chapter one

The paramedics arrived at the reception about twenty minutes after I did. Evelyn had stopped breathing at this point, and I was sure I was going to throw up.

I had been working late in my office when the party noises from the boardroom down the hall had finally broken my concentration and started to bother me.

The company I worked for, TechniGroup Consulting Inc., or TGC for short, was holding a cocktail party for the latest company it had bought out, Marshton Systems. Marshton was the eighteenth company acquired by TGC in the last twenty-two months and each time an acquisition closed, we held a reception in the main boardroom a few days after the official closing. The acquired employees and select groups of TGC employees would rub shoulders, share war stories and embellish their work experience.

Each of these little get-togethers was a command performance if you received an invitation, but I tried at all costs to avoid them. I worked in the legal department at TGC where most of the legal work was done on the acquisitions, so by the time the party rolled around I had usually had my fill of the owners and executives of the acquired companies.

When the party sounds finally seeped through my closed office door, I reluctantly turned off my computer, made a weak attempt at tidying up the chaos on my desk and headed down the hall.

The boardroom was packed with about sixty people. The bullshit was flying and the smell of cigar smoke and scotch permeated the air. Office buildings in Toronto had been smoke-free for a few years but that didn’t deter some of our folks from lighting up. Municipal by-laws didn’t apply at TGC after hours. I eased in the door and surveyed the crowd before I tried to make my way through the crowd to the bartender on the far side of the room.

“Kate,” I heard in my ear. It sounded like a whisper but could have been a bellow because of the noise level. I turned around and looked at Evelyn, whose cheeks were so red, she looked like she had a sunburn.

“Ev, what’s wrong?” I asked. I had to raise my voice to be heard over the noise.

“I’m fine, it’s just hot in here,” she said. She waved her hand back and forth in front of her face and changed the subject. “Another good turnout. Amazing isn’t it, how everyone shows up when there’s free food and booze.” We laughed.

“I need a soda water. Wait for me here and I’ll be right back.”

“Evelyn,” someone to my left called out.

I turned around and watched Tom James dragging an unbelievably handsome man with him. The perfect specimen he was towing behind him was Philip Winston, the Third, Vice-President of Operations of Marshton Systems Corp., the company we had just acquired. Philip “don’t call me Phil” Winston and I had spent a considerable amount of time together over the last couple of weeks and I was less than enamoured with him. I started to push my way through the crowd towards the bar. Ev grabbed the back of my jacket and said, “Don’t leave me Kate.”

I turned around to her, smiled and said, “They’re all yours, Ev.”

I felt a wee bit sorry for Evelyn, having to put up with those two peas in a pod. Tom James, Thomas O. James on his business cards, was our resident Vice-President of Human Resources. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t make a decision without forming a committee and I had nicknamed him our “Tower of Jell-O” to go with his initials. Tom was my leading candidate to be the poster boy for the Peter Principle.

Philip Winston on the other hand had impressed the powers-that-be in our organization. I was still reserving judgment but was certain no one would ask my opinion. Philip clearly wanted a job with our company so he was still on his best behaviour.

Physically Tom and Philip were very similar. Both were tall, dark and handsome, and they both obviously worked-out. I knew Tom didn’t work out for the pleasure of it or because it was good for his health; Tom worked out because it made him look good. Philip on the other hand was rumoured to have had played college football in the U.S. and that could account for his good physique. Personally, I found it hard to believe that Philip would expose himself to something as physical as football because it might have marred his perfect image. Two peas in a pod. Nice suits, nice hair, great skin, great smell. Big deal. Where was the substance? I sighed as I thought about the possibilities of a guy with the looks and physique of Philip or Tom and the personality of, who? I’d have to keep looking.

I veered to the left to avoid a group of beancounters who were patting themselves on the back for closing the deal. Right, I thought. Those idiots couldn’t close a door without direction.

I lifted my hand to wave to the Chairman’s secretary across the room. Chris Oakes, the Chairman of the Board was flicking cigar ashes on the boardroom rug and I thought we’d be lucky if he didn’t set the place on fire. As I watched in amazement, he casually put the lit cigar on the boardroom table, as if it was a large ashtray, and turned around to grin at one of the Board members. Idiot.

Christopher Oakes had very large front teeth and when he smiled, which was rarely, he reminded me of a beaver. There was something dark on one of his front teeth and I wondered if it was a leftover from breakfast or lunch. My stomach turned slightly at the thought. Being anywhere near the man usually made me nauseous because if his last meal wasn’t stuck between his teeth, it was stuck to his face. Or his ear. Or his neck. It went without saying that a goodly portion of his meals became accessories to his wardrobe. Breakfast on his tie, lunch on his breast pocket.

Sometimes it wasn’t food on his face or neck. It was toothpaste or shaving cream. I remember as a child watching my father shave and the very last step he took was to wash his face to get the shaving cream off. Dad would fill his hands with water and rub the water all over his face and neck. He did this a couple of times. On the off-chance there were traces of shaving cream left, Dad would get them when he towelled his face dry. This display of male ablutions has stayed with me all these years and I’ve been tempted many times to ask Chris if he’d like a live demonstration in the art of cleaning one’s face after shaving. The man had obviously never had a lesson.

Chris comes to the office every day with more than just traces of shaving cream on his face. Globules hang from his earlobes. Patches remain under his nose. Worse than the shaving cream though is the toothpaste which sits on top of the shaving cream. Chris either does not wash his face or he does everything in reverse order. The man was a slob of the first order. I’ve tried to describe this to people but no one believes me. Ask anyone at our office.

I finally made my way to the bar and shouldered my way through.

“Hey Mark,” I said.

“Kate.” He smiled. “Soda water with lime, right?”

I smiled back. Mark worked in the mailroom and was one of the few employees entitled to collect overtime pay. He volunteered to tend bar for these occasions because he could always use the extra money. And the tequila shots he snuck on the side were just an added bonus.

I tried my John Wayne imitation and leaned on the bar. It was hard to lean your elbow on anything and look casual about it standing up when you’re only five feet tall. Actually, four feet, eleven inches but I tell everyone five feet. My mother used to tell me my grandmother was a legal midget at four foot ten, so I wasn’t going to push it.

I was reaching inside my jacket to tuck my blouse back in when I heard a commotion on the other side of the room. I craned my neck and stood on tiptoes to see what was going on. The conversation level in the room had completely changed and I could now hear panicked voices.

I turned to Mark. “They’ve probably just realized they bought a dud of a company and Oakes is trying to sell it back to them,” I said with a laugh.

Mark cracked up. His laughter was suddenly the only sound in the room and several people turned around and glared. I heard something about an ambulance on its way. Oh god, I thought. As much as I disliked most of our executives, I prayed it wasn’t one of them. We couldn’t afford any more valleys in the stock price. Illness in a senior executive was one of the things that would make the newspapers, and any publicity, good or bad, was something this company didn’t need. Recently, any news, good or bad or indifferent about TechniGroup had put the stock into a nose-dive.

I pushed my way through the crowd to see what was going on and ended up having to hip-check a couple of people on the way. People stood around dumb and mute, probably thinking about forming a committee to figure out what to do.

I reached the front of the room and saw Vanessa Wright, the Chairman’s secretary on her knees beside a body. Jay Harmon stepped in front of her and put his hands on my shoulders to stop me.

“Stay there, Kate,” he said softly.

“Who is it?” I choked out.

“Just stay there Kate. It’s going to be okay.”

“Jay, what the fuck is going on? Who is it? What happened?”

“Kate, it’s Evelyn. She started to choke and we can’t revive her. Someone’s calling an ambulance and they should be here soon. Just stay calm.”

“Nuts,” I yelled. “Who gave her nuts?”

“Omigod,” said Jay. He turned around and grabbed the nearest person and ordered them to run to Evelyn’s office and get her EpiPen.

Everyone in the office knew Evelyn had a severe allergy to nuts and for that reason all food brought into the office was nut-free. The caterers had specific orders. They weren’t even allowed to cook with peanut oil. I looked at the credenza on the other side of the boardroom. It was piled with food. I started to feel sick to my stomach.

I knelt down beside Vanessa. “Vee, how is she?” I asked.

Vanessa had a panicked look on her face. “I don’t know. She won’t talk to me. Look at her face. I can’t get her to respond to me,” Vanessa whispered.

I turned around to find Jay in the crowd. He was right behind me. “Jay,” I said. “Take Vee. Get everyone out of here so the paramedics can get through. Get Mark to go out to reception and unlock the main doors so they can come right through. And get everyone else out of here and give Ev some air.”

I looked past Jay at the crowd standing around like a bunch of village idiots. My hand caressed Ev’s forehead and I started to talk softly to her. “Come on Ev. Talk to me. It’s going to be all right. Things are going to be okay.”

I looked around in desperation for the employee who was sent to Ev’s office for the EpiPen. He hadn’t returned so I eyed the person nearest me.

“Come on people, don’t just stand there. Go help find her EpiPen. Come on. Come on,” I barked out like a drill sergeant. Three people ran out of the room. Two of them were members of the board of directors. Shit, I thought, those two couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag.

Time was quickly running out and I knew that every second counted here. Ev had told me (and almost everyone in the office knew this) that speed was of the essence if she ever had one of these attacks. I know it had happened once before but Ev had known what was going on at the time and had quickly injected herself.

