"You ready to join this party?" I asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Imogen answered.
We strolled through the room, looking for a couch to recline on for a few minutes to enjoy our first drink and some light conversation. This room was massive, but it was suddenly becoming quite crowded, making it feel half its size. I estimated that there were probably three hundred people here. Ginny and I found an empty couch, sat down, and sipped our drinks while our eyes darted around the room.
"Where's Mike?" Imogen asked.
"No idea," I said, and took a sip of what tasted like Pinot Grigio. "I don't see Ken either. Maybe they're going to make a grand entrance."
"They don't seem like the grand entrance types."
I laughed. They certainly didn't seem as if they enjoyed parties, but I was sure that they did enjoy drinking. "They'll be here. It's their party."
We enjoyed our drinks, chatting about the absurdity of such parties, when over walked my old friend Jake Cooper. He was drinking what looked like a scotch, which he was palming with such force that the glass could have shattered right in his hand and all over his black suit. This was the last guy that I wanted to see here.
"Hi, Jake," I said as I stood up to shake his hand, breaking his scotch death grip.
We shook hands and then Imogen gave him two air kisses.
"Looks like you scored an invite to the party of the year," I said.
"Hardy har har. For your information, Max, BMC invested big time in my company."
"So your party wasn't a bust after all," I said.
"You're on a real roll tonight, Slade. Where's that pretty"—his eyes scanned the room—"lady that you…" Then he found her. Right next to me. She didn't get very far after air-kissing him hello. "There you are. You stunning woman, you. Don't you look ravishing tonight."
"Why, thank you, Jake. Looks like you're a bit more upright this evening."
Jake smiled. "Very funny. You're very funny, Miss…"
"Whitehall."
"Ah, yes, Miss Whitehall." He appeared as if he was going to try to reach for Ginny's hand again. To no doubt kiss it. But she was onto him, and extended it to shake.
They shook hands.
"Jake?" I asked, trying to defuse the uncomfortable pageantry of him hitting on my soon-to-be fiancée in front of me. "What is it that you guys do again?"
"Passer's remorse, huh?" he said, trying, no doubt, to take a dig at me for not investing in his company.
"Maybe a little," I lied.
"Social media and video-calling software, but we've been moving into the hologram game. Working on the hardware to broadcast a picture and audio hologram."
Holograms. That was what had probably gotten Seth killed. Ginny's eyes looked like they were just about ready to pop out of her head. I couldn't see myself, but I imagined that my jaw must have dropped about six inches. I made a fist and pushed it up to my chin. Trying to close my mouth.
Jake took a sip of his drink. Then went back to the double-hand wraparound hold. Jesus, he was tense. I was going to try to see if my ol' buddy would open up to me a little more. He had a big mouth. Shouldn't take much.
"Did you know Seth Cohen?"
"Did I know Seth? Why are you talking about him in the past tense?"
He didn't know. He had no idea that Seth Cohen was dead. I wasn't sure if I should tell him. I could sense Imogen pleading with her eyes for me to spill the beans. See where it would lead. Maybe Jake had some info for us that we could use.
"He died the other day. Hit by a car," I said.
"Oh my God! You're kidding." He appeared shocked.
"No, not kidding. The police found him on the sidewalk, dead. Some sort of hit and run."
"This city is fucking crazy! You can't even walk down a sidewalk." He was trying to gather his thoughts. "I mean. Seth Cohen. Dead. I can't believe it."
"So, I guess you knew him?"
"Yeah, Maxy, I knew him. His company did some of the same stuff that we do."
That was what I thought. And I could tell that Imogen was thinking the same thing.
"Oh yeah?"
"But there was something weird going on with Seth and BMC. Something about the patent that Seth had, then didn't have, that BMC all of a sudden had. I didn't really follow it, but Seth was trying to get me to work with him, and was bashing BMC all over the place at my party. Said he knew something that could bury BMC, and we'd own the market. But I was a little, well, too drunk to remember what he was talking about."
Drunk—that was an understatement.
"Really? That sounds pretty intense," I said.
"You think? Some of these guys are so emotional about technology. I take what they say with a grain of salt. It all came down to money. In the end, BMC gave me a shitload of cash. Seth was just offering what-ifs. It's all about cash, brother."
Seth had dirt on Ken. That was what I'd gleaned from this conversation. That made sense. Maybe he was holding it over Ken's head. Pushing Ken to give him back what Ken possibly stole? Took? Bought? I wasn't sure. But Jake's motor-mouth was certainly helping to connect the dots between BMC, Ted, and Seth.
"I knew that something was going on with Seth and BMC," I said.
"Yeah, I think they were trying to take over SCV, Seth's company. I didn't really get into it with BMC. Didn't want to rock the cradle."
"Yeah, I don't blame you," I said. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. That's what they say, right?"
"Maxy, you kill me. Now, I'm going to give you one last chance to get in. One last opportunity to make a sound investment before we close the round. Anything you want, anything you want to put in there, I'll take it. C'mon, brother."
Saved by the lights.
"I'll think about it," I whispered.
