'So how come you were staring into space all afternoon? Net Cop getting to you?' Daniel asked.
I took a long draught of the cool beer. 'That tastes good,' I said. 'No, it's not that.' I glanced at Daniel. 'Lisa's left me.'
'Oh, no! I'm sorry. Why did she do that? Did she find a one-eyed leper who was better looking?'
'Thanks, Daniel.'
'If she's free, so am I. I'd like to make some new friends. I've always liked her, you know. Have you got her new number?'
I ignored his comment, but I didn't mind Daniel's kidding, however offensive it was, and it could get pretty offensive. It eased the gloom a bit.
'She thinks I killed Frank.'
Daniel winced. 'Oooh. That could take some forgiving. I do hope she's wrong.'
'Yes, she's all wrong.'
'Oh, well that's all right then.'
'But the police seem to agree with her.'
'What, that nice Sergeant Malone who asked all those questions?'
'Mahoney. That's right. He says I had the opportunity and the motive. I was at Marsh House the afternoon Frank was murdered, and I inherit half his fortune. Or rather Lisa does.'
Daniel frowned. 'That all sounds a bit circumstantial, doesn't it? Did they find the gun?'
'No,' I said, keeping my promise to myself not to tell anyone about Lisa's discovery.
'Pity.'
'Why do you say that?'
'If they found the gun in the middle of South Boston or somewhere, it would suggest that you weren't the guy who used it.'
'That's true.' For a moment I wished that Lisa hadn't thrown it away. Then I could have hidden it conveniently in Art's garage. But the moment passed. That would probably just have got me in deeper trouble.
There was one question I needed to ask Daniel. 'Did you tell Mahoney we were talking about how wealthy Frank was just before he died?'
Daniel winced. 'Yeah, I did. Sorry. But he did ask whether we'd had a conversation like that, and I had to tell him the truth. Did it get you in trouble?'
I sighed. 'Not really. I think Mahoney was pretty convinced anyway. It'll just give him some more ammunition.'
'Sorry, Simon. I didn't realize. He was asking all these bullshit questions, and I never imagined you as a suspect. At least not then.'
'Don't worry.' I sipped my beer. 'But what interests me is, if I didn't kill Frank, who did?'
'Good question,' said Daniel. 'All I know is it wasn't me. I was in New York.'
'No need to be so smug about it. What's the office gossip? I don't seem to hear any of it any more.'
'People usually steer clear of the subject. It's like it was in bad taste or something. And Gil did say he didn't want us suspecting each other.'
'And when they don't steer clear of the subject?'
Daniel gulped his beer. 'There's one name that comes up quite consistently.'
'Mine?'
Daniel nodded.
'But people can't really think I murdered Frank?'
'I don't think they do. Which leaves us kind of stuck.'
'What about Art?'
Daniel thought for a moment. 'Not a bad choice for second favourite. He hated Frank, although he was always polite to him. But where was he when Frank was killed?'
'I don't know,' I said. 'Mahoney won't tell me anything. And I could scarcely ask Art himself.'
'You could ask his wife. You know how much she likes you. You charmed the panties off her at last year's Christmas party.'
'Oh yes. I just ring her up and say, "Hello, Mrs Altschule. I just want to check whether your husband murdered my father-in-law. Do you know where he was on Saturday the whatever-it-was of October?"'
'Hm,' said Daniel. 'I see your problem.'
'You've worked with Art more than I have. Do you know much about his background?' Daniel was curious to the point of being nosy. I was sure he had picked up much more about the people at Revere than I had, even though we had both been in the firm the same length of time.
'He's known Gil a long time. I think they were at school together.'
'Harvard?'
'Yeah. After that they both went to Vietnam. Gil was in a regular army unit, and Art was in the Marines. I think Art saw some pretty hairy action, and Gil had a relatively quiet time of it.'
'I've heard about the Marines,' I said. Art loved to refer to the service.
'Yes. But he never talks specifically about what happened there. Even when I asked him.'
