Elementary, My Dear Watkins

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Next, Danny had Luc bring out more raw meat and stack it artfully on a tray near the grill. Focusing was tricky, but by playing with the camera settings to increase the depth of field, he was finally able to focus sharply on the bright red meat in the foreground while still depicting the man at his grill in the background. There was something almost obscene about the meat and its gristly, bleeding abundance that would juxtapose well against shots of starving children in Africa.

  When Danny was finished, he was surprised to see that Mr. Bashiri had fallen asleep. Watching the man there with his head tilted back against the lawn chair, his mouth slightly agape, Danny felt a surge of sadness for him. This great man could not keep up the pace of his youth. Soon, perhaps, he would have to give up these sorts of photographic assignments completely.

  “I guess we can load the car first and then wake him up,” Danny said, gesturing toward Mr. Bashiri.

  Luc nodded, apparently lost in thought as they disassembled the flash units, light stands, reflectors, and other equipment and carried it all out to the van.

  “I think that went well,” Danny said to Luc as they reached the vehicle. “Long day, but we got a lot of good stuff.”

  “Oui.”

  Luc seemed oddly preoccupied, and as they walked back to awaken Mr. Bashiri, Danny asked his friend if he was okay.

  “Sorry. There is much weighing on my mind. Nothing to do with any of this.”

  “You got a lot of phone calls today. Is everything okay back home?”

  “Oui. I just have some thinking to do.”

  They woke up Mr. Bashiri and thanked the doctor for his time and hospitality before getting underway.

  “Can I ask you a personal question, Danny?” Luc asked as he pulled onto the main road and sped up. He was obviously starting to feel more chatty.

  “Sure.”

  “This Jo person that you so love and hope to marry, have you met your future in-laws? The extended family?”

  “Wow, that’s out of left field.”

  “Eh, I only ask because I am thinking of a young woman I know. We might have become serious once, but her family was too difficult for me.”

  “Well, to tell the truth, Jo’s parents would not be my first choice for in-laws. They’re very cold and uncaring people. Self-centered. The flip side is at least they won’t bother us much. As it is now, Jo only sees them a few times a year. I can deal with that.”

  “Just remember,” Mr. Bashiri said, wagging a gnarled finger, “when you marry a woman, you marry her family as well.”

  Mr. Bashiri had never mentioned a wife, and Danny wondered if he spoke from experience.

  “Actually, Jo will probably have a much harder time with my family because they’ll be around a lot and sticking their noses into everything. They’re nice and all, but I’ve got three sisters, and from the way they act, sometimes you’d think I have three extra mothers.”

  “Three sisters?” Mr. Bashiri laughed. “Growing up with sisters will teach a man much about the female mind. Other women sense this and are drawn to it, like the lion is to the gazelle.”

  “Don’t lions devour gazelles?”

  “Yes, I suppose they do. Okay, then like the gazelle is drawn to the watering hole. This is how women are drawn to Danny.”

  Luc laughed as well.

  “You see, Danny?” Luc said. “Women flock to you wherever you go, even if you are oblivious to it. Why not forget about this girl back home and sample the delights of Europe instead? Mr. Bashiri, tell him that he needs to loosen up a bit.”

  Mr. Bashiri was quiet for a long moment, as the light mood of the moment seemed to dissipate into the air.

  “When a man finds his true love,” he said slowly, “he should hold on to her with every fiber of his being. No price is too high for the right woman.”

  After that, all three men were silent on the ride back to the city, each lost in his own thoughts.

  Jo felt like a puppet.

