Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [34]
Renshaw snorted derisively.
Mourning turned to him, suddenly furious. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Gage?”
“Pardon me for saying so, but you and Tim live a little high to support this self-sacrificial rhetoric. You may have given up the condo in the city and the beach house, but this place isn’t exactly chopped liver.”
“For your information, this house, along with everything in it, is borrowed from one of our venture capitalists who chooses to live elsewhere. The cars? They’re leased by the company. If you want you can examine the labels in my clothes—they came from the Emporium. Frankly, Gage, we lost everything when the speculative bubble burst. We don’t have a pot to pee in.”
He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
Quickly I said, “Let’s talk about the kidnappers for a moment. You’re reasonably convinced they were members of a radical animal-rights group?”
She nodded, but not before she gave Renshaw a last hard look. “Eco-terrorists, your Mr. Ripinsky called them—before he took off with our letter of credit.”
“It couldn’t have been someone using the environmental issue as a cover? A disgruntled employee, for instance?”
“As far as I know, our people are happy. For the most part they’re young, very challenged, and learning as they go. There’s a critical shortage of skilled workers for the biotech industry in the Bay Area, so Phoenix has hired and trained promising college graduates.”
“What about personal enemies?”
“I’ve been over all this with Gage. Timothy and I have none.”
“Well, that about does it.” I checked my watch. “It’s time I got back to the city.”
Renshaw stood, looking glad to get out of there. “She’ll report to me periodically, Diane, and I’ll keep you informed.”
Mourning nodded, still angry. Her nod to me was only a shade more cordial. As we left the room, she curled in a corner of the couch again—poised to strike, should she find a suitable target.
Eight
Renshaw said, “She’s full of shit, you know.”
We were in the driveway of the Mourning house, leaning against his car—a green Ford that was as disreputable as his tie. I said, “People have different ways of handling their grief.”
“I’m not talking about whether she’s hurting or not. That’s her business. But this crap about Tim being self-sacrificing … I knew Mourning fairly well. The guy loved to spend. They didn’t lose their money when the biotech market went flat; Tim piddled it away on boats, cars, an expensive wine cellar.”
“So maybe Diane’s trying to sanitize his memory.”
Renshaw brushed his white forelock off his brow and glared at me. “You know, you have a very naive streak.”
“I call it an open mind.”
“Whatever.”
“I want to ask you about something you mentioned earlier today. There was some speculation before the kidnappers made contact that Mourning planned his disappearance?”
“Right.”
“On whose part?”
“Mine. Kessell’s.”
“Why?”
He looked around before speaking in a lowered voice. “Mourning is one of those people who always have to be on the cutting edge. You know the type: If this was the old days, he’d be an explorer on the western frontier. If it was the sixties, he’d be beating down the door to get into the space program. In the eighties, there was biotech—tailor-made for Tim. But biotech’s practically establishment now; as Diane said, the bubble’s burst, and Tim’s looking at years and years of hard work. From talks I had with him, I got the feeling he was ready to move on to some other frontier, but I didn’t get the feeling he’d be taking Diane with him.”
“The marriage was in trouble?”
“They didn’t spend a lot of time together, they didn’t have much in common, and Tim always spoke of ‘I,’ rather than ‘we.’ ”
“You think he might have set the kidnapping up?”
“It’s a possibility, one way he could get away with plenty of cash.”
“But you saw the photo the kidnappers sent—Mourning was one