Final Venture

22

I was ten minutes late for the meeting. Everyone was as fresh as a daisy, except me. Diane treated me as though we hadn't been entwined on her sofa only a very few hours before.

I couldn't concentrate. I just wanted to get out of there and think. Once again I was following in my father's footsteps. I had meant my marriage vows when I had made them seven months before. Yet I had come very close to breaking them in less than a year.

The meeting ended at eleven to give the Tetracom people time to get to the airport for their flight back to Cincinnati. I didn't join Diane on the brief walk back to the office. Instead I headed for the Public Garden. I gave her no reason. I don't know what she thought.

It was a bright, brittle late-autumn day. A cool breeze brushed the trees, which tossed handfuls of yellow leaves to the ground in its wake. The sun was shining, but it scarcely warmed the air. Winter was not far off.

Had I really done anything wrong? Lisa had abandoned me to the police. She had rejected my support. She didn't deserve my loyalty. The marriage was over, she had implied that. Well, she could take the consequences if something did start between Diane and me.

I sat down on a bench by the lake, Boston's mini-Serpentine. Tufted ducks drifted through the fronds beneath the willow opposite me, cruising for breadcrumbs, while the upper floors of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel poked out above. I raised my face to the sun and closed my eyes.

I could feel my marriage slipping away. It wasn't surprising, it had happened to my parents, and to Lisa's, and to millions of people in Britain and America. I could quite easily let it slide: there was nothing to stop me sleeping with whomever I wished as often as I wished.

But what I really wanted was to get Lisa back. It would be difficult to do. I might receive no help from her, quite the opposite. I might have to swallow my pride, forgive her for walking out on me, forgive her for the things she had said and would say in the future. And I would have to make her believe that I hadn't murdered her father. All this would be difficult to do, maybe impossible.

Was she worth it?

I remembered her voice, her face, her laugh.

Yes, yes, yes!

I hadn't been back at my desk for more than five minutes when my phone rang. It was Diane. She wanted to see me.

I entered her office with trepidation. But she gave me a friendly smile, and immediately launched into a discussion about Tetracom. Gil had made two calls that morning to venture capitalists who backed up Hecht's story. They wouldn't touch Murray Redfearn with the proverbial ten-foot pole. One of them questioned Hecht's judgement for linking up with Redfearn in the first place. A fair point, but not enough to sink the deal. The remaining calls were to the West Coast, and they would have to wait a couple of hours, but Diane was now confident that Tetracom's cupboard was bare of skeletons. A deal was probably less than a week away.

Our conversation finished, I stood up to go. I was almost out of there, when Diane stopped me.

'Simon?'

'Yes.'

'About last night.'

'Um…'

She held up her hand. 'No, it's OK, I don't want to talk about it now. But why don't you buy me a drink sometime?'

'I'm not sure that's a good idea,' I said.

'Oh, come on,' Diane said, with a reasonable smile. 'You owe me at least that.'

She was right. I smiled quickly. 'Yes, of course.'

'Good. Friday?'

'Fine.'

'OK. Thanks for your help, Simon,' she said, and I was gone.

As I returned to my desk, I wondered what Diane was up to, what she wanted. Her reputation suggested she was used to conducting inter-office affairs. She certainly seemed to know how to handle them professionally. But what about me? Was she just in it for the sex? Was she looking for a toy-boy? Did she get a kick from snagging married men?

But despite her reputation, I had difficulty thinking of her as that cynical. We genuinely liked each other. There was an undeniable physical attraction between us. For my part, I didn't know whether it had always lurked there unacknowledged, or whether it had only developed after Lisa's departure. I wondered how Diane would take me pulling back. Perhaps it would harm my chances of making partner in the new regime? Well, if it did, that was just tough. It would serve me right. I had been wrong to go as far as I had with her, and I wouldn't do it again.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday.

I faced the work in front of me, and closed my eyes. How could I have let things go so far? Sure, we hadn't had sex, but we had come very close. How could I have jeopardized even further a marriage that I was fighting so hard to save? Even if Lisa never found out, I would always know. It would be something lurking between us, threatening to flare up at any time.

