“Mister Wainwright, this is Mister Conte,” the girl announced.
“Hello, Mister Conte,” DeWitt Wainwright said, rising. He studied Marc carefully as they shook hands. “How can I help you? I’m not sure I want to; but tell me what you want anyway.”
“As I told you over the phone,” said Marc, sitting in a leather chair Wainwright had pointed to, “I represent your sister-in-law, Toni Wainwright.”
“Just leave it, you represent Toni Wainwright,” he said. “It’s bad enough she uses my family’s name without being reminded that she’s related to me too.” He frowned with some distaste he wanted Marc to know was there.
“I take it you two don’t get along,” said Marc.
“You could say that if you wanted to be charitable,” Wainwright countered. He took a pack of Camel cigarettes from the desk, offering one to Marc. Marc declined. As he watched Wainwright light up, Marc thought that the old stand-by regular-size Camels seemed small in comparison to the filter and extra-length cigarettes people smoked today. Yet, the old masculinity mystique was there, and it really didn’t matter what size they were; they were a man’s cigarette.
“In addition to the fact that she shot and killed my brother … that lousy bastard,” Wainwright hissed, a spume of smoke issuing from his mouth. “Excuse me. You’re not here to hear the family scandal. Just let me suggest that Toni and I didn’t get along from before.” Wainwright now blew some smoke high overhead, as he leaned back in his chair. “But what can I do for you? I know you’re only doing a job as her lawyer.”
“I wanted to know a little more about a couple of financial matters,” said Marc.
“What the hell do finances have to do with my brother’s killing?” he asked, coming forward in his chair, his elbows now resting on his desk.
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with it, yet,” Marc admitted. “I’m just following up some ideas right now. I don’t know where they’ll lead.”
“Well, let’s get it over with,” said Wainwright. He looked at his watch. “I have to get to a board meeting in a few minutes. Do you want to know about Toni’s interest in my brother’s estate?”
“No. I want to know about your brother and Zack Lord.”
DeWitt Wainwright studied Marc carefully. “Zack Lord? I know he’s screwing the ass off Toni, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“I told you, I’m not sure. I’m just following up some leads.”
“You think Zack Lord …” Wainwright hesitated. “I mean are you thinking that Zack Lord had something to do with my brother’s death?”
“I haven’t said that.”
“And you haven’t said that wasn’t what you said either,” Wainwright retorted. “What the hell does Zack Lord have to do with this?” He thought a moment, his puffy eyes narrowing further. “You think that wise-ass Lord had something to do with this? With my brother’s …” Wainwright was starting to breathe heavily, his jaw muscles rippling.
“Just don’t get off on a wrong tack, Mister Wainwright,” Marc cautioned. “I haven’t said I thought anybody had to do with your brother’s death. I just need some information so I can put things together more intelligently. I’d suggest it’d be best if we all did the same.”
Wainwright stared at Marc now, his head cocking to one side. He wasn’t used to anyone reprimanding him. “Exactly what do you mean? And what do you want?”
“I understand that Wainwright and Company underwrote Zack Lord’s business when he first went public. Your brother gave Zack Lord his initial boost into the financial stratosphere, so to say.”
“That’s a quaint so to say,” said Wainwright.
“I’m sorry if I don’t get all the exact Wall Street terminology right. I don’t invest in the stock market.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like the idea of my money being controlled by some faceless board of directors. I’d rather control it myself, make my own decisions.”
Wainwright shrugged. “Glad everyone doesn’t feel that way.”
“Does Wainwright and Company still retain any interest in Lord’s original and present conglomerate, his empire?” Marc asked.
“For what you want to know, yes. That is, as you know, Bob, my brother, was the one who originally was interested in Lord. He saw the guy was going places, moving fast. So he brought him into the house. Introduced him. Bob was convinced we could do well with Lord. So we underwrote Lord’s first offering. Bob was always the moving force behind Lord around here. And it was Bob who actually held the main portion of our interest in Lord’s various holdings. I think in addition to our taking some stock in the firm name, Bob also went heavily into Lord’s stock with his own money.”
