by Alan Cook
"Only if an employee is getting murdered."
"I'm sorry...that came out wrong. But still, we...you shouldn't be negotiating without his knowledge."
"No negotiating. This is strictly fact-finding."
"My charter from Richard is to be involved with anything you do that affects Dionysus. And if Buchanan is really trying to take over Dionysus, that certainly qualifies."
"Yes," I admitted. I hadn't previously seen a role for Arrow in the Buchanan situation, but there might be one. "But if we do get to see him we can't introduce you as an employee of Dionysus."
"All right, then, I'll just be a girl. Do you think I can pass for a girl?"
"Are you fishing for a compliment?"
"Yes."
"Don't you get enough adoration from John?"
We both laughed, which broke the tension that had been in the air.
Arrow continued, "If I'm going to play the part of a girl, I want to do it right. What do the women wear at Buchanan's?"
"Dresses."
"Party dresses?"
"Yes, I would say so."
"Okay, that's probably all I'm going to get out of you since you're a man. Incidentally, if you were really gay, you would be a lot more descriptive. But I brought a little number with me that might work."
Why was I not surprised? We were on Sepulveda Boulevard, heading into the tunnel that goes under one of the Los Angeles airport runways, so I closed the car windows to keep the noise level down. I had walked through that tunnel several times and had learned two things: the decibel level is extreme and always walk on the side of the tunnel in which traffic is moving in the same direction as you are because the cars generate a strong wind stream that moves with them. However, the tunnel was now closed to pedestrians.
I maneuvered into the airport exit lane and my attention was taken up with getting into the airport and finding a spot in the overnight lot. We took a parking shuttle to the United terminal and after passing through security, checked in at the gate.
Once we were on the plane we were able to resume our conversation. I spent some of the flight telling Arrow what I had learned about James Buchanan. She already knew that Ned had been his partner at one time. Of course my father knew it too, but hadn't bothered to tell me. Arrow and I agreed that Buchanan was a wily and sometimes ruthless businessman, and if he wanted something he usually got it.
***
"I represent Dionysus Corporation," Arrow told Detective Washington, "and I would like to be present when you question Karl."
"Are you an attorney, Ms.…Andrews?" Detective Washington asked, glancing at the business card Arrow had given her.
"No, I am executive assistant to the chief executive officer of Dionysus Corporation."
"Well, that's a mighty high-falutin' title, but it won't buy you anything. And even if you were an attorney, the answer would be no. Mr. Patterson is not a suspect; we are merely asking him some questions. There is no need for him to have anybody else present." Detective Washington wrote in her notebook.
Arrow looked as if she was going to argue, but she changed her mind and said, "I notice that you wrote 'black' beside my name. I am of mixed race."
"Do you have any black blood in you?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then you are black as far as I am concerned, Honey. I am told that I have a white man somewhere in my past, probably a slave owner, but I am black, do you hear me?"
Arrow was smart enough to shut up at that point and Detective Washington escorted me from the waiting room to an interrogation room. I knew from reading books that the mirror in one wall was a window on the other side. She was also openly recording the session, but it was all in vain because I had nothing to add to what I had already told her.
She asked me to go over what I had done from the time I had left the hotel until I had been admitted to the Buchanan house—a period of over an hour. I had no witnesses, of course, but at least I told a consistent story. I figured that if I remained cool she would not try to link me to the drugs in the car.
I also made sure to emphasize that I didn't believe Ned was a drug dealer. When we had arrived at the Hertz office we had placed our bags in the back seat of the car and hadn't opened the trunk, although I had to admit it was unlikely the cocaine was already there. After a half hour of repeating myself, I asked, "Isn't it a little ridiculous to try to foist a drug charge on Mr. Mackay when there was nothing in his house?"
Detective Washington said, emphasizing her words, "The fact remains that there was cocaine in his rental car."
"But that could have been planted by the murderer."
