Aces and Knaves

by Alan Cook

  With an effort I kissed her lightly and headed for my car.

  Chapter 14 THE CRISIS

  I was wakened by a siren. I opened one eye and tried to focus on my bedside clock. Rays of sunlight were seeping in through the drapes. Six-fifteen a.m., Sunday morning. Give me a break. I had only been in bed a few hours.

  The scream of the siren had stopped. I rolled over, determined to return to my interrupted dream. It must have been erotic, judging by my current state of arousal. I think Esther and Arrow were both in it. Before I could get settled I heard the unmistakable sound of a voice coming over a radio. Like a police radio. Coming from the street in front of the castle.

  I was out of bed in a flash. I pulled on a pair of jeans; I slept in a T-shirt. Not bothering with shoes, I opened the door, ran around the pool and then down the side of the house. Before I reached the front yard I saw the red flashes reflecting off the neighbor's house beside me. As I went around the front corner of the castle I saw the red emergency vehicle whose light was flashing, parked on the street.

  Our front gate was open and so was the front door of the castle. Without stopping I ran through the front door. I paused long enough to hear the sounds of voices coming from upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time and only slowed down as I approached the doorway to the master bedroom.

  When I entered the room my view of the king-size bed was partially blocked by a paramedic kneeling beside it, but I could see the head of my father. He was lying on his back, his face was white, his eyes were open and he appeared to be staring at the ceiling.

  The other paramedic was calling for an ambulance on his cell phone. Jacie stood at the foot of the bed in her yellow bathrobe, her hands clasped tightly together. Her blond hair was in the disarray of recent sleep. Luz was standing beside her with her arm around Jacie. Luz also wore a bathrobe and her hair was covered by a towel. Tears were running down her cheeks.

  I walked toward them. Jacie looked at me with frightened eyes and said, "They think he's had a stroke."

  I turned toward my father, the man who was always so in control of the situation. He looked helpless. I couldn't face it and I turned away. I put my arms around both Jacie and Luz. In the case of Jacie this was something I hadn't done since she married my father.

  ***

  "How could he have a stroke?" I asked the heart specialist who had examined my father in the Intensive Care Unit. "He's not overweight, he doesn't smoke, he gets regular exercise..."

  "His blood pressure was very high," Dr. Shapero said, consulting his clipboard. "And he needs to reduce his cholesterol."

  He was short, balding and definitely overweight. Didn't doctors follow their own advice?

  "He doesn't have high blood pressure," Jacie said. She had put on jeans and a pink sweater and brushed her hair for the ride to the hospital. Tan and athletic, she looked like the professional tennis player she had been.

  She was sitting beside me in the small waiting room. She and I had followed the ambulance to Torrance Memorial Hospital. Now, several hours later, my father was hooked to a heart monitor and being fed oxygen.

  "It could be a temporary condition caused by stress, for example," Dr. Shapero said. "Has he been under a lot of pressure lately?"

  Jacie and I looked at each other. We both nodded. Ned's death, James Buchanan's attempt to take over Dionysus. I had always thought my father was immune to stress. This was a shock. It gave me a glimpse of my own mortality.

  "Will he...be all right?" Jacie asked.

  "It's too soon to tell," Dr. Shapero said, speaking pedantically but with compassion. "There appears to be some paralysis on his right side, but that may to be a temporary condition. Mrs. Patterson, your quick call to 911 definitely reduced the complications. I think we stopped the brain damage before it was wide-spread."

  My worry level went down a notch.

  When Dr. Shapero left I asked Jacie what she wanted to do.

  "Stay here with Richard," she said.

  "All day?"

  "Probably. I think having me here will help him."

  That was true, at least when he wasn't sleeping. Maybe she did love him. "I'll notify people. Who should I call for Dionysus?" It being Sunday, I would have to call somebody at home.

  "A week ago I would have said Ned. Now...I don't know."

  "Do you know the home number of John, his administrative assistant?"

  "No. But it must be in his organizer. That should be in his attaché case. But you don't know how to work that, do you?"