No. I would never, ever let anything like that happen again.

'What's up, Simon?'

It was Daniel, looking at me with extreme curiosity. 'Don't ask,' I replied. I glanced over to John's empty desk. There was a lot I needed to talk to him about. 'Where's John?'

'Out at National Quilt all day,' Daniel answered. 'He left a number.'

'That's OK,' I said. 'It will wait.'

I checked my e-mails. There was one from Connie saying I was invited to Gil's club for a drink at seven that evening. My first thought was panic. Gil had somehow found out about me and Diane. But it was extremely unlikely that Gil would choose that venue for a dressing down. I had never been invited to Gil's club before, and I didn't think the other two associates had either, although I knew Frank had been a number of times. I wondered what it was he wanted to talk to me about.

The Devonshire Club was almost empty. It was still early, only seven o'clock, and I was tucking into a beer and a huge array of crisps and nuts, dishes of which had been perched on the small table in front of me. The bar was small and cosy, red and leather. A comprehensive collection of obscure single malts guarded the entrance. The atmosphere was similar to a London club, a carefully contrived balance that made members feel at home, and guests feel slightly awkward. The club reeked of class, social exclusion, and, because this was America, not Britain, money.

Three men in suits and striped ties came and sat at the table next to me. Two sported beards the like of which you hardly see these days, full bushy affairs. If the men were born in the early nineteen fifties, their beards were at least sixty years older.

Gil arrived exactly ten minutes late. He shook my hand, sat down and caught the waiter's eye for a martini.

'Thanks for coming, Simon,' he said. 'How are you holding up?'

'OK, I suppose.'

'I'm sorry about Lisa being let go. How is she taking it?'

'Not well, I'm afraid. She's gone to California.'

Gil's weary brow furrowed in sympathy. 'Oh, I am sorry. But it really would have been inappropriate if Art had intervened to keep her on. I'm sure you understand.'

I didn't answer. Gil wouldn't want to hear my opinion that it was more likely Art had already intervened to get her fired. He thought personal enmity between Revere people just didn't exist. When faced with it, he always looked decisively the other way.

The martini came. 'Simon, I wanted to talk to you about the future of the partnership.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Yes. You may have heard, I'm planning to pull back from my involvement in Revere.'

'I had guessed that.'

Gil smiled. 'It's a small place. Word gets around. Now, obviously I want to leave the firm in as good shape as I can.'

'Of course.'

'But with my departure there arises the question of succession.'

This was getting interesting. 'I see.'

'My intentions would have been for Art to take over from me. Now Frank has passed away, Art is the most senior partner, and he was responsible for the firm's most successful investment.'

I nodded.

'But Art hasn't been well recently. I'm not sure whether he will be up to the job. Which leaves two choices.'

He paused to sip his martini. Two? I thought there was only one. Surely he couldn't mean Ravi? True, he was an able investor, but he seemed much more interested in being left to get on with his own deals than in taking responsibility for the whole firm.

'Diane, or…' Gil went on,'find a senior venture capitalist from outside to take over from me.'

That was an eventuality Diane hadn't considered, I thought, or at least not one she had discussed with me.

'I can't ask you to take sides, Simon. In fact I'm asking you to do the opposite. I don't want Revere to blow apart once I leave, so I'd like you to give me your word that you will continue to work under whomever succeeds me. You're a good man, Simon. The firm needs you.'

He watched me for a reaction. It was difficult. I had as good as promised Diane I would pledge my support to her if asked. Now that I was being asked, what could I say?

'Can't you stay on a bit until all this becomes clearer?' I asked.

'In theory I could. But my kidneys are in a bad way. I'll be on dialysis soon, my doctors tell me.'

'Oh, no! How soon?'

'That they won't reveal.' He snorted. 'I think they're scared if they get it wrong I'll sue. It could be six months or it could be six years. Whatever it is, I want to enjoy my last few years of mobility. So does my wife. So I need to sort out Revere now'

'I can see that.'

