Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake

by Helen MacArthur

  Then the maitre d’ descended, silent like the angel Gabriel. His hands were pressed together underneath his chin. ‘Sir?’ he said.

  Greene nodded.

  The maitre d’ clicked his fingers and a silent rush ensued, quick, soft action so as not to disturb Greene.

  Greene seemed stricken for a second. ‘Ashton Greene is dead,’ he said.

  Much as this shocked her, part of Minnie believed him. The man she was looking at bore no resemblance to the elegant, poised person she had first met at The Savoy. Perhaps a comeback was out of the question.

  She had murdered the old Greene.

  He closed his eyes, self-imposed darkness, and mumbled, ‘You can’t help me.’

  Minnie didn’t answer.

  Greene quickly recovered his composure. He sat up rigidly staring straight ahead, and said, ‘You will go ahead with the public apology and deny that I have this disease.’

  Minnie could see that he was serious.

  Then he said, almost as an afterthought, ‘You will also arrange the perfect break-up – make me look like a gentleman and keep Parker smiling at the polls. I am not getting married to that woman.’

  Deadly serious.

  ‘You can say what you like about Parker Bachmann but her instincts are pure gold,’ he added. ‘She knew to cut and run the minute you dropped the bombshell about my health. It was instinctive. She couldn’t fake it. At least it was an honest reaction, one from the heart. I admire that in a woman.’

  14

  Pillar Point Harbor

  Minnie left Harbor Heights with a deep sense of foreboding. The San Franciscan fog seemed to have settled inside her head. She had agreed to make the public apology. She hadn’t made her mind up about the rest. As far as Greene and Levchin were concerned, however, she was going to do as she was told.

  She called Angie immediately when she got back to the motel. She told her what was at stake. Her friend was shocked when she heard the details of Levchin’s conversation.

  When Minnie finished talking, Angie gave an indignant screech that didn’t need telecommunication power to be transmitted across the Atlantic. ‘How does he know about Howl Couture?’

  Minnie held her ear away from the phone until the screech subsided. ‘Greene has unlimited powers in the business world. He’s a financial giant. He probably ordered someone to do a background check on me. I helped organise the e-commerce side to Howl Couture. I’ve left virtual fingerprints all over your business.’

  ‘This Greene might be one of the world’s most celebrated business tycoons but that doesn’t give him a free pass to do what he likes.’

  ‘It kind of does,’ said Minnie exhaling. She wasn’t that naive.

  ‘How dare they bully you like this,’ seethed Angie. ‘This is blackmail, Minnie.’

  ‘It’s either blackmail or bankruptcy,’ said Minnie. ‘I talked myself out of a job at Jones & Sword but I’m not taking you down with me.’

  ‘I have loyal customers,’ said Angie defiantly. ‘Personality tests reveal that animal lovers are prone to attachment and form strong relationships. I would not be easily abandoned.’

  ‘Greene will bring down your online business. He will set up a similar business to Howl Couture and drive all the traffic to his site. The man is surrounded by hi-tech neighbours at Pacific Heights who practically own the Internet through search engines and social media. You wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage. James George holds the title deeds to my apartment. You and I would be out on the street facing the same fate as the abandoned cats and dogs you come across. Who is going to rescue us?’

  ‘We’re stronger than that.’

  ‘I know how this works.’

  ‘You would lie for him?’ asked Angie, sounding incredulous.

  ‘No,’ answered Minnie, without missing a beat. ‘I would lie for you.’

  ‘Minnie, you don’t owe me,’ said Angie gently. ‘Whatever I’ve done for you in the past holds no bearing on your decision now. I’m your friend.’

  ‘You’ve always been there for me,’ said Minnie, her throat was rough with emotion.

  ‘Greene knows he can get to you through me,’ said Angie. ‘He’s manipulating you.’

  ‘He has advisers who are telling him this is what to do,’ explained Minnie helplessly. She thought about the grasping Levchin.

  ‘Are you telling me he doesn’t know better?’

  ‘It’s called “delegation”, apparently.’

  ‘Horse shit,’ snorted Angie.