The employee who had gone looking for her EpiPen ran back into the boardroom looking totally panicked.

“Here.” He shoved the EpiPen kit at me. It was a long, tubular container with a yellow cap. I flipped open the lid, turned it upside down and the syringe containing the epinephrine slid out onto the floor and I quickly picked it up. There was something wrong with the syringe. Evelyn had showed most of us how to use the EpiPen, just in case we ever found ourselves in the God-forbid situation that we living right now. I held the syringe in my hand and stared at it.

“Inject her, Kate,” Jay urged me.

And then I realized what was wrong. There was no blue safety release button on the top. Ev had drilled us and I remember distinctly her telling us, “yellow, blue, orange, click”. Yellow cap on the outer tube, blue safety cap on the syringe, orange tip covering the needle which dispenses the magic, and click, the magic is dispensed. There was no blue safety cap. What did it mean? My brain was racing.

Fuck it, I thought. Maybe I was mistaken. I leaned over Ev and jammed the Epipen into her left thigh. I waited for the click. Nothing. I pushed it harder. Again, nothing.

I looked at Evelyn and she didn’t appear to be breathing. I put my ear to her lips. I’d seen that on TV. Just exactly what that was supposed to do, I didn’t know but I had to do something. Jay quickly kneeled down on her other side and started giving her CPR.

Mark came running in the room and announced that the paramedics had arrived. They pushed their way through the door, one pulling a gurney and the other pushing.

“Okay everyone. Back up,” the first one said.

The second one, a young woman about twenty-five got down beside Jay and said, “I’ll take over. Tell us what happened.” She started CPR on Ev.

Jay looked at me. For the first time in a long while, I was at a loss for words. Jay turned to the paramedic and said, “She collapsed. She wouldn’t respond and she stopped breathing a minute ago. I started CPR. We think it might be something she ate. We know she has an allergy to nuts.”

“Here.” I held the Epipen towards the medic. “I don’t know if it worked. There was no blue cap.”

The other paramedic was the largest male specimen I had every laid eyes on next to William Perry, The Refrigerator. His name tag said MARION O’LEARY. I bet the guys back at the stationhouse didn’t tease him about his name. Marion ignored my outstretched hand and the Epipen. He was checking Ev’s vital signs and started barking out questions. “Age?”

“Sixty-five,” I responded.

“Any other known medical problems?”

“No,” I whispered. I looked at Ev and thought I was going to throw up.

Jay stood up and stepped over Ev’s legs. He took me by the arm and steered me through the boardroom door out into the hallway. I leaned back against the wall and dug in my jacket pocket for a cigarette. My hands shook as I lit up and blew the smoke in Jay’s face. He was in my personal space and he deserved it. He gave a disgusted cough and backed-up. Under normal circumstances he would have started in on me about my smoking.

“Kate, someone has to call Danny,” Jay said.

“I know,” I sighed. Danny was Evelyn’s son and the apple of her eye. He’s forty-four years old and still lived with mama at home. I think he’s a wuss.

Evelyn Morris is the longest standing employee at TechniGroup having started with the company as a receptionist seventeen years ago. She’d worked her way up through the ranks and was now in charge of the administration of the employee stock purchase plan, bonuses, executive incentives, and the one thing more powerful than sex in our company, stock options. It’s an inside joke at our company that if you’re married to a guy at TechniGroup who can’t get it up, just start talking about his stock options and the guy could take on Hugh Hefner’s harem.

Ev had been in many different positions after spending nearly ten years as the receptionist and most of her jobs had been within the finance department. Before stock options and the employee stock purchase plan, she had supervised the payroll department. Everyone thought her transfer to the new job was a step down but it suited Ev just fine. Theoretically she should be retiring soon, but our company has no mandatory retirement age.

I heard some activity inside the boardroom and eased over to the door. I didn’t want to look.

The paramedics had finished strapping Ev on the gurney and were wheeling her out. The building security guard who had escorted them up from the lobby was leading the way and acting like the lead leprechaun at a St. Patrick’s Day parade. He elbowed me aside. Officious bastard, I thought.

“Is she okay?” I asked. No one answered me. “Hey!” I grabbed the female paramedic’s arm as she went past. She shook me off.

“Look,” she said. “We’re taking her to Toronto General. The doctors can fill you in.”

We were racing down the hall. The security guard opened the glass doors at the reception and stepped back to let us through. The elevator was waiting and I tried to push on after the gurney.

“Sorry miss,” Marion the Refrigerator said. He pushed the ground floor button and the doors closed.

I stood there shaking. Buck up, I told myself, Evelyn will be fine.

“Kate.”

I turned around and there was my shadow. “Jay. I’ve got to call Danny. Will you come to the hospital with me after I talk to him?” I started back down the hall to my office to make the call.

“Sure,” Jay called after me. “I’ll meet you down in the lobby beside the elevators to the parking garage in five minutes. I’ll just get my jacket.”

I had no success in trying to reach Danny. The phone just kept ringing off the hook. After three or four tries, I hung up in frustration and headed for the elevator. I went out the back door to avoid the crowd in the boardroom and impatiently pushed the elevator button. I said a silent prayer for Ev in the elevator.

Jay wasn’t downstairs when I got off the elevator. I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost eight-twenty. Come on Jay, I thought impatiently. I hung around for another five or six minutes and was about to leave without him when the elevator doors opened and he rushed off.

“Jesus Jay. Where the hell have you been? Ev could be dying.”

I realized as soon as I said it, I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I felt like I had just jinxed the pitcher.

chapter two

I was outside the hospital having what seemed like my fifteenth cigarette in two hours when Jay came out to find me.

I had been thinking about Ev and praying that she was going to be alright. Ev and I went back a long way. I remembered my first day on the job at TechniGroup and how Ev had helped me out of one of my most embarrassing moments. I had been working as a temp secretary and got a call from the agency that they needed someone at TechniGroup. I started on the 2nd of January and it was one of those days in Toronto that feels like spring but you know it can’t last. The snow that had been dumped in record amounts in December was turning to slush because of the mild temperatures. I had taken the streetcar to work, and when I got off at my stop, my feet went out from under me on the second step, and I landed on my ass in the slush on the side of the road. I wasn’t hurt but my clothes were soaked through. The black slacks I was wearing started turning white from the salt on the roads. I arrived at the office and explained how embarrassed I was to Evelyn, who was the receptionist at the time.

She led me into the kitchen off the reception area and started applying dry-cleaning fluid to the back of my pants. While they were on. I was bent over the counter and Ev was wiping away at the back of my slacks when the former owner of the company walked in. Personally, I saw the humour in the situation and Ev certainly did. He quickly got his coffee and made a fast retreat. Ev and I laughed so hard I thought we were going to pee our pants.

We became fast friends on that first day and she became like a second mother to me. I have been with the company now almost seven years, certainly longer than all of the current executives.

Five years ago, the original founder of the company died. As founder of the company he had maintained a majority interest in the company and the rest of the shares were held by the public. His majority shares were pledged as security for most the debt of the company, so when he died the consortium of banks that had loaned him the money called in their loans. They ended up owning the majority share of a $600 million, publicly-traded high tech consulting firm that they knew nothing about. One would think they’d know something about high tech consulting if they lent the company that much money, but bankers are just as stupid as the rest of us.

The bankers’ first order of business as majority shareholder was to hire a new Chairman and Chief Executive Officer. In their infinite wisdom, they went to the Board of Directors of our company, who formed a search committee to find a new chief executive officer. It took them four months but the committee found us a CEO. CEO, Christopher Earl Oakes. The guy wears monogrammed shirts with his initials CEO on the pocket. His lifelong dream was to be a chief executive officer so he could live up to his initials. What great heights we aspire to.

Chris had been an executive vice-president of the company that was our major competitor and he was the perfect example of why one should always check references before hiring someone. My sources told me that the senior management of the company that we hired Chris from had “remoted” Chris. Not promoted. Not demoted. Remoted. They had put him aside and were doing their best to ignore him and we saved the day when we recruited him. Chris was an executive vice-president in charge of nothing at the time we hired him. He had no staff reporting to him, no clients, no budget. Word on the street was that Oakes’ former employers had the biggest going away party in the history of their company when Chris left. And Chris wasn’t invited.

Our Board members who were given the responsibility of finding a new chief executive officer actually believed they were stealing a star performer, just because he worked for the competition.

His one crowning glory in the four years he has been our peerless leader was to increase the share price to a high of $16 from $6 when he joined the company. That price was very short-lived though, and the shares are now trading at about $11. The company’s current bottom line certainly didn’t justify the price of the shares, but many shareholders out there are betting on Chris Oakes turning the company around.

Chris’ first order of business when he joined was to fire all of the top management of the company and hire his hand-picked replacements. Our executive payroll tripled. So far, the shareholders haven’t lynched him. I think shareholders are just as stupid as bankers.

My wandering thoughts were interrupted.

“Kate,” I heard Jay say behind me. I turned around and knew by the look on his face that the news wasn’t good. He took a step towards me and said softly, “She’s gone.”

I turned around and threw-up in the stone column ashtray that progressive organizations place outside their places of business for us social pariahs, smokers. Normally, it could hold a cup of sand and ten butts. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Jay placed his arm around my shoulders as I was heaving into the ashtray.

“Fuck off. Leave me alone,” I spluttered.

