Page 2 of A Walking Shadow

Daniel’s dad, Larry Steinfeld, had been a lion of the criminal defense bar for decades. When he finally quit practicing, the district attorney’s office had been so relieved they’d thrown a huge party for him at the Grant Street Tavern. The placehad been packed wall to wall with prosecutors toasting to his retirement.

“If your dad says it’s BS, it’s BS.” She flipped the folder closed and extended it toward him.

He shook his head and didn’t take the file.

“I believe him, but I need somebody to represent me. I tried to talk him into coming out of retirement and handling it. He laughed me out of the room.” He gave her a hopeful smile and waited.

She suppressed a groan. She absolutely did not have time to take this on. But Daniel wasn’t just her Krav Maga instructor. He was a friend—a close one.

“Sure, of course.”

“I’ll pay your usual rate.”

“Why don’t you pay me with extra private lessons instead? I clearly need them.”

“You’ve got a deal,” he said.

“I’ll look at this later today. Can you give me the short version?”

“Over the summer, I got a call from a guy named John Boone. He wanted me to run a weekend-long Krav Maga boot camp for him and some of his buddies.”

“Is that something you do?”

Daniel shook his head vigorously. “No. I declined at first, but Boone was persistent. He said to name my price—money wasn’t an object. It was clear he’d find somebody else if I turned him down. So, I figured, why not? I could make a nice chunk of change, and he wouldn’t end up with some clown who would teach him and his friends poor form and get them all hurt.”

He paused and eyed her.

She nodded her understanding. “Makes sense.”

She knew as well as he did that most people holding themselves out as experts weren’t actually trained in the self-defense system. Daniel, like his father before him, had trained directly with the Israeli Army. He was one of the best of the best.

“I sent over a basic contract. I charged him five grand for the weekend. That seemed fair for twenty to thirty people, all day for two full days.”

She had no frame of reference, so she shrugged. “Sure.”

“He said that was fine, signed the contract, and we moved forward. I showed up and did my thing. They seemed engaged, happy to be there.”

“Who were they—the students?”

“I thought they were just his buddies. Typical middle-aged guys, mostly mildly out of shape. Weekend warriors. No women.”

She pulled a face at that. Then she wrinkled her brow as his words sunk in fully. “Youthoughtthey were. Does that mean they weren’t?”

“Turns out that’s exactly what it means. But I didn’t know it at the time. We’ll get there.”

If nothing else, he’d piqued her curiosity. “Okay, so what happened?”

“What happened was he didn’t pay me. When I was getting ready to leave, he asked me to come into his home office so we could settle up. I told him there was no need, that I’d send him an invoice. He could just send me a check or call and give me a credit card number over the phone. He insisted he wanted to pay me right then. That was fine by me if that’s what he really wanted to do. I said sure, I’ll take your money now. Except it wasn’t money.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t money?”

“He tried to give me some kind of fake check. He called it a negotiable redemption note.”

“A negotiable redemption note?”

“Yeah. Ever hear of one?”

She laughed softly. “No. It sounds like U.C.C. word salad.”

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