  My father had a small electronic organizer that he carried with him. Actually, I did know how to use it, but this wasn't the time to tout my skills. I had Arrow's home number written down. I didn't mention Arrow to Jacie. I said, "I'll take care of it. I'll leave you the car and run back. It's only a few miles."

  "Okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be all right." Jacie even smiled. She was rising to the occasion. This time she hugged me.

  ***

  I badly needed the run. My brain was a whirling mass of confusion. I headed west on Lomita Boulevard at an easy trot and felt better already, just getting out of the hospital and into the fresh air. My father would be all right; he had to be all right. No other option was in my plans.

  At Hawthorne Boulevard I planned to turn left toward Palos Verdes. As I approached, the walk-light came on for crossing Hawthorne. It was a wide street and I had to cross it sooner or later so I entered the crosswalk. On the other side, without thinking about it I continued west instead of turning onto Hawthorne.

  Arrow's condominium was in this direction. It was closer than my father's castle. A phone call to Arrow wouldn't be enough. I had to get involved with Dionysus. Not to replace my father—there was a chain of command set up for that—but to deal with the issues I knew about, namely, Ned's death and whatever James Buchanan was trying to do.

  As I entered Redondo Beach and approached Arrow's place I began to have second thoughts. Would this endanger my relationship with Esther? Not if I was careful. However, it was Sunday. Arrow might be sleeping in. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10 o'clock. She should be up by now. Well, she might have a boyfriend with her. She had not discussed her romantic status with me.

  I could call her from a phone booth to see if she was present and alone. Except that I didn't have her phone number with me and I was sure it was unlisted. Most of the single women in LA had unlisted numbers.

  I turned onto her street. In a few minutes I arrived at her complex. I hesitated before walking into the complex, trying to remember which unit she lived in. I thought it was the third one in. If not, it was the next one after that.

  This wasn't an excuse not to see her. I found what I thought was Arrow's unit and rang the bell. I stood in front of the peephole in the door so she would be able to see me.

  "Who is it?"

  Arrow's voice came from a distance and sounded harried.

  "Karl."

  "Just a minute."

  I had come at a bad time. Maybe I should leave. No, I couldn't do that. Arrow knew I was here.

  The seconds ticked by. Was she hiding her boyfriend in the closet? Getting dressed? I heard several clicks and the door opened. Arrow stood there, tying a dark blue bathrobe, much shorter than Jacie's.

  She smiled but it looked forced. "You're just in time for breakfast. And to find out what a perfect homemaker I am."

  I still felt as if I was intruding, but Arrow held the door open so I said hello and walked in. She closed it behind me and before I could say any more she said, "Follow me."

  She led me barefoot through a small living room, containing a couch and not much more, into a room that must serve as a combination family room and dining room, with a table at the far end. Adjacent to this was the kitchen.

  She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, held out her hand, palm up, and said, ironically, "Here's breakfast."

  Breakfast was all over the kitchen floor and the cupboards under the microwave. I had never seen such a mess. The doo
r to the microwave stood open and the dish that had originally contained breakfast was upside down on the floor.

  I must be the cause of this. "Did I scare you?" I asked.

  Arrow laughed. "No, I did this just before you rang. I had dinner at my parents' house last night and my mom gave me some leftover stew. I thought it would be good for breakfast so I heated it up. When I started to take it out of the microwave my grip on the dish slipped. I was afraid it would spill and scald me so I stepped back. This caused it to tip even more. Meanwhile, I lost my balance. I managed to direct most of the contents away from me before I sat down, but I still got stew all over me, which is why I couldn't answer the door right away."

  "Did you get burned?"

  "Fortunately, no. The bulk of the hot sauce went on the floor."

  "I'm sorry. I'll help you clean up," I said, awkwardly.

  Arrow laughed again, with a trace of bitterness. "Believe it or not, I was pretty self-sufficient before you came along. I didn't get drunk and I didn't make messes all over my kitchen. I'll tell you what. I'll do the actual cleaning if you will feed me wet towels."

