The Retribution of Mara Dyer by Hodkin Michelle

Author:Hodkin, Michelle [Hodkin, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Social Issues, Dating & Sex, Juvenile Fiction, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Romance, Fantasy, young adult, Death & Dying
ISBN: 9781442484238
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2014-11-04T08:00:00+00:00

35

IT WAS ELEVEN-ISH WHEN WE finally dragged ourselves out of bed the next morning. I could walk on my own, but it hurt. A lot. So I was slow. But our only real lead was the tax stuff Stella had taken from Kells’s office with the address of the accountant on them, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Probably.

The cab burped us up in the bowels of Midtown. The three of us stared up at a squat, ugly building sandwiched between a Laundromat and a FedEx, a building that bore the address where Ira Ginsberg, CPA, purportedly filed taxes for evil corporations such as Horizons LLC.

“So, what’s the plan exactly?” Stella asked.

“We’re going to ask him who he works for,” I said.

Stella scratched her nose. “And what if he doesn’t just . . . volunteer that information?”

“Then Jamie will encourage him to volunteer it.” And if that failed, I would encourage him myself. I felt strangely well and strangely confident. Whatever Dr. Kells had tried to do to me, she had failed. I was still here, and those things that had been inside me, whatever they were, were gone. We had the address of the man who’d made it possible for her to do what she’d done. We were getting closer to everything. Closer to Noah. I could feel it.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

We shall. A doorman handed us visitors’  badges, which we slapped on (my chest, Stella’s hip, Jamie’s left ass cheek). Then we rode the elevator up to the stated suite. The waiting area looked like a doctor’s office, complete with a gum-chewing, ponytailed receptionist. Stella looked at Jamie and gestured at Chewy.

“You owe me so much, I can’t even count how much you owe me,” he muttered.

“Names?” the receptionist asked us.

“Jesus,” Jamie answered.

“Mary,” said Stella.

“Satan,” I said as I walked past her and pushed open the door to Ira Ginsberg’s office.

The room was painfully unremarkable, and so was Ira. He had a slightly doughy face that emerged from the collar of his slightly too tight dress shirt and tie. He rose the instant we walked in, followed by the receptionist.

“It’s all right, Jeanine,” he said. “Tell my client on line one that I’ll have to call him back.”

“Yes, Mr. Ginsberg,” she said, glancing at us on her way out.

“How can I help you?” Mr. Ginsberg said to us.

Jamie slid into a seat opposite his desk. “I’m so glad you asked.” He handed Mr. Ginsberg the tax thing Stella had stolen from Kells’s office. “Who hired you to prepare this?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge client information, Mr. . . .”

“Jesus,” Jamie said. I snorted.

“Mr. Jesus,” Ira said, without humor.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. I’ll rephrase. Who hired you to prepare this?” This time when Jamie spoke, his voice was sharp and compelling, and Mr. Ginsberg looked at the paper for only a second before answering. The interrogation had begun.

“Horizons LLC is a wholly owned subsidiary; a representative of its parent company contacted me and asked if I could incorporate them in New York and handle their finances.

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