Booked for Murder

by RJ Blain

  “You know that because you’ve lived it. I know it because I’ve spent the past few years talking to a lot of people of all aptitude ratings, your parents included. My family gets it because we’ve been coming out of our shells and taking a closer look at the world around us. It’s been eye opening. And unless change happens in substantial ways, it will escalate. We will not be joining the other adepts in their last stand if it comes to that. We’ve taken some steps, but it’s a pretty tough line to walk right now.”

  “What do you mean by taken some steps? What line?”

  “Money talks, and where we’ve been spending our money is a big issue. How we hire people has changed substantially, too.”

  “You mean like Jezabella.” Jezabella, technically, didn’t count as a hire, as she was more of a foster or an adoption. I wasn’t sure if she had been formally adopted yet or not, and I wasn’t going to ask. Puzzled, I stared at Bradley out of the corner of my eye, trying to determine how the changed family would have handled her situation.

  “Not exactly, but I suppose she makes an okay example. I’m not sure why you’re looking at me like that, but I swear we haven’t done anything nefarious to Jez. She made us hire her. Apparently, she has picked up your work ethics and habits, and it’s a bit of a problem.”

  “How are my work ethics and habits a bit of a problem?”

  “You work too hard, too often, and too much. I was not happy to learn nothing has changed on that front. You only miss work if you think you’re contagious with something.”

  “Yes, that is how life outside of adept social structures works. You work, or you do not get paid. As I like getting paid, I work. I have a limited number of days I can take off for being sick, and I don’t want to use my personal days on illnesses.”

  “You don’t like using your personal days at all, and you never have. We had to force you to take time off.”

  I scowled. “So?”

  “You have taught Jezabella bad habits. Why did you give me that look?”

  “I can’t tell if she was only fostered or if she was adopted into the family.”

  “Adopted. Mom and Dad took the dive shortly after the accident, one part distraction method, one part because it would have been a great deal more difficult to adopt her after she turned eighteen.”

  Good for her. It explained a lot, too, especially about how she viewed Bradley’s mother—and Bradley. It also explained Bradley’s commentary about how his mother took Jezabella to mother-daughter outings.

  They weren’t like mother-daughter outings.

  They were mother-daughter outings.

  I’d have to figure out how to tell him the proper form of address for Jezabella was as his sister, something he likely struggled with due to the cold upbringing endured by most adepts.

  No, waiting wouldn’t help. “For the record, that makes Jezabella your sister, and you should address her as such.”

  “I tried once. She kicked me.”

  I frowned. “But why?”

  “I was trying to be lazy and asked my little sister to fetch a drink for me. She told me to go grab a stick and screw myself with it. I think we’ve mostly figured out our brother-sister relationship. I’ve generally enjoyed it. She even lets me off the hook sometimes.”

  I smiled at that. “Okay. I’m happy for her.”

  “I thought you would be. You’ve always liked her.”

  “Well, she’s sweet even when she’s doing her best to convince us we shouldn’t like her. I never got that.”

  “Yeah. She’s too used to a bunch of rich assholes who would judge her because of her hair.”

  I read between the lines: he didn’t just mean her hair, but her skin color as well. “Her hair is beautiful.”

  “I know that, you know that, but there are a lot of assholes who do not know that. So, we leave it alone because she doesn’t want us butting in. She had quite the fight with Mom and Dad over her adoption, too. She was concerned about our reputation.”

  Foolish girl. “I hope your mother set the record straight on that one.”

  “She did, but it was a pretty spectacular fight. They sorted it out. Mom basically had to put her foot down and say the adoption was out of love, not out of whatever else Jezabella had in her head. They even went to some shrink about it. Mom had to adjust her attitude, Jez had to adjust her attitude, but they sorted it out. Jez requires me to inform people she is my mother’s maid because she’s constantly fixing the family messes.”

  The more things had changed, the more they had stayed the same. “That’s good to know. Okay. I’m glad she was adopted. Now, what’s this about changing how you hire people?”

  “We’ve started working on a merit-based system of employment in all of our companies. Our hiring method now involves an extensive paid training period. We fire workers who aren’t willing to learn on the job, are too set in their ways, and so on. We have sensitivity training in place now, and we require adepts to work with those of middling ratings more frequently. One of the executive secretaries who works with my father has a 20.4% rating. She’s fantastic at her job, too.”

  My brows shot up at that; from the research I’d done while guarding Bradley, all jobs close to executives of wealthy corporations required a 70.0% or higher aptitude rating, and those on the lower scale underwent an unfortunate amount of scrutiny. Before the accident, I’d been pressured to keep a closer eye on those with a lower aptitude rating, although I had gone out of my way to watch behavior rather than care about anyone’s particular abilities.

  I only cared about who might be an actual threat.

  Some things didn’t change, and if the Hampton family worked to undermine the other adepts and their practices, they’d all become targets.

  Ugh. I considered Ren, wondering how good he could be at protecting Bradley when he rode so many different horses.

  “I don’t know what I did to earn that look, but I’m concerned,” Ren said.

