Mystery and Suspense:The Tipping Point: A mystery thriller full of intrigue about greed, fraud and murder... (International Mystery: Book 1)

by Walter Danley

  The elegant ballroom of the King Alfonso V had been reserved for this function for months. It is a very popular place to hold upscale meetings, weddings, whatever. The iconic hotel had heard the Powell Street cable car screech past its front entrance for decades. Many of today’s invited guests to the big CapVest kick-off party will arrive by cable car. Certainly, the Bellevue mayor and his staff would honor the age-old tradition. The investment bankers from the city did, as well. Those from New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles would probably come straight from the airport in taxis, missing one of the cities Must See attractions.

  This event was a big deal. CapVest was far more than a local success story. The accomplishment of Capital Vested Corporation was big news in Bellevue, as well as in other financial centers in the country. The company’s largest capital offering was about to be announced. A half-billion-dollar raise would have national consequences, far greater than just Bellevue.

  Financial reporters from print, radio, and TV media were invited, all eagerly sampling the hors d’oeuvres. The open bar did a land office business, as well. Both Hockney and Arnold were featured to address the crowd, but Arnold wasn’t coming to the kick-off—he just didn’t feel up to it, and Hockney would handle the program by himself.

  Invited guests included an army of securities salespeople, their managers, due diligence officers, and other dignitaries from many states. One of the 325 invited guests was an East Coast lawyer named Lacey Kinkaid. Wainwright found her standing near the entrance to the ballroom.

  “Hello, Ms. Kinkaid. I’m so glad you could make the trip to the Left Coast.”

  “How could I decline your generosity? Your company provided everything to tempt me to attend this grand event. But tell me, why is my hotel booking at the Cinnabar Place Hotel across Union Square instead of here at the Alfonso with the other guests?”

  “That, my dear, will be revealed after I treat you to one of the finest dining experiences in the city. This dog and pony show will conclude at about six thirty, and then it’s you and me on our own for the weekend. Happy?”

  “I was surprised when you called to ask me to come out here, ostensibly to represent Sonja Burke at the kick-off meeting, but still. What happened to the woman you see out here? Barbara something, isn’t it?”

  “Well, she and I don’t spend much time together anymore, not since I met you. How about we focus on this weekend instead?” Wainwright answered.

  As he looked at the beautiful woman holding his hand, he couldn’t help but marvel at her soft skin. It reminded him of fine porcelain, complementing her bone structure and full lips that seemed to be always smiling. Authentic beauty, Wainwright believed. Lacey Kinkaid was also one hell of a good lawyer, having learned that lesson sitting opposite her in Boston. He didn’t want to be cross-examined about BJ Dreaver and his increasingly causal relationship.

  “Mr. Wainwright, isn’t it?” asked someone Wainwright didn’t recognize as he reached to shake hands with the younger man. His clothing was more Haight Ashbury than Union Square; he wore faded blue jeans and an untucked green flannel shirt over hot pink Doc Martens.

  “My name is Travis Crocker. I’m a reporter for the Bay Guardian. Would you mind giving me a statement for the record?”

  “Mr. Crocker, the company has a press relations person.” Wainwright craned his neck toward the stage area. “Let’s see…there she is, left of the podium. That is Katie Smithson and she will be happy to answer any questions for you. I’m sorry, but the company limits itself to one spokesperson, and that happens to be her baby. You understand I’m sure.”

  “I don’t want a press kit or a prepared statement, Mr. Wainwright. My question is simple. Your company owns and operates thousands of apartments and….”

  Turning his back on the reporter, he said to Lacey, “Oh look, Ed’s at the podium now. It’s starting. Let’s take our seats.”

  Wainwright and Lacey went back to their Cinnabar Place suite after enjoying a delightful dinner at a wonderful restaurant on Post Street. Lacey ducked into the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. She entered the living room wearing a silky black, spaghetti-strap jersey dress. She definitely liked the way Wainwright’s eyes devoured her as she came into his view. It must have been obvious to him she’d abandoned her bra, panties, and stockings. Lacey caught him looking for the dreaded VPL, a visible panty line. Ain’t one there, darlin’? The black high heels stayed on and added to her height, and his excitement. His smile told her everything she needed to know about the rest of the evening.

