I looked across the conference table at Hank, who’d decided to drop in for the meeting. His relatively unlined face was at peace, his Brillo-pad hair as wild as ever. He’d pulled me aside when he arrived and told me that he’d decided to remain in the city at least till Habiba went to college.
“Thank you for reading me the riot act,” he added.
“That was no riot act. I was merely stating that you should follow your conscience. When I read you the riot act, you’ll know it.”
I shifted my gaze to my operatives.
Derek Frye, a young Eurasian man with many fashionable tattoos, who had teamed with Mick in various profitable Internet ventures.
Zoe Anderson, a graduate in computer sciences from USC. She hadn’t had much experience when she’d come in for an interview, but so far her performance had been exceptional.
Natalie Su, also a recent addition to the team. And a great investigator—she’d actually been able to find two pencil sharpeners that had gone astray in the supply closet.
Ted, his arm in a sling, but unfazed. Surprisingly, he was attired in chinos and a dark-blue sweater. Maybe our fashion plate had finally grown up.
Julia Rafael, who had been on leave for two months, after the death of her sister, who’d been the caregiver for her young son, Antonio. We’d found her a good day care provider and she’d been happy to come back.
Patrick Neilan, a single father, who balanced raising his two sons and his job with outstanding ease.
And I remembered the others whose faces had once greeted me across this table:
Rae, of course—but then, she kept reappearing.
Charlotte Keim, once Mick’s love, now married and with a security firm in North Carolina.
Adah Joslyn, good friend and former officer with the SFPD, now in an investigative partnership with Craig Morland, former FBI agent and her husband.
Kendra Williams, who now lives in Washington, D.C., and is an integral part of the Black Lives Matter movement.
Hank and Anne-Marie, of course.
And Hy, frequently.
All of them were members of what we called Team McCone, a bond none of us would ever break. We called each other across the world, from wherever we might be. We commiserated with each other in the bad times, celebrated in the good. We shared photos and news and jokes on the Internet. We enjoyed reunions, usually over some wicked brew.
We were, in the very best sense of the term, a family.
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About the Author
Marcia Muller has written many novels and short stories. She has won six Anthony Awards and a Shamus Award and is also the recipient of the Private Eye Writers of America Lifetime Achievement Award as well as the Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Award, the organization’s highest accolade. She lives in northern California with her husband, mystery writer Bill Pronzini.
SHARON MCCONE MYSTERIES
BY MARCIA MULLER
THE BREAKERS
THE COLOR OF FEAR
SOMEONE ALWAYS KNOWS
THE NIGHT SEARCHERS
LOOKING FOR YESTERDAY
CITY OF WHISPERS
COMING BACK
LOCKED IN
BURN OUT
THE EVER-RUNNING MAN
VANISHING POINT
THE DANGEROUS HOUR
DEAD MIDNIGHT
LISTEN TO THE SILENCE
A WALK THROUGH THE FIRE
WHILE OTHER PEOPLE SLEEP
BOTH ENDS OF THE NIGHT
THE BROKEN PROMISE LAND
A WILD AND LONELY PLACE
TILL THE BUTCHERS CUT HIM DOWN
WOLF IN THE SHADOWS
PENNIES ON A DEAD WOMAN’S EYES
WHERE ECHOES LIVE
TROPHIES AND DEAD THINGS
THE SHAPE OF DREAD
THERE’S SOMETHING IN A SUNDAY
EYE OF THE STORM
THERE’S NOTHING TO BE AFRAID OF
DOUBLE (with Bill Pronzini)
LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR WILLIE
GAMES TO KEEP THE DARK AWAY
THE CHESHIRE CAT’S EYE
ASK THE CARDS A QUESTION
EDWIN OF THE IRON SHOES
STANDALONES
CAPE PERDIDO
CYANIDE WELLS
POINT DECEPTION
Ice and Stone Page 18