He backed off. Jay knows what’s good for him. I fumbled in my purse for a Kleenex and found one that had been used about three times. Not very effective for wiping off the chin in the circumstances, but it did the trick. I took a few deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Or was it the other way around?

I turned back and looked at Jay. He was standing on the other side of the entranceway. When he left me alone, he really left me alone.

I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. I wanted to scream. No one close to me had ever died. I headed towards the parking lot at a fast clip and Jay came running behind me.

“Hey.”

I kept going, digging in my coat pockets for my car keys.

“Hey. Monahan. Kate. Jesus Christ, Kate, wait up.”

I stopped.

I knew I was going to start to cry and that wasn’t allowed in front of other people. The only time I cried was when the heroine of one my favourite novels lost her true love in a ship wreck.

I sniffed a few times to try and clear the lump in my throat and knew it wasn’t going to work. The tears started streaming down my face and I tried to cry quietly. Like when you’re at a movie with a girlfriend and you don’t want to let on you’re crying and you’re wiping your eyes with salted fingers from the popcorn. You do it quietly. Your girlfriend’s probably crying as much as you, but women of the new millennium have to be tough.

Jay caught up to me but I ignored him as I continued on to the car. I fumbled with the lock. It was stuck again. Cheap piece of shit. I kicked the car door.

Jay took the keys from my hand and opened the door.

“You drive,” I sniffed and headed around the car to the passenger side. When I reached the back of the car it hit me like I had been slammed into the boards by Bobby Orr. Evelyn was dead. I started gasping for air, sobbing. I held on to the back of the car and cried. Fuck the new millennium, I thought.

Jay stepped to the back of the car and took me by the shoulders. He knew he was invading my personal space but he was a brave sort. He leaned over and put his arms around me and hugged me tight.

Jay patted my back, patted my hair, patted my shoulder. He just didn’t know what to do. Under normal circumstances he’s the Rock of Gibraltar to most women, but in all the years Jay had known me, he had never seen me cry. When I finally dried up, I asked him if he had a tissue. He dug a clean one out of his pocket and held it up. I blew my nose and hiccupped a few times.

Jay tried to ease himself in the driver’s seat and got stuck with his rear in the seat and only one leg in. I had to lean over and reach the lever under the driver’s seat to push it back. I’m so short they tease me at the garage that they’re going to have to put blocks on the pedals so my feet can reach. Jay finally got the seat pushed back far enough so he could fit in and disgustedly reached behind his back and tossed the two pillows I use for extra height into the back seat.

“Isn’t there a height restriction for getting a driver’s license?” he teased. I smiled weakly.

“Where to?” he asked as he started the engine.

“Ev’s place. I want to see if Danny’s home yet. He hasn’t answered the phone and I’ve left about ten messages. Someone has to let the family know. I told the doctors that I’d look after contacting her kids.”

Jay put the car into gear and headed out of the parking lot. It had been a long day, a long week, Jesus Christ, it had been a long month. I knew it was going to be a long night.

chapter three

There was no answer at the door at Evelyn and Danny’s place. I was surprised. It was almost twelve-thirty and you’d think the video arcades would be closed. Aren’t they normally populated by twelve year old boys who should all be home in bed by now? Danny wasn’t a drinker and he didn’t have a girlfriend so I was surprised by his absence. I had no idea where his twin brother Jonathan or his sister Elaine lived. I had only met the brother and sister a few times at family get-togethers and birthday parties for Ev and didn’t feel comfortable telling them the bad news. I didn’t feel comfortable telling Danny either, but at least he was a known entity.

Danny was a mommy’s boy. His identical twin Jonathan was the exact opposite. Jonathan had been married three times, no children. Thank God, Ev used to say. Their older sister Elaine was married and had one child, Sarah. Pictures of Sarah and Danny were plastered all over Ev’s office.

Evelyn’s husband died in 1955 in Korea leaving her with a three year old and two babies. It had been a struggle financially for Ev, but she never complained. Jonathan took his first bride when he was nineteen and was fast on his way to becoming a male Zsa Zsa Gabor. Elaine was a homemaker whose husband sold something, I couldn’t remember. They were the steady ones. Danny on the other hand had never held a job for more than a year, was one credit short of about eight different university degrees, and was totally inept when it came to women, other than his mama. Danny would regularly show up at the office with a homemade lunch for his mother and sit beside her and watch her eat it. He called her about six times a day, and every hour on the hour if she worked late. On nights when Ev was late at the office, she had to call him when she was leaving and he’d meet her at the subway stop. Ev used to throw her hands in the air and ask for medical proof that the umbilical cord had been cut when Danny was born. Danny was very protective of his mama and her death was going to devastate him.

“I hope she has more life insurance than the company provided,” I said to Jay. “Danny’s going to find it tough enough coping without his mama. When he has to find steady work, that should just about do him in.”

“Give the kid a break,” Jay said.

“Kid?” I snorted. “Jay, he’s almost old enough to be your father. He’s no kid. He’s forty-four years old.”

Jay shut up. He was twenty-eight years old but tried to act forty-eight.

We were sitting in the car outside Ev’s house. The streetlights cast shadows on the cars parked on the street. Other than the parked cars and Jay and I, the street was deserted. The car was facing in the direction of the Davisville subway station so we could see Danny when he walked down the street. I lit another cigarette and before Jay could snort at me, I rolled the window down.

“Nuts. Fucking nuts. Why would Ev be so stupid to eat something with nuts in it?” I asked out loud.

“Kate, do you think she would knowingly eat something with nuts in it?”

“I was talking to myself,” I snapped back.

I turned in the seat and looked at Jay. He was looking straight ahead and was running his hand through his hair. It was standing straight up. He did this repeatedly.

“You’re brushing. Stop it,” I ordered.

Jay mumbled something.

“Pardon?” I asked.

He turned to me and grinned. “I said leave me alone, Kate. I haven’t said a word all night about the two packs of cigarettes you’ve smoked. Stop nagging me about brushing my hair with my hand.”

It was about the only nervous habit he had. But he did have a point. Brushing his hair with his hand wasn’t going to give him emphysema and his teeth weren’t going to turn that lovely shade of gold that smokers get for no extra charge.

We sat quietly for a few minutes. “I’m going to have the caterers fired. That’s the last fucking time they get our business. Someone must have screwed-up and cooked something with peanut oil.”

“You can’t blame the caterers when they didn’t provide the food,” Jay said.

“Whaddya mean, they didn’t cater? We always get them to cater.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture the credenza in the boardroom. I could recite from memory the items that should have been laid out, because we always get the same food, every time. But when I closed my eyes to conjure up a picture of the food at today’s reception, something was out of whack. I could see mismatched Tupperware containers, paper plates, odd and unmatched cut glass and crystal bowls, pottery platters, and very different looking food. I shook my head. The food today had been yummy stuff like brownies, potato salad, cold cuts, celery with Cheez Whiz, devilled eggs. But where were the chicken livers with bacon, mini quiches, smoked oysters?

“Who catered the food today?” I asked Jay.

“Don’t you ever read your e-mail? It was a potluck. All the employees attending the reception were told to bring something homemade. Orders from the CEO. He wanted a more ‘homey’ style reception. Even he brought something. We all joked it was probably some of Baby’s dog food.” Baby was Chris Oakes’ dog. “Vanessa reminded everyone in the e-mail about Ev’s allergy and we were told to avoid nuts and peanut oil.”

I vaguely remembered the e-mail and was flabbergasted. Potluck? Just who the hell did Chris Oakes think he was fooling?

chapter four

Telling Danny was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. He blubbered like a baby. He was late getting home because he had gone to a double feature at one of the old movie houses downtown. Jay stayed with him for the night and I went home.

By the time I got to my place it was close to three a.m. and I realized that no-one at the office had officially been informed of Evelyn’s death. It was too late to call anyone, but not too late for voice mail. E-mail was the communication tool of choice for all of our executives, except our CEO, who only ever used voice mail. The executives each had their new-fangled Blackberry’s and were glued to them all day. They preferred e-mail rather than talking face-to-face.

Our CEO, Chris Oakes, didn’t know how to use a computer, let alone e-mail, and there was no hope we could bring him into the new millennium and get him to use a Blackberry. He was stuck in the early nineties, in love with his voice mail. He didn’t use the system just to get messages, he would create his voice messages and send them to someone on our system. He did this all day long. Never once did he think of using the phone to call someone and talk to them live; he and the other executives were the same, never talking to people, just using electronic means to send messages - that way they could be tough guys without ever having to look someone in the eye. Our Chief Executive Officer sits in his office, creates a voice mail message, sends it to Vanessa his secretary, and then sends her another urgent message telling her to check her voice mail. They were all a bunch of gutless wonders.

So needless to say, even though we had e-mail, and most of the executives had their Blackberry’s, we were all masters of voice mail because that was the communication tool of choice for Chris Oakes. So I dialled-in to the office voice mail system and logged on to my personal mailbox. The nasal computer voice told me, “You have ELEVEN new voice messages”. Emphasis on the ELEVEN. If it were ten, there wouldn’t be any emphasis. For some reason, the computer voice thinks ELEVEN is a lot of messages. On a good day, Chris Oakes fires off ELEVEN messages in eight seconds. That includes time to dial all the appropriate numbers, clear his throat three or four times on the message, yell some obscenities, threaten to fire you, and hang up. Sometimes, Chris Oakes has been known to send ELEVEN messages to ELEVEN different people, and all of them consist of the same message. “Uh… Uh… Uh…” Wow. Can we quote you on that Mr. Oakes?