'I can understand that,' I said. There were one or two things in my own short military career I would rather not discuss.
'I guess so,' said Daniel. 'But it was still kind of strange. You know how Art likes to brag about stuff. I'd have expected a couple of stories about how he took out three gook villages single-handed.'
'I see what you mean.'
'Anyway, after Vietnam he got an MBA, and then worked for Digital Equipment in Maynard. Eventually he left there and started some company selling mini-computers. According to him, it did brilliantly well. Although I'm not so sure.'
'Really, why not? Whenever I've heard him talk about it, it sounded like it was the biggest thing since Compaq.'
'He sold the company for something like twelve million bucks to ICX Computers. But once ICX got in there they found they had bought a can of worms. The accounts were rotten. ICX hit Art and his partner for ten million under the warranties they had given to ICX when they had sold out. Art's partner killed himself. Dark days.'
'Jesus.'
'The story is that Art didn't know anything about it. And I can kind of believe that. There's quite a lot Art doesn't know. Then Art's old buddy Gil started up a VC firm, and asked Art to join him. Art arrived a few months before Frank, I think. Then he had several years mediocre investing until he lucked out on BioOne.'
'Sounds like he and Frank were destined to clash.'
'I'd say it was unavoidable,' said Daniel.
We drank our beer. I thought through other possibilities. 'Gil?' I suggested.
'I don't think so,' said Daniel. 'He's so straight. And they were friends.'
'Besides, why would he do it?'
'No reason I can think of.' Daniel sipped his beer thoughtfully. 'But what about Diane?'
'Diane?' I said. 'Why would she want to kill Frank?'
'I don't know. She seems charming on the surface. But she's cunning. Devious. A skilful political animal.'
'Where did you get that idea?'
'Charlie Dyzart from B-school went to Barnes McLintock. He told me a bit about her.'
'Like what?'
'She was a very good management consultant. She became one of the youngest partners at Barnes McLintock. Certainly the youngest female partner. But she left some collateral damage in her wake.'
'What happened?'
'It seems her boss advised Pan United Airlines to change their image to appear more international and less American. They lost a quarter of their passengers within six months. They tried to sue Barnes McLintock. Diane somehow persuaded Pan United that she had always thought it was a bad idea, and she came up with some smart ways to fix the problem. Barnes McLintock didn't get sued, they kept the client, her boss got fired, and she got promoted. Charlie said the guy didn't stand a chance once Diane had him in her sights.'
'I see.' I remembered Frank had said something about how Diane had broken up a marriage at Barnes McLintock. It was something I had tried to forget. 'She didn't have an affair with him, did she?'
Daniel laughed. 'No, but there was something with an associate,' Charlie said. 'A young guy. Married. He walked out on his wife and left the firm. Then she dropped him a few months later. Everyone knew about it.'
'Hmm.'
Daniel looked at me curiously. 'You'd better watch yourself with Diane, Simon.'
'Oh, come on, Daniel. There's nothing between us. I like her. I respect her. She's a good venture capitalist.'
'She's after you.'
The trouble with Daniel was you could never tell whether he was jo
king or being serious. But either way I knew he was right.
'I still don't think Diane would kill anyone,' I said. 'That goes way beyond political scheming. No, I think Art is our best bet.'
Daniel allowed the subject to be changed. 'There is one interesting thing about Art,' he said.
'What's that?'
'I think he used to be an alcoholic.'
'I've never seen him drink,' I said.
'Precisely,' said Daniel. 'And he doesn't act like the temperance type. In fact he seems more like the hard-drinking type to me.'
'You mean he must have given up?'
'Absolutely. Maybe Vietnam had something to do with it.'
'It must have been horrible.' Nothing in my military experience came close, certainly not Northern Ireland. 'But Art being a former alcoholic doesn't prove anything.'
'Except I think he might be back on the booze.'
'Have you seen him drunk?'