"The car was locked and the keys were in Mr. Mackay's pocket. The trunk of the car had not been forced open."
“If the murder was drug-related, why didn’t the murderers take the cocaine?”
“Any number of reasons.”
Which were? She didn’t elaborate. I tried again. "Do you think he was buying or selling?"
"With the amount he had, he must have been dealing."
"Did he test positive for drugs?"
"No," Detective Washington admitted.
"Aren't most dealers users?"
"There's a definite correlation. But before you turn into the interrogator and me into the interrogatee, I have some more questions for you. Did you know Mr. Mackay was carrying a gun?"
"No! You didn't say anything about that before." It had not been in the news, either.
"After we found the cocaine in the car, we went back and did a thorough search of the area where Mr. Mackay's body was found. The gun was in the dumpster where we found him. A nine-millimeter Beretta. It is registered to Mr. Mackay."
"And it's...it's the murder weapon?"
"No. Mr. Mackay's gun had not been fired."
"But...but how could he have gotten it through airport security?"
"Guns have been known to slip through security," Detective Washington said, dryly. "They disguise themselves as underwear. Did you check any bags before you got on the plane?"
"No, we only had one bag apiece. We carried them on."
Detective Washington tried to jog my memory concerning the gun, but the attempt failed. If her plan was to shake me up it succeeded, but you can't get milk out of a bull. Finally, she gave up and let me go—for the moment.
I guess my face gives away my feelings, for just as Esther could tell when I was upset, Arrow spotted it as soon as I returned to the waiting room. When we went outside she said, “Well, what did that bitch want?”
I filled her in. When we got in the rental car she pulled out her cell phone and said, "I have to keep our attorney informed of everything I find out. He has requested a copy of the autopsy report but he needs to know about the gun."
When she hung up I said, "That pretty much clinches the case against poor Ned. If he wasn't involved in something shady, why would he be carrying a gun? I don't know what an attorney can do to help him now."
"Elma believes Ned is innocent and I believe Elma," Arrow said, defiantly. "And I know Ned. He isn't the type to get mixed up in drugs. But the job of the attorney is to protect the reputation of Dionysus, too."
"It can't get any lower than it is now." Which is why I had bought the company's stock. Buy when blood is running in the streets. And it was—literally.
We drove to the hotel and checked in. It was the same one Ned had stayed at. I was moving up in the world. We ate a light lunch in a cafe down the street and discussed what to do next. We eliminated the possibility of going to Buchanan's office and trying to get in to see him. Not only was that highly unlikely without an appointment, I also didn't want to talk to him in the atmosphere of a business meeting, even though he knew I was Richard's son.
I had brought shorts and running shoes in vain hope of getting a run in, but I couldn't think of a decent way to ditch Arrow. After we had decided we couldn't do anything productive for Dionysus until evening I asked Arrow what she wanted to do, hoping she would say go shopping.
; "I feel guilty not working during a work day," Arrow said, "and I'm not just saying that because you're the boss' son. But if we're going to work tonight I feel better about taking off now. Since I spent two years at Stanford I've seen most of the tourist attractions. Can we rent bicycles somewhere? I ride on the beach bike path at home all the time. The sun is out and I'd love to get some exercise."
Cross-training on a bike was a good alternative to running. Arrow produced shorts and a tank top. She was as prepared as I was. We rented bicycles near Golden Gate Park and rode the Bay Bike Trail for miles. It follows the shoreline through some of the most scenic parts of the city. Arrow was in good shape and we worked up a sweat in the warm summer air.
By the time we got back to the hotel I had almost forgotten why we had come to San Francisco.
Chapter 11 JAMES
The room phone rang while I was tying my tie. It was Arrow.
She said, "If you're dressed, can you come over and help me for a minute?"
I finished with my tie and went next door to Arrow's room. She opened the door to my knock. She was wearing a short black dress and black stockings. I don't like black on most women, but on Arrow it suited her coloring perfectly.
