Final Venture

by Michael Ridpath

  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.'

  23

  John and I were polite to each other at work the next day. We both had our secrets and suspicions, and it was easier just to pretend that the previous night's conversation hadn't happened. Mahoney came in, set up camp in Frank's office for the morning, and seemed to be interviewing everyone but me. John and Daniel each took their turn. I walked past a couple of times and saw two of Mahoney's assistants going through piles of Frank's files.

  I wondered what else he had discovered that I didn't know about. It had come as a shock that there had been a whole line of investigation involving Frank and John that I hadn't been aware of. But, despite that, from what John had said I was still Mahoney's favourite suspect.

  Mahoney was doing better than me. I was stuck. True, I had widened the field of possible suspects beyond just myself. Now there was Craig, Art, and perhaps John. Gil and Diane were possibilities, although unlikely ones. Eddie was also worth considering. But having widened the field, I now needed to narrow it down to just one name. Frank's killer. And I had no idea how to do that.

  Several times I had considered trying to join forces with Mahoney, but I knew Gardner Phillips wouldn't allow it. If I kept quiet and said nothing to the police, he would keep me out of jail. If I talked to them, I was on my own.

  As far as Mahoney was concerned, I was guilty. His job now was to prove it. And I could see his point of view, especially once he had found the gun. He knew Lisa had dumped it in the river. Which meant I must have killed Frank.

  How had the gun got into the living-room closet in the first place? That was still a question I was nowhere near answering satisfactorily. No one had been in the apartment between when the police had searched it and when Lisa had found the weapon, apart from me, her and Mahoney. Maybe the bastard really had planted it.

  Unless Lisa had hidden it there herself? No, I couldn't think that. Couldn't even begin to think that.

  God, I missed her!

  Daniel came back into the office. He had been with Mahoney for about half an hour. He smiled at me.

  'What did he say?'

  'He told me not to tell you.'

  'Come on, Daniel.'

  'OK. He asked lots of questions about you. And Frank. Nothing specific. He was just fishing. He went through deals you had done together. Net Cop, that kind of thing.'

  That was interesting. If he was checking out Net Cop, I wondered how long it would take him to link Nancy Bowman's description to Craig.

  Daniel sat at his desk, and clicked a couple of buttons on his mouse. Then he let out a whoop. 'All right!'

  'What is it? Don't tell me BioOne is up an eighth.'

  'No. But Beaufort Technologies is off another twenty per cent today. That means it's lost almost half its value. I was short.'

  'Good for you. I trust Lynette Mauer will be duly thankful.'

  Daniel smiled. 'It was the Bieber Foundation selling their stake that started the slide.'

  'Daniel!'

  'What?' he grinned. 'It was an accident waiting to happen. I just nudged it along a little.'

  I shook my head in disbelief as I watched him chuckle at his computer screen.

  'Is money all that matters to you?' I asked.

  Daniel turned to me surprised. 'No, of course not,' he said.

  I raised my eyebrows.


  'Well, maybe. But these days in America, you've got to have money. If you have money, people take notice. And it's got to be big money. A mill won't cut it. You need tens of millions. Like John's father.'

  John looked up from his work, decided to ignore Daniel and put his head down again.

  'I've just got ambition, that's all,' Daniel went on. 'There's nothing wrong with that. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me a famous American who isn't worth millions.'

  My mind ran through famous Americans: film stars, TV personalities, politicians, sports players, writers, singers, religious leaders. He was right. Even Mickey Mouse was probably worth billions.

  'See,' said Daniel, and turned back to gloat at his computer screen.

  I couldn't stand working at my desk, knowing that down the corridor Mahoney was asking everyone questions about me, so I decided to get the train to Wellesley and see how Craig was doing.

  The place was buzzing. After so much uncertainty, the engineers now felt confident that their designs would actually take on a physical shape. For something so expensive, the switch wouldn't look very impressive. It would be a box about eighteen inches wide by two feet long. Most of the cost would go into the ASIC or Application Specific Integrated Circuit. This was a wafer of silicon with millions of tiny electronic connections. It was what would make our switches different from anyone else's, and it was ownership of the design of these circuits that would create the real value in Net Cop as and when it was eventually sold or taken public on the stock market.

  We needed to hire more engineers to oversee the assembly and testing. Craig already had people in mind, but they had to be persuaded to jump from their existing lucrative posts. I joined Craig in the sales job. It was fun.

  I was interested to realize that I was beginning to think of Net Cop as 'us' rather than 'them'. I really did feel part of it. I was now a bit more sympathetic of the way Art talked about BioOne.

  We were in Craig's office late in the afternoon, when Gina popped her head in. 'There's a Sergeant Mahoney here to see you.'

  'I'll be with him in a minute,' Craig said. Then he turned to me and raised his eyebrows. 'What shall I tell him?'