'No, but he's called in sick unexpectedly three times in the last three weeks. I know because I had to cover for him. And on Tuesday morning I could swear he smelled of whisky.'
'That's not good. Do you think some recent event might have started him off again?'
'It's a theory,' said Daniel. 'But it's nowhere near as convincing as the theory that you did it.'
'Great,' I said, and drained my beer.
An hour or so later, we left Pete's, mellow but not drunk. The nights were beginning to get cold. Daniel had his raincoat, but I was wearing just my suit. I hunched my shoulders and pushed my hands deep into my pockets. It was late, and it was quiet in the heart of the Financial District.
Two big men in jeans approached us along the narrow sidewalk. We paused to let them pass by. But they didn't pass by. Their eyes locked on Daniel and me.
I heard rapid footsteps behind us. Too late I pulled my hands out of my pockets, too late to prevent a heavy blow to my stomach. The air burst out of my diaphragm, and I doubled up, gasping. Two more punches followed, and I slumped backwards against the wall.
They bundled Daniel into an alleyway. In front of me stood a big hard man, his fists clenched. Daniel was suffering, I heard the blows coming thick and fast. He cried out. My head slowly cleared. The man in front of me was watching me closely, his fists ready to strike again. I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to slump downwards, letting my weight fall on to my right leg. Then I spun round, and thrust my fist upwards with all my strength into the man's face. The blow caught him on the side of the head, and sent him stumbling. I hit him a couple more times, and he staggered backwards into the street.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the other two leave Daniel, and move towards me. I turned to face them.
Then one of them muttered something in a foreign language that sounded like Russian, and they backed off.
'Jesus, Daniel, are you OK?' I crouched over him. He was conscious but groaning.
'No,' he muttered between his teeth.
'Here, I'll call an ambulance.'
Daniel sat up. 'No, don't do that. I think I am OK. It just hurts.'
'Where?'
'Everywhere. But I don't think anything's broken. My arm hurts like hell. Get me a taxi, Simon. I'll go home.'
His face was a mess. His nose was bleeding, and so was his lip, and he had a huge red mark on one cheek. I picked him up and half-carried him to a busier street. We waited a couple of minutes for a taxi, and after I had assured the driver there was no chance of us getting any blood on the upholstery, I gently placed Daniel in the back seat.
'Here, I'll go with you,' I said, climbing in with him.
'You're a great guy to be out in Boston at night with,' said Daniel, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose with his hand.
'They didn't know who we were, did they?'
'Didn't they?' said Daniel. 'Did they steal anything? I've still got my wallet, I think.' He patted his pocket to make sure.
I checked mine. It was still there.
The thought that people I didn't know might want to beat me up bothered me. But Daniel was right. They hadn't taken anything.
'Did you hear them at the end?' I said. 'One of them was speaking a foreign language. Russian I think.'
'No,' Daniel said. 'I was out of it.' He groaned and rubbed his ribs. 'This hurts.'
'What would a bunch of Russians want with me?' I said.
'Face it,' said Daniel. 'Nobody likes you.'
16
The sun rose cold and clear the next day as I walked into work. The leaves of the trees on the Common were at the peak of their colour: oranges, yellows and browns. The previous autumn, Lisa and I had spent as much time as we could outside Boston, in the back roads of New England, amongst the extraordinary foliage. But not this year. This year, the leaves would fall unremarked. The cold greyness of a Boston winter was close.
My body still ached from the blows it had received. Why would some Russian thugs want to beat me up? Daylight and a clearer head didn't help answer the question.
If they'd beaten me up once, they could do it again. I'd have to be careful. No more walking down dark alleys half-drunk. But if someone wanted to get me, they'd find a way, however careful I was. A depressing thought.
I left the open spaces of the Common, and made my way through clogged streets downtown. I was walking past the Meridien Hotel with its line of red awnings over the ground floor windows, when I saw Diane coming the other way. She crossed the road at the junction, and disappeared into the entrance. I wasn't surprised; it was the favourite breakfast haunt for downtown venture capitalists. Then, as I reached the junction myself, I saw the diminutive figure of Lynette Mauer, clutching a Wall Street Journal and a briefcase. I turned, walked up the street for a few yards so she wouldn't see me, and watched. She too headed for the entrance of the Meridien.
