“Poorly. Ms. Low’s behavior had become erratic. As a result, Mr. King had threatened to terminate their relationship. Ms. Low was very upset about it.”
“She still came to the party.”
“They had agreed to a tentative reconciliation.”
“What happened after the guests left?”
His description was consistent with the police report. An agitated Lexy came running downstairs, clothes disheveled. Ben-Shalom prevented her from leaving the house. He took her back upstairs, where he found a motionless King. He called nine-one-one and administered CPR. The police and EMTs arrived within minutes. They couldn’t revive King.
“It must have been terrible,” I said.
“It was.” He said that he called Steele, Patel, and King’s wife from the hospital. “Those were very difficult calls.”
“Mr. King wasn’t a popular guy in the Valley.”
“Steve Jobs rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, too.”
“Was anybody at the party upset with Mr. King?”
“Just your client.” He stood up. “Anything else, Mr. Daley?”
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Steele.”
“He’s very busy.”
“Please inform him that it will be easier to talk in his office than in court.”
“I’ll pass along the message.” His steely eyes narrowed. “Just so we’re clear, your client provided heroin to Mr. King on multiple occasions, including the morning that he died. She was very upset after he threatened to terminate their relationship. As a result, I believe that she decided to give him a lethal shot of heroin, take his money, and run. And if you put me on the stand, that’s exactly what I intend to say.”
* * *
“What are you reading?” I asked.
Nady was at her desk at seven-thirty the same evening. Luna was sleeping in the corner. “Jerry Edwards.”
“What’s on the mind of the Chronicle’s finest?”
“Us.” She closed her laptop. “He thinks Lexy is going to be convicted.”
“He always says that.”
“Is he ever right?”
“Occasionally.”
“Is he right this time?”
“No.”
Luna sat up, yawned, and shook her head in disagreement.
Nady eyed me. “Did you get anything useful from Ben-Shalom?”
“Not much.” I filled her in. “Were you able to reach any of the women from the party?”
“All of them.” She confirmed that they were, in fact, a who’s-who of female entrepreneurs and engineers in the Valley. “All very impressive.”
“Why did they go to the party?”
“They were more interested in meeting Patel than King. A couple were looking for funding. They were unanimous that King was a pig.”
“Sounds like they were looking to use King and Patel for their own purposes.”
“Seems it’s accepted practice for people in the Valley to use each other.”
“Anything we can use at trial?”
“Doubtful. Nobody said anything bad about King. Supposedly, he was the perfect host.”
“Put them on our witness list in case something comes up. How are you coming on pre-trial motions?”
“Almost done. I’m cautiously optimistic that Judge McDaniel won’t allow any mention of Flynn’s death. I don’t think she’ll exclude testimony from Khalil Jones about selling smack to Lexy. We should talk to him to see if he’ll be credible.”
“He’s looking to cut a deal. He’ll say whatever the D.A. wants him to say. Who else is on the prosecution’s witness list?”
“Officer Dito, Ben-Shalom, Dr. Siu, and Inspector Lee. Ours will include everybody at the house that night, our medical expert, Chloe, and Kaela Joy.”
“Add Nick the Dick,” I said. “We may not call on him to testify, but it will get Harper’s attention. And be sure to include Lexy.”
She looked up. “Are you really going to have her testify?”
“Not unless we’re desperate.”
“And you’re still planning to accuse everybody at the house of murder?”
“If I have to.”
“Do you have anything resembling proof?”
“We still have three weeks.”
She chuckled. “Maybe Edwards was right. Any good news?”
“I got a message from Ben-Shalom. Steele agreed to see me.”
“Why the change of heart?”
I smiled. “I presume that he wants to apologize for avoiding me for three weeks.”
In the corner, Luna shook her head.
38
“SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT OF CORPORATE MESSAGING”
The woman with the bottle-blonde hair and botoxed forehead greeted me at the security desk on the Page Mill Road side of the Y5K campus. She extended a hand and flashed a practiced smile. “Jennifer Castle. You can call me Jen.”
“Michael Daley. You can call me Mike.”
She was costumed as a Steve Jobs clone in jeans and a black top. Notwithstanding the efforts of a competent hair dresser and an artful plastic surgeon, I surmised that she was close to my age.
“I understand that you met with Mr. Ben-Shalom,” she said.
“I did.” He told me nothing. “I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Steele.”
The fake smile disappeared. “I’m afraid there has been a slight change of plans. Mr. Steele was called overseas on an emergency. I don’t know when he’ll be back, so he asked me to talk to you.”
Not what I had in mind. “I still need to talk to him.”
“I’ll let him know.” Her smile reappeared. “Please come with me.”
She led me on a circuitous trek through three inter-connected buildings where hundreds of youthful programmers were hunched over laptops in hangar-like rooms adjacent to stocked kitchens, ping pong tables, and yoga rooms. A full ten minutes later, we arrived at her office overlooking the parking lot of the law firm next door. It was barely large enough to squeeze in a standing desk, a leather chair, and a file cabinet. If she wanted to meet with more than one person, she had to reserve one of the conference rooms named after the company’s venture capitalists.