I decided to skip the ELEVEN messages and listen to them in the morning. I created one voice message to Chris Oakes, Vanessa Wright, Tom James and Harold Didrickson. I let everyone know what had happened. “This is a voice message for Chris, Vee, Tom and Harold. Just to let you know that Ev died tonight. She never recovered consciousness. I’ll see you in the morning.” Short and sweet. To the point. Jesus, I hate voice mail. But it’s great for us gutless wonders.

I had dropped my coat on the floor in the front hall as I was talking on the phone. Correction: sending a voice mail. I keep my phone in the front hall and refuse to have more than one in my apartment. I talk on the phone so much at the office that I usually ignore my phone at home when it rings. I don’t have an answering machine, call waiting, call display, three party calling, or any of those fancy features at home. Some things are sacred.

I flipped off the hall light and picked up my coat but was too lazy to fight the closet door so I dropped it back on the floor. I stumbled down the hall, blew a kiss to my most recent, and hopefully still alive, goldfish - Snapper the Fourth. I had only had him a couple of weeks and made a mental note to check on him in the morning.

I loved pets but the building super wouldn’t let me keep any in the apartment so I snubbed my nose at him and bought a goldfish. That was three years ago. I was on my sixteenth goldfish and I’ve had to change pet stores. They thought I was doing weird scientific experiments on them, I had bought so many. I am determined to discover the secret of keeping a goldfish alive for more than forty-eight hours, but it’s proven to be a daunting task. I have just as much luck with plants.

I filled the coffee maker and set the timer on it to brew at seven-thirty. I was going to treat myself and not go in to the office until eight in the morning. It’d been a long night.

I stripped off my jacket, blouse and skirt and left them where they fell. My bra, underwear and pantyhose got tossed in a corner. I got out a clean pair of white gym socks, put them on and got in to bed.

I groaned as I sank into the bed and let the goose-down duvet settle over me. My eyes felt like they were full of sand from all the crying I had done earlier.

I woke up drenched in sweat and my mouth was so dry my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had been dreaming I was lost in the middle of the desert, looking for Evelyn and calling out her name every couple of steps. My voice was failing me when I woke up.

The clock radio beside the bed read four fifty-five so I got up and pulled on my sweats and one of my dad’s old army sweaters that reached below my knees. I by-passed the automatic timer on the coffeemaker and chained-smoked two cigarettes while the coffee dripped through. My father would call this a ‘whore’s breakfast’.

I poured myself a coffee and wandered into my living room, and stood at the French doors which led on to my two square foot balcony overlooking the street. Things were pretty quiet at this time of the morning. I reached under the lampshade of the vintage tiffany lamp on my desk and pulled the chain and the light softly lit the top of the desk and the surrounding floor. I sat at my desk and rummaged around through the drawers to find the pictures taken last summer when Ev and I rented a cottage.

What a time we had. We laughed all day and cried a little every evening. We’d put on our bathing suits and go down to the lake and tease each other about looking like beached whales. I’m about ten pounds overweight and being the lady I am, I never asked Ev her weight, but I’d guess she was at least fifty pounds too heavy. We’d barbecue every night, hot dogs or burgers for me, and skinless breast of chicken for Ev. At least she tried to lose weight. After the dishes had been done, we’d fire up a couple of Coleman lamps and sit out on the screened-in porch and listen to the mosquitoes slam up against the screens. With our feet up and a fresh pot of coffee, we’d both eagerly dive into the latest Harlequin romance we were reading.

I discovered Ev was a closet romance reader just like me one day when I got a call to take over the reception while Ev ran an errand for the Chairman. The phones were quiet and I was rummaging around for something to read when I eyed a novel tucked-in beside the telephone console. The book was covered with a handmade, crocheted jacket which completely hid the cover. I opened it to the first page and starting reading. “Her green eyes sparkled and the sun shone on her auburn hair.” I sighed and settled down for a good read. Romance stories have always been one of my passions and one of my most guarded secrets. I made Ev promise she’d never tell anyone I read Harlequin romances. She laughed. “So the tough broad really does have a tender streak in her.” By the end of each evening at the cottage one of us would be snivelling over the heroine’s loss of her true love.

We had talked about renting a cottage for years and only got around to doing it once. We had promised each other last year on the drive back to the city, “same place next summer”. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered.

I couldn’t find the pictures and was only succeeding in making the desk a bigger mess than what it was when I started. Every drawer was jammed-packed with god knows what. My desk at work was just as disastrous but there at least I have a secretary who does all the filing and tries to keep it in order.

I was bilious now from all the coffee and cigarettes, and butted another one in the overflowing ashtray. I stood and lifted one arm over my head, slowly, and repeated the move with the other arm. My aerobic workout for the day. Sunlight was filtering through the windows but it was only six-thirty. So much for the late start I had promised myself. I headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower.

chapter five

I shoved my parking pass into the card reader in the underground parking garage at the office and made a quick right turn. At this time of the day the parking lot was virtually empty so I had my pick of the unreserved spots. My parking pass was the one and only perk associated with my job and I treasured it dearly. At our company only professionals were entitled to parking passes, and the fact that Kate Monahan, lowly support person had one, really pissed off the masses. It wasn’t something I went around bragging about but one of the airheads in office management who had to give me the pass let everyone know.

When Harold Didrickson joined the company four years ago as General Counsel, he approached me to work with him and help him set up a new legal department. Until then I had been biding my time working for Shirley Benton as her legal secretary. Shirley was the only lawyer on staff at the company at that time and the legal department had consisted of the two of us.

I agreed to work directly with Harold, which set off a nasty chain of in-house political cat fighting. Shirley thought she was entitled to the job of General Counsel and to this day still speaks to Didrickson through clenched teeth. She also fought tooth and nail to keep me as her secretary. Shirley is one of the best at what she does - contract and computer law, and dealing with all the tech weenies. But she had no experience with public company law so when Chris Oakes was setting up his empire he brought in Didrickson. Didrickson had performed some legal work for the company in his private practice. In four years the legal department has grown to four lawyers, three paralegals and two secretaries. Didrickson hired the other two lawyers and I hand-picked and groomed the paralegals and secretaries.

Didrickson didn’t budge much when I asked for a salary increase to take on the new job but he did agree to give me a parking pass. At the time, I thought it was a big deal. With the hours I had put in over the last four years, it was a good goddamn thing I had the parking pass because many nights by the time I left the office the streetcars and subway had stopped running.

TGC had accomplished a lot over four years. We had successfully closed the acquisition of eighteen companies in twenty-two months, we had raised hundreds of millions of dollars in equity on the public market, we successfully launched a multi-million dollar debt issue, and we had survived five internal corporate reorganizations. Harold Didrickson got great joy every time one of the deals would close. Each time a new transaction was proposed he would lock himself in his office and work out how he could make it as complicated as possible. By making the transactions complicated, Didrickson had everyone by the short and curlies because he was the only one who truly understood the whole deal. He would then drive the whole transaction from his desk by directing the outside law firms. He would expect everyone to grasp and understand his ideas immediately. When anyone had to ask for clarification on a certain aspect of the transaction, the dark side of his personality would shine. He had a terrible reputation on the street for being a mean son-of-a-bitch. Personally, I had no trouble with him. I put it all down to his short-man attitude.

I think the reason Didrickson was so keen to hire me was because he could tower over me. At four foot eleven, officially five feet, my nine year old cousin towered over me. He also towered over Didrickson who was only five foot four.

Didrickson was fair with me. He taught me as much as I wanted to know, and, over the past four years, I had gained incredible knowledge about the workings of a public company. He set high standards for himself and expected the same of his co-workers. I’m the lead paralegal in the department specializing in corporate securities work and I now know my way around the record books of companies. He taught me how to organize the logistics of closing an $85 million bank loan. I can do public offerings in my sleep. Didrickson has never had a legitimate complaint about my work.

I grabbed a prime parking spot on the first level and got out of the car. I ground out my cigarette under the toe of my shoe and slammed the car door, making sure I didn’t lock it. One of these days I’m going to strike it rich and I’ll be able to afford a car with locks that work.

I stepped off the elevator from the parking garage and turned right to sign-in at the security desk. It was seven-twenty and everyone was required to sign into the building before seven-thirty. I made nice with the security guard whose body odour knocked me back a few feet. It’s hard talking and breathing through your mouth at the same time but regardless of his repulsive smell, I gave him a smile. I make it a point to be friendly with the guys on their way up. He didn’t check my signature against the company master log because he sees me here most mornings.

“Which floor Kate? Twelve or thirteen,” he asked.

“Twelve,” I replied. He pushed a button on his console and released the elevator to the 12th floor.

“Later,” I said with a wave. I scrambled out of there and headed for the main elevator bank on the left-hand side of the lobby, breathing deeply. God, somebody has to talk to that man about his choice of aftershave, I thought.

TGC had two floors in the building, 12 and 13. The corporate offices were on the 13th floor but most mornings I headed to the 12th to pick-up a coffee in the main kitchen. The two floors were connected by an internal staircase through the reception areas so I would get my daily dose of exercise by walking up the staircase, usually only once. Every other time I had to go down to the 12th floor, I’d take the elevator. No use taxing this great body.

