Aces and Knaves

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."

Buchanan laughed and nodded approvingly. "Good reaction. Straight from the book. You'll go far in the business world, Arrow. However, when you've been around as long as I have, you'll realize that in spite of an army of bureaucrats from government agencies breathing down our necks we beleaguered business people still make employment and promotion decisions based on more than pure unadulterated ability, mixed with a generous dose of affirmative action."

Arrow looked as if she might say something, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, regarding Buchanan with her dark eyes. I suppressed a smile.

Buchanan continued, "As you may have noticed, I, myself prefer to employ good looking young men as my assistants. They are racially mixed and all have their MBAs, but some of them have other traits I appreciate, as well. But enough of that. Where did you get the name Arrow?"

Arrow had recovered her poise. She said, "My mother was an Olympic archer. I guess she hoped she would hit a bull’s-eye with me, just as she does with her other arrows."

"I think she succeeded." James took a sip of his drink and looked at me. "What is it that brings you up here…again…so soon?"

"Police investigation," I said. "They wanted to ask me additional questions about Ned and where I was that night before I arrived here. Arrow came along to protect the good name of Dionysus."

"There's more," Arrow said. "We know you're trying to get control of Dionysus."

Arrow's candor surprised me and Buchanan raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled and said, "So you were sent here by Richard."

"Richard doesn't know we're here," Arrow said.

Buchanan looked as if he didn't believe her. He said, "I consider Dionysus stock to be a good investment, especially at its current price. My company, Tartan, invests in a lot of good companies. Just because we're buying Dionysus stock doesn't mean we're planning a takeover."

He was trying to disarm us. I said, "Why are you buying the stock if you think Richard is doing a bad job?"

"Who told you that?"

Richard had told us that. I decided I was in over my head and didn't say anything. An awkward silence followed. I glanced at Arrow. She gave me a look that said she wanted to hear his answer. I forced myself to be quiet.

Buchanan finally broke the silence by saying, "Richard is very good at doing certain things. He's a visionary, an entrepreneur. He can picture a new product and its market, get financial backing, start a company and grow it rapidly. But at a certain point in the life of every company different skills are needed in a CEO. The ability to run it on a day-to-day basis. Some entrepreneurial types aren't good at that."

"And you think that Richard is one of them?" Arrow asked.

"The next few years are key for Dionysus. Competition is catching up to them. Can they continue to be a leader in their field? Do they have the right management? These are questions that any investor, like myself, has to ask."

That didn't exactly answer my question. "Do you think Ned would have been better for the job?" I asked.

"Ned had more of the temperament of an administrator than Richard."

"And since you had worked with Ned before, you knew him better and felt more comfortable with him."

The corners of James' eyes crinkled in a hint of a smile and he said, "You've been doing your homework, haven't you?"

"You're a very successful, man, Mr. Buchanan…er, James," I said. "You've made a lot of money. What drives you to keep going, to keep making investments?"

"My fellow shareholders, for one thing."

"But as you yourself suggested, there comes a time to turn the management over to somebody else."

"You haven't told me what you do, Karl. I assumed you worked for Dionysus when I first met you. Since I now know you don’t I’m curious about you."

"I'm a baseball card dealer. I sell cards on the Internet."

"And you do this because…?"

"I love it. Since I was four all I've ever wanted to do was to collect and sell baseball cards."

"Are you going to build your business up to a certain point and then turn it over to somebody else to run?"

"Why would I do that? Then someone else would be having all the fun."

"Exactly. Someone else would be having all the fun. Someone else would be finding the perfect card. Someone else would be matching it with the perfect buyer, who has the same passion for it as you do and would give it a good home. In my case, someone else would be finding the perfect company, with the right product, the right management at the right time. Someone else would get the credit when it grows and adds to the value of the Tartan portfolio."

"I’m sure Richard feels the same way about being the CEO of Dionysus," Arrow said.

"I rather imagine he does," Buchanan said. "But there's more. There's the thrill of being able to do something better than anybody else; in fact, being able to do something that nobody else can do. Karl, what's the most valuable baseball card?"

"A T206 Honus Wagner," I said, without hesitation. "It came out in 1909. Only a few were produced, and of those there are only a handful in really good condition."

"How much is it worth?"

"One of the good ones sold recently on eBay for over a million dollars. The card is so famous that Wayne Gretzky, the hockey player, owned one at one time."

"How would you like to own one?"

"It would be a dream come true."

"Exactly. I'll tell you what. Keep your eyes open. If one of the good ones comes on the market let me know and we may be able to arrange it, together."

"I'm afraid it's a little out of my league." I said, although I noticed that saliva was coming into my mouth.

"You never know until you try. The offer stands. Well, I'm going to have to get back to my guests. What would you two like to do while you're here?"

"Ask you another question," I said. I had just remembered something that had vanished from my mind at the news of Ned's murder. James nodded, so I said, "The other night when we were trying to find Ned, between the time you called the restaurant and the police, you made another phone call, and it sounded like the person you talked to had seen Ned. I was wondering who you talked to."

James looked puzzled. He said, "I didn't make another call. You made a call to the hotel…"

"It was a call you made."

"I don't think so. Although at my age I sometimes forget what I did five minutes ago, let alone three days ago." He jumped up from his chair and said, "You two look hungry. Come on downstairs and try our Friday night buffet. Prepared by one of the best chefs in San Francisco. I think you'll like it."

He led the way to the door and opened it. As he waited for us to precede him through it, he said, "And if you want to do any gambling, Stan will get you some chips."