  “Lacey Kinkaid,” Wainwright said, “you are the most beautiful woman in this city, which is chock-full of beautiful women.” He caught a whiff of the lilac and lemon scent she’d dabbed on her neck and a few other pulse points. For some unknown reason, his mind flashed on BJ, on what he had to tell her. He needed BJ to understand that he wanted an exclusive relationship with Lacey. He wasn’t going to share his time or emotions any longer. He’d see BJ just as soon as he got back to Bellevue and tell her that. He hoped they could stay the friends they’d become. But, whether or not it worked out the way he wanted, he and Lacey would be a couple. He hoped for life.

  “Well, thank you, kind sir! I loved the restaurant tonight,” Lacey said as she sat next to him on the couch and reached over to put her hand in his. “We Bostonians take a lot of pride in our seafood, but I must tell you, that red snapper was the best ever. I’m going back there to recruit that young chef back to Boston. He is a master! And since Boston is San Francisco’s sister-city, he’ll feel right at home.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Wainwright said in mock terror, raising his hands above his head. “The Left Coast tries so hard to live up to the two-hundred-year historical head start you guys have on us. Please don’t steal one of our best great chefs.” Wainwright lowered his arm around her shoulder and shifted in his seat to put the other one around her waist. “Oh, shit!” he cried out in pain.

  Lacey bounced off the couch as if she had hurt him. “What is it? What’d I do?”

  “I’m sorry for the cussing. No, babe, you didn’t cause it. It’s this damnable old injury. Sometimes if I move wrong, it acts up on me, that’s all. Come on back here where I can hold you.”

  “So, tell me how you got that injury, again. You started to tell me about an escaped convict or something…”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Are you sure you’re up for an old Vietnam war story?” Lacey nodded her approval, and Wainwright continued. “It probably would not have happened except for my relationship with the Kennedy family.”

  “What Kennedy family? You mean JKF?”

  “Yes, and RFK, his little brother, but I don’t want to mislead you. My connection is not of a personal nature, at least not as far as they would know nothing about me. The connection is very one-sided. In sixty-one, fresh out of Annapolis with my ensign bar, I got the short straw and did my first tour in Nam. I was there until sixty-three. That is when I got shot in the leg; ironically, on the same day JFK was assassinated, November twenty-second.”

  “Oh, my God, how odd is that? So, what happened to your leg?”

  “When I came on duty that night, my briefing included that this guy had beaten a guard and escaped the brig. He was being held for court-martial on a charge of attempted murder of a sailor from his ship. Anyway, I took out a patrol; we learned the escapee was hiding in warehouse out on a deserted wharf. The two SPs and I split up to find him. I drew the short straw and this ape jumped me.”

  “Was he armed?”

  “Kinda. He had a broken beer bottle that ended up in my leg. Merritt heard me yell and came a runnin’. He saw the guy wrestling to get my gun from my hand, so he fired, but hit me in the leg.”

  “That’s incredible. You were so lucky. That could have been fatal. What happened to the convict?”

  “Yeah, I was luckier than him. The slug that hit my leg…it first passed through his chest. It was fatal, but, luckily, not for me. He died in that warehouse on the same day Kennedy
died in Dallas.”

  “But you said you had a connection to RFK as well. What is that?”

  “You really want to hear all this?” Lacey nodded, enthusiastically. “Okay, if you insist. They sent me to Germany for R&R. In my case, that was repairs and rehab on the leg thing. Eventually, it healed all right, so I was still 1A-—fit for duty—so back to Nam for another tour.

  “They had me doing a lot of different stuff and finally, I made Lieutenant Commander. I had enough time in the jungles they let me come home and I received my honorable discharge in June of sixty-eight, the same day Robert Kennedy was killed in Los Angeles.”

  “You really do have a connection with the Kennedy family. That is an amazing story.”

  “Maybe I’ll write a book about it one day. For a long-time Republican, it would sell like week-old bread! Enough already with the war stories; I, for one, would like to get back where we left off before my cry of anguish. Let’s see, where were we…”

  Lacey snuggled closer to him in response. “Well, I was saying how much I liked Farallon, and you were just about to promise you’ll take me there again before I return to Boston.” Lacey sat up straight as the thought she was about to share developed in her fertile forefront. “Oh, speaking of which, I have a Boston something for you.”