I got on the elevator and the button for twelve was already lit. Before and after business hours the security guards control the elevators for security purposes. As the elevator was going up I thought about pushing all the buttons for the other floors to see if they would light up. It’s a game I play to see if I can catch the security guard. I’m quite juvenile when no one is looking, but my heart wasn’t in it this morning.

I got off at twelve and turned right to the back doors. The entrance to the main reception was straight ahead off the elevators but the doors were still locked and the reception area was dark. Access to the premises was gained by flashing my security card in front of a black box on the wall beside the door. After making coffee in the main kitchen I threaded my way down the hall to the reception area to go up to the 13th floor. I huffed my way up the circular staircase and congratulated myself on only spilling a wee bit of coffee. Everything was dark but I could have been blind, I knew my way around this place so well.

When I reached my office the first thing I did was punch a series of numbers into the phone to turn on the overhead lights in our quadrant of the building. I hung my coat on the back of the door and settled into my chair. I lit my first illegal cigarette of the day and opened my bottom drawer to reveal my ashtray stash. Smoking is not allowed in the building, and I was sick and tired of having to go outside every time I needed a cigarette. Building management overlooked the no smoking policy when we had receptions in the boardroom but their goodwill was being sorely tried because the other tenants were complaining about the smoke which wafted through the building’s air circulation system.

Everyone knew I smoked in my office, but I kept the door closed. No one had the balls to tell me to stop and besides, my ace in the hole was Chris Oakes, who openly smoked foul cigars in his office every day.

I reached over and switched on my computer to give it time to fire-up while I checked my voice mail messages. The red light on my phone was flashing, indicating messages waiting but I already knew I had at least ELEVEN new messages waiting. I grabbed my notebook and a pen, and logged-on to the voice mail system. The computer-generated voice intoned, “You have THIRTEEN new messages.”

Two new messages had been received since three in the morning. Do these people never sleep?

The first three messages were hang-ups. Those type of messages I love. The computer voice told me the fourth message was from an internal number and was received on Thursday (the day before) at five-thirty p.m. I hit the number on my phone to listen to the message. It was Ev.

“Kate, it’s Ev. Can’t wait to have a drink with you at the reception. Later.”

I slammed down the phone. It was eerie hearing her voice. My breath was coming in short gasps. Holy shit, I thought. Like talking to the dead. I turned around to log-in to my computer because whenever I’m stressed I tend to do mundane things. Things that don’t require thinking. The computer was flashing a message: “System error. Contact system administrator.”

“Fuck.” I slapped the monitor. “Piece of crap.”

This was typical. We have the technology. Right. A high tech company whose internal computer systems were so shitty it was embarrassing. Like the shoemaker’s children who went barefoot. Our system would be down at least once a week, and it was especially frustrating first thing in the morning because the system administrator, an overpaid computer junkie, typically didn’t arrive in the office until nine most days. He was normally so spaced out, probably from surfing the net all night, that it would take him a couple of hours to bring the system back on-line.

I pulled out our internal phone directory and found his home number. His phone rang at least a dozen times before he answered.

“Yeah,” a voice mumbled.

“Ray, it’s Kate. Get your ass out of bed and get this system up. Today is not a good day and I haven’t kicked anyone’s ass all week. You could be my candidate of choice.”

There was no response. The asshole had probably fallen back to sleep.

“RAY,” I bellowed into the phone.

“Yeah,” he mumbled again.

I sweetly and quietly said, because my mother always told me you attract more flies with honey, “Ray, get your lazy ass out of bed.” I haven’t figured out yet why I need to attract flies.

He responded immediately. He recognized my sweet and quiet voice and exactly what it meant. “I’ll log-on the system from home and see what’s the problem.”

“Are your feet on the floor?” I demanded.

“I’m standing up. Good-bye.” He hung up on me. I made a mental note to take him off my Christmas card list.

I hung up my phone and stared at it. The red light was still flashing letting me know that I still had several “unread voice messages”. I lit another cigarette and continued to stare at my phone. I finally logged back on my voice mail system and scrolled through my messages until I got to Ev’s. The sound of her voice made my heart feel like stone. I was careful not to delete the message and hung up again.

I grabbed my coffee cup and headed for the kitchenette down the hall for another cup of coffee.

chapter six

The smell hit me as soon as I opened the door to the kitchenette. The room smelled like old garlic. Fresh cooking garlic smells great and garlic tastes great when you’re eating it. But the next day, look out. I’m sure this is what Mrs. Skunk smells when she wakes up in the morning and Mr. Skunk breathes hello.

I looked around the kitchenette. The counters and table were piled with odd Tupperware bowls and platters heaped with non-perishable food. Everything was covered tightly in plastic wrap. The smell must be coming from the garbage, I thought. I put on a pot of coffee to brew and opened the fridge for a container of cream. I had to reach past several bowls of salads and platters of meat, also wrapped in plastic. Someone had done a good clean up job last night after the reception.

The kitchenette was off the main boardroom and this was the room where the caterers worked. Normally, they take all leftovers with them and there is never any evidence left the next day. Last night’s leftovers would disappear fast when the staff realized there was something for free to be had in the fridge. I eyed the baked goods laid out on the counter and lifted the plastic off one plate heaped with brownies and ate two while I waited for the coffee to brew.

As I walked down the hall to my office I noticed signs of the place coming to life. I heard a voice in Didrickson’s office and I could hear the normal bitching coming from behind the partitions where the paralegals and secretaries sat in an open area. They were having trouble deciding who was going to call Ray about the system being down. Jesus, what a bunch of lame ducks, I thought.

“Don’t worry,” I called over the partition. “Ray’s on the case. I’ve already talked to him.”

The chatter stopped.

“Kate, how’s Ev?” one of the voices asked.

I slowed down before entering my office and turned around. Four half faces peered at me over the partitions.

“She died last night,” I said abruptly. Jackie gasped and immediately started to cry. I turned on my heel and closed my office door behind me.

I sat down at my desk and put my head in my hands. Gee Kate, how to handle the staff. How to give them the news gently. One of your better skills. Diplomacy at its best. More like gunboat diplomacy. I dialled Jay’s number and after three rings his phone kicked over to voice mail. “Call me as soon as you get in,” was the message I left.

The first time I laid eyes on Jay Harmon I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had just turned six years old and was desperate for a baby brother or sister. My mother would look at me like I was from another planet when I would ask her why we didn’t expand the family. My brother and I were the only children and as far as my mother was concerned, two were plenty.

Cheryl Harmon was my best friend and she had three of the best sisters a person could want. Cheryl said that was my opinion. As far as she was concerned, if they all left her alone and took a flying leap (her words), then they’d be the best sisters a person could want. Jay was the fifth child and only boy.

I first saw him when he was three weeks old. Their father left two weeks later and I don’t think anyone has heard from him since. He could be dead for all they know. His mother carried on, working two or three jobs, depending on the season. They were very close and I guess in those years they learned the meaning of teamwork. My brother and I had to do chores at home but nothing compared to what Cheryl and her sisters were expected to do. That sort of upbringing builds character, I suppose.

Jay was everybody’s baby. His sisters took turns mothering him and often times there were fights over who got to play with him. Lucky for his sisters he was a very placid child. Jay got along with everyone.

By the time Jay started kindergarten he could read, print, write, add and subtract. For the first three years of his life his sisters played house with him but when they got bored with that they started playing school. He was their pupil and he soaked it all up. When he graduated high school he was offered a scholarship to the University of Toronto. He completed his degree in business and applied for a scholarship at the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario to do his MBA. When he graduated from Western he came to work at our company.

Jay was recruited on campus to join our firm in the management trainee program. The MBA recruits would spend equal time over five years in the finance, human resources, research and development, sales, and delivery and support departments. To MBA graduates our company was an attractive place to start a career and it had all the magic ingredients: high tech, public company, management training program, full benefits, stock options, and a starting salary of $75,000. Jay’s first rotation was working for Tom James in the human resources department where he mastered the tasks and our computer systems by the second day and was completely bored by the end of the first week. I talked to him about slowing down a little, soaking up the surroundings and learning by listening. He wanted to be the chief operating officer of the company. I told him he had to be there at least three months before he could apply for that job. He thought I was serious. I’ve been working on his sense of humour ever since.

Jay finished his second rotation in Sales and nine months ago he joined the Finance Department to work with Richard Cox, who was wearing two hats as our chief operating officer and chief financial officer. Lately, Jay felt he was doing some useful work. Cox had him working as part of the team on acquisitions and company financings. He also worked almost exclusively with Cox on stock options and materials presented to the board of directors.

My phone rang for the first time that morning. I glanced at my watch. It was eight-thirty. Everyone must be avoiding me.

“Kathleen Monahan,” I answered.

“Kate, it’s Jay. How’re you doing?” His voice was soft and his concerned tone almost starting me crying again.

“I’m okay. We’ll do fine. How’d it go last night? How’s Danny?” I hurried to change the subject.

“He’s coping. His brother and sister are there with him. I told them to call me if they needed anything.”

“I had a message from Ev on my system when I checked my messages this morning.”

“God, that’s so weird,” he said. “What did she want?”

“Nothing. Just said she was looking forward to having a drink with me at the party last night. Jay, I miss her so much already.”

