This couldnāt be right...but it had to be. Cordelia had been researching this whenever she wasnāt trying to keep Dante from making himself sick while spinning in his chair, hide all the vases when Essie had shown up wielding a bow and arrow, and keeping her Maker alive. Well, existing. Then there was her actual work on top of all of that. But Cordelia Bishop was meticulous--a strength, she believed. Anal retentive, others might say.Ā
After John Meccaās truth bomb had dropped, sheād gone back to her office, using that idea as her missing connection. Oh, sheād go back to work alright...
All the paperwork, all the gaps, everything pointed to the great and powerful Oz himself. He had stolen all that money from the Tempest months ago. Her stupid, frustrating, beloved Maker.Ā
Dante Kaldwin would kill him this time. No formalities, no playing around.
Rather than panic or run off to confront her Maker, the young vampire closed her eyes and formulated a plan. She had the timetables, the information, the figures...and then she knew exactly what to do.
Money sheād been saving almost religiously for the past two, almost three years. Investment returns. Selling the dresses and jewelry Essie Kaldwin had given her. Having her friend Stevie hack into her old bank account from her human days and transfer theĀ ātrust fundā her parents had set up once upon a time. Everything she had to her name, both when sheād been alive and now that she was dead. Anything she could get her hands on, legally.
She finally had enough money.
Now she had her red herring; Jean-Pierre, the bouncer from the Tempest who had been killed by another vampire in front of the C4C a month ago, after the news of Esra Crane. He hadnāt exactly been trustworthy, which was probably why heād only been a bouncer, and now he was just a faded red mark on the sidewalk.
Sheās slipped into his abandoned apartment one night, going through the rest of his personal effects had shown that he did indeed have sticky fingers, though nothing at all compared to what Oz had done. No progenies...if he had, they werenāt close and didnāt live here. Nobody had been in the musty apartment since Jean-Pierre, it seemed.Ā
Everything was settled now. Cordelia was finally ready, and if she could feel nausea from nerves right now, sheād have been on her knees sick. Oh, the beauty of being dead.Ā
āHere it is. All of it.āĀ
She stood in front of Dante Kaldwin, holding a briefcase filled to the brink with dollar bills.Ā
āAny gold was liquidated into cash--Iām sorry, but there was nothing I could do about that, Mr Kaldwin.ā She offered him up more money than she had ever seen in her life, and it was absolutely pocket change for the man. Maybe Cordelia would have laughed if she didnāt feel so horrible about the whole thing in the first place.Ā āAnd your thief has met his final death already, so you shouldnāt have any further issues. Now, if youāll excuse me.ā
āWell done, Button. I knew I could count on you.ā
āThis might be the last thing I do for you. Either of you. Goodnight, Sir, and good luck.ā
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