"You look nice," she said, surveying my one suit, a dark blue pinstripe.
"Thank you. So do you."
It's a good thing I got that out before she turned around or I probably would have choked on the words. The back of her dress was open to the waist. Now I knew why she was holding it at the top.
"I need you to zip me up," she said. "I have tendonitis and I have a hell of a time with this zipper."
My eagle eye immediately noticed that no bra spoiled the smooth curve of her back. I fumbled with the zipper, trying not to touch too much of Arrow, and finally got it up. There was still a generous amount of skin showing. This was also true in the front as I saw when she turned around and thanked me.
"I would guess that you're going to attract some attention tonight," I said, "although not necessarily from Buchanan. He seems to prefer boys these days."
"Then you admit that I can pass as a girl."
I admitted it and gave her my arm as we walked to the elevator, figuring it wouldn't hurt to practice my manners. Our plan was to get to Buchanan's house about eight and try to get in. I had warned Arrow that there was no guarantee of that.
Because of the length of our bike ride we hadn't eaten dinner, just grabbed some fruit from a bowl in the hotel lobby. I recalled that there had been food available at Buchanan's and felt we might be able to make a meal there. Our fallback plan was that if we couldn't get into his house we would immediately repair to the nearest restaurant and crowd out our disappointment with food and drink.
Parking was a problem so we took a taxi, which we caught in front of the hotel. The driver knew the way to Buchanan's without any prompting and got us there quickly.
It was a few minutes before eight when Arrow and I climbed the steps to Buchanan's house and rang the bell.
A voice said, "Good evening, Mr. Patterson. Could you please wait for a minute?"
"Of course," I said.
"How can he see you?" Arrow whispered.
I pointed to a hole above the doorframe where the lens of a video camera was visible to careful scrutiny.
"Oh. Well at least you're part of the in-crowd. I'm impressed."
"That was Stan, the fellow who drove me back to the hotel. But we'll soon see how 'in' I am. I'm sure he's consulting with Buchanan." Stan had told me he only worked one night a week. This was at least his second night this week.
It wasn't long before we heard Stan's voice again, saying, "Here is the puzzle for tonight. If five cats can catch five rats in five minutes, how many cats does it take to catch 100 rats in 100 minutes?"
"What's that all about?" Arrow asked.
"I forgot to tell you. Buchanan likes games and puzzles. The price of admission is to solve the puzzle. We need to think about it before replying. We only get one chance."
"The guy's loony tunes," Arrow said. "I would need a pencil and paper to do that."
"It shouldn't be so hard. We can play his silly game. Since we can be sure the obvious answer of 100 isn't right, we need to figure out how many rats each cat catches per minute. If five catch five rats in five minutes, the average cat takes five minutes to catch a rat. Five cats together average one rat per minute. Therefore, these same five will catch 100 rats in 100 minutes."
"Are you sure you're not making this up?" Arrow asked.
"Trust me."
"I guess I have to." Said with the distaste of a woman who liked to be self-reliant.
I took another few seconds to double-check my answer and then I relayed it to Stan. The door clicked and I opened it.
As I ushered Arrow inside she said, reluctantly, "You're pretty good at that."
"I may not be able to create a business plan," I said, "but I have always been good at math."
Arrow wrinkled her nose at me as I escorted her to the top of the stairs. Sounds of Sinatra came from below. Singing about doing it his way. As we started down the steps I saw Stan at the bottom.
A look of surprise came over his face as he looked up and he said, "Arrow, is that you?"
"Stan!" Arrow exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"I didn't get a good look at you on the monitor," Stan said. "You were behind Mr. Patterson."
"Er, I take it you two know each other," I said.
"We were in the same class at Stanford business school," Arrow said.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and gave Stan a big hug. So much for her cover.
There were more people than there had been the first time I was here. Friday evening crowd, celebrating the end of the workweek. Freed from office prisons. Arrow and Stan chatted, trying to make themselves heard over the noise, while I scanned the room, looking for Buchanan.