  ‘Row Reduction was mentioned, too,’ said Minnie quietly, although at this point James George was not her top priority. Angie came first. ‘James George has co-founders and colleagues. I want him to feel terrible about cheating but I’m not out to ruin him. I want him back and it would be good to have one person in our relationship holding down a job.’

  ‘James George is an arse but I suppose he doesn’t deserve this,’ said Angie reluctantly.

  ‘He would want me to save his business,’ said Minnie, ‘whereas, you are letting emotion cloud your judgement. Our friendship has made you go soft in this situation.’

  ‘James George is the one who proposed to you. Shouldn’t a smidgen of emotion cloud his judgement, too?’

  ‘You’re a much nicer person than he is.’

  ‘I’m not nice,’ declared Angie, ‘not when my best friend has been threatened like this.’

  Minnie could picture Angie rolling up her sleeves on the other end of the phone. She never backed down when she was cornered.

  ‘I can work this out,’ said Minnie, rubbing a tension pain between her eyes.

  ‘There is nothing to work out.’ Angie’s voice was threatening to rise to screech level again. ‘We haven’t even discussed the damage it would do to Sid Zane. The man is a talented mathematician who has devoted large amounts of time to zero-profit research to help diagnose people with Parkinson’s. You simply cannot discredit his work without good reason. Greene is adamant that you restore his reputation but thinks nothing of wrecking the reputation of another man who is trying to do some good in the world. I’m sorry, Minnie, it doesn’t wash with me. Forget about Howl Couture and Row Reduction. There is a moral issue to consider here.’

  Minnie had to agree. It would be tortuous to publicly undermine the credibility of Sid Zane. He would be humiliated. He was a phenomenal mathematician who was always pushing boundaries for the sake of research. He didn’t have a get-rich-quick scheme in mind. Unlike Levchin.

  There was a slight delay on the line. Then Angie’s voice came back loud and clear. ‘I think you should apologise for hurting Greene’s feelings and leave it at that. It’s not your fault. How were you supposed to know that someone was recording your conversation at The Savoy?’

  ‘I really thought I could make it right,’ said Minnie wearily.

  ‘Perhaps you still can,’ said Angie, optimism pushing through the frustration. ‘Get the influential and fabulous fiancée on side.’

  ‘I tried that, remember?’

  ‘You don’t give up, remember?’

  ‘Greene wants to break up with her,’ said Minnie, dampening down this suggestion. ‘The wedding is off.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Angie.

  ‘What’s more, he wants me to mastermind the perfect break-up.’

  ‘He has it all figured out, doesn’t he?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  ‘You should still talk to her,’ persisted Angie. ‘She is running for governor. She has speech writers at her disposal. She could help you out.’

  ‘She doesn’t like me.’ Minnie shuddered as she remembered their last encounter.

  ‘You’re not asking to be her bridesmaid, Minnie. You want advice on how to write the perfect apology. She knows Greene. She was about to get married to him.’

  ‘She scares me,’ added Minnie.

  ‘Don’t let her intimidate you.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘Really?’ cried Angie with an awesome snort.
‘She’s the one driving around in a sausage.’

  Angie was right. Minnie needed to talk to Parker Bachmann again. She needed to let Bachmann know that she’d made contact with Greene. Bachmann and Greene might not be hopelessly devoted to each other but Minnie felt a responsibility to keep her informed. She knew what it felt like to be planning a wedding one minute, then have everything fall into chaos the next.

  It was also really important that Bachmann was told about Dr Levchin and his influence over Greene. Levchin seemed to be manipulating the situation with self-aggrandisement in mind as he ruthlessly focused on the expansion of Levchin Care Clinics around the world.

  She needed Bachmann to know that Greene seemed to have lost his better judgement when it came to dealing with the formidable, conniving Levchin who appeared to be working to his own agenda. Private gain through public loss.

  Minnie also needed advice on how to handle Greene’s demand about the public apology and denial of the disease. Minnie had no problem with saying sorry but she felt deeply uncomfortable about the rest.

