COLLATERAL CASUALTIES (The Kate Huntington mystery series) by Kassandra Lamb Page A

beyond either of their experiences.
                After Jill left, Kate used her cell phone to call her friend and the co-owner of her husband’s private investigations agency.
                “Hernandez,” Rose answered brusquely.
                “It’s Kate. I have a big favor to ask. Are you willing to do something for me, no questions asked, and you can’t tell your partner about it?”
                Silence for a beat. “Yes to the favor, but I do have to ask why I can’t tell Skip?”
                “It has to do with a client, and if he knew what was going on he wouldn’t be able to resist investigating.”
                “Okay, one more question which you can refuse to answer,” Rose said. “Why would that be a bad thing?”
                “Because it would probably get him killed.”
    ~~~~~~~
                Kate came out of her last session of the day to find a stocky man with swarthy skin sitting in her waiting room. She stifled a gasp. For a moment, she considered walking right out the door with her client.
                The man stood up, holding his hands out, palms up. “I assure you, Mrs. Huntington, I mean you no harm. I was hoping to talk to you about my grief regarding the death of a friend.”
                Kate’s client gave her an apprehensive look.
                “It’s okay, Amanda.” Kate ushered her to the outer door.
                Turning back to the man, she said, “How can I help you?”
                “May we go into your office?”
                Good idea! In her desk was the .32 revolver her friend, Mac Reilly, had purchased for her when she went into private practice, insisting that a woman in an office by herself needed some means of protection. Kate locked the outer door of the waiting room, just in case this guy had a few henchmen out in the hall. She made an after-you gesture toward her office.
                Pointing to the chair in front of her desk, she moved around it and sat in her own chair. Heart in her throat, she casually rested a sweaty palm on the handle of the desk drawer containing her gun. At least, she hoped the gesture looked casual.
                “I assume the person you’re referring to is M–”
                He held up his hand. “No names, please.” He took out a cloth handkerchief and wiped his brow.
                Kate waited in silence. Her heart was pounding, but anger was starting to override her fear.
                “I am deeply grieved by our mutual friend’s death,” the man said. “I wanted to personally reassure you that I was not responsible for it. I believe that I have identified the person who was responsible and I have dealt with him accordingly.”
                “And why, Mr. No Name, should I believe that?” Despite herself, the anger crept into her voice.
                He gave her a sad smile. “You have every reason to be angry. Even though I did not kill the gentleman, he died because of his acquaintance with me. I had great respect for him and it saddens me that his young children are now fatherless.”
                “You had respect for him? He tried to–” Kate caught herself.
                The man shrugged. “He was just doing his job, and quite frankly his agenda at the time was more noble than my own.”
                Kate raised an eyebrow at him.
                “Let me tell you a story, Mrs. Huntington. Once upon a time, a young boy, just sixteen years old, left his parents’ farm to become part of a group that was attempting to overthrow the corrupt government of his country, a government that cared nothing about the poor.
                “This young boy fought for their cause for several years, until he was twenty. By then he was not quite so naive.