I took a seat in the chair opposite her desk and started with a softball. “I take it that you work with Mr. Steele?”
“Yes. My title is Senior Vice President of Corporate Messaging.”
Does this make you a flack or a shill? “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”
“My pleasure.”
We’ll see. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”
“You mean Jeff King?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Not exactly overcome with grief. I pointed at the only personal item in her office: the framed high school graduation photo of a young woman. “Daughter?”
“Granddaughter.”
Yup, you’re definitely as old as I am. “How long have you worked here?”
“Since Jeff formed the company.” She explained that she had worked Hewlett-Packard and Oracle. “I was getting burned out at big companies, so I decided to roll the dice at a startup.”
Must have felt like you had won the lottery—until King turned up dead.
Her expression turned serious. “How can I help you, Mr. Daley?”
Well, you see, I really wanted to talk to your boss, who has been ignoring me for weeks. After he finally condescended to give me an audience, he fled the country before we could talk. So he sent you in his place. “I’m representing Alexa Low.”
“I know.”
“I’m looking for information about Jeff King. You must have known him pretty well.”
“I did.”
Did he ever hit on you? “There’s been speculation in the press that the investment bankers may postpone the IPO.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
And I shouldn’t believe everything I’m told by a corporate mouthpiece, either. “What was it like working
for Mr. King?”
“Exhilarating. Honestly, I think he could see the future.”
Oh, please. “I understand that he wasn’t the most popular guy in Silicon Valley.”
“Neither was Steve Jobs.”
“And he wasn’t the most popular guy here at Y5K.”
“He was tough, but fair.”
She spent the next ten minutes responding to my questions with overworked corporate clichés. King was on a mission was to bring the world together. If everybody used Y5K’s software, their lives would be not just meaningful, but fulfilling. There were the usual mentions of cutting-edge technology and fostering greater understanding among disparate cultures. She left out any mention of trying to make billions or getting their venture capitalists a whopping return.
I tried to segue into more relevant matters. “How did the board and other members of management get along with Mr. King?”
“Fine.”
“I understand that he and Mr. Steele didn’t always see eye-to-eye.”
“It isn’t unusual for brilliant people to disagree from time to time. They believed that a certain amount of conflict was healthy. They were always on the same page on major issues.”
“Is Mr. Steele going to stay with the company?”
“Absolutely.”
“I understand that his daughter worked here.”
“She interned here last summer. She’s very bright.”
“Is she coming back for a permanent position?”
“Nobody’s mentioned it to me.”
“Mr. Patel told us that several women filed complaints against Mr. King for inappropriate behavior.”
“Personnel matters are confidential, Mr. Daley.”
“Not anymore, Ms. Castle. Mr. King’s death means that we can look into such issues in connection with a criminal investigation.” It was a stretch, but I wanted to see how she would react.
“I can’t comment on personnel matters.”
“It will be easier if you answer my questions now rather than at a deposition or in court.”
“I am not aware of any official claims filed against Mr. King.”
“Who would know for sure?”
“You’ll have to discuss it with our lawyers.”
Who would assert the attorney-client privilege. “Did you know that Mr. King met my client through a hookup site called Mature Relations?”
“So I’ve read.”
“Did it bother you that he was pursuing young women online?”
“It was none of my business.”
“What about Mr. Steele? Have any complaints been filed against him?”
“I just told you that I’m not allowed to discuss personnel matters.”
“You just did.”
“About Mr. King, who is deceased. Mr. Steele is alive.”
And conveniently out of the country.
She added, “I hope you aren’t suggesting that Mr. Steele had anything to do with Jeff’s death. Mr. Steele is a man of great integrity and character.”
You might have a different view when you find out that he was also hooking up with women through Mature Relations. “I still need to talk to him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’d also like to talk to your Chief Technology Officer, Alejandro Sanchez, your Marketing Director, Tristan Moore, and your Director of Quality Control, Drew Pitt.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
That seems to be your go-to non-answer. I handed her a card. “Please inform them that we have included their names on our witness list.”
“I’ll have my assistant escort you to reception.” The phony grin made a final appearance. “Thank you very much for coming in, Mike.”
“Thank you for your time, Jen.” And for wasting mine.
* * *
“How did it go with the Steele?” Pete asked.
“It didn’t.” I was sitting in my car in the Y5K parking lot, my phone pressed to my ear. “He had to leave the country, so he sent his PR person to give me a bunch of corporate doubletalk.”
“Steele never had any intention of talking to you, Mick. He’s trying to run out the clock, so you won’t have a chance to interview him before trial.”
“Then I’ll have to interview him in court.”
“How soon can you get over to Printers Café near the California Street train station?”