  As they sat in her grandmother’s office and discussed the legalities and stipulations of the trust, all Jo could think about was how easily she had allowed herself to be manipulated. It was bad enough that her parents had paid Bradford to make her fall in love with him. Worse yet was that she had stepped right into their trap, convincing herself that she loved Bradford in return and that the two of them were going to live some sort of fairy-tale life together. Truly, for the first time since the failed wedding, Jo was realizing how utterly foolish she had been. Desperate for normalcy and companionship and romance, she had allowed herself to be swept up into an incredible deception. All through that time, as the wedding date had drawn closer and closer, the only voice of reason in her ear had been Danny’s. His influence on her at that time had been merely as a friend, and essentially Jo had cut him out of her life. When she thought of how she’d ignored his advice, resisted his warnings, and finally told him to butt out of her business, she felt a deep flash of shame.

  Thank You, God, for Bradford’s last-minute exit, as it saved me from a lifetime with the wrong man!

  Now that she knew about the terms of the trust, Jo wished she could believe that her parents had done what they had done for her own protection, to ensure her inheritance for her sake. But she knew that wasn’t what had motivated them.

  They had done what they’d done so that they could protect themselves. With Jo married, Eleanor’s death would have meant an even split of stock shares down both sides of the family. Jo had no interest in running the company and would have gladly given her proxy over to her father to do with as he saw best. And that would have given Kent the control and the profits he coveted.

  The simple truth, Jo realized now, was that her parents had played with her life like a pair of puppet masters, trading off her future and happiness for the sake of their own money and power. That’s what life had always been about for her parents: money and power. It was no wonder she had chosen to turn her back on both, live a simple life, and eschew all of the riches she had always assumed would eventually be dumped in her lap. Now that she knew there was a condition in the trust that could prevent her from inheriting those riches, she was almost relieved.

  Of course, she was also a bit indignant about that one condition. A marriage clause, indeed. In this day and age she could hardly believe something like that could be legal and binding. Still, here she sat with her grandmother’s lawyer, learning what would be involved if she desired to fight the terms of the trust in court. Sidney’s opinion was that although there was a possibility she could win, she’d be more likely to lose, especially because the courts usually favored privately held companies over individuals. Sidney said that the marriage clause might be outdated and sexist, but it wasn’t illegal, and her chances of winning would be slim indeed.

  “Well, I hate to break it to all of you,” Jo said finally, “but as indignant as that clause makes me feel on a personal level, I have no intention of fighting it in court. You guys don’t seem to understand. I don’t want more shares in Bosworth Industries. I don’t need the money, and frankly, in a way, it’s a relief not to get it. Ian can have it all for all I care.”

  She didn’t add that if her relationship with Danny progressed as she hoped it would, they would get married in a year or so anyway, and the whole point would be moot because her grandmother certainly seemed healthy and would probably still be around a lot longer than that.

  “Let Ian have it?” Kent said. “I didn’t slave for this company my entire adult life just to be superseded by a spoiled, rich playboy.”

  Feeling a surge of bravery, Jo responded in kind.

  “And I didn’t get heartlessly dragged all over the world my entire childhood just to grow up to be manipulated into a fake marriage by people who call themselves my parents but obviously care more about their own interests than they do about me!”

  “Now, now,” Eleanor said, holding up her hands like a referee at a boxing match. “Let’s not get out of line. Jo, you have every right to be angry with your p
arents—and in the long run you may decide it’s simplest just to leave the trust unchallenged. But let’s not forget the main reason we’re all here now. Someone wants you dead.”

  “Dead?” Kent asked, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck. Sidney also looked shocked.

  “Someone tried to kill Jo last night,” Eleanor said simply. “Bradford warned her that her life was in danger and that it had something to do with Bosworth Industries.”

  “Then, sure enough, someone tried to push me in front of a train, and Bradford nearly died protecting me,” Jo added, looking at her father. “He’s in the hospital now, in intensive care.”

  Kent seemed genuinely shocked and upset as Jo told the whole story, from the moment Bradford showed up with roses at the Marriott to the instant he was hit by the train at Grand Central Station.

  “He told me that something big is going on at Bosworth and that I’m ‘in the way,’” she repeated. “So does someone want to tell me what that big thing is that’s going on and how on earth it has anything to do with me?”