“I know. Everyone around here is going to miss her. I wish she were here right now. Rick Cox has been yelling for an option summary this morning. Have you got any idea when the system’s supposed to be back up? If Evelyn were here I could get a printed copy but I couldn’t find one in her desk.”

“Who cares about stock options and Rick Cox? He’ll probably forget in an hour that he asked you for it. I can see everyone’s going to have a decent mourning period for Evelyn.”

Jay chuckled. I didn’t think it was funny. But he was probably laughing at me, not my comment.

“Who put the bug up Rick’s ass about options?” I asked.

“I think Oakes is on his case. Maybe they’re going to approve some more grants of options at the board meeting.”

Stock options for the executives are the driving force behind recruiting at our company. Options are an incentive, like a future bonus, given to executives when they’re hired. The reward for the executive is when the stock price goes up and they cash in. There’s no mystique to options as far as I was concerned, but it was amazing the number of executives who never understood the value of what they had.

Many executives have come into my office and I’ve had to give them my basic primer on options. Stock options are simply the option for the executive to buy shares in the company. There were always three significant factors I would go over: the number of options granted, the exercise price of the options, and when the options were available for exercise.

The number of options granted varied, depending on the executive, and this was one factor that every executive clearly understood. They knew how many options they had but in most cases, that was the extent of their knowledge and understanding.

The exercise price was the price at which the executive could buy the shares from the company. This price was the closing price of the company’s shares on the stock market on the day the options were granted to them.

In our company, options were usually available for purchase, or exercisable, one year after they were granted.

So, simply stated, if an executive was granted 1,000 options at an exercise price of $10.00, it meant that when the shares were exercisable, he could purchase from the company, 1,000 shares at $10.00 per share. If he elected to exercise (or purchase) those options (shares), he paid the company $10,000 and the company would arrange for the executive to be the registered owner of the shares. He could then turn around and sell those shares on the stock market. If the shares were trading at $15.00, he would make $5.00 a share, or a $5,000 profit. Definitely not rocket science.

Usually, top executives were granted 100,000 options when they were hired and depending on their performance, more options were granted each year. Several of our top executives were holding over 500,000 options. Most of them had exercise prices between $8.00 and $10.00. The shares were trading at $11.00, so there wasn’t a lot of money to be made right now.

There was a time about three years ago when the shares had reached $16.00 on speculation that we were being taken over but because of insider trading rules none of the executives could ‘cash’ in. Harold Didrickson had informed everyone that there were ‘windows’, or time periods, when it was legal to exercise their options. At the time the shares skyrocketed to $16.00, our audited quarterly financial statements were in the process of being finalized. Our executives knew about the financial results and the public didn’t, so that was considered a closed ‘window’ because they were in possession of inside information, and therefore, it was illegal to trade in the company’s shares.

Options are an incentive to the executives to make sure the company grew and made a profit. The executives understand the word incentive, but profit is a word we’re still looking for in the company dictionary.

Grants of stock options have to be approved by the board of directors and once that was done, the lists of exercise prices and numbers of options granted are given to Ev to enter into the company’s main computer system. After the information is entered, Ev would be able to tell the value at any given time of an executive’s total stock option package.

Jay would also use the same system to generate reports for Rick Cox on how many options were outstanding and how many options were still available to issue. Legally, the number of options granted cannot exceed more than 10% of the company’s issued and outstanding shares. TechniGroup’s number of shares issued and outstanding was a constantly rising number because each time we acquired another company we would give the owners shares in our company, rather than cash. So with the number of shares constantly rising, the 10% limit was always going up.

“I’m leaving on time today,” Jay said, “and if the system’s not back up to get that report, Rick’s going to have to get it himself.”

“Yeah, right. Rick wouldn’t know where the on/off button was on his computer. The guy’s a techno-phobe. And you can quit your whining, you’ll work until the cows come home. When was the last time you left the office on time?”

“I know, I know. Besides, Rick wouldn’t know how to get into the stock option system even if he figured out how to turn on the machine.”

There were three people who could access the stock option system: Rick Cox, Jay and Evelyn. Rick didn’t know how to use the system and with Evelyn gone, that left Jay to do all the work.

“Well, I’m leaving on time today. Call me later if you need any help finding things in Ev’s office.” I hung up.

chapter seven

I got up and walked around my desk and stood in front of the closed door. Time to face the troops. Jackie and Sandra, the two legal secretaries and Jessica and Ken, the two paralegals deserved better from me this morning. As much as I was grieving for Ev, I’m sure they were just as shocked and saddened about her death. They had all worked closely with Ev over the years and would miss her dreadfully. The way I had broken the news to them wasn’t fair. I’m always telling people to suck it in and buck-up so I gave myself a mental thrashing and opened the door. I walked around the partitions into the open-concept area where the four of them had their desks. They must have heard me open my door because all four had their heads down and looked like they were diligently working.

“Hey guys.” Four faces looked up at me. Jackie still had tears in her eyes and Ken looked like he was going to break down.

“I’m sorry for snapping everyone’s head off. You know I’m not good at that stuff. We’re all gonna miss Ev.” I paused and swallowed. “Thanks,” I ended off. Big speech for me. Ranting and raving is more my style. I felt awful and shrugged my shoulders. Jackie smiled at me and I knew it was okay.

I turned around and went and stuck my head in Didrickson’s office. He was sitting behind his massive, antique partner’s desk with the phone stuck to his ear. He was taking notes on a legal pad and punching numbers into the phone. Obviously still checking his voice mail messages. I cleared my throat. He looked up and I motioned for him to call me when he was finished. He waved me in and I wandered over to the window to check out the view. Didrickson had one of the prime corner offices in the executive suite and the back wall of his office was all windows. I placed my forehead up against the window and stared down at the street. The cold glass felt good on my face.

I heard Didrickson hang up the phone and I turned around. He finished writing something and looked up at me. He said nothing.

“I’m fine, and you?” I said.

The man was either the coldest person I’d ever met or incredibly shy. After four years I was still trying to figure him out. On a personal level, he didn’t speak unless spoken to, especially to people ‘below’ him. He never initiated personal conversations and showed little interest in anything except work.

“Sorry,” he smiled slightly, but quickly put on his serious face. “I got your message about Ev. God, this is terrible. Who’s going to look after her work?”

Fucking typical, I thought disgustedly. “Don’t worry Harold. I’m sure we’ll cope. Technically, she died before midnight, so should I tell payroll not to pay her for yesterday?” I deadpanned.

“Take it easy Kate. It’s just that this is a bad time with the board meeting only a week away. There’s a lot of work to be done.” The man had such a heart.

“I’m sorry you’re so shook up about Ev’s death, Harold.” I waited. I wanted to see if he understood my tone because sometimes I felt like I had to hit him with a brick - to him everything was so black and white. When he didn’t respond I decided not to waste my breath on the issue. I changed the subject.

“What do you want me to start on for the board meeting?” I asked.

As Corporate Secretary of the company, Didrickson had responsibility for preparing all material to be sent out to the board members in advance of meetings. This was to allow the board members time to look over the material before they were asked to approve it. Usually the two week period before a board meeting was a mad rush trying to get all the papers together and nine times out of ten we ended up giving the material to the directors at the meeting because we never got our shit together in time. Didrickson took this very personally because when he joined the company he vowed that he would get the process in shape and the directors would always have plenty of time to look over the materials they were being asked to approve. It became an obsession with Didrickson and I think the other departments in the company deliberately sabotaged his efforts just to see him squirm. The worst culprits were the beancounters in the finance department who couldn’t organize a senior citizen’s game of shuffleboard. On a quarterly basis the most important documents the directors needed to approve were the financial statements. And the financial statements were never done on time.

Now, call me kooky, but when you know, on a perpetual calendar until the year 2030, when every financial quarter ends, why is it so hard to plan to have something done on time? That’s why Didrickson was sure the other departments were conspiring against him, just to make him look bad. He took it very personally. Sometimes rightfully so, because Harold became the scapegoat every time one of the directors would wake up from his seasonal slumber and realize what he was being asked to approve.

“Draft an agenda and remind me what sub-committee meetings we’re having. You’ll have to do agendas for each of the committees as well. Get the file from last years’ third quarter meeting and bring it in. How are the arrangements for the dinner coming?”

“I’ll check with Vanessa. She’s doing all the meals and looking after the out of town directors. I’ll get some drafts done up for you.”

I left his office and went to the kitchenette. I like to embarrass Didrickson by bringing him coffee. He’s never once asked for one and for that reason, I serve him regularly. When I’m really pissed off at him, I’ll wait until he has someone in his office and I’ll poke my head in and ask him if he wants a coffee. It makes him blush every time. Didrickson is so by-the-book, he would never dream of asking the support staff to do anything personal for him. I grabbed the third quarter board meeting file from last year on my way back to his office. I tossed the file in front of him and very gently placed the coffee on a coaster on the leather-top desk. He looked up at me and turned a nice shade of pink. Gotcha, I thought.

I wandered down the hall to Vanessa’s office to talk about the board meeting. She was on the phone, as usual, and I stood in her doorway waiting for her to finish. As usual, Vee was impeccably dressed. Today she had on a classic, navy blue suit with a crisp white blouse. Her hair was perfectly done and it fell to her shoulders in soft waves. We were both cursed with gray hairs but Vanessa had the good grace to colour hers to cover it up. Her make-up was subtle and I caught a slight smell of her perfume. Perfect. She was beautiful but certainly had no pretensions. She went to the gym a couple of times each week and it showed. Vee looked up at me and made a face and I knew she was talking to Oakes.