Interesting. Of course it might just be a coincidence, Diane and Lynette Mauer could both be having breakfast with different people at the same time at the same place. Or, they could be having breakfast together.
I arrived at work before Daniel. When he made his entrance, I saw the bruises on his face had flourished. A black eye had materialized from somewhere, his cheek shone purple and red, and his bottom lip had a nasty black-red scab.
'Very attractive,' I said.
'Thank you.'
'Jesus! What happened to you?' exclaimed John.
'Some guys tried to beat up Simon. I got in the way,' said Daniel.
'You don't know they were after me,' I protested.
Daniel just scowled at me.
'Did they get you too?' John asked me.
I nodded. 'You just can't see the damage.'
'Superman here held them off, while I got the shit kicked out of me,' Daniel grumbled.
'Why did they want to beat you up?' John asked me.
'I wish I knew,' I muttered.
Work had to be dealt with. No matter what happened to me, it was always there, piling up. I went to see Diane with some analysis I had prepared on Tetracom's competition. I had done a good job. It clearly impressed her.
Just as I was about to leave her office, I paused. 'Oh, I think I saw Lynette Mauer this morning going into the Meridien. She didn't see me.'
'Oh, yes?' said Diane neutrally.
'You didn't see me either, I don't think.'
Diane smiled. 'OK, you caught me. Actually I did see you, but I didn't want to delay you on your way to work. I know you're an important guy and you have big deals to do.'
'Yeah, right. So what were you and Mauer talking about?'
'Oh, women's things. You wouldn't understand.' Diane's smile broadened.
I raised my eyebrows.
'Mind your own business, Simon,' she said. 'You'll find out soon, I hope.'
'Sounds intriguing.'
'Let's just say someone had to take the initiative around here. Now, see what you can find on Pacific Filtertek. I'm a bit worried about how fast their market share is growing.'
'Certainly, Madam,' I said i
n my best butler-speak, and withdrew.
Back at my desk, I checked Yahoo Finance on my computer for BioOne's stock price.
John saw what I was doing. 'Forty-eight and five-eighths. Down an eighth, going nowhere,' he said.
I looked up. The previous night I had asked Daniel about Frank's murder. Now seemed like a good time to ask John.
'John?'
'Yeah?'
'Who do you think killed Frank?'
He looked at me sharply, surprised by the question. 'I don't know. I haven't thought about it much, I guess.'
'You must have some opinion.'
He looked uncomfortable. 'Not really.'
'What about me?' I pushed him.
He took a deep breath. 'It did cross my mind when the police asked all those questions about you. But it didn't make sense to me when I thought about it. To tell you the truth, Simon, the whole subject is something I'd rather not think about.' He swallowed. 'I liked Frank. We did a lot of work together. I just can't believe . . . ' He paused. 'He was a good guy, you know. A great guy. He wasn't just a good venture capitalist. He was a great person. Kind, generous, smart, honourable. But you know all that. I'm going to miss him.' He tailed off.
I was a little surprised by his emotional reaction to my questions. But I had been thinking about Frank's death too much in terms of what it meant to me and Lisa. There was genuine sadness at Revere that I was in danger of ignoring. I decided not to push him any further.
'The police said that Frank phoned you the day he died?'
'That's right.'
'What about?'
For a moment John looked confused. 'Oh . . . a deal we were working on.'
'What was that?'
'Um . . . Smart Toys, I think it was. Yes, that's right. He called me asking for some information. I had the papers at home. When I called him back a bit later, there was no reply. We all know why, now.'
Frank must have called John just after I had left. I tried to remember if I had seen any sign that Frank was working on a deal. I couldn't, but that didn't mean anything. 'Did he say anything about my visit?'
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