  The others were silent for a long moment as Jo’s question hung in the air.

  “There is something big going on,” Kent said finally. “Probably the biggest thing to come along in quite a while.”

  “What is it?”

  Kent hesitated before speaking.

  “The specifics are unimportant, Jo, but to put it simply, one of our subsidiaries is at a major crossroads. There are two directions we can go with something, and I feel very strongly about which direction that should be. Unfortunately, your Uncle Neil is taking the opposite stand. He’s even been trying to rally the board of directors against me. In the last few weeks, I’ve spent much of my time feeling like a politician, trying to soothe people, sway them back, and defend my agenda. It’s not a simple matter. The right choice could have major financial benefits for all of us. Conversely, the wrong decision here could…well, it could cause serious financial ramifications. And I do mean serious. Unfortunately, Neil and I have not been able to see eye to eye. I believe the direction he wants to go in could be a disaster, and he feels the same about mine. We’re at a stalemate right now.”

  “You’ve got controlling interest, Gran,” Jo said. “Where exactly do you stand?”

  Eleanor glanced at Kent, who answered for her.

  “Your grandmother has chosen to remain neutral in this issue. Frankly, as the CEO, I respect her decision to stay out of it and let me run the company as I see fit. That’s how business has always been done at Bosworth.”

  Jo didn’t care. Corporate maneuverings of any kind were about as exciting to her as watching paint dry. Actually, watching paint dry was preferable. She focused on the part of all of this that was relevant to her.

  “Again, what does any of that have to do with me? How is it that I’m in the way?”

  They all fell silent, lost in thought. The longer no one spoke, the more concerned Jo became. She had expected this to be a no-brainer, that they would be able to tell her exactly what Bradford had been talking about as soon as they heard what had happened. Instead, they all looked completely stumped, as if they had no idea how or why Jo was in danger.

  “It could be related to the trust,” Sidney ventured, “and how it distributes the shares. I mean, if Jo were killed and then Eleanor died or became incapacitated, Ian would get the bulk of the shares, putting him in the power seat. He would be able to break the stalemate between Kent and Neil by casting the deciding vote.”

  “Not that Ian gives one whit about the business,” Eleanor added, “but I feel certain that he would vote in line with his father’s opinion.”

  “Which would mean it was either Ian or Neil behind the attempt on Jo’s life,” Sidney concluded.

  Jo ran a hand through her hair, refusing to believe that either her cousin or her uncle could be so evil. Her father seemed to agree.

  “I’m sorry,” Kent said, shaking his head, “but that’s ridiculous. Neil may be a thorn in my side much of the time these days, but he’s not capable of murder. Even Ian, the waste of life that he’s turned out to be, couldn’t—wouldn’t—have done this.”

  “You bought a husband for your daughter, Kent,” Eleanor snapped. “I don’t think you’re in a position to talk about who is capable of what.”

  Jo took secret pleasure in seeing her father cut down to size on that one.

  “If the distribution of shares is the motive for murder here,” Kent said, pretending to ignore Gran’s remark despite the fact that his face had flushed bright red, “and we are assuming that somehow the confidential details of this trust have been leaked, then Neil and Ian aren’t your only suspects, by any means. The fact is that a number of high-ranking executives at Bosworth Industries would also be greatly impacted by how those shares are divided.” He looked at Jo. “I could name ten or fifteen people off the top of my head who are taking Neil’s side in this conflict and who would benefit greatly if he were to win. Are we really going to pursue the idea that one of them would want this badly enough to kill Jo for it? I’m not sure you could ever narrow down that many suspects to find the one responsible.”

  Jo’s head was spinning, and she wasn’t sure she even understood the complex situation in its entirety.