“And did that interest in Lord’s company extend right up to the time your brother was killed?”
“Yes, Bob owned a very substantial portion of Lord’s stock at the time of his death,” Wainwright said, sliding open a lower drawer of his desk. He took out a folder, opened it, and read something. “Bob owned about forty-eight million dollars of Lord’s stock when he died.” He closed the folder. “I’d say that was substantial. Toni stands to own most of that now.”
“Toni Wainwright stands to own the Lord stock personally?” Marc asked with surprise.
“You’re the lawyer. She was my brother’s wife, legally at least, at the time of his death, wasn’t she?” Wainwright begrudged. “It was his personal stock. He left everything to her in his will. Of course, as you know better than I do, if she’s convicted of murdering him she wouldn’t inherit his estate, would she? Don’t think I’m interested in the inheritance, Mister Conte. I’m not being mercenary. I couldn’t care less what’s done with the money, as long as that little murdering cunt doesn’t get her hands on it.”
“Are you angry only because of your brother’s death? Or are there other reasons that existed before?” asked Marc.
“She was a ball buster from a long time ago, as far as I’m concerned,” replied Wainwright. “She used to toss poor Bob around like he was a soccer ball. She used to wrap him around her little finger. It always pissed me off. And I told him so. And her.”
“He pretty much listened to what she had to say, then?” Marc asked.
“You said it. Dumb bastard that he was,” Wainwright said lovingly. “I used to tell him. But she had some kind of way with him that I couldn’t explain.”
“What do you know about Lord? About his present business holding?” Marc asked.
“Lord is a first-class prick,” Wainwright replied unhesitatingly. “He doesn’t care about anything in the world, except getting more money, making a bigger splash, making a bigger show. He loves to see his name and picture in the newspapers.” This last was said with obvious disdain for public showing.
“How did Lord and your brother get along?”
“Great, for some reason. Bob really liked Lord. Zack does have a way about him. He’s charming in the way all con men are charming. If you figure that’s charm.”
“You see Lord as a con man?”
“Maybe that’s too strong,” Wainwright admitted. “He’s got a gift of gab, a good personality, okay? He’s hustled his way to the head of a world-wide conglomerate and mutual fund that gobbles up businesses after Zack talks to the owners, charms them, convinces them he’ll give them a huge pie in the sky.”
“What about Zack and your brother,” Marc asked. “He con your brother?”
“I don’t know. Bob was a pretty smart guy,” said Wainwright. “He was younger than I am. But he wasn’t easy to hustle. He and Lord got along really well, however. Bob liked Lord. At least up to the time that Lord started playing around with Toni.”
“When was that?” asked Marc. “Before or after your brother and Toni were separated?”
“We never really knew for sure if Zack and Toni were screwing around before she threw Bob out,” Wainwright replied. “I sort of figured afterwards that she must have been, that’s why she threw him out. But we
never knew for sure, to be honest.”
“Who is we?”
“Well, Bob and I talked about it some after she threw him out of the apartment and changed the locks. He figured that’d only last awhile. But then, he was shocked when she was really serious about it. She even started seeing Lord.”
“I take it, your brother Bob didn’t like that?”
“Bet your ass he didn’t.” Wainwright lit up another little cigarette.
“How did they get along before the breakup, your brother and Lord and Toni?”
“The best of friends,” Wainwright replied. “Lord was always with them, or them with him—on their boats, Lord’s plane, traveling. He, was like horseshit, Lord was; he was everywhere.”
“Your brother and Lord were genuinely friends then?”
“Sure. Lord was always sending gifts from where he traveled, flowers to the wife, birthday presents, you know, always remembering special events. I told you he was a good con man. He was always doing the right thing.”
“And after the breakup, things changed?” Marc continued.
