“ ‘Tell them, Father,’ ” Roxanne quoted. “ ‘Tell them.’ She was begging my grandfather to confess!”
“He knew Walter Schick was the best man for the job,” I said, “but he felt he couldn’t install him as President of the Network unless there was a clear indication to the stockholders that it really was the best thing for the Network.
“And your mother wanted it so bad. Your grandfather had failed your mother, or at least they both felt he had. It was a way to make it up to her.”
Roxanne laughed, bitterly. “He made it up to her all right. He destroyed her, he destroyed my father, he destroyed everything, even his own Network!”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I did a lot of talking for effect tonight. I think the Network can bounce back. You can bet this won’t happen again. It was only a kind of perverted miracle it happened in the first place.”
“But ... what are you going to do? You’re not just going to let him get away with it?”
“Of course not. But I’ve already done what I can do. The rest is up to you.”
She was startled. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I told your grandfather and Falzet what I’ve figured out. To get them thinking. But I’ve got no proof. There can’t be any proof unless your mother talks, and that’s not likely.
“So I made your grandfather a promise. I happen to own twenty-seven shares of Network common stock. I promised him that if I wasn’t satisfied that things had been set right by the time of the stockholders’ meeting next month, I was going to exercise my rights as a stockholder and ask some very embarrassing questions from the floor. And I made sure Falzet got the point.”
“You want to make him resign,” she said.
“Right, take his Network away from him. It’s the only punishment he would understand.”
“But what if he doesn’t go along?”
“Then the fight really starts, only you have to do it. You own a big block of stock—I think second only to the Chairman of the Board himself, with your mother and father incompetent to exercise rights of ownership—I don’t know the law.
“Now, Falzet owns a big chunk, too, and when the numbness wears off, he’ll realize how badly he was shafted, and will howl for blood. You team up with him, and force the old man out. If it comes to that.”
“But if it wasn’t for Falzet, my father would have been President long ago, and my mother would never have—”
I cut her off. “Falzet played by the rules, Rox. I don’t like him, but he’s a good businessman, and he’s reasonably honest.”
Roxanne accepted it, grimly. “Okay, as long as my grandfather suffers for what he did to my father. That hypocrite. He was the worst of all.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think it was Devlin. He was motivated solely by greed. He exploited, and finally killed his friend Carlson, for money. He used that poor Gayle Spencer, God knows what she’s in for now, and he drove your mother off the deep end. All for money.
“But it’s a funny thing. Except for Devlin, everybody in this case was motivated by the same thing—”
Spot barked as the phone rang. Before I picked up the phone I said, “That’ll be Falzet.”
That’s who it was. After we said hello, he said, “Cobb, I want you to know that I may have been a bit hasty in firing you ...”
“Get to the point,” I told him, “it’s late.”
He harumphed. “Very well. As you know, I’ve been conferring with Mr. Hewlen ever since you left, and ... well, he’s come to a decision.”
“Care to tell me what it is?”
“Certainly, that’s why I called you. Anyway, Mr. Hewlen has given me a letter of resignation, which he wants me to present to the Board of Directors at a special session tomorrow.”
“Why can’t he give it to them in person?”
“Mr. Hewlen is leaving tomorrow on a cruise on his yacht. He said he plans to be gone the rest of this year, possibly longer.”
“Do you know the name of that yacht, Falzet?”
“It’s called Cynthia, I believe.” What a cold fish. He might have been telling me what was on ABC that was giving us rating trouble.
“He’s going to kill himself,” I said. “He’s going to sail that boat to the middle of the ocean and jump off.”
Falzet wasn’t hearing things like that. “One of Mr. Hewlen’s last official acts,” he went on, “was to tell me to appoint you full Vice-President in charge of Special Projects. McFeeley has written to say that he doesn’t intend to return to the Network after all.”
“Did you talk the old man into killing himself, Falzet?”
“Of course not! The very idea makes me nauseous.”
“The correct word,” I told him, “is nauseated.”
“What about the offer, Cobb?”
“I’ll let you know.” I hung up on him.
Roxanne said, “Do you really think he’s going to kill himself, Cobb?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“Is that what you had in mind when you told him what you knew?”
“I thought it was a possibility. Does the idea bother you?”
It sure as hell bothered me; even though the man had calmly advised me to keep quiet about the case so his crazy daughter could have another crack at killing me, it still bothered me.
Evidently, Roxanne was tougher than I was. Instead of answering the question, she said, “You were saying something about everyone but Devlin acting for the same reason. What was it?”
“Oh, that,” I said. “Love. Love. Your mother committed fraud and murder because she loved your father. Mr. Hewlen sold the Network—the Network he built with his own hands—down the river because he wanted to prove he loved your mother. Carlson gimmicked the computer because he still loved Monica”—I felt a twinge at that—“Hell, even Goldfarb started his crime career because he loves his mother.”
“What about you, Cobb?” Roxanne asked.
“Me?” I laughed. “I did what I did, because, God help me, I love the Network.”
We were silent for a long time. Then, as though there’d never been a pause in the conversation, Roxanne said, “Who loves me, Cobb? When the hell do I get somebody to love me?”
“Rox,” I said, “tell you what. You go dry off and freshen up, and Spot and I will make a big pot of hot chocolate, and when you come back, I’ll see if I can’t answer your question. Okay?”
“Okay, Cobb,” she said, smiling.
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Killed in the Ratings Page 21