'So, will you promise to stay no matter who becomes Managing Partner? At least until he, or she, settles in?'

I owed Gil. I didn't really owe Diane. 'Yes, Gil, I will,' I said.

He gave a tired smile. 'Thank you.'

I went straight from the Devonshire to John's apartment. He lived in the South End, in an apartment in a three-storey row house next door to a gallery and a real estate agency. Many gays lived in this neighbourhood, but then so did many straight professionals.

He was surprised to see me, but let me in. He had changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a loose cotton shirt, which hung outside his trousers. I had only been inside his apartment once before. It was nicely if minimally decorated. A wooden floor, a glass table, some attractive modern lamps and bowls. Science fiction posters proclaimed books or films I had never heard of, let alone seen. A large picture of a bullfighter adorned one wall. There was a giant TV, and several shelves full of videos. I couldn't help checking the room for signs of John's sexual orientation, but I wasn't an expert at the code. It all depended how you looked at it, I supposed.

We sat down. He offered me a beer, which I accepted, and then opened one himself.

'What a shit day,' he said.

'Don't you like Lowell?'

'I swear I'm going to torch that place if I have to go there again. Why can't we let companies die quickly? We're planning to file Chapter Eleven to protect us from our creditors. My view is we should just give the bank the keys to the factory. Then they can give away a free Ninja Turtle comforter to every kid who opens up a new bank account.' He took a swig of his beer. 'So. What are you doing here?'

'I wanted to ask you about something that might be a little… awkward.'

John stiffened. 'What?'

'I've been to see a photographer.'

'Uh-huh,' said John, carefully.

'Yes. He gave me these.' I passed him the envelope. He opened it, and took out the prints. His face froze. Then he closed his eyes.

'So?' he said, blinking.

'So I'd like to ask you about him.'

'Why?' he asked.

'I'm trying to find out who killed him.'

'I don't know who it was.'

I raised my eyebrows.

John let his face fall into his hands. I watched in silence. Eventually, he looked up.

'I loved him,' he said.

I didn't respond.

'We had a fight the night before he died. The last time I saw him was when I stormed out that Saturday morning. I just wish I could have left him on better terms.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's been awful,' said John. 'The worst part about it is I haven't been able to talk about it with anyone. Or at least anyone who knew Frank.' He was desperately trying to hold back the tears.

'What was the argument about?' I asked gently.

'Oh, I'd been seeing other men. Frank didn't like it. None of them meant anything. It was just casual. But he didn't understand.'

'But weren't you and Frank…?'

'Yes. But I think I was Frank's only lover. I don't think he really admitted to himself that he was gay until he met me. He was very uptight about it. I tried to persuade him to be more open, but he wasn't interested. I think he felt guilty about who he was. It's something we all have to go through, and the sooner it's done the better.'

'Wasn't that why his marriage broke up?' I asked.

'Eventually Frank admitted that that was the reason, but he didn't realize it at the time. He just thought he had no sexual interest in his wife any more. I think he thought he was different from other men. That he was asexual.'

I couldn't really understand. But what John was saying fitted with the way Frank had lived his life for the last fifteen years.

'I was good for him, Simon,' John said simply. 'I made him realize who he really was.'

'Do you have any idea who killed him?'

'No,' said John. 'I kind of thought it might have been you, though I couldn't believe you'd do something like that.'

'The police think I murdered him,' I said. 'But they're wrong. I just need to prove that. Now, I don't think you were involved either.' This wasn't strictly true. I had no idea of John's involvement, but I needed to show trust in him if he was going to trust me. 'But we can't escape the fact that someone did kill him. I know Frank meant a lot to you. You can help me find out who that someone was.'

John looked at me doubtfully.

'At least answer my questions,' I continued. 'It can't do any harm, and it may help.'

'OK,' John agreed reluctantly.

'Was there anything Frank was worried about before he died?'

'Yes, a whole bunch of stuff,' said John. 'He was under a lot of pressure. And not just work pressure, either. He wasn't taking it very well.'

'What sort of pressure?'

