by Emma Lathen
Chuck seemed preoccupied so Tommy knew the formula, tell a light story, smile, chuckle, and enjoy the time together. This had worked before and was now, especially since Tommy needed a bit of time to sober up so he could stagger home, about 6 blocks away. Chuck looked content so Tommy went on with his story.
He wound down gently and they sat there quietly for a bit. Tommy was thinking about his walk home. Chuck was remembering Winesburg, Ohio, and the moments in one’s life that came and passed quickly, never to be recaptured or altered.
He knew he just had one of them. He said a few words to Tommy about his upcoming stagger, which got a chuckle out of Tommy and created a memory Chuck thought would stick. He would be right.
Kit came over to him and pulled him on the dance floor. Chuck was a good dancer so it went well. Kit was cute so Tommy would remember this too, Chuck thought. He would be right about that also.
The evening or rather the early morning drifted on as Chuck stayed with it until Kit wanted to leave and they went to his place.
He wanted to settle her down so gave her a glass of Shiraz. She drank about half on her side of the bed and started to nod off. They crashed pleasantly for the night as Chuck wondered how the news would come his way about the death, as he sipped his last bourbon by his bedside.
Chapter 6
first reckoning
When you think you have a man in the palm of your hand count your fingers
Kit repeated herself, “Now what, Jack? We can’t just sit here.”
Actually they were lying there and Chuck didn’t want to be a pedant by pointing that out, but it was a boulder in his way. He roused himself, “What did you text back?”
“Nothing yet. But I feel I should.”
“Then do so.”
“What do I say?”
“Kit, that depends on you. I would think she should call the police and let them take it from there, but she has to decide that for herself.”
Kit looked at him harshly, “But you were his friend and partner, and we were with him last night.” She wound down a bit and just looked at him before going on, “That’s it?”
“Kit, what can I do? Jack has been core to my life since college. If I could do something for Jack I would, but I can’t. Anything I do now is for someone else, not Jack. I’ll miss him; I’ll have to get used to that somehow. Perhaps I will never really get used to him being gone. Everything we did together is now changed. I don’t know how exactly.” He paused to let her take over the conversation.
“Well, I am going over there for Carla,” as she got up to go. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No. You deal with Carla. Jack is gone so I can’t help him, as I just said. I have to think about the others, especially at the Company since he was the front man.”
“Sounds harsh.”
“It is harsh. Jack was the front man as is a maître d. Customers don’t see the chef. I was the back office, like the chef. Now I have to do my back office job and fill in the front until the company finds someone else. And they will never find another Jack. So that’s what I have to do now. You deal with Carla or not. I’ll have to go in. Most people will have hangovers and more, after that brawl last night; so that will help a bit,” he mused.
Kit got up, put her clothes on, and went to the bathroom. When he heard the shower he popped in and said, “I’m going over to the office. See you there,” and left before hearing her reply.
Chuck had gone over his prospective day early in the morning as well as on his short walk to the office. He entered and it was obvious everyone knew. He had decided his best move was to act as a grieved friend trying to right the ship.
The stock had crashed over 50% already that morning, bringing the market cap down to $9 billion. Chuck, as a high Machiavellian, knew that the market had declared the company worth $11 billion less without Jack, essentially because they considered him irreplaceable.
The smart move for him was to let it be so. He knew that Jack had been hyping and hyping the stock until it was in the stratosphere; that was his doing and Chuck would let it be so.
2 business reporters from The Wall Street Journal were waiting for him. They knew him and both had had their issues with everything.com’s market value. They both had written that Chuck was a good carpenter but not the person to build the whole house. They had both from time to time criticized Jack on other grounds.
So, in short, they had been generally negative and dissatisfied with the 2 principals and that sold papers and got attention. Praise was nice but like good weather, ignored; storms were watched, whether in weather or corporate life. They lived for the negative in other words. And they were here to find it. Chuck couldn’t fan those flames but he would let them do so since driving down the stock price suited his purposes.
They were surprised to get an immediate interview. One said simply, “Why?”
Chuck said, “You represent The Wall Street Journal and have a deep knowledge of the company; you have had a generally dim view of many things about us and your readers are looking for your take on things with Jack’s sudden death. All as it should be,” and he paused.
They looked at him and he went on, “Why don’t we order lunch in and talk some more. What will you have?” as he reached for his scratch pad and took their orders. He pushed a hotlink to the downstairs deli, placed their orders as well as his usual, smiled, and paused again.
“It has been a tough day already and I just got here. I’ll have a little pick me up, I think,” as he went to the liquor cabinet, waved them over, and they all had something. With that the conversation began again, albeit more gently and slowly. A man providing a carte blanche lunch and liquor was not to be sneered at, at least not while still drinking his liquor and eating his food.
“So now?”
Chuck took a breath and said, “So now I go and try to put humpty dumpty back together again,” and they had their headline. “Jack pushed for growth; my job was the bottom line. So I’ll do what I am good at and build the bottom line.”
“But the stock price might tank.”
