it, is this another one of your ‘I need to get out more’ lectures?” Zian asked with irritation. “I love you, Vale, but I think you try too hard to be my dad sometimes.”

  “Can’t help it,” I said, which was the truth. “You’re a sweet guy whose actual dad has been sheltering him a little too much.”

  Zian didn’t say anything after that. We arrived at the Stingray. You’d have sworn that it had just rolled off the factory assembly line. Every detail was showroom perfect.

  “The keys are in the ignition,” said Zian.

  “Don’t know what to say, Z,” I told him. “Except ‘thank you’—and that hardly seems to cover it.”

  A wan smile returned to my friend’s face. “Look, Bell, you were right when you said that I’ve never stopped long enough to be curious about real life. It’s just … before you came into my life, I never thought about it. Now I can’t think about anything else.”

  “Hasn’t been so great so far,” I said.

  “Hey, banging up the Prius was my choice and I’d do it again.” He pulled out his smartphone and tapped something briefly into it. “There’s something about real-world contact with people that no VR or online forum has yet to match.”

  “Hope you never get around to regretting it,” I said. If his father thought staying away from me would cure Zian of this hunger, he was deluding himself. He’d gotten a taste of real life all right and there was no going back.

  We spent a couple of minutes checking the Stingray for any tiny traces of the damage done the previous night, but there was nothing. Then a cab pulled up and I figured that’s what the texting had been about.

  “As soon as you find anything on Kennedy’s problem, give me a shout,” he said as he walked away.

  “That phone line runs both ways,” I called after him.

  He gave me a nod and a wave in acknowledgment. Then he got into the cab, and I got in my car.

  ***

  It took seven times for me to get through to Kennedy’s cell while dialing from the driver’s seat of my Stingray. On the first six attempts the call went straight to voicemail on the third ring. In between attempts three and four, I thought about whether or not to go ahead and spill the beans to the De Sotos on who their would-be competition was. I was going to have to do this eventually and their taking Connor out might break the curse into the bargain. But too many faerie curses were designed to outlive the death of their creator.

  All this was going through my head when Kennedy picked up. “Hey, Vale. What’s going on?”

  “Did you know that I tried to call you about six times before this?” I asked.

  “Really?” She sounded surprised. “I never got them. The bloody phone’s been acting up all morning.”

  “That figures …” I muttered.

  “What’s that?” Kennedy asked. “Reception’s not good.”

  “Listen, I’m going to pick something up for you, something that might help with that problem you talked about this morning. Where’s a good place and when?”

  “I’ve got an interview with Ian Townsend in about an hour,” she told me. “Know the CVS at the corner of Mitchell and Scarborough?”

  “That’s on the way between your station and AN, right?”

  “You’re good, hoss,” she said. “If you can be there in about half an hour, I’ll be glad to take whatever you can give me.”

  “All right, will do. Meantime … be careful, will you?”

  She must have heard the concern in my voice because she took it seriously. “As much as I can, Vale. It’s all I’ve been doing since … you know.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “See you soon.”

  She said goodbye and I turned the key in the ignition.

  ***

  Bad luck struck again as the Headliner van carrying Kennedy rolled up to the CVS parking lot. Its passenger side rear tire popped with a crack and the tire was already three-quarters flat by the time it came to a halt. The driver, a young guy who looked like he’d just graduated high school the previous week, jumped from the vehicle and all but moaned, “Ah, man! Of all the times …”

  “You got a spare for that?” I asked, walking up to take a look.

  “Nah,” he answered. “The only way we’re going anywhere is to fix this one.”

  “It’ll take less time if two guys do it,” I assured him. “I got a jack in my car if you need some additional support on that beast.”

  The driver gave a little laugh. “I know I’d feel a lot safer if you’d bring that jack over.”

  “Look at it this way, Dave,” Kennedy said as she emerged through the passenger door. “This could have been a lot worse.”

  “Just the same, Candice, we’re kind of on a tight schedule,” Dave said, tapping his wrist watch. “So …”

  “So you get your stuff out and I’ll get that jack,” I told him.