  Bachmann could probably help here as she knew Greene better than Minnie. She had chosen an arranged marriage over romance but at least she wasn’t under the impression that love mattered. Minnie, on the other hand, believed that love could conquer all. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Minnie was willing to commit to an adulterous man while Bachmann and Greene were on the verge of calling time on their relationship even though both of them had been faithful and true.

  Minnie once more accessed Bachmann’s schedule online. The acting mayor was having lunch in the business district. The restaurant at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel on Sansome Street at 1pm.

  Minnie was in the hotel, being whisked upwards by the elevator before she had a chance to change her mind. The hotel was situated in one of the tallest buildings of the city and boasted stunning views including the iconic suspension bridges. Minnie lurked in the plush cocktail bar area for a moment so she could scan the restaurant and locate Bachmann, which took less than three seconds. The Bachmann laugh echoed off the sparkling glassware and dinged in Minnie’s ears. Waiters in starched white shirts glided across the floor ferrying plates to the well-dressed diners.

  Minnie approached the table with caution. Seven people were seated at a circular table listening intently to what Bachmann had to say.

  Bachmann, quick off the mark, saw Minnie before her luncheon companions did. She stared, the initial expression of surprise was dropped from her face and was quickly replaced with a look of intense displeasure.

  ‘Hello, Ms Bachmann… it’s… it’s Minnie,’ said Minnie, falteringly.

  ‘I know it’s you,’ said Bachmann rolling her eyes. She had that popular cheerleader air about her that always eluded Minnie. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I just need a little moment of your time.’

  ‘This is getting a little tiresome, darling,’ said Bachmann. She turned to one of her male companions and said theatrically, ‘It’s so exhausting being constantly in demand.’ The man honked like a highway truck. His laughter attracted everyone’s attention.

  Minnie continued to hover by the table and dropped her voice. ‘You need to talk to Greene.’

  Bachmann’s eyes narrowed fractionally before her megawatt smile kicked in again. She said smoothly, ‘Actually, we need to talk about the lavatorial plumbing issue in Fisherman’s Wharf. Indeed, we have other pressing matters to discuss, too.’

  This prompted more sycophantic honks and hoots around the table.

  Minnie glared at the man who was laughing the loudest. She turned back to Bachmann and quickly muttered that she’d spoken with Greene. Bachmann raised her hand like a traffic-control cop. The stop sign was a clear and aggressive signal to Minnie to pull the plug on further conversation.

  Minnie obediently stopped talking.

  ‘Learn from your mistakes, you foolish girl. We do not discuss personal matters in public,’ hissed Bachmann. She looked alarmingly like a ventriloquist dummy. Her lips hadn’t moved but each word was viciously enunciated behind the winning smile.

  Minnie persisted. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private? I would be grateful for your opinion on a matter that concerns us both.’

  But Bachmann had turned her attention back to her audience at the table, effortlessly picking up the conversation where she had left off. More hee-hawing laughter ensued.

  Minnie felt mortified. She stood rigid, feeling horribly out of place in the swanky restaurant, noticing that the other diners were now starting to stare at her. She somehow resisted an overwhelming urge to throw a seeded bread roll at Bachmann’s head. It was proving impossible to get the woman’s attention.

  Then she pictured Angie’s T-shirt – the one her dearest friend had worn when she drove Minnie to the airport. It seemed like a telepathic message of support in Minnie’s time of need.

  Her mild-mannered, submissive demeanour suddenly cracked with the connection. ‘There is a special place in hell reserved for women who don’t support one another!’ Minnie barked the words out loudly and firmly as she resolutely squared her shoulders in Bachmann’s direction. It was as though Angie had taken over.

  There was a stunned silence around the Bachmann table. Other diners looked over to see who was making such a racket in the serene surroundings.

  A waiter appeared at high-rail speed, skidding to a halt at Bachmann’s elbow to ask if everything was alright. The maitre d’ hovered, unsure if his intervention was required.

  Minnie knew her time was up. She had no intention of letting someone frogmarch her out of the restaurant in front of so many watchful eyes. She was not going to be the after-lunch entertainment. She held her head up high and turned on her heel and quickly headed for the door, weaving around tables and chairs.