Suddenly the lights went dim, the French doors opened, and then Mike and Ted strolled in. Very dignified. They moved over to the quartet, with Santa between them. Mike picked up a microphone, removing it from its stand. He stepped toward the middle of the quartet as if he was the new lead singer. Then he spoke.
"Good evening, everyone." He waited for acknowledgement from the crowd. The chatter died down and he continued, "I would like to welcome all of you to our holiday party. We are so happy that you could make it. The holidays are always a time for celebrating friends, family, business associates, and our good fortune. To our portfolio companies." Mike paused and looked around the room, acknowledging certain people by pointing, waving, and smiling. "You are the people that make what we do possible. Your hard work. Your dedication. Your vision. You all have made this year so very wonderful, and we are so very grateful for everything that you do." Polite applause ensued then Mike continued, "The holidays are also a time to reflect on the prior year and to remember the friends and family that we have lost. That being said, we would like to take a moment to acknowledge the loss of our friend and partner, Ted Baxter." Mike looked over at Kitty, the microphone and his hands falling to his side for a moment, and it appeared that he was overcome with emotion. Kitty proudly looked over to Mike, maintaining a face demonstrating her forthrightness to persevere through this hard time. Kate was here as well, and for the first time I noticed her off to Mike's left, her head bowed in respect for Ted. Ken, who was standing next to Mike, put his hand on his shoulder, bent over, and whispered something into Mike's ear. This seemed to give Mike the strength to continue. "You all mean so very much to us. Enjoy the party and happy holidays." The crowd remained silent for a moment and then applauded.
I turned to Ginny. "He's quite a showman."
"He scares me."
The music resumed, and then moments later the chatter returned as well. Jake, Ginny, and I sat back down on the couch and chatted about nothing. I was sipping my second wine, looking around the room. Kate was making the rounds with Mike and Ken off in the middle of the crowd somewhere when I spied a man with dark hair and a beard. He looked familiar. Jake was telling Ginny about some winery that he'd recently visited as I stared at the ma
n. How did I know him? Then it hit me. That was the man who had chased me around Manhattan. He didn't seem to have noticed me. He was engaged in conversation with four men, all of whom it appeared as if he knew very well. He didn't seem the least interested in me, or in anyone in the room for that matter. At the very least, he must be connected to BMC. I was sure of that. I didn't want to alarm Imogen, so I faked a laugh when Jake reached what must have been the punch line to a joke he was telling us.
I hadn't even seen Mike approach when he suddenly appeared in front of our sitting area. We all rose.
"Mike," I said, extending a hand. "Happy holidays."
"Max," he said, shaking my hand.
"Lovely party," Ginny said as she gave him two air kisses. "And a lovely speech."
"Well, thank you, Miss Whitehall," he said then turned toward Jake. "Jake," Mike said, patting him on the back. "Glad you could make it."
They shook hands.
"Is Kate here?" Imogen asked.
"She is, Imogen. She stopped by the bar to grab a drink."
"I'll have to find her," Imogen said. "I'd like to say hello."
"She'd quite like that, I'm sure, Miss Whitehall."
"I think we're on a first-name basis by now."
Mike ignored Imogen and turned toward Jake. "Do you mind if I borrow Max and Miss Whitehall here for a moment?"
"Not at all," Jake said, then turned and walked away, quickly. He seemed relieved. Don't rock the boat, ol' boy.
"Would you two mind accompanying me to my office? I have something that I want to share with you."
Ginny grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. She did not want to be in an office alone with Mike. To be honest, I didn't want to either.
"Sure," I said as we began our walk through The Club back toward the mahogany doors. I caught the bearded man staring at me as Ginny and I strolled through the room. His gaze was like stone. He followed me with his eyes as we exited The Club and entered the reception area.
Mike gave Santa a pat on the shoulder. "My office is right around the corner."
"I remember," I said.
Ginny was now squeezing my arm tightly as I escorted her into Mike's office.
"So glad that you could make it, Max," Mike said, as we strolled through the doorway to his office.
"Me too."
"Do you guys mind if I close the door?"
Yes.
"No, go ahead," I said.
Mike closed the door and then walked over to his desk. He found his way over to his chair and then invited Ginny and I to have a seat. I told him that I had been sitting for a bit and would prefer to stand. He told me we wouldn't be long and invited me again to sit. This time Ginny and I obliged.
"What a year, huh, Max?" Mike said as he sat back in his chair.
"Yeah, it's been crazy," I said, sitting erect in the plush leather club chair opposite him.
Ginny just nodded. She was nervous. When Imogen got scared, she got quiet.
"I wanted to thank you, privately, for reconnecting with me this year. Although we lost Ted, I think he would have wanted us to do business together. Despite the history between the two of you."
"Well, that was ages ago," I said, trying to relax.
"What, the engagement thing?" Imogen asked.
"Yes, the engagement thing," he said in a condescending tone. Which, for all intents and purposes, was his general tone.
"What about it?" Ginny said in a slightly uptight manner. She crossed her legs, trying to look more relaxed.
"Well, Ted was the guy who stole Kitty away."
"Thanks, Mike," I said, "for rehashing that subject for us. As you must know, it's a hot topic of conversation in our home."