  “You got an air pump too, mister?” Kennedy asked, making like she didn’t know me. “If we could put one of those together with a little tire sealant, we might get back to the station in one piece.”

  “Think I might, miss,” I said. “Want to help me check?”

  Kennedy gave me another one of her lamplighter smiles and followed behind me as we went towards my car.

  Once I was sure we were out of earshot, I asked, “What’s with the charade?”

  “Well, there’s a rumor going around that I’m married,” Kennedy said as we got close to the Stingray. “I should know. I started it.”

  “You know, a ring might go a long way towards making that theory more convincing,” I said, popping the trunk open.

  Kennedy gave me a girlish giggle. “Oh, it’s more fun having them guess who the lucky guy, or girl, is. I keep a rotating number of pictures in my purse that I pull out when I want to stir the pot.”

  I pulled back the floor of the trunk. “You’re unbelievable, Kennedy.”

  “So’s been the last couple of days,” she said. “Now … what have you got for me?”

  “Keep an open mind,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a silver chain. Suspended on it was a bronze Chinese coin that was strung through the tiny hole in its center.

  Kennedy wrinkled her nose. “Where’d you get this, the antique store that sold the Gremlins?”

  “Hey,” I said, handing it to her. “I’ll have you know that this is a specially made Taoist good luck charm.”

  “So what’s all this writing mean?” Kennedy asked, looking the coin over.

  While I got out the jack, I explained. “The crowded side is a mix of regular Chinese conji and what Taoists call ‘magic writing.’ It’s a prayer to the god of thunder to protect the wearer from the demons of bad luck.”

  “And the neater side with all the Morse Code?”

  “That’s the bagua,” I said, looking for the air pump. “Comes from the same system as the I-Ching. That’s referencing the power of the universe to cut you some slack.”

  I found the air pump tucked behind my own spare tire, so pulled it out and shut the trunk. Kennedy was holding the necklace like it was poisoned wine.

  “Look, Kennedy,” I said patiently. “Ask yourself a question … what do you have to lose by wearing it?”

  She frowned at me but put it on. “My daddy’d kill me if he knew I was using what he’d call ‘heathen prayers.’ But since Jesus doesn’t seem to be too interested in saving my ass …”

  “There’s a BP station down the street that’ll sell you that sealant,” I said.
“I’ll go help Dave.”

  We parted ways. Dave was grateful beyond belief that I had managed to get both the jack and the air pump I’d mentioned. We had the tire off by the time Kennedy got back with the sealant. A few more minutes and the van was ready to go. Dave took down my info so he could return the air pump when they’d done with it. We all said our goodbyes and I went back to my car.

  Once I had closed the driver’s side door behind me, I gave the number Bran had left me a call. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Bellamy Vale,” she said just a little brightly. “I’m so glad you decided to call me back.”

  “Shouldn’t you be stuck in a jail cell right about now?” I asked, on the defensive. “I saw you got hauled in by the cops for dealing and murder one last night.”

  “Well, it’s fortunate for me that I was able to establish a solid enough alibi to be taken off the murder suspect list,” Bran said. “As to that whole misunderstanding on the drug charges … my employers retain very capable lawyers.”

  “You know, it’s a funny thing,” I said, doing my best to act as casual as Lt. Columbo ever had. “You get arrested and the reporter on the scene suddenly has this incredible streak of bad luck happen to him right after that.”

  “You don’t say?” Bran responded. “You’re well informed on this matter. This reporter wouldn’t happen to be a new client of yours, would sh-he?”

  I caught the slip but didn’t let on that I had. “I take my clients’ confidentiality very seriously, Bran. You know I can’t talk about that.”

  “Of course, of course,” Bran replied. “That is part of the reason why they hire someone like you in the first place.”

  “Let’s say that something … out of the ordinary is causing this to happen to our reporter,” I suggested. “Any idea where I should start looking?”

  Bran sighed. “Sorry, no can do. Have you come to a decision regarding my offer?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “The more I look at it, the more unsure I am about what the right thing to do is. I have to imagine that this offer has a time limit on it.”