“Chris, I can’t hear you. Chris… Chris… are you there?” she said into the phone in a loud voice. And then she hung up the phone and started to chuckle.

“Quick,” she said, grabbing her purse from under her desk. “Let’s get out of here for coffee.” She scrambled out from behind her desk and pushed past me in the doorway and started down the hallway. I trotted to keep up. Vee is the fastest walker I know and I’m always running behind her. How she can walk so fast in her three inch heels is something that defies physics.

“If he calls, I’m in the bathroom,” she said to the receptionist as we headed for the elevators. She punched the button. “He was on his cell phone in the limo and I got fed up listening to him so I told him I couldn’t hear him. He’ll be on the phone now chewing out the phone company.” We laughed. At least she maintains her sense of humour. Frankly, I think the woman is a saint. She puts up with an incredible amount of shit from Oakes.

Vee’s desk had been next to mine when she started with the company about six years ago. I was working as Shirley Benton’s secretary and Vee had been hired to work as a project secretary in the research and development department. She had kicked her husband out and needed to support her eight year old daughter. Her skills were a little rusty but she quickly picked up the office procedures. She had been Oakes’ secretary now for two years. I knew she took the job with Oakes because she needed the money and it paid well. Her ex missed more support payments than he made and she couldn’t depend on him.

We grabbed our coffees at the counter in the lobby cafe and sat down at a table in the enclosed room designated for smokers. We didn’t speak until we had both had a couple of drags from our cigarettes. Our favourite coffee shop was soon going to be smoke-free when the city introduced the latest by-law which would ban smoking in all public places.

“God Kate, I didn’t sleep last night. All I could see was Ev’s face. I can’t believe she’s dead. I checked my voice mail about five o’clock and got your message. What happened? Was it a reaction to nuts?”

“The doctors wouldn’t say. The resident in emergency said it looked like a reaction but wouldn’t say one way or the other. He wanted to talk to the immediate family and I couldn’t get in touch with Danny until later. I never went back in to talk to them after she died.”

“How did Danny take it? How is he?” she asked.

I shrugged. “OK, I guess. I’ll have to call him later and see if he needs help with anything for the funeral.” I changed the subject. “What’s up? What’s going on? Where’s CEO today?”

Vee and I referred to Chris Oakes by his initials.

“He’s off on another secret mission. Totally hush-hush. If anyone asks, he’s in the New York office meeting clients.”

“Yeah, right. Now where is he really?”

“He’s meeting with Jack Vincent.”

“Well isn’t that interesting,” I said slowly. “We haven’t heard of Jack for about three years. What’s going on Vanessa? Come on. What’s the dirt?”

Jack Vincent was a principal of one of the largest underwriting firms in Toronto and his firm had been the lead underwriters on a deal the company had tried to do that went sour. Sour and rotten. The consortium of banks that held the majority of the shares of our company when the original founder died five years ago had hired Jack’s firm to find a buyer for their shares. Because we’re a public company, this was of course highly confidential information, but before long, word leaked on the street and our shares started to inch up. There was speculation on the street that we were going to be bought up by IBM. That was one day. The next day the rumours had us being bought up by AT&T, and the next day it was another rumour. And the share price kept going up.

All of these rumours were way off base. In fact, the big fish on the hook was a German manufacturer that was looking to get into the North American market. The representatives of the banking consortium along with our executive team had been holed-up in a hotel in New York City for a week when the deal was almost ready to close. The owner of the German firm, Jozef Glass was leading his team of executives and his guns for hire, a Wall Street law firm. The negotiations were completed and the lawyers were finalizing their mountains of paper when the deal was suddenly called off. The Germans left town that day and our guys all returned home.

I heard later that Chris Oakes was the reason the Germans pulled out. Jozef Glass was a typical German and expected everything to be orderly and done his way. He must have thought he was awake in the middle of a nightmare when he finally called off the deal. Chris Oakes had done his smooth sales job about the company to Glass and the German bought it, hook, line and sinker. But as we got closer to the closing date, and everyone was practically living together, working around the clock, Glass got a taste of the real Chris Oakes. Manic depressive and psychotic behaviour became the norm. Chris would agree to something, in front of witnesses and then change his mind minutes later, denying total knowledge of his previous agreement. Bizarre behaviour that we were all used to but it finally got to Glass. After a particularly gruelling, eighteen-hour negotiation session, Jozef Glass telephoned Oakes at two in the morning and told him the deal was off. Of course, Oakes told all of us that he called off the deal, but we knew better. I guess it wasn’t meant to be a marriage made in heaven. Our shares dropped from $16.00 to $8.00 overnight. The rumours on the street were right on the money that time.

Jack Vincent became persona non grata at TGC. The banks were desperate by then to dump their shares so they sold their shares to the public. This was accomplished in two public offerings in the space of twelve months. They got their money and we got some more shareholders. Right now we have one shareholder who holds six percent of the stock and the rest is disbursed among thousands of other shareholders.

If Jack Vincent was back in the picture after three years something must be up. If we were doing another public offering by selling treasury shares to the public to raise more money, I’d know about it. The board would have made the decision and we would have rammed the paperwork through and got the issue sold. We had done that several times in the past couple of years. And each time, we used a different underwriting firm than the one Jack worked for.

“You think they’ve hired Jack to find a buyer again?” I asked Vee.

“I hope so. And if they find a buyer, I hope they fire Chris’ ass,” Vee said disgustedly.

chapter eight

I had a terrible time getting motivated for the rest of the morning. I couldn’t concentrate on my work and every time I started something, my mind would wander and I’d start thinking about Ev. I could hardly breathe in my office from all the cigarette smoke and my stomach was growling for some sustenance so I put on my jacket to head out in search of some lunch. I left my office door open to clear the air while I was out.

I dined out at one of Toronto’s finer establishments and treated myself to one of life’s delicacies. A Big Mac. With large fries and a Coke. Diet, of course, because one has to watch the waistline.

On my walk back to the office I swung my arms a little higher than normal and considered that my afternoon exercise.

I wasn’t surprised to find that my office door was closed. People are so stuck up these days about second-hand smoke.

Jay was waiting inside my office. He didn’t give me time to sit down before he asked, “Kate, do you have a copy of the list of options granted and approved at the last board meeting?”

“Yeah. But you should have a copy. Rick’s group produced it and the final copy you gave us was the one put in front of the board for approval.”

I dug in the filing cabinet for the material from the last board meeting. I heaved it out on to my desk and started thumbing through it. It was about four inches thick and nothing was in order. Every draft of every document was in the file, along with Didrickson’s notes and piles of other crap. I’m not known for my filing abilities.

I finally found the copy that Jay was looking for. “Here,” I passed it to him. I shoved all the papers back in the folder and piled it on the side of my desk. I sat down and lit a cigarette. Jay was comparing the list I gave him to another piece of paper he had in his hand and I leaned forward to nonchalantly look at the other piece of paper. Reading upside down was a skill I learned early on in my secretarial career and it’s a skill that’s paid off many times over the years.

The two pieces of paper looked the same to me from my vantage point, so I leaned back in my chair and blew smoke up towards the ceiling. I was being considerate, not blowing it directly at Jay.

“Here, you look.” Jay shoved the two papers at me. “You tell me what the differences are.”

Each sheet of paper looked identical and contained a list of about fifty names. The five columns across the page were headed: Name, Number of Options Granted, Exercise Price, Exercise Date and Expiry Date. I had to squint because the typeface was quite small.

“Do you want to tell me what I’m looking for?”

Jay sighed. “Come on Kate. Help me out here. Just look at it.”

I hate comparing documents to look for differences so I used one of my lazy tricks. I put the two pieces of paper together and held them up to the light and carefully aligned the column headings and started reading down the first column. The names on each piece were the same. The second column had some differences because the numbers appeared jumbled. I quickly glanced at the other three columns and nothing appeared out of order.

“The differences are in the second column, number of options granted.” I tried to hand the papers back to him.

“Okay, give the girl a kewpie doll. Where are the differences?”

I held the papers back up to the light and read off, “Richard Cox, Mary Dawson, Jay Harmon and Bill Heatherington.” I put the papers down side by side and ran my finger down the list of names on the first page to Richard Cox’s name. The column beside Rick’s name had a number of 50,000. I found his name on the other list and checked the column beside it. The number there was 30,000. I found Jay’s name on the first sheet and compared it to the other. The first sheet had a figure of 10,000 beside Jay’s name and the second one had the number 1,000. Mary Dawson and Bill Heatherington’s options had been changed by 9,000 options as well. I quickly glanced at the bottom of both pages to compare the totals They were different too. A difference of 47,000. I’m quite a mathematician when the need arises.

I handed the papers back to Jay.

“Which page did I just give you? In other words, which list did the directors’ approve?” I asked.

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is which one did I print off directly from the stock option system?”

“The point being?” I asked. I can be incredibly slow sometimes. Jay stared at me waiting for my answer. “The list you printed off from the system is the one that’s up by 47,000. Hey Jay, who’s your fairy godmother?” I joked.