“It already has 55% according to the last quote,” as he pointed to the screen posting it in real time. “My job will be to stabilize things. With that gentleman, I have to get to work. Enjoy the drinks and food when it arrives. I’ll be back to get my share.” Just then the food came in and they all sat down quietly together and had their lunch or dinner for them and breakfast for Chuck.
After finishing, Chuck got up and left them to it. He could move quickly and quietly when he wanted to do so, and did then. He was gone in their mid-bite, so to speak.
Chapter 7
journal’s reckoning
It isn’t hold em or fold em; it is freeze and run
Chuck left the offices at that point. He told the general manager on the way out he was doing so.
The GM said, “What now Chuck?”
“Business as usual, pal. Just do your job; pass the word to others to do theirs. I’ll be back tomorrow after mulling things over tonight and grieving for my oldest friend.”
The day before when Chuck knew the party would be coming up to celebrate the close with Simply, he had announced a 2 week electronics off vacation for himself. This was customary in the company and appreciated by one and all. Since it was also established that the vacationer would, on the honor system, open emails only once every 3 days but would still not be responsible to answer them, he would follow that routine to the letter or rather, as he chuckled to himself, to the email.
With that comment to the GM just then that he was going home to grieve, he left the premises by the back way to avoid any reporters hovering outside. Jack and he had learned a route through their office building basement that went to the abutting building so they could go out that back door, walk over to their own, and come in unannounced up the service elevator which stopped at their floor but only had two condos and no one else had the code to stop the elevator on the floor. No handymen to trade the code for something else;
only them.
As with most secrets, they are only secret if one person knows them. As with many things now, only Chuck knew the code to the floor. He was totally safe here. To get a warrant and up here would be tough. Because the police had been involved, he had given the doorman early that morning a onetime 24 hour code for them to Jack’s, as Jack and he had done for others in the past that needed access. Each code would deactivate automatically within 24 hours for security purposes. He withheld a code, 24 hour or otherwise, to his own condo entrance from the hall on their floor.
This time he had come back to his condo by the service elevator, letting himself in with his code so as not to appear on any surveillance cameras in the regular passenger elevator or have any record there. Jack and he kept a SUV in a garage 5 blocks away under a different name. He planned to start his 2 week vacation tomorrow by driving it out of town at 3 AM the next morning to Newport, Vermont to his cabin there and use a hidden canoe to cross the lake to Quebec the next night.
They had a tent and sleeping bags in the SUV, provisions, and more, so they could do this kind of thing that they wished they could have done in their youth but didn’t have the money to do so. Now when they could afford it, they rarely could afford the time to do it. It sounded like an O’Henry story, he thought.
Chuck was going to do it now though since he had the time and the money at long last, as well as the freedom to do so without bad consequences except for possibly the police.
Jack and he had soundproofed their condos so he heard nothing of what might be going on next door by the police or anyone else that afternoon and evening. At 2:45 AM the next morning his cell alarm rang, he got a few things, and left down the service elevator again. For fun and safety, he had put on a theatrical disguise complete with a false beard, wig, and floppy hat. He had also put on elevator shoes to make him 6’ 3” not 6’ tall. Small differences, but why not? Safer.
He knew the theatrics distracted him from the seriousness of it all. Quite a parallel he mused. By then he was on the street going towards the garage. He arrived about 15 minutes later, got in the SUV, and started it. It was a small dated commercial building so didn’t have many spots or any security cameras, which they had both liked. He pressed the garage door opener and was off.
It was a 7 hour drive up to Newport on Lake Mem as he called it. The official Indian name was a 2 county name, starting in one and ending in another. It was not only long but unpronounceable too. It was a pretty straight shot. Up the Thruway to Albany, cut over on Route 7, and then up 91 to just before Newport, where he took a short ride on Route 191 west to the Newport area. His property was on the lake off Bluff Road. It was only a couple of miles to the Canadian border across the middle of the lake. He had a submergible he used to occasionally cross unseen. He had another place south of Magog, Quebec which he could land at underwater, which was pretty cool. So no one knew if he was there or not.
He had a car there and could leave on Route 10 to go west to the rest of Canada. Chuck thought he would stay bunkered down in the Magog place for a week or so and see how that went.
He stopped at the Lebanon Municipal Airport and got a The Wall Street Journal from their coin news box. The market cap had fallen to $6 billion and stabilized there. Good, he thought. $6 billion was a fair price; $20 billion was ridiculous.
Since he now owned and controlled 60% of the stock, he had a $3.6 billion net worth in everything.com and about $1 billion outside it. Even at just 3% interest that was over $100 million per year, far more than he ever would need, and the company was depreciated because of Jack not any of Chuck’s doings other than the murder. As long as he kept clear of that he would be fine forevermore. Step 1 was business as usual.
He read the headline:
Newberg Trying to Put Humpty Dumpty Back Together Again.
