Page 157 of The Body in the Backyard
“Well, I can’t sign a check without my favorite pen?—”
Henry produced a fancy-looking pen with a gold cap and lacquered body from his back pocket.
“This kid’s good,” Nick said to Riley.
“I don’t understand,” Griffin whined. “People don’t make me pay for things. IsayI’ll pay for them, but then they let me not pay for them because I’m so likable.”
“My client has been traumatized enough by today’s happenings. He will review your baseless claims at a later date,” Rebecca the lawyer said in a clipped, professional tone.
“Hold your horses,” Mrs. Penny said into her bullhorn from the open doorway.
Everyone winced at the electronic screech as the eighty-year-old all but skipped toward them.
“Case is closed, right? We caught the bad guy, didn’t we?” she asked Griffin.
“Well, yes. But I don’t think I should have to pay for that. I’m famous.”
“Are you refusing to pay the cashola owed?” Mrs. Penny demanded.
“It’s not so much a refusal as I’m just not going to do it,” Griffin clarified with a winning smile.
Mrs. Penny smugly reached behind her back and pulled a stack of papers from the elastic waistband of her slacks. “I think your lawyer lady will find our engagement contract quite enlightening.”
The lawyer snatched the contract away from Mrs. Penny and began a haughty skimming of the document. She only got a few paragraphs in before her expression changed. She flipped to the last page and grimaced. “What did I tell you about signing documents without me reading them first?” she demanded.
Griffin frowned in concentration. “I wanna say you told me to always do that?”
“Never. I saidneverdo that.”
Mrs. Penny held up a stopwatch. “Time’s a tickin’.”
“What are you up to, Penny?” Nick asked.
The woman smirked. “I had a feeling this weasel would try to dine and dash, so I had my creepy smart great-nephew lawyer Billy make a few changes to our standard client contract. You’ve got twenty-two seconds left to write that check, Gentry, or you’ll be writing an even bigger one.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “It appears that you agreed to an accelerated balloon payment clause.”
“What are accelerated balloon payment clowns?” Griffin squeaked.
“Once payment is requested and refused, the client has one minute to make payment for the amount due plus $10,000 for annoyance. If the client does not provide valid payment in that minute, the cost goes up by $10,000 every minute.”
“Oops. Minute’s up,” Mrs. Penny said, holding up the stopwatch in triumph. “You owe us forty thousand smackeronis. If you don’t wanna make it fifty, I’d get busy writing that check if I were you.”
“Fix it, lawyer lady!” Griffin wailed.
The attorney pursed her red lips. “While I would love to be billing you for the hours and hours that would absolutely earn me that ski chalet in Lake Tahoe, this is a legally binding document that you willingly signed.”
“Look at that. There’s another minute. Time sure flies when you’re refusing payment,” Mrs. Penny announced.
With a panicked yelp, Griffin grabbed his checkbook, then stared blankly at it. “Someone tell me how to write a check!”
“How does someone so stupid survive for so long?” Nick asked.
“Pretty people are protected by the less-pretty people. It’s science,” Bella explained patiently.
“Question. Do we still have to be nice to them now that they’re no longer clients?” Josie asked Nick.
“Hell no.”