  “There’s something I don’t get,” she said, shaking her head. “Right now, I’m not married. So why is there a target on my back at all? If this theory is correct, shouldn’t Gran be the one who’s in danger? I mean, I hate to say it, but if she died right now, because I’m not married Ian would get my shares, right? So why try to kill me? Why not just go straight for her? It’s not like I’m in a gown, carrying a bouquet. I may not be married for another year, at least.”

  Sidney reached for the copy of the trust that Jo’s grandmother had been reading from earlier. He ran a finger down the text, reading, until he came to a paragraph below the one with the marriage clause.

  “This is why,” he said simply. Then he began reading right where Eleanor had left off. “‘In the case of unmarried females, shares will revert to the Bosworth Charitable Trust. Dividends on those shares will go to the unmarried female for the period of her lifetime, after which dividends will be paid to the trust.’”

  He looked at Jo, but she shook her head. “Can you translate that for me?”

  “Of course. What we’re talking about are three different scenarios. First would be if you got married and then your grandmother died. In that case, you and Ian would receive equal shares.”

  “Which is why my parents tried to buy Bradford for me.”

  “Correct. The second scenario would be if you were still single and your grandmother died. In that situation, Ian would still only get half of the shares. According to the provisions of the trust, the other half would go into a charitable trust which would pay dividends to you for your lifetime. Upon your death, the dividends would then pay into the trust.”

  Jo thought about that.

  “So I would still get the money from the shares. I just wouldn’t have any control or ownership of the company?”

  “Exactly. Your grandfather wasn’t trying to give the short end of the stick to the unmarried females in the family. He was still providing them with an income, just not any control to go along with it.”

  “Well, that’s not so bad,” Jo said, feeling somewhat consoled about the unmarried female clause. She’d love knowing her shares went into a charitable trust, especially one that was well-funded enough to do some really good work. “That wouldn’t bother me at all.”

  “But there’s a third scenario here,” Sidney said. “And this is the one that I think has put your life in danger. If you were to die first and then your grandmother died, Ian would get his shares plus yours since he would be the only surviving grandchild. That’s what I’m talking about when I say he would end up with controlling interest. You’d have to be dead first in order for that to happen.”

  Jo thought about that and then looked at her grandmother.

  “Th
en it’s a good thing you got me a bodyguard,” Jo said grimly. “But if somebody does succeed in killing me, you’d better make sure you get one for yourself next.”

  Back in Zurich, the three men finally checked into their hotel, which was conveniently located but otherwise quite modest. Danny and Luc were given a simple room with two single beds and a shared bathroom down the hall. At least Mr. Bashiri had a private bathroom, though neither room had a telephone or television.

  They agreed to meet in the lobby in exactly two hours, and Danny was glad to learn that Luc had a few errands to run in the meantime. That would give Danny the room to himself for a while, which would be a welcome relief. Mr. Bashiri still looked very tired, and Danny suggested he squeeze in a nap before the evening’s festivities.

  Upstairs, Danny shut his own door and took a deep breath, relishing the silence. Used to living alone, all the togetherness in the last 24 hours had been a bit tiring for him. The room was stuffy, so he opened the window and pulled back the curtains. Cool air breezed in, fluttering the bottom of the gauzy fabric. Danny leaned on the windowsill and watched the traffic for a moment down below, glad he was a few peaceful stories up and above the fray.

  The view from there was nice, though not as good as what they’d had from the doctor’s balcony earlier in the day. This room faced away from the river, mostly looking out on other buildings. Down the street, he spotted Luc coming out of a bank, talking on his cell phone. Danny gave him a wave, but Luc’s eyes were trained straight ahead and he didn’t see Danny. Luc seemed wrapped up in the phone call anyway, his gestures choppy and almost angry. Finally, he stopped walking, hung up the phone, slipped it into his pocket, and turned toward another store.

  Danny recognized it as the visa expediter service where they had gone earlier in the day. As Luc pushed open the door to step inside, Danny wondered if the Frenchman had decided to ask out the bucktoothed girl after all.