Free Wolf in the Shadows by Marcia Muller Page A

Ripinsky can take care of himself. The assumption I’m acting on is that he made
     a deal with the kidnappers—or was in collusion with them from the first.”
    “You mean since before you brought him in on the case? How could he have known Phoenix was your client?”
    “Because among the materials on the firm that I sent him several weeks ago was a complete, confidential client list. Sheer
     stupidity on my part. I ignored what you pointed out earlier: situations change, people change.”
    Renshaw paused, his face pale and drawn. “Because of my stupidity, Timothy Mourning is probably rotting in a ditch somewhere
     with a bullet in his brain, while Ripinsky’s sitting back and waiting until he thinks it’s safe to draw on Phoenix’s two-million-dollar
     L.C.” His eyes glittered against the darkness that surrounded us. “Ripinsky’s going to pay for this.”
    I looked away, glad he couldn’t see me all that well. Stared at the slide of Mourning holding the June 4
Times
. The laughter was gone from his face, leaving it a rigid mask of fear. The gleam in his bespectacled eyes had been replaced
     by a sheen of horror. Timothy Mourning had known he was going to die.
    But not because of Hy’s actions. Imperfect as my understanding of him was, I knew he would never have colluded with the kidnappers
     or cut a deal. Would never have caused this innocent man’s death. On the surface, the circumstantial evidence against him
     looked bad, but if I dug deep, I knew I’d uncover a different set of facts. And I would dig. Gage Renshaw was not going to
     make Hy pay for something he’d had no part in.
    Renshaw asked, “Are you still with us, Ms. McCone?”
    I hardened my expression as the lights came up. Turned to him and said firmly, “Yes, I am.”
    “Then let’s discuss your price.”

Six
    The bargain I struck with Gage Renshaw would have been lucrative—had I any intention of honoring it. In fact, it shocked
     me to learn just how much money could be made, providing you worked for a certain type of people. The outrageous figure Renshaw
     agreed to pay when I delivered information about Hy’s whereabouts told me that for years I’d been shortchanged by even more
     than I’d suspected; in fact, made me feel like a mere novice in a field where only hours before, I’d considered myself a consummate
     pro. If you threw in expenses, which Renshaw also agreed to pay, for a single job I would have earned only slightly less than
     my yearly salary at All Souls.
    Yes, there was a lot of money to be made in investigation—providing you wanted to work for a firm like RKI. Providing you
     were willing to bend the rules as they did. Providing your sleep wasn’t susceptible to guilt-and horror-induced nightmares.
    None of those circumstances applied in my case, though. I pocketed the advance check Renshaw had the business office issue
     me for expenses, took down directions to the Mourning home outside Novato, and agreed to meet him there at four. Diane Mourning,
     he said, had been adamantly against calling in the authorities, but that hadn’t prevented her from taking RKI to task for
     mishandling the situation. Perhaps talking with me would assure her they still were making every effort. Since I’d hoped to
     speak with the victim’s wife anyway, the drive up there seemed worthwhile.
    My business with Renshaw concluded, I stopped at RKI’s bank and cashed the check. Then I went to a nearby branch of Bank of
     America and deposited most of it in my account, holding out some for incidentals. Finally I returned to my office to finish
     some paperwork and talk with Rae.
    The co-op was quiet; Ted slumped in his desk chair, staring at his computer screen. I reached into my box for my message slips
     and said, “
Amo, amas, amat
.” It was the only conjugation I remembered from my high-school Latin classes.
    He continued staring at the screen, ignoring me.
    I asked, “What’s the Latin phrase for today?”
    “Tete