I spotted him playing backgammon with a man. Although he was sitting several tables away I could see he made his moves quickly and decisively, more so than when he had been playing me. I made a mental note not to underestimate him.
Stan said, "James wants to talk to you. I'll find out when he'll be free." He made his way over to Buchanan.
"Old friend, eh?" I said to Arrow.
"I've got a story to tell you about Stan." She added, "Later," as Stan returned.
"Five minutes," Stan said. "Well, Arrow, I'm afraid we don't play bridge here. There probably isn't anything that interests you." He turned to me. "She wouldn't participate in the Friday night poker games we used to play at school."
"There was a lot more drinking than poker, as I recall," Arrow said.
I watched Buchanan's face, something I hadn't been able to do when I was playing him. He was completely engrossed in his game. Even though I couldn't see the board his expression told me he was moving in for the kill and when he won his look of triumph was something to behold.
As he got up from his chair Arrow whispered to me, "His face looks familiar."
He stood and came over to us. He shook my hand and said, "It's nice to see you again, Karl." If he was surprised by my presence he didn't show it.
"This is Arrow Anderson," Stan said. "Arrow, this is James Buchanan. Arrow went to Stanford with me. She works for Dionysus as Richard Patterson's executive assistant."
I looked at Buchanan's face again as he shook hands with Arrow, but his expression, which had been open a few moments ago was now closed, as if a window shade had been pulled down. He gave her a bland smile and murmured how glad he was to meet her.
"Let's go upstairs and get out of this noise," Buchanan said.
He gave a signal to Stan and led the way up the stairs, followed by Arrow and me. He climbed slowly, favoring one leg. From the top of the stairs he went to his study. It was behind one of the doors on the hallway that led from the front door to the back of the house. He ushered us into a good-sized room, dominated by a large desk made out of a dark wood; the top was in the shape of
a semi-circle. The other furniture matched the desk.
"Would you like something to drink?" Buchanan asked as he pointed to two padded chairs.
He appropriated a large wooden rocking chair for himself, which must be an antique, judging from its impressive size and workmanship. The three chairs were arranged around a low round table. Arrow and I sat down. Buchanan took no notice of Arrow's legs as she crossed them, but I did.
His question about drinks reminded me that we hadn't had dinner. This wasn't the time to get muddle-headed. I asked for iced tea. Arrow requested a diet drink. He picked up a phone sitting on the table and pressed a button. He spoke briefly and hung up.
"What's the latest on the investigation into Ned's death?" he asked, without any preliminaries.
"His rental car was found with cocaine in it," I said, speaking carefully, trying to give him only information that was common knowledge. "His house was searched, but it was clean."
"Ned wasn't into drugs," Buchanan said. "He wasn't a user and he had no need to be a dealer."
"Do you think he was set up?" Arrow asked.
Before Buchanan could answer, one of his young men opened the door and came in with a tray and three glasses. Although Buchanan hadn't ordered anything for himself the server brought him the same drink I had seen him with before: a colorless liquid in a tall glass, filled with ice, with a slice of lime and a straw.
The waiter silently served us our drinks and paper napkins, placing the drinks on coasters on the table. Then he went out and shut the door behind him.
"If Ned wasn't into drugs, who would have killed him?" I asked, trying to keep Buchanan talking.
He stirred his drink with his straw and then sipped it through the straw, before saying, "Anyone who has a certain amount of success in business is bound to acquire enemies. I think Ned was killed by someone who knew him. The cocaine was an attempt at a cover-up. It may work. From what I've heard there aren't any good clues."
"Do you have any idea who did it?" Arrow asked.
Buchanan regarded her with a smile as he sipped some more of his drink. He said, "Richard always did have good taste in women."
Arrow leaned forward and uncrossed her legs. Her eyes flashed. She said, "Richard and I have strictly a business relationship."