“Sure. Then Zack started seeing Toni, and Bob was really pissed off about it. But he never could handle Toni. She just pushed him around some more, gave him a line of bullshit. And he’d believe it, go get himself stinking drunk somewhere, then sleep it off for a few days.”
“Does Toni Wainwright now actually control the portion of Bob’s estate that includes Zack’s stocks?”
“We’re fighting her in court,” replied Wainwright. “But the only leg we stand on is the case where you’re defending her. If she’s acquitted, she’ll own most of Bob’s estate.”
“What’s your opinion of Lord’s present business holdings?” Marc asked. “I don’t think you answered me before.”
He thought a moment. “Well, let me put it this way,” Wainwright replied. “If you were asking me to invest your money now, I wouldn’t put you into anything that Lord owned.”
“He’s in that bad shape?”
“More like he’s overextended right now. And with the national economy the way it’s been for the last year or so, that’s a bad position to be in.”
“I don’t know much about it,” admitted Marc. “From the outside, Lord seems to own half the world. Villas, boats, planes. How could he be in rough shape and own or control so much?”
“Easy. It happened like this. First he owned and controlled a few businesses. Pretty successful businesses. Then we underwrote him, he went public, and he got big money. He takes over a couple of more businesses, larger businesses. Starts his conglomerate and his mutual fund. Then he starts taking over even more businesses, gave each of them a piece of his over-all holdings. You know how the conglomerate thing works, don’t you?”
“Basically,” Marc replied.
“Well, it’s like this,” explained Wainwright. “Lord, controlled some companies. He wants to take over other companies. So he gives the owners or stockholders of a new company a piece of the combined operation. The owners of the one company now own part of a much larger operation. They own, instead of a hundred per cent of their own single company, a smaller per cent of a much vaster, more valuable company. Everybody’s happy, especially Zack, because he’s growing larger and larger, taking over other companies, using their own money.”
“Their own money?”
“Sure,” continued Wainwright. “The new company throws in their business. What does Zack throw in? A piece of their own company, and a piece of a lot of other companies he took over the same way. He doesn’t put up a dime. They only get back their part of their own business, and part of other people’s businesses.”
“Okay,” said Marc. “How does that set Zack up in a troubled situation now? It sounds like it would make him stronger if he’s been picking up the right companies.”
“That part’s true, all right,” agreed Wainwright. “But then Lord started being an entrepreneur. Went into a lot of new ventures, with the assets of all these companies behind him. Lord got into construction, international hotels, for instance, and wildcatting for oil around the world, stuff that costs money. And he finances the new stuff by taking money out of one of his companies. Business A, for example. Now Business A might have good earnings, and been making a financial surplus. So he uses Business A’s money. Then, Business A gets a little tapped out, as happens from time to time in any business, say at production time, or at a slow period, or vacation time. Well, since Zack took Business A’s cash reserve to sink into one of his other ventures, he has to come up with money from Business B and sink it into Business A. Then when B needs money, he’d have to tap Business C, then Business D, and so on. After a while, each of the companies is leaning on the next one, and each becomes tapped out, and then what? You see what I mean? Lord’s overextended himself, and he’s built a pyramid of cards which can collapse at any time.”
“I’m with you so far,” said Marc, “except for the pyramid.”
“Easy. All the businesses are tied together now. The money from A is in B, and the money from B is in C, and so on. After all the businesses are interrelated with all the others, pull one out, let it collapse, and what happens to the rest of the companies? The one that collapses pulls down the one leaning on it. And the second one pulls down the third, and the third pulls down the fourth. Like that.”
“Is that the condition of Lord’s empire right now?”
“In my opinion it sure is,” replied Wainwright.
“Bob thought the same thing?”
“He’s the one who told me,” answered Wainwright “Bob saw what Lord was doing, and he started to get a little edgy.”
“Did Lord know how Bob felt?”