  “Yes, you do, and I was just holding her in my arms before she bolted upright.”

  “No, not me, silly, it’s about Sonja. She got a letter from your legal department. It was about her requirement to sell her CapVest stock back to the company, and all that lawyer blah, blah, blah jazz. She asked me to look at the original merger agreement documents. So I did.” Lacey straightened next to Wainwright.

  “Oh, oh, I see something serious coming. So, what’s the upshot of your look-see, Ms. Lawyer?”

  “Well actually, I did a little more than look at the agreement. I did some Lexus Nexus research and found a very interesting legal precedent—on point and most relevant. I’ve called Sonja and given her my opinion about what I found.”

  “Pray tell, what is your opinion? This suspense is a killer.”

  “I can’t divulge privileged client communications to you. Well, since you are an officer of the corporate opposition, I guess I can tell you what my client said today. My conclusion is the buy/sell agreement Burke signed is defective.”

  “Defective? I signed one of those same instruments. In what way, ‘O wiser person than I,’ is the agreement faulty?” Wainwright asked, halfway interested while staring at Lacey’s cleavage.

  “Are you going to pay attention? Pay attention, you unmitigated lecher! The research I found is a marvelous backup for my opinion. Guess where?”

  “I have not a single clue, so race on, my love.”

  “Mr. Jules J. Jarvis Jr. filed legal briefs when your partners tried to force him to sell his shares a few years ago. Those lawyers he hired were good. They did some outstanding work and they were spot-on. I called Sonja and told her the story and she said to me, ‘No sale.’”

  “You understand the reason for that provision in the buy/sell agreement, I’m sure,” Wainwright asked, looking up into Lacey’s ebony eyes.

  Lacey allowed her thoughts to drift a bit. What a man he is. My eyes are the feature he favors most; well, okay, he likes my bottom, too. I’d better give him an answer. “Sure, so the big boys in the boardroom don’t have to deal with the widows and orphans of a deceased partner. Yeah, I know. I’m an attorney, remember?”

  “I try my hardest to think of you singularly as a beautiful, alluring woman, but that lawyer thing keeps creeping in,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “So you’ll be representing stockholder Sonja at partner meetings, I hope? What better way to get more time with you out here.”

  “’Fraid not, my fine figured fellow…you will! Sonja had me set up a voting trust for her shares and asked that you serve as trustee. She trusts your judgment and knowledge and wants you to have her permanent proxy to vote her shares anyway you see fit.”

  Wainwright did not say anything as he considered the implications of what Lacey just said. “Well, this is another fine fix you’ve gotten me into, Stanley,” flipping a make-believe necktie in his best Oliver Hardy impersonation, then, with a more serious attitude, “I’m honored, truly I am,” and blown away by the gravity of it. What has she done to me? “I appreciate Sonja’s confidence, but that is not going to change whatever is going on in our boardroom. Even with her votes, the big guys still control the company with their votes.”

  “I know. But there may come a time when not everyone votes in a bloc with the big guys. Just keep your proxy statement dry and don’t vote till you see the whites of their eyes…to paraphrase what we say on Boston’s Bunker Hill.” Lacey got up from the couch and sauntered toward the bar. “You look concerned. Is everything else all right?”

  “Oh, it’s my kids. I wanted to spend next weekend with them and they can’t or won’t go. This crap with their mother turning them against me is so unfair, and there’s not anything I can do about it. But I sure don’t want my kid issues to interrupt this marvelous time with you.”

  She spoke to him over her shoulder, “May I get you another Remy, sweetie?”

  “Tell you what, forget the brandy, and just promenade around the room for a while. I love to watch the way your hips sway.”

  Oh, that Garth! He’ll turn any serious conversation into a seduction. During their dinner, earlier, Wainwright had told her that her lips captivated him. He described them as full, and soft as lambskin. Moist as morning dew on a rose petal. But that wasn’t the best part, he explained. He said her lips were supple and so emotionally responsive to his own. That is what he said. Who am I to argue with a successful business executive? He said he feels aroused just thinking of my lips. Is he romantic, or what?

