Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [106]
He got up from the bed. “This is our own private clinic, Sam. You can stay here until our doctor says you’re okay to go.”
“I don’t have insurance.”
“I’m your insurance,” he said. He turned to Sean. “When he’s well enough, he can visit his friend.” Then he left before I could ask what that meant. When I bugged Sean, all he would tell me was that Ramon had a room down the hall and that he was fine. Then he quickly changed the subject.
My mom kept squeezing me until Sean told her she might pop my stitches. She hadn’t hesitated at all when she did it. Besides the finally healing wounds on my back, I had some nice patchwork on my arm. I’d barely even have a scar. Well, on my arm. My back was going to look pretty freaky once it healed. Ashley reminded me that chicks dig scars, and at least I wasn’t dead. Not much for sympathy, our Ashley.
Haley came with my mom and Mrs. W. My mom looked worried and kept adjusting my blanket and my pillow, like she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands. Haley looked excited to see me, and Mrs. W looked like she always did. I guess it takes a lot to impress Mrs. W.
My mom explained, somewhat sheepishly, that she’d arranged for Mrs. W to get an apartment next to mine in order to keep an eye on me. I’d like to say I was surprised, but I think I’d run all out of that. Mom waited for me to get angry, but I told her I understood. It’d been a good choice, really. In all the time that she’d lived next door to me, she hadn’t missed a thing. Mrs. W handed me a package of those deli-made chocolate chip and M&M cookies.
“So is your name even Mrs. W, or should I call you Special Agent something or other?”
“I’m not a secret agent, Sam. I never lied to you about anything, I just didn’t tell you everything. Big difference.”
“I see.”
“Don’t take it too hard,” Mrs. W said. “It turns out I liked you anyway.” She opened the package and took a bite out of one of the cookies. “Besides,” she said, wiggling her hips, “there was a dance studio right down the street. Because of you, I learned how to salsa.” I tried not to picture Mrs. W doing any of the forbidden dances.
Once Haley got Mom to settle down, mostly by grabbing Mom’s hands and telling her to cut it out, she went through her part of the story. Apparently, I had passed out again. Haley had unhooked me from the table and dragged all 150 pounds of me the whole way to the car. And I could tell by the look on her face, she’d be cashing in on that for a long time.
Halfway through Mrs. W’s reenactment of her speeding car chase, complete with vroom noises, a man knocked on the door frame.
“Excuse me,” he said, entering the room without waiting for a response. He held a briefcase almost as shiny as his shoes, and he opened it on the table.
The way everyone stopped and stared, I could tell they didn’t know him. I didn’t recognize him either. He had close-cropped dark hair and a nice suit, nice enough that I knew he’d probably had it tailored.
He handed me a very large stack of papers.
“What’s this?”
He glanced up from another file that he’d pulled out of his briefcase. “You’re one Samhain Corvus LaCroix, are you not?”
“I am.”
“Then I need you to sign all the orange-highlighted spots, as well as to initial all the pink-highlighted areas.”
I’m not sure what I expected him to do, but asking me to sign on the highlights wasn’t it. I leaned into my pillow and stared at him, trying to read the guy. Nothing but a stern, yet somehow blank, face.
“And why would I do that?” I asked carefully.
The man put down the file. “So I can do my job and transfer the estate to you.”
“The what?”
The man sighed. “Did you or did you not kill one Douglas Montgomery?”
“I’m not answering that without a lawyer.” It seemed like the right thing to say. That’s what they always said on TV, anyway.
“I am your lawyer.” The man looked at me dryly and handed me a business card that informed me that he was Mr. Paul Mankin, Esq.
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember hiring