  She got down on her hands and knees and started wiping up the conglomeration of beef cubes, carrots, onion and meat sauce. The aroma that reached my nostrils suggested that it would have been delicious. I rinsed the towels she dirtied, under the tap, and handed them back them to her.

  The only problem with this arrangement was that her bathrobe didn't completely cover her bare butt, but she was so engrossed in the cleanup that she didn't notice. I tried not to look. A young, heterosexual male shouldn't be put through trials like this.

  Arrow eventually cleaned everything up to her satisfaction. She stood up and said, "Now I'll make you a real breakfast. It's the least I can do after all the crap I've put you through. But first I need a shower. Would you like to come upstairs and talk to me while I shower?"

  "No!" I said, too quickly and too loudly. It sounded so incongruous that I laughed along with Arrow. "I'll...wait here."

  "Of course I meant through the bathroom door, but suit yourself. While you're waiting you can drink some orange juice. You put me on to drinking orange juice, you know." She got a pitcher out of the refrigerator and poured me a large glass. Then she disappeared in the direction of the stairs.

  ***

  While Arrow was taking her shower I remembered why I was there. I found a pencil and paper, sat at her table and made notes. By the time she returned, wearing white shorts and a blue T-shirt, but still barefoot, I had created a to-do list for myself.

  "I haven't told you why I came," I said, gingerly. I don't like to deliver bad news.

  "You came to help me clean up my mess," Arrow said, gaily, bustling around in the kitchen.

  "No. It's about my father—Richard. He's had a stroke."

  Arrow reacted as if she's been shot. She gasped, put her hand to her mouth and couldn't speak for a few seconds. Then she said, "How bad...how is he?"

  "He should be okay. He's in the hospital."

  She sat down with a thud on one of the wooden chairs at the table. "But he's so...healthy."

  I filled her in on the details, trying to place a positive spin on them. I hadn't known she would take it so hard. After a few minutes she had somewhat recovered; I told her I would help her make breakfast.

  While I sliced ham for an omelet, I asked Arrow who should be notified at Dionysus. She started making her own list.

  Over breakfast, I said, "I think we need to do something about Buchanan and his alleged takeover attempt of Dionysus while Richard's sick." Calling my father Richard kept his illness from being too personal. "I suspect that Buchanan was a contributing factor to his stroke."

  "What can we do?" Arrow asked, through a mouthful of toast with strawberry jam on it.

  "Buchanan can't gain absolute control of Dionysus without either the stock owned by Richard or Elma. Richard's stock is safe, of course. But what about Elma? In a proxy battle, would she vote her shares for Richard or Buchanan?"

  "Richard, I assume. Why wouldn't she?"

  "I don't know. That's why I want to talk to her."

  "When?"

  "Why not today?"

  "Today?"

  Arrow was still in a state of shock. I wanted to snap her out of it and get moving. She finished her breakfast, took a sip of coffee and said, "Let me make some phone calls—to John, Richard's admin and some others. Then we can see about Elma."

  "I need to call some of Richard's relatives," I said. My relatives, too.

  "Use my cell phone. It gets charged to Dionysus."

  While Arrow used her house phone I called my aunt and my grandmother on the cell phone. Fortunately, they were both down-to-earth people who had listed phone numbers (I got the numbers from Information) and who wouldn't start screaming hysterically. They asked for information about the hospital so they could send flowers and call Richard when he felt well enough to talk.

  When Arrow had finished her other calls she called Elma. She told Elma about my father's stroke. They talked for about five minutes. After she hung up she said, "Elma wants to see us now."

  Chapter 15 ELMA--1

  The Mackay house was in Manhattan Beach, less than 15 minutes away from Arrow's condo in her car. With only the narrow Hermosa Beach in between Redondo and Manhattan, the distance was short.

  Parking was the biggest problem and Arrow had to squeeze into a space on a narrow street up the hill one block from Highland Avenue. She proved she was adept at parallel parking.

