I put a hand on the gate and gave it a rattle, irritation flowing faster now. “Hello? I’m here for the interview. Hollows Group? Eammon gave me his card, said I’d be a good fit.”

If this wasn’t the weirdest interview I’d ever been to, I’d eat my purse and everything in it. Then again, if Eammon had been truthful, the pay was better than anything out there. He’d told me I could make upward of twenty thousand a month—more than enough to buy Gran’s house. Himself had said he was going to sell it, and even though it was mine by rights, I didn’t have a choice. I had to buy it back and do it in a way that he didn’t know it was me, or no doubt he’d charge me double. Or not sell it at all. He’d manipulated the divorce paperwork in an outrageous manner, moving my signature from the papers I’d thought I’d signed to new divorce papers that gave him everything.

I frowned, something tugging at my mind like a word on the tip of your tongue. I couldn’t quite pull the thought forward. Something to do with the paperwork. I shook my head. Nothing I could do about it right then. I had to keep my focus on point.

Which was why this opportunity sounded so tantalizing. Since arriving in Savannah, I’d had three phone calls from the debt collectors for a debt that was supposed to belong to Himself, and I’d been officially divorced less than a week. I was going to have to get a new number to avoid them.

I worried at my bottom lip a moment before I shook it off. Forget waiting around; I needed this job, and if that meant I needed to be a bit more aggressive, then so be it.

I took a look at the gate lock, gave it an experimental twist and then nodded to myself.

Gran’s training had included some practical skills, useful in any world. Lock picking was one.

A quick rummage in my purse produced a couple bobby pins that had been in there for God only knew how long. I bent them at different angles and slid them into the lock. “A bit on the sticky side, but I’ll get you,” I muttered.

The pressure on the pins from the tumblers in the lock gave me a moment of fear that I’d snap them off. A sudden click and the lock popped open. Grinning, I unlatched the chains holding the gates shut.

Score one for the old broad.

There was always more than one way to skin a cat, or pick a lock, so you could get into an interview in a graveyard. Gran would be proud of me, watching over me from wherever she was. I did a mock salute to the stars, just in case.