“I guess he was getting the picture,” said Wainwright. “Bob was trying to unload his holdings in Lord’s empire, as you call it, a little at a time, so as not to depress the market. In other words,” Wainwright explained, seeing Marc’s face reflect confusion, “Bob didn’t want to dump forty-eight million dollars’ worth of Lord stock on the market in one day. It would cause a panic, the stock would go into a nose dive, so would the price, and Bob wouldn’t get his money out, Lord would be out of business, and like that. So Bob was easing his way the hell out of this Lord empire, a little at a time.”
“And Lord knew this?”
“I’m sure he did. He’d have to. He could easily find out whose stock was being sold. I mean, in everyday terms, Bob was selling fairly large lots.”
“And what your brother was doing, would it have enough influence in the financial world to really affect Lord’s operation?”
“Sure,” replied Wainwright. “I mean, we’re a prestigious Wall Street firm, if I say so myself. And these were some company-held stocks, in addition to Bob’s personal holdings, that were being sold. Now, if Wainwright and Company show signs that we have no confidence in a stock that we originally underwrote, then people on the Street, other investors, get the idea something’s wrong. You start them thinking, then doubting. And on Wall Street, panic spreads like a plague.”
“I guess that also means that Toni can affect Lord’s fortunes once she has total control of your brother’s estate.”
“If she gets to inherit Bob’s estate, she sure could,” Wainwright replied. A look of great surprise dawned on his face. “You figure that that slimy weasel Lord is playing around with Toni to control the stock and keep his ass afloat?”
“I don’t know too much about the financial world, Mister Wainwright,” said Marc. “I’m just trying to find out about a homicide case.”
“You bet your ass,” Wainwright exclaimed. “That Zack Lord is doing just that. That sneaky, slimy son of a bitch! First he tries to keep my brother wrapped up with birthday presents, and vacations together, flowers for the wife. And then he tries to take over his widow and the stock to boot.”
DeWitt Wainwright was still hissing obscenities when Marc took his leave.
26
Saturday, September 9, 3:20 P.M.
Foul weather had
moved in quickly late Friday night, and Marc and Franco had spent a very long night fighting through wind and lashing rain back to port. Saturday morning had thundered angrily and darkly, and the weekend’s sailing had been scrubbed. Which was a shame, for there weren’t many good sailing days left. In the afternoon, a sudden wind blew the storm to sea and the sun came out, but by that time Marc had arranged an appointment to see Zack Lord.
At three o’clock Saturday afternoon, Marc, Franco, and Maria entered the nearly deserted lobby of the Hotel Louis Quinze. Maria said she wanted to meet Zack Lord so she’d have a firsthand impression of the situation. Marc, although he teased Maria about purposely causing the bad weather and the sailing being scrubbed, consented to her coming along. As he picked up one of the house phones near the front desk and asked for Zack Lord, Marc was envisioning billowing spinnakers and brisk winds. He spoke with someone in Zack’s suite and was cleared to go up. The front desk gave the elevator operator permission to stop on Lord’s floor.
“He lives on the same floor with his offices?” Franco asked the elevator operator as they ascended rapidly.
“Yes, sir,” replied the elevator man without turning. “To the right are the living quarters. To the left are the business offices.”
“He’s got the whole floor?” Franco asked with an air of admiration.
“Yes, sir. The entire twenty-ninth.”
“Is that the top floor of the hotel?” Franco continued.
“No, sir. But that’s the last occupied floor. The rest of the floors are just for machinery or hotel maintenance.”
The elevator stopped and the three of them stepped into the paneled reception area. A young man in a suit and tie was seated behind the desk.
“Marc Conte to see Mister Lord,” said Marc.
“Yes, sir, this way.” The young man rose and crossed the reception room, toward the right. He held open a door for Maria, then Marc and Franco. Once inside a corridor of blue, softly lit with small spotlights from the ceiling, the young man walked ahead of them and brought them to a closed door. He pressed the door buzzer.
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