The Devil Went Down to Austin (Tres Navarre #3)(43)

I glanced over, but her face was impassive.

The idea of someone forcing his way into Maia's apartment seemed incredible. Not to mention insanely dangerous.

"You caught him?" I asked.

"No. I could just—tell. He was becoming a stalker. I should know. I've defended a few.

Finally, I forced him into a meeting at a very public place—a cafe in North Beach. I gave him a ceaseand desist speech. I was rather forceful."

I couldn't help grinning. "And after that?"

"After that, things got better for a while. Then, when Garrett called me in March, asked my advice about Techsan, Pena became a problem again, as if he knew I'd been talking about him. Pena started calling my bosses, telling them I was being unprofessional, perhaps even breaking attorneyclient confidences."

"April Goldman must've laughed in his face."

Maia stared out the window, watching shops go by, suntanned bikers braving the heat.

"April's leaving the firm, Tres. I work for Ronald Terrence now—only."

In my darkest moments, when I had been the angriest with Maia, I never would've wished that on her.

Ronald Terrence was the archetypical conservative law partner, politically moderate by Texas standards? by San Francisco standards, a neoNazi. He didn't have much use for professional women, or liberals, and so had made the deliberate decision to hook up with April Goldman, a liberal woman partner, to soften his image and increase his clientele base. The result had been a surprisingly successful and longlived firm. At least until now.

"April wouldn't take you with her?"

Maia's face got even darker. "No. She would not."

Her tone told me not to pursue that line of questioning.

"And Ronald Terrence is tight with Matthew Pena," I said.

She nodded. "Ron had words with me about this . . . vacation. He didn't threaten, but he let me infer that I might not be welcomed back. He's called twice since I got here, mentioned that Matthew Pena has been in touch with him."

"What did you tell Ron?"

"I haven't returned his calls."

This was so unlike Maia, I didn't know what to say.

She closed her fingers around her knees, took a breath.

"Forget all that," she said. "What I really came to tell you— Dwight Hayes called me this morning. The Techsan sale seems to be weighing on his conscience. He said you'd spoken with him last night, encouraged him to call me." She hesitated, steeling herself. "I guess I should thank you for that."

I tried to stop thinking about Maia's job—the junior partnership she'd worked so many years to get. "Dwight give you anything good?"

"He was still pretty cagey, but he said in a couple of days we could expect AccuShield to announce they'd fixed Techsan's software problem.

"A couple of days?"

"Dwight said they'd wait just long enough to make the announcement seem plausible."

"Then they've known what the problem was all along."

Maia moistened her lips. "Another little secret Dwight let slip— Pena has made a very sweet little deal with his client, AccuShield. Apparently they're a lot more impressed by Techsan's security product than they let on. If Pena manages to turn Techsan around, get the betatesting back on track, get the investors lined up, AccuShield has promised to let him spin off the company as a separate IPO."

"Meaning what?"

"Money, Tres. Lots of it. AccuShield would keep seventy percent of the stock. Pena gets thirty percent. And Dwight thought the IPO—with the proper backing—could be huge."

"Huge like family size or economy pack?"

"Total valuation? Think billions, with a B."

My hands went numb on the steering wheel. "A company Pena paid four million for.

Garrett's company."

Maia nodded. "I'd say this is the careermaker deal for Mr. Pena."

I pulled into the parking lot at Waterloo Records, stopped the truck. The neon cows were dancing above the Amy's Ice Cream sign. Even in the daytime, in the middle of June, Christmas lights blinked in the palm trees.

I replayed every word I'd said to Garrett the night before, about how he should sell his company. Now, despite the ranch, despite my best rationalizing, I felt like those words should be tattooed on my back with a hot needle. Billions.

I wondered if Ruby had known the real value of what she was signing away. I wondered if she'd made some inside deal with Pena. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. It was easier to get mad at Ruby than at myself.

"Dwight won't go on record with this," I guessed.

"Even if he did," Maia said, "it's nothing we could take to the police. Dwight had nothing to say about Jimmy Doebler's murder. Or Adrienne Selak's drowning."

I told Maia about my morning phone call with Lopez, about the call Jimmy had made to homicide two months ago. I told her about the family research Jimmy had been starting.

Maia stared out the windshield. "The fact Lopez knew Jimmy, had talked to him recently, might be enough to taint his investigation. If I had to, I could use it. That and the fact he coerced you and Garrett into making initial statements without a lawyer."

"Coerced?"

"Sure. You remember. You said Jimmy was asking about his mother."