  “Lacey, will you please come back to this room? I’m beginning to get very lonely in here all by myself.”

  That’s funny, Lacey thought, all the time we’ve spent together and this is the first time I noticed his Midwest accent. Well, it’s more of a twang, actually. It sounds more like Chicago than LA. She finished pouring the drinks. From across the room, Lacey shared the other Sonja news. She had avoided telling him this part, as she knew this would upset him. “I talked to Sonja yesterday, mostly about the voting trust, but she also told me why Thomas became apprehensive of CapVest.”

  “Really? I’d like to hear about that. Was it something in the negotiations that went wrong, or what?”

  “No, nothing that easy, unfortunately.” She came back to the couch and handed Wainwright a snifter of cognac, sat, and put her arm around his shoulders. “Drugs! According to Sonja, Thomas went to dinner with Arnold in Seattle. Arnold took a capsule after they were seated in the restaurant; Thomas asked if he was all right—you know, he thought the capsule was for an ailment, or something.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen Arnold take medicine a couple of times,” Wainwright explained to her.

  “Honey, this is not a good story. I’m sorry. I know how much you love and admire the man, but this is a ‘feet of clay’ story. Do you want me to continue?”

  “You’ve got my attention. Sure, go ahead,” Wainwright said without enthusiasm.

  “Sonja said Thomas asked Arnold what the capsule was for, and Arnold said that now that Thomas was a partner, he should have all the benefits. He told him it was called MDMA and it was a prescription from his shrink. He said it would give Thomas a clear vision of the world he worked in. He said other CapVesters used the drug, and it made a wonderful difference in running the company.”

  Wainwright didn’t speak for several minutes. Lacey stayed quiet out of respect for the shock she’d just delivered to the man of whom she was so fond. Wainwright looked up from the carpeted floor and into her eyes. “That can’t be true. I don’t question you, or even Sonja, but the story has to be wrong. On the street, that stuff is called Ecstasy, or X, among other handles. I watched a PBS special a while back. It’s illegal and deadly. Arnol
d would never do that to himself, and he would not give it to others. I pray to God there has been some kind of blunder.”

  She moved closer to him and hugged him tightly. Lacey leaned into his warmth and didn’t speak for a bit. “I just broke a bunch of attorney-client privileges in telling you this. What I’m going to do is ask Sonja to call you and talk to you about it directly.”

  “Well, it’s not going to be reported by me. There is a mistake, somewhere, Lacey, but you know what? I’d be a fool of the first order to have you in my arms and not ‘go with the flow,’ so to speak. How about I give you a kiss and we both forget this until much, much later?” They embraced and Wainwright could swear he felt a gravitational pull as her lips drew him to her. He kissed her gently, then with more passion, and they proceeded to do what lovers do.

  Wainwright thought, this woman is boring a hole in my heart—but in a very good way! The more I am with her, the more important she becomes to me. In spite of their intimate embrace and with a pinch of guilt, Wainwright’s mind turned to BJ briefly. He needed to tell her Lacey was the person he wanted.

  Eleven

  “Be discreet in all things, and so render it unnecessary to be mysterious about any.” ~ Wellington

  TUESDAY—JUNE | Wainwright took two stairs at a time and opened the door on to the eighteenth floor where his old pal Keating reigned. He walked the lane among cubicles toward Keating’s office, guarded by BJ sitting at her desk. She looked up as Wainwright entered the reception area.

  “Well, hello, stranger. I thought maybe you’d fallen off the earth’s edge.”

  With a serious look on his face, Wainwright asked, “BJ, hi. Got a minute?”

  She continued looking up into the strained face of the man she’d spent fun times with, but said nothing, waiting for his obvious revelation.

  Wainwright didn’t feel bad about what he wanted to say, nor did he want BJ to feel bad, but it was a brush-off nevertheless, so tact was called for. Being a direct person, so too was his statement. “I want you to know I’ve met someone that I’ve fallen for, big time. I want to have an exclusive relationship with her, and that’s what I’m going to do. You and I have had some great times that I appreciate. I don’t want either of us to regret or forget, okay? I hope you’ll feel the same, and value our friendship. I want to continue to be pals. That is what I want, to be friends, but friends without privileges.”