“Ten minutes.”
“I found the sales guy, Tristan Moore.”
39
“HE HAD A GIFT FOR GETTING PEOPLE TO PART WITH THEIR MONEY”
Pete was sitting at a table in the corner of the cheerful café with maple tables and chairs. I walked across the room filled with young people staring at their phones and took a seat next to him.
He pushed a cup of free-trade organic coffee to me and nodded at the meticulously groomed young man sitting across from us. “This is Tristan.”
“Mike Daley.” I knew better than to ask how my brother had managed to find the head of sales at Y5K at a local coffee shop. I also recognized him as Christina Chu’s fiancé from the photo in her office. Small world.
He looked up from his iPhone. “Nice to meet you.”
His clear blue eyes matched his designer polo shirt. His flaming red hair was cropped into a buzz cut accessorized by a tidy goatee. He looked to be about thirty, but his pronounced widow’s peak suggested that he could have been older. We exchanged stilted introductions. He lived in Menlo Park, was addicted to cross-fit, and had worked at Y5K for two years after shorter stints at a half-dozen startups, the names of which I did not recognize. He didn’t mention Chu’s name. I listened intently as his eyes darted between his iPhone and me.
I played it straight. “I trust that Pete has explained that I’m representing Alexa Low?”
“He has. I have been instructed by our board and our lawyers not to talk about it.”
“It’ll be easier here than in court.”
He glanced at his phone again. “I’m meeting somebody in a few minutes.”
“This will take just a moment.” Or two. “I just talked to Jennifer Castle.”
“She’s very good.”
“Yes, she is.” We talked for almost an hour, and she said nothing.
He repeatedly looked at the door—as if hoping that somebody would rescue him. His demeanor was professional, his tone engaging, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Did she tell you anything?”
No. “I understand that you’ve been named acting CEO. Sounds like you’re stepping into a lot of stress.”
“It was stressful before the situation with Jeff. Now it’s insane.”
Maybe that’s why you’re hiding here. “How long did you know Mr. King?”
“About five years. He recruited me to Y5K about two years ago.”
This calls for a little flattery. “He must have thought very highly of you.”
“He did.”
Seems you think even more highly of yourself. “You must have spent a lot of time with him.”
“I did.”
“He’s been described as a visionary.”
“He had a gift for getting people to part with their money.”
A little chillier than I had anticipated. “Jennifer told me that your product is going to revolutionize e-commerce.”
“It is.”
“Is the IPO still on?”
“Absolutely. Our company is about our product, not one person.”
Sure. “I saw your photo in Ms. Chu’s office.”
He looked up from his phone. “We’re engaged.”
“Best wishes.”
“Thank you.”
“Her firm will do well if the IPO moves forward. I presume she’ll get a bonus?”
“Presumably.”
“You, too?”
“Hopefully.”
“You were at Mr. King’s house on the night that he died.”
“My lawyer said that I shouldn’t talk about it.”
I would
have given you the same advice. “I can’t imagine that you have anything to hide.”
“I don’t.”
“Why did you hire a lawyer?”
“I use him for personal legal issues from time to time.”
“Had you attended other parties at Mr. King’s house?”
“A few. They were pretty tame.”
“Drug use?”
“I never saw it.”
“Was anybody using heroin or other drugs on the night that Mr. King died?”
“I didn’t see anything.”
Neither did anybody else. “Did you know about Mr. King’s relationship with my client?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that it involved consensual sex and the use of heroin?”
“He didn’t provide any details.”
“Had you ever met her?”
“No.”
“Did you know that she was coming to the party?”
“Yes. I saw her come in. I didn’t see her again.”
“We’ve been told that Mr. King provided the heroin.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“The cops think our client brought it.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You think Mr. King accepted smack from by a woman he met on a dating app?”
“He didn’t always exercise outstanding judgment.”
“Who else knew about his relationship with my client?”
“Everybody. He wasn’t subtle. He had issues with sex.”
Now that you mention it. “What kind?”
“He liked it—a lot. And he would do it with almost anybody—including women he met online. He was involved in a multi-partner relationship for a while. It didn’t work out.”
“You think he was a sex addict?”
“I’m a salesman, Mr. Daley, not a therapist.”
“A lot has been written about the Valley’s culture toward women.”
“We don’t have a monopoly on bad behavior. My dad is a partner at a big law firm in the City. They’ve had more sexual harassment claims than Y5K. I’m sure you’ve had issues at the P.D.’s Office from time to time.”
We have. “Was anybody mad at King?”
“Everybody was mad at him. Jeff was my boss, my mentor, and, I guess, my friend. But he was also an egomaniac. If you want to work at a place like Y5K, you need to buy into the culture, or you’ll get steamrolled. It isn’t a good fit for everyone. And it isn’t just Y5K. There are a lot of guys like Jeff in the Valley.”
Higher Law Boxset, Volume 3 Page 68