  “I’m trying to figure out how you can protect him from an entire country of pissed off adepts out for his entire family’s blood.”

  “The answer is simple. I can’t.”

  Shit. “Ren,” I complained.

  “Hey. I like this. She’s not yelling at me for a change. Go ahead, Janette. I’d love to see somebody actually put Ren in his place. I’ve tried. I usually fail. I have only claimed one significant victory against him.”

  “What victory did he claim? And no commentary from the individual in the back.”

  Bradley chuckled, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “I agreed to drive him around during his searches for you, as I could not find a sufficient reason to bar him from doing it himself. I pick my battles, and I use logic against him as often as possible. As he is a somewhat reasonable person, logic tends to work against him.”

  I could believe that. “Telling someone who worked as a bodyguard that the body isn’t being protected adequately is how you give the former bodyguard anxiety.”

  “Janette, from the day you started working for him, you redefined overkill on the protection front. While I realize he had a few incidents when you were in his employ as a bodyguard, there have been no significant incidents since I took over the position. He’s somewhat reclusive, he rarely goes out to large public events, and he has a reputation for being a moderate despite his family’s current stance supporting those of lower aptitude ratings. It’s hard for other adepts to complain about merit because it’s created substantial financial benefits for the family as a whole. By covering their activities under the veil of corporate success, the Hamptons are recreating how employers treat employees. And it’s going to create issues because the employees will start judging other employers by their operations.”

  Not only did the Hampton family swim through dangerous waters, they did so in an environment where politicians were being murdered for their involvement in the same fight. If I squinted, I could easily see how they could be added to the list of suspects using me as a vessel for
the accusation.

  Except I’d been comatose for the first two killings.

  I wondered if the timing mattered—and if the accident had somehow become a blessing in disguise.

  “How long has your family been working on this transition, Bradley?”

  “A while.”

  “As in before the first of the murders a while?”

  “Possibly.”

  I took that to mean yes. “You think you might be one of the targets of an accusation, don’t you?”

  Bradley shrugged. “It’s possible. With the accident and the timing, the family was eliminated fairly quickly. It’s hard to commit a murder when you’re out west and the murder is in the New York area. The whole family went out west for the first two weeks after the accident, then we made a lot of trips out whenever we needed to handle paperwork.”

  “We or you?” I asked, wondering how much of my dreams—or memories—from my latest visit to the hospital were real.

  “Mostly me, although I tended to have some form of adult supervision. Mom was particularly clingy for a while, and we tended to take turns making sure they followed our instructions with you. My mother didn’t trust the one doctor in the slightest.”

  “Dr. Avers,” I guessed.

  “Yeah. He was a bit of a dick.”

  “Care to elaborate on that one? I mean, I wasn’t all that fond of him, but I suspect we have different reasons for that.”

  “He didn’t want to keep you on life support, and he was against your transplant operation, too. He viewed it as a waste. Fortunately, he wasn’t the doctor overseeing the majority of your care, so he didn’t get the final say in those matters. Honestly, I always viewed your decision to vanish as good sense, because with him on the team? I may have made the same decision, although I would have run home rather than wherever it was you hid out over the years.”

  “I’ve lived at that apartment for my entire stay in New York, with the exception of a week or two where I was setting up for my rating test.”

  “I want to be mad at you for doing it, but I can’t help but admire that you pulled it off. You were right under my nose the entire time.”

  I shrugged. “I understand how the New York system works, which gave me the best odds of pulling it off. And it wasn’t like I was shirking. We just defined things a little differently. You told me you expected me back in my prime, and well, I’ve been working on it. I’m just slow.”

  “You’re not slow. You’re so far ahead of the initial prognosis it’s ridiculous. I really had just wanted to motivate you, not drive you off.”

  What an idiot. “I’m plenty motivated.”

  “I have noticed that.”

  “You really have a firing range in your yard?”

  “Accessible through the basement. The basement isn’t accessible by wheelchair, though, and we didn’t install an elevator into it. The elevator would have been an additional entry point into the basement.”

  “And when you’re building a bunker, you don’t want additional entry points.”

  “Right.”

  “Chuck the wheelchair down the steps. I’ll hop down on one foot.”

  “We’re not chucking your wheelchair down the steps, and I’m not allowing you to possibly damage your foot further. You’ve had one operation on your foot this week. Let’s avoid a second.”

  “You totally should chuck the wheelchair down the stairs. I hate the damned thing.”

  “Ren will carry the wheelchair down, and I’ll carry you.”

  In order to carry me down the steps, Bradley would have needed to do extensive weightlifting, as I had a few too many inches for my comfort, although I sorely lacked in muscles. “I’m heavy.”

  “You weigh a little more than the standard feather, but I can handle you.”

  I stared out the window so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “I weigh a lot more than the standard feather, Bradley.”

  “My mother weighs more.”

  “Don’t tell your mother that. She might kill you, especially now that she has Jezabella. She can afford to lose the mouthy son foolish enough to say she weighs more than a younger woman.”