  Bachmann stood up and spoke one commanding word in Minnie’s direction, ‘Wait!’

  Minnie stopped in her tracks.

  ‘I was at that luncheon. Dr Madeleine Albright gave a keynote speech at the CIA Women’s History Month Celebration.’

  The people around the table nodded feverishly, never missing an opportunity to agree with their mayor. Bachmann stared at Minnie who was none the wiser, unaware she had just quoted a woman who had once worked in the President Clinton administration. Someone whom Bachmann evidently held in high regard.

  ‘I am a Democrat,’ declared Bachmann. This statement was imbued with fighting spirit, as though she had the power to walk on water.

  Minnie hurried back to the table. ‘I need your help,’ she said quietly.

  Bachmann hesitated fractionally. Then with sleight of hand, she flicked an embossed business card in Minnie’s direction. ‘Call my PA. Make an appointment. Today!’

  Incredibly, exactly two hours later, Bachmann arrived in a chauffeur-driven limousine outside the diner opposite Minnie’s motel. Minnie was sitting at a table on the sidewalk as instructed.

  The blacked-out window inched down a fraction. ‘Get in,’ ordered Bachmann.

  Minnie looked down at her fresh cup of coffee. It was too much to expect that Bachmann would want to join her.

  To Minnie’s surprise the interior of the car was more like a spacious office, with sumptuous leather seating and even a desk. Bachmann’s powerful perfume created an olfactory barrier between the two women. Minnie tried to cross it with words. ‘First and foremost, I wanted to let you know that I’ve spoken to Greene. He is here in San Francisco and he is okay, well, as okay as can be expected,’ she said.

  Bachmann looked puzzled. It was the first genuine emotion Minnie had ever seen her express. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘What’s in it for you?’

  Bachmann’s chauffeur drove round and round the block. Minnie was not enjoying the heavily perfumed air in the car and motion sickness threatened. She tentatively suggested a drive to Pillar Point Harbor and a walk on the beach. The idea had been triggered by Jackson who had frequently talked about the surf at the north edge of Half Moon Bay, off Pill
ar Point. ‘We need to talk about what is happening, not simply cover old ground again. I thought a neutral space would help us achieve this,’ Minnie reasoned.

  Bachmann looked as though she was going to shoot down the idea but then she hesitated. The suggestion of drive to the beach after a formal lunch seemed to appeal to her. Bachmann looked at her watch then looked at Minnie. ‘Let’s do it.’

  Minnie nodded.

  ‘However, I should warn you that this is against my better judgement,’ Bachmann added. ‘I prefer to follow a schedule. The last time I made a spontaneous decision was when I left The Savoy without my fiancé. That decision had disastrous consequences.’ She gave Minnie a knowing look.

  Minnie blushed. There followed a silence as the car stopped and started in the busy city. It wasn’t too long before the high-rise buildings and people on the streets started to thin out.

  Bachmann broke the silence. ‘Did you know that I’ve had to hire a global reputation strategist?’

  Minnie pulled an interested face to give the impression that she knew what Bachmann was talking about. She kept her response as neutral as possible. ‘How is that working out for you?’

  ‘Expensively.’

  Minnie got the feeling that Bachmann would bill her the invoice if she could.

  ‘Someone works around the clock to create, enhance or, in my case, save my reputation,’ explained Bachmann dryly. ‘I am struggling to project some “me” appeal. You know, the “likeability” factor.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Minnie. She knew that Bachmann was just about to get to the point. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

  ‘You made me look like a heartless cow. The night at The Savoy was a public relations meltdown for me.’

  Minnie chewed the inside of her cheek, embarrassed. The way Bachmann said, ‘The night at The Savoy’ made it sound like the opening title to a horror movie, which, in Minnie’s mind, was pretty close to the truth.

  There was no escaping the facts though. Bachmann had blown the role of the supportive fiancée the minute she dashed from the dinner table at The Savoy and jetted back to the States without so much as a backward glance.