  The house itself was comfortable but not huge; beach lots, even several blocks up from the beach where this house was, tended toward postage-stamp size. Many of the houses completely filled their lots. This one had a modern, cube-like design, and was at least two stories high, maybe more—it was hard to tell at first glance—since it was built on the side of the hill that led down to the ocean.

  The house fronted on one of the numbered streets that banned cars. We walked a short distance uphill on this street and then up a flight of steps to the front door of the house. Not for the mobility-challenged.

  The woman who answered the door to Arrow's ring didn't look like the wife of Ned Mackay. I guess I was expecting someone who resembled Ned, but where Ned had been short, Elma was tall, probably as tall as Ned; where Ned had been stocky Elma was slender—too slender to have borne three children; and where Ned had been tending toward baldness Elma had short but very red hair. She must have been a beauty when she was younger—she was still a beauty. She wore a blouse and a skirt; both had some green in them. They weren't clothes of mourning.

  She invited us in with a quick smile, shook my hand at Arrow's introduction and said to me, "Don't mind the mess. I didn't have time to pick up."

  I didn't see a mess, especially compared to my place. I said, "I'm so sorry about Ned. He was very helpful to me."

  "Yes, you were with him when he died, weren't you. I would like to ask you some questions. But first, my condolences on your father's illness. Richard is a very dear friend. Dionysus can survive without Ned, but it can't survive without both Ned and Richard."

  Elma had us sit down in the living room. The large corner windows overlooked the ocean, or at least a small slice of ocean, between the houses in front of us.

  Elma offered us coffee or tea; I chose herb tea. Arrow took coffee. No children were in evidence. She told us she was planning for Ned's funeral service on Tuesday. She spoke with what must be a Scottish lilt, but it was barely detectable. When I apologized for interrupting her she said that the plans were pretty well set. His body had been returned to Los Angeles so there would be a casket.

  In turn, I told her what I knew about Ned's death, including what Pat Wong's uncle had said about him being set up with the cocaine.

  "Ned was a lot of things, but he wasn't a drug dealer," Elma said, vehemently. "The police searched the house from top to bottom and found not a trace. Not a trace!"

  She showed some of the fire that must have kept the police
from running wild through the house. She appeared to be ready to handle questions about the future of Dionysus.

  I said, "Elma, you and Richard together now own a majority of the stock of Dionysus."

  Elma looked at me with her green eyes, fully alert, but she didn't say anything.

  "This means you two control the company."

  "I know what it means," she said, softly.

  Based on Arrow's description of her financial acumen, I hadn't been sure. And I wasn't sure how to proceed. I said, "Have you heard of a man named James Buchanan?"

  Again she stared at me, not saying anything. I thought I'd drawn a blank. This was encouraging because it meant that Buchanan hadn't contacted her. But slowly her expression changed, from alertness to something incomprehensible. She said, "What does James Buchanan have to do with this?"

  "He wants to gain control of Dionysus," Arrow said.

  "How do you know?" Elma still spoke softly, but with intensity.

  "He is head of a company that invests in other companies," I said. "Sometimes he is content to be a minority stockholder; in other cases he takes control. He has been buying the stock of Dionysus. We know because he has to file reports with the SEC—the Securities and Exchange Commission. And because he told us."

  "We think he wants to get control of Dionysus," Arrow said, "so that he can replace Richard."

  Elma didn't say anything for a while. She appeared to be far away. After a full minute had gone by, she asked, "What does James look like now?"

  This question caught both Arrow and me by surprise. We exchanged glances. Finally, Arrow said, "He has gray hair, but he still looks youthful. He has a zest for life."

  "James always had a zest for life. Maybe too much so."

  "So you know him," I said.

  "I...knew him. Many years ago." Again Elma appeared to be somewhere else, but then she snapped back to the present. "So you think James is likely to contact me?"

  "We think so," Arrow said. "If he can convince you to vote your stock for him, that's his best chance for gaining control of Dionysus."