"I just told you she hasn't got the Stigma!"
"You are a rotten lair," Renner said, getting dangerously red in the face. "What kind of games are you playing with Passarelli? What has he got to do with the reputation of our firm? Don't try to lie," he said sharply. "I know he's here. He's been tailed all night."
That was enough for Passarelli. He came out of the bedroom and walked up to Renner. "Forgive me for saying this, Renner," he said. "But I just hope you have a case in my court. I'll find some way to pin one of your slippery tax frauds to you!"
Renner grew pale. He's conditioned to toady to judges. He didn't have the guts to answer Passarelli, and took it out on me, instead. "Our partnership is dissolved, as of right now," he seethed. He dragged some money out of his pocket and threw it on the rug. "There's your share of the rent. I'm throwing your stuff out in the hall in the morning. The auditors will be there at nine o'clock for an accounting. You won't need that address any longer—only reputable people come to our building." He stormed out.
Passarelli and I faced each other in silence. "Jerk!" I raged at him at last. "You couldn't check to see if you were being followed!"
"I regret that," he said. "But you invited me."
"Don't remind me," I snarled. "What now?"
"I don't know about you," Passarelli said. "But I'm going to start looking out for myself. You're too tricky, Maragon."
"And I suppose you think it's time I ditched Mary Hall, eh?"
"What for?" he said mildly. "You're just one more Criminal Court shyster now—Renner gave you the heave-ho. You might as well defend her, even if I can't work with you."