Mike looked at Ginny and I quizzically. "Are you two…"
"Yes, but I'm not sure for how much longer now," I said, trying to make light of the situation.
"I thought something was going on between the two of you," Mike said.
"You thought right," I added.
"Miss Whitehall, I didn't mean to upset you, I simply—"
"Please, don't worry about it. I'm not upset. I don't live in Max's past."
Ginny and Mike exchanged a few more words concerning my past with Ted, then Mike changed the tone of the conversation.
"Max, I've got something for you." He slid open the top drawer of his desk slowly. Ginny and I were sitting close enough that we could see a gun appear as he pulled it open. His hand entered the drawer, and I found myself beginning to stand. His hand was in the drawer passing over the gun, reaching for something different.
He must have sensed our unease. "Oh, this?" He lifted up the gun. "It's for protection. I have a permit."
As if having a permit made anything better. Made the gun less deadly when it was shot into the back of someone's head.
I sat back down. He placed the gun back in the drawer and reached for something else then closed the drawer. "Here." He handed me a gift.
Protection? Was it a 9mm gun? Was that the one used to kill Ted?
I wasn't sure if I was relieved or had become tenser. I looked over at Ginny, and she wasn't buying the protection story either. "Thanks, but this isn't necessary, Mike," I said, taking the present.
"Just a little token of our gratitude. We're excited for the coming year," Mike said. "Open it."
I unwrapped a bottle of Glenfiddich 18.
"It seems to be your drink, so I figured why not."
I smiled. My favorite.
"Thanks, Mike. This is great. Want to pop it open and have a quick drink?"
"C'mon, let's go grab one at the bar. We've got some great drams to try." Mike got up from his chair and motioned for us to join him. I left the bottle on his desk. We all exited his office and walked back into The Club. "You two grab a drink at the bar. I'm going to just say hi to Jim over there for a moment." Mike walked back into the sea of people.
"That was weird," I said.
"Did you see that gun?" Imogen said.
"How could I miss it?"
As I sat at the bar and ordered a drink, I could still see the bearded man engaged in conversation. I did not see him looking at me directly, but when my back was turned I sensed that someone was watching me.
Our cocktails arrived, and Ginny and I sat drinking, looking out into this mass of people. The band played, the people talked, and I stared. Then, as I was in mid-sip, in walked John Carrington, escorted by three other police officers. They were all plainclothes officers wearing blue jackets that had POLICE scrawled across their backs in yellow. They were not brandishing any weapons, but you could see they were carrying. It was also clear that they all had some form of protection on under their shirts. They made a beeline for Mike.
The shocked guests made way for the officers, and Mike didn't realize they had arrived until they had surrounded him. We could see John say something to Mike. Ginny and I jumped out of our chairs and ran over.
"Step back, please," one of the officers directed Ginny and the rest of the guests.
"You are under arrest for the murder of Ted Baxter."
"Mike!" Kate screamed, then came running over to Mike. When she arrived, one of the officers held her at bay and talked to her. She wasn't listening. She kept screaming, "Mike! What is going on here? Mike!"
"What is this? What are you doing? I haven't done anything wrong. I didn't kill Ted! Are you crazy? This is a mistake!" Mike protested loudly, and in a shocked state began to babble, proclaiming his innocence.
"Give it up. We found the gun," John said.
"What gun? I didn't kill Ted? I'm innocent. Let me go!"
John took out a pair of handcuffs, turned Mike around, and then placed the cuffs on his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you…" He read Mike the rest of his Miranda rights, and then John and his fellow officers began to escort Mike out of The Club.
Ken had run from the other side of The Club over to Mike as he was in the process of being arrested. He was screaming at t
he officers that they were making a big mistake and for Mike not to worry. He would meet him down at the police station.
"This is crazy!" Mike screamed as he was led through The Club.
Kate was walking next to the detectives, frantically waving her hands and proclaiming Mike's innocence. Within moments, Kate, Mike, and the police had exited The Club.
CHAPTER FORTY
The room was buzzing. Some of the guests were whispering about what they had just witnessed, and many more were loudly discussing it. It was shocking. A prominent businessman was just arrested, for murder, at his own holiday party in the company of no less than three hundred people. As the brouhaha was unfolding, Jake had made his way over to me.
"What the hell was that?" Jake asked. "Do you think this is going to fuck up my funding? I mean, Ken should be fine to invest, right? On behalf of BMC, right?"
I ignored his comment. Ken walked over to the microphone, picked it up, and, still looking a bit shaken up, started to speak. "Everyone, everyone, can I please have your attention." He tapped the microphone with his finger. The crowd started to silence itself. "Obviously you have all just witnessed a grave injustice done to my partner Mike Miller. He is completely innocent of all the charges, and I will be heading down to the police station to straighten this out shortly. In the meantime, this is an occasion for us all to celebrate together, so please stay and enjoy the party." He handed the microphone back to a member of the quartet to place back in its holder, and then walked back toward his office.
The crowd began to buzz again as people resumed enjoying the party. This party had shifted into a communal discussion about what had just taken place.
"I simply cannot believe what just happened," I overheard a woman in a group next to me say.
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