'It started off with you.'

'Me?'

'Yes. He was convinced you were having an affair with Diane. He asked me about it. I said I didn't know, but it was clear you two got on awfully well, and you were working a lot together.'

'He gave me a hard time over that,' I said. 'He seemed to be going a bit over the top.'

'I thought so too. But you know how much he dotes on Lisa. And I think he was scared of the parallels with his own situation.'

'What do you mean?'

'Him and me,' said John. 'You see, we were having a relationship through work, which Frank felt guilty about. And then he found out I was seeing other men. He found that hard to take. I kind of feel that he thought he had messed things up with his marriage and then with me, and he didn't want his daughter to get messed up in a similar way. He brooded over it, I'm sure. And then of course we had that big fight on Friday night when he just exploded.'

'What happened?'

'He told me that just because I was gay, he didn't see why it was OK for me to be unfaithful.' John paused. 'I told him I could change. But he wouldn't believe me. He wouldn't give me a chance. So I walked out.'

'When was that?'

About one o'clock in the morning.' John flinched, successfully controlling himself. And I never saw him again.' He paused, struggling to maintain control. 'He called me the next day, but we didn't resolve anything. Then when I called him back, there was no reply'

'I'm sorry,' I said. I realized that John desperately needed comfort, but I couldn't bring myself to give it. 'What about Revere?'

John took in a deep breath. 'There was something there that was bugging him, too. I don't know what it was. We tried not to talk about Revere and the people there too much. When we were working together we'd talk about the deal we were working on, and outside work we'd try to leave it all behind. But something was eating at him.'

'Do you think it had anything to do with Gil retiring?'

'Is he retiring?' John asked, his eyes widening.

'Yes, he is. Sorry. I assumed Frank would have told you.'

'No,' John replied. 'That's absolutely the sort of thing we didn't talk about.'

'What did he think of Art?'

'He thought he was a jerk. I don't think they liked each other much.'

'Did he talk about Art's drinking?'

'I didn't know Art drank,' said John. 'You seem to know a whole lot more about all this than I do.'

'Maybe,' I said. 'I'm amazed the police didn't find out about you and Frank.'

'They did.'

'What?'

'It took them a couple of weeks. They found my fingerprints at Marsh House. At first, I said I'd been there working on deals with Frank, and they believed that. But then the results of some of the other forensic tests came through, which suggested I was doing more in Marsh House than just working. I never went to Frank's apartment in Boston, he was too careful for that. But when the cops interviewed my neighbours, they soon realized we had been together here. Plus, they checked Frank's computer and found some e-mails that made the situation pretty clear.'

'So didn't that make you a suspect?'

John nodded. 'For a day or so. But a neighbour saw me that afternoon, and I went out with some friends in the evening. So, after a while they gave up on me, and started asking about you.'

I groaned. 'Did you tell them anything?'

'Only the truth,' John said. 'I did say Frank was worried about you and Diane, and that there had been some tension between you in recent months. They asked whether Frank was frightened of you, or if you had ever threatened him, and I said absolutely not.'

'I suppose I should thank you.'

John shrugged. 'I was only telling the truth.'

'But now they know he was gay, can't they investigate that angle?'

John's eyes flashed. 'What do you mean?'

'Oh, I don't know. Another gay lover, or something.'

'There was no chance of that,' John snapped. 'I was the only man Frank was with. I told the police I was sure of that.'

'But you said you weren't entirely faithful to him…'

'Yes,' said John angrily. 'And that's something I'm going to have to live with. But Frank was different. That's why we had the fight that night.'

I sighed. Far from my discovery about John pointing suspicion away from me, somehow it only seemed to reinforce what Mahoney already believed. 'The police have kept this quiet, haven't they?'

'So far they've been very discreet. There's Frank's family to consider. Lisa.'

'They're right.' The fewer people who knew about Frank and John the better for Lisa. I was very worried how she would take this. 'John, can you do me a favour?'

'What?'

'If you think of anything that might help me discover who killed Frank, let me know.'

'All right. I will.'