“Do you need any help?”

“Nah, it should be easy enough, or would be if the FBI wasn’t suspiciously interested in the guy.”

“Did we get a retainer?”

“Not yet.”

“And you took it without a retainer? That’s not like you.”

“I’m doing a favor for my father.”

“That’s not like you either. What’s in the drawer?”

“What drawer?”

“The one you slammed shut before I came in.”

“Just papers.”

She stared at me for a moment to figure out if it was worth pursuing, decided that it wasn’t, which was a relief, and dropped down into one of the chairs in front of my desk.

Beth Derringer was my best friend and my partner and, as my partner, was rightfully entitled to one half of the retainer given me by Zanita Kalakos. I wasn’t pulling a Fred C. Dobbs here, I had not been driven mad by the sight of gold and was intending to stiff Beth of her fair share. But Beth’s ethics were less flexible than mine. If she knew what Mrs. Kalakos had given me, and the likelihood of from where it had come, she would have felt obligated to turn it all over to the rightful authorities. She was that kind of woman. I, on the other hand, figured the jewelry had been stolen long ago from the rich, who had already been reimbursed by their insurance companies, and so saw no reason to fight against my Robin Hood tendencies. Isn’t that how he did it, take from the insurance companies and give to the lawyers? So the jewels and chains would stay safely and secretly in my desk drawer until I found a way to turn them into cash, and I already had an idea of just how to do that.

“I have a client coming in this afternoon that I’d like you to meet,” she said.

“A paying client?”

“She paid what she could.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Should we maybe discuss the retainer we didn’t get from your old lady?”

“No. Okay, go ahead. What’s her story?”