Page 68 of Cold as Stone
“Naturally. These things are expensive. Though perhaps less expensive than the alternative.”
I take a step forward, and Crane’s smile falters slightly. “What alternative would that be?”
“Closure, naturally. If the violations are severe enough, the county has no choice but to shut down non-compliant establishments until they meet standards.”
Kya’s face goes pale, but her voice remains steady. “And I suppose Summit would be willing to buy the property at a fair price? Help me avoid all this unpleasantness?”
“We’re always interested in worthwhile investments,” Crane agrees. “Our offer still stands, Ms. Sullivan. Perhaps we could discuss terms?—”
“Perhaps you could get the fuck out of my bar,” Kya interrupts, all pretense of politeness gone. “Unless you’re planning to order something, you’re not welcome here.”
Crane’s smile turns predatory. “Ms. Sullivan, I’d encourage you to reconsider your position. The county takes health violations very seriously. It would be unfortunate if this establishment were forced to close due to… ongoing compliance issues.”
That’s when I step between them, close enough that Crane has to crane his neck to look up at me. “Is that a threat?”
“Simply a statement of fact. Health codes exist for public safety. When establishments consistently fail to meet standards…” He shrugs.
The health inspector approaches, tablet in hand. “Ms. Sullivan? I need to speak with you about our findings.”
Kya moves around the bar, and I follow close behind. The inspector—a no-nonsense woman in her fifties—pulls up a list on her tablet.
“Overall, the establishment is in good condition,” she begins, and I see Crane’s expression darken. “However, I did find a few minor violations. The walk-in cooler temperature log hasn’t been updated in three days, and you’re missing some documentation for your most recent supplier deliveries.”
“That’s it?” Kya asks.
“That’s it. Both are easily correctable—just need updated logs and paperwork. I’ll need to see the corrections within seven days. As this is your first infraction, we’re issuing you with a formal warning to comply.” She tears off a piece of paper. “I’ll be back in a week to check over the improvements.”
Kya’s relief is palpable, and I catch Crane’s frustrated scowl out of the corner of my eye.
“However,” the inspector continues, “I should mention that my office has received several complaints in the past week. All anonymous, all claiming serious violations. I want to be clear—those complaints were baseless. This inspection found no evidence of the issues described.”
“Anonymous complaints,” Kya repeats.
“Yes. Which is unusual. In my experience, legitimate complaints usually come from identifiable sources. Anonymous ones are often…” She glances meaningfully at Crane. “Motivated by other concerns. I’d recommend reviewing the health standards with your staff to ensure you’re compliant, just to be safe.”
I grin. It seems that while she might be employed by Summit, the inspector isn’t a fan of Crane either.
After the inspector leaves, along with the cops and the rest of the county officials, Crane lingers, his earlier confidence replaced by barely contained anger.
“This establishment sits on prime development real estate, Ms. Sullivan. One way or another, Summit will acquire it. The question is whether you’ll choose to sell voluntarily or… find yourself with no other options.”
“Get out,” Kya says quietly. “Now.”
I want to rip this weasel’s fucking head off and use it as a paperweight. My anger bubbles over, every instinct screaming at me to put this piece of shit through the nearest wall. But Kya’s handling this, and she’s more than capable. I take a step closer to her, not interfering, just letting her know silently that I’m here if she needs me.
Crane doesn’t move. Just stands there with that smug expression, clearly thinking he can intimidate her into submission.
That’s when I step forward.
“The lady asked you to leave,” I say, my voice deadly quiet. “I suggest you listen.”
Crane’s eyes flick to me, and whatever he sees in my expression makes him finally straighten his tie and head for the door. The man, for all his faults, isn’t completely useless. He straightens his tie, smoothing his hand over his chest.
“Best of luck to you.” He leaves, and the bar falls silent except for the hum of the refrigeration units and the distant sound of traffic outside.
“Well,” Mercy says finally. “That was fun.”
“Are you okay?” I ask Kya, noting the slight tremor in her hands.