Chuck Newberg, Jack Towson’s partner at everything.com, told Journal reporters that his job was to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Chuck is a workman like COO but no Towson, as Chuck was the first to admit. Chuck said he could understand the market knocking the stock down yesterday but he would try to help the stock price by increasing earnings. Chuck admitted that he was not a rainmaker but said the company would undoubtedly seek one, though he said he was doubtful they could find anyone like Jack. That is an understatement from his longtime friend, Harvard College and Business School roommate, and business partner. When asked what he would do now Chuck replied, “Business as usual.”
Not very promising for the stockholders who bought into the growth story. But we will see.
The story went on from there speaking to making stock options worthless which might cause an exodus of the talent that made everything.com what it was, the loss of value to Chuck himself, the loss to the institutions invested in the company, and more along that vein. They did everything but put a black border around the column, Chuck chuckled.
With that Chuck crafted a press release to counter The Wall Street Journal’s premise about the demise of the company, but support their point that the hype days were over and presumably the momentum investors would bail out then.
Chuck Newberg, CEO of everything.com, announced that he would stabilize the company through emphasizing earnings such as the $100 million from Simply, their latest acquisition, pare back their speculative investments for the future, and deliver another $400 million in pretax, to create a $350 million total after tax annual earnings which would support a $10 billion or more market cap at a roughly 30 PE.
Chuck sent this to the everything.com General Manager for immediate release, which meant 9 AM.
Chuck decided to rest at his Newport cabin that night as planned before pushing off the next day.
The next morning he learned that the news release had stabilized the stock at slightly less than a $6 billion market cap. The follow-up article by the 2 Journal newsies had a sizzling headline:
Newberg pushes an earnings not growth story at everything.com.
Everyone knows you buy P & G, IBM, and Exxon for earnings. You buy dotcoms for growth. So Newberg plans to have an earnings company in the unstable dot com business. That left a ho hum in the marketplace, though the stock drifted back up to a $6 billon market cap where it will probably stay for some time.
“Perfect,” Jack said out loud trying to contain himself, getting breakfast, and walking around his property sight unseen.
Chapter 8
police
Speak softly but carry a big stick
As a high profile case, Centre Street sent out their top detective, George Parsons, along with Joyce Allison, who had all the educational credentials to become Commissioner some day and much of the moxie too. This team had cracked several tough cases. The Commissioner hoped this would be a success too as a high profile murder case.
George and Joyce arrived together. George told Joyce, “This is your world. Have a good look into your world as a person not a cop. You are going to see things none of the rest of us will. And when you become Commissioner, remember me,” and he laughed. She smiled but was a bird dog at heart, raring to get after it, and George liked that about her too.
“Joyce, I am going to stay down here in the lobby. Text me when ready. Scout out the place. Take your time; be patient. See what you see. Try to visualize it all. You should take the lead on this one. OK?”
“Thanks George.”
“No, thank you. This promises to be a tough one. We are talking complicated motives; high end people; your Ivy League/Manhattan world. Nothing to be disparaged. But something to be alert to in order to solve, if we can.”
“You sound discouraged. Why?”
“The obvious motives don’t apply. Jack, the victim, didn’t have a jealous wife or girlfriend; he didn’t even have an ex-wife which so many have. Jack’s death cost everyone at the party money, with the market cap going down by 55% in one day, then another 30% or so today already. So the majority of people with stock options are underwater or took a serious bath.”
“Carla, th
e girl in bed with him, was traumatized. She is a heads up young woman who called me back on the phone to report what she knew which wasn’t much. Then we have her friend, Kit, in bed with the other partner, Chuck. She said she was a light sleeper and he was in bed all night. The partner lost 55% of his stock value in one day, and another 30% today. I am told it will go lower yet. Yes, he evidently inherits from Jack, but even with that he lost half the value and, according to everyone, that’s billions with a B. And they have been lifelong friends with no arguments noted in any record. And to make it worse, they each had different talents so the partner has to fill a big gap. Finally, the victim has no living relatives. Now that’s rare to have everyone lose by a death. So that’s why I am not optimistic, Joyce.”
“George, it would have taken me days to say that, if I could have figured it out. I take your point; we should think of this as a no-win case so any flicker is a bright sign.” George nodded as she went on. “And you think I might be able to come up with a motive. No. What you mean is I might have the best chance so you are giving me a clear field by saying no solution, fine; any suggestion of a solution, Eureka.”
George smiled, “Exactly.”
“I am a pretty good student George,” she said relaxing.
“That you are. That you are. Go to it. I’m going to walk around and think about it; play cop if I can find an affordable donut in this neighborhood, which I doubt,” and he smiled as he waved her on to the elevator.
The door man was elegant, clearly more than a doorman. He looked at her somewhat quizzically due to her Park Avenue clothes doing police work. It clashed; he was right of course.
She knew from long experience how to get him to talk and that was by not asking questions, not now. Let him relax; let him decide; if he decides to speak she will learn things; if not she won’t; but if she started with questions she would be misled, possibly skillfully so. She knew how to relax in an elevator and did so. On the sixth floor, he let her off and then into the victim’s apartment on the left.