  Bradley laughed. “She loves me too much to kill me, and Jez would cry.”

  “From laughter over your demise.”

  “I’m not sure if you’re grumpy you were in the hospital, grumpy because of the painkillers, grumpy you’re being disrupted, or grumpy because you’re stuck with me for at least two weeks, but I had no idea you could be this much fun when grumpy.”

  “Did you hit your head?” I cast an accusatory look Ren’s way. “Did you let him hit his head?”

  “He didn’t hit his head. He’s just got a dose of what it’s like to be a bodyguard with the body in a less than ideal condition, and he doesn’t find the situation to his liking.”

  I considered that, comparing it to the times Bradley had been ill or he’d gotten into a scrape I’d barely been able to get him out of intact. The accident took the cake of those times, and I hoped my less-than-helpful memories stayed away for a while. Coping with the few new ones my psyche had provided tested my nerves, especially as I couldn’t be certain what was reality and what wasn’t.

  Asking would clarify things for me, but the possible answers terrified me more than the unknown.

  He had rules he should have followed, too—ones that made me as unobtainable for him as he was for me. When I’d signed the contract, I’d done the math.

  Most for life contractors reached their life expectancy no later than forty.

  Adepts created trouble wherever they went, and the for life contractors ultimately paid the price for it.

  I had been a hell of a lot younger than forty, although I’d defied the odds with my survival. Once I found somewhere quiet and alone, I’d put some serious thought into the circumstances leading up to being carted to the Hamptons. Until then, I’d do my best to ignore the entire situation. “The first time he caught the flu, I thought I would have a heart attack,” I confessed.

  “At least he had the flu for you. He had a minor cold, and I thought I’d have a stroke to go with my heart attack.”

  “And they expect you to work when you’re trying to convince yourself you won’t actually have a heart attack.”

  “I found that part of things to be completely unfair, personally.” Ren snorted. “He sprained his ankle once on me. At that point, I was almost getting used to the idea he’s a danger to himself on a bad day.”

  “That’s the worst. He has a history of tripping over nothing. He probably just wanted attention.”

  “Why are you two ganging up on me? I sprained my ankle once, Ren. Don’t give her incorrect ideas about my conduct.”

  “You also sprained your wrist twice, then there was that incident where you got your finger stuck in the door. The worst part about that? You were trying to be courteous. You broke your finger, you had to get some reconstructive work done on that finger, and you’re lucky you didn’t get permanent damage.”

  I shuddered at the thought of Bradley’s finger getting stuck in a door. “Please tell me it wasn’t one of those heavy steel monstrosities they put on public bathrooms sometimes.”

  “It was one of those,” Ren confirmed.

  “You’re banned from public bathrooms for life,” I announced.

  “Funny, Janette.”

  “What? Those things are terrifying.” I shuddered. “I’m banning myself from public bathrooms for life now. You got your finger stuck in one?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t one of my better moments. It turns out those doors are awful, and once your finger gets stuck in one, they have to remove it from the hinges to prevent extra damage to your finger. It hurt like fucking hell, too.”

  Yep. I would have freaked, and I couldn’t blame Ren for losing his cool in that situation, either. “Did you at least learn not to put your fingers too close to the hinges?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. Handles or bust. Sometimes the very middle of the door i
f it has no specific handles available for my use. I learned my lesson.”

  “Ren?”

  “He learned his lesson. It doesn’t stop him from holding doors for people, but he does so in a safer fashion.”

  I could live with that—probably. “Anything else you’re going to tell me that I’m not going to like?”

  “You’re going to be carried up and down any stairs, and you can’t throw your wheelchair down any steps when you’re upset they are in your way,” Ren replied.

  “I don’t like that at all.”

  “Your range time is going to be pretty miserable, especially as you’ll be disrupted for at least two weeks to give your lungs a chance to heal without your abilities impeding you.”

  “I regret asking now.”

  “I thought that might be the case.”

  Bradley chuckled. “We moved all of your things from the Manhattan residence to here last night, so you can keep your magazine collection company. You have a lot of new issues to read. I also got Jezabella to help gather things from your apartment.”

  “You can tell me more about my magazines,” I said. “That part doesn’t sound as bad.”

  “We got a copy of the bill they are trying to pass. Meridian managed to snag it for us.”

  “How?” I blurted.

  “Sorcery,” Bradley muttered.

  Sorcery or sex appeal, I bet. I shuddered at the thought of Meridian seducing a politician for a copy of the papers, thought about it, and decided while Meridian could be quite the firecracker, she had standards higher than randomly sleeping with a politician to get access to current legislation. “Is it public record?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Did she legally acquire the documentation?”

  “Very probably not. I decided not to ask despite taking all five hundred pages of it to the photocopier so we could all admire the idiocy of our government. She returned the original copies, so I think they were only on loan. There are a lot of handwritten notes in the margins, too. The photocopier I used is a good one, so there wasn’t much quality loss, but we’re going to be spending a lot of time translating chicken scratch.”