“Shut up Kate. The board approved 1,000 options for me, Mary and Bill and 30,000 for Cox. The list I printed off the stock option system shows 10,000 for us and 50,000 for Cox. It’s impossible that Ev could have made the same mistake three times and added a zero and there’s no explanation for the change to Cox’s. Besides,” he continued, “Ev would have noticed that the totals didn’t balance. I knew I was getting a thousand options, because Cox told me. I would have put a down-payment on a house if he had promised me 10,000.”

“Ev and I were the only two people besides Rick Cox with access to the system,” he continued. “And I certainly don’t input numbers. I just run reports. But if she and I are the only two with access to the system, who made the change?”

I did a quick calculation. “If the shares ever get up to $15.00, which we all admit is a pipe dream, and the exercise price is $10.00, Cox could make $250,000 before taxes. Not a small amount in my mind, but certainly peanuts to someone like Rick. You, on the other hand, could certainly make a dent in those student loans with a cool fifty grand. Mary and Bill could use the fifty grand but they’re not still paying off loans,” I teased. Mary and Bill were both financial analysts who worked in the finance department and like Jay, reported directly to Rick Cox.

“Get serious Kate. Work with me here. Are you sure you gave me the list the directors approved?”

“The finger points directly at you. You’d profit a lot more on a relative basis than Rick would. Rick spends a hundred K at lunch and doesn’t think twice about it,” I joked.

Jay stood up so fast he knocked over the chair. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He scared me when he spoke. “Thank you F. Lee Bailey.” He turned around and pulled on the door handle so hard I thought it would break off.

I stood up too. “Jay, hey. Calm down.” He was gone. Those young guys can move fast. I started to run around my desk to catch up to him and thought better of it. Don’t want to strain my heart, I thought.

I tucked in my blouse, straightened my skirt, dusted the cigarette ashes off my jacket and very primly walked out of my office. Who did I think I was kidding?

Jay was going into the kitchenette so I followed him in and closed the door behind me. He was facing the coffee machine and had his back to me.

“Hey,” I kidded, “if you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined up.”

He turned around and I could see he was still pissed off. As he brushed past me to reach for the door handle, he said, “Another one of your stupid sayings that I’m sick of Kate. Your sense of humour is sick. You make me sick.”

I moved aside to let him pass. “Want to come over tonight and we’ll do our nails?” I asked. He was gone. Again.

I waited a few moments and followed Jay to his office. He ignored me when I came in. I closed the door quietly and asked if I could sit down. He continued to ignore me so I sat anyway.

“Look Jay. I apologize. I know I can be too mouthy for my own good. You know I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I was just joking.” I thought that came out well but he still wasn’t responding so I tried again.

“Stop being an asshole about this. I said I was sorry. I was just teasing. This is no big deal. I’m pretty sure I gave you the right sheet. If you notice in the bottom corner, Didrickson’s initialled it. That means it’s the list the board approved. You know how many times Cox fucks around with those lists before, during, and after a board meeting. Didrickson laid down the law and said the only lists I’m to use for stock exchange approval, are the ones he initials. I’d give a copy to Ev because she was never sure if she had the most up-to-date one.”

“Look,” I continued. “I’ll get Harold to settle this. Give me those two lists. I’ll ask him. The Great One has been known to screw up occasionally too. I’m gonna go see if he’s in. Cox still breathing down your neck for the report?”

“Yeah, and it’s not going to be a pretty sight if I don’t produce it soon. This change of 47,000 throws the totals off whack. They’re scraping the barrel looking for more room on the 10% limit to give out more options.”

I took the papers off Jay’s desk. I leaned over and almost touched my nose to his. “I was only teasing, okay?”

chapter nine

Didrickson wasn’t in his office when I got back so I scribbled him a note to call me. I dropped the note on the seat of his chair so he wouldn’t miss it.

I pulled out the bottom drawer of my desk and propped my feet up on it. Once I’d tried putting my feet on the desk but the chair was so cheap I fell flat on the floor when I leaned back.

I lit a cigarette and cursed the stock options. Nothing but a pain in the ass. Back in the good old days stock options weren’t a problem. Because there were none. The previous owner of the company was such a tight wad he didn’t believe in sharing the wealth. It was a different regime when Oakes took over though. He gave away the farm. He hired all of his old buddies from the last place he worked, tripled their salaries and gave them stock options. Rick Cox only made things worse. The man managed to make everything an administrative nightmare. He was responsible for rolling out the yearly stock option plan and crunching the numbers for the option grants. Oakes would make his recommendations on numbers of options for his cronies and Cox would play around with the rest left-over. And play around. And play around. The numbers were a constant moving target right up until the moment the numbers were given to the board to approve. The total options they issued could never change because of the 10% limit, but the individual’s numbers were fair game. I think his formula for coming up with numbers was based on where the planets were in the sky on a certain day. Very scientific.

When Richard Cox joined the company as a full-time employee I had breathed a sigh of relief. I remember thinking that we were finally getting someone ‘normal’ at the helm. Cox was originally a member of the board of directors, appointed by the bank consortium. He had been a wizard at a Bay Street investment bank and actually brought some sanity to the place. The board woke up one day and appointed him the chief operating officer. The position was vacant because they had just fired the current chief operating officer. Actually, press reports said the guy resigned to pursue other business interests. Right. Cox was on-deck and the logical choice as replacement. Chris Oakes put up a fight but soon realized he was in a losing battle. A few months later, when the board gave Cox the additional responsibilities of chief financial officer because the incumbent retired, the battle lines were drawn. Oakes and Rick Cox had been openly feuding now for two years.

I wasn’t the only one who was glad Cox joined the company. The company was re-organized, excuse me, re-engineered, and many people who had reported directly to Oakes ended-up reporting directly to Cox. But Cox’s true stripes started to show after about three months of having the dual role of COO and CFO. What a let-down. The guy turned out to be indecisive, misdirected, unfocused and on a good day, a three-headed monster.

The rivalry between Oakes and Cox appeared to be heating up over the last month or two and I expected a show-down soon.

My phone rang and I tore my pantyhose on the corner of the drawer when I tried to get my feet back on the floor and swing my chair around. Kathleen, you are so graceful.

“Kathleen Monahan.”

“Yes?” the voice on the other end demanded.

“Who’s speaking please?” I knew it was Didrickson, and in fact his extension number lit up on the digit display on the telephone console, but I hate arrogant bastards who don’t identify themselves on the phone.

“It’s Harold. You left me a note to call you. I’m back.”

“I’ll be right in.” I picked up the two sheets of paper with the stock option lists on them and headed for his office.

I handed him the list with his initials on the bottom and said, “I got this list out of the last board meeting file.” Then I handed him the other one. “Jay printed this from the stock option system just before lunch. The numbers aren’t the same. He’s got to give a report to Rick Cox with the total options outstanding and he noticed the numbers don’t jive.”

He handed both back to me after he quickly glanced at the two. “Then the system is wrong. The one with my initials on it is the one that was approved at the board meeting.”

“Thanks.”

I called Jay when I got back to my office and told him Didrickson said the one with his initials was the final list. He said he would come down and pick up the lists.

My phone rang again. The digit display indicated it was Didrickson calling. “Yes,” I answered. I thought I’d try his style.

“What exactly were the differences on those two lists?”

“There were four different entries. Rick Cox, Mary Dawson, Jay Harmon and Bill Heatherington. Cox had a difference of 20,000 and each of the others were increased by 9,000 each.”

“I think you better give me those lists back.”

“Sure. But Jay’s on his way back down here to get the lists to finish his report to Cox. And he’s the one who noticed the differences.”

“Make him copies then.” He hung up.

Yessir. Right away sir. I passed Jay in the hall on my way to the photocopier room. “Follow me. Didrickson wants the originals of these and I’ll make you a copy.”

The next couple of hours were spent creating paper. Agendas for the upcoming board and committee meetings, indexes for the binders of materials, drafting resolutions for the board to approve. Paper, paper and more paper. Baffle ‘em with bullshit. Most of the documents I started on were full of holes, ready for Didrickson to fill in the blanks. I made sure a current date and time were printed on the draft documents. Didrickson would soon start passing the documents around to Oakes and Cox for their input and we needed to be sure we were always working on the same draft. Chris Oakes never focused on anything until the last minute and was usually working on draft #2 when the rest of us were working on #5. I especially enjoyed receiving his comments on the documents two days after the meetings were over.

I ran into Tom James when I was getting my fifth cup of coffee since lunch.

“Tom, nice tie,” I said with a straight face. He puffed up his chest. It was a nice tie, but this was the way Tom and I started off every conversation. It was expected that I would compliment Tom on his tie, or his suit, or whatever, and I think I had now complimented him on this particular tie about sixty times. Our man of substance. I was surprised to see Tom in the office this late in the day. Normally, he leaves at lunch to go to his gym for a workout and if he comes back, it’s only to impress Oakes.

“What are you doing in the office so late in the day?” I teased. “I thought Oakes was out of town.” Tom looked insulted. It didn’t work with me.

“He was. He flew back this afternoon and we’ve got a meeting.”

“Yeah? Good for you. Putting in overtime for this?” I laughed. Tom looked a little confused. He knew no-one got paid overtime in this organization and as the vice president in charge of human resources I could see his brain working to try and remember this.

“Forget it Tom,” I said. I teased him because I could. Kind of like, why does a dog lick his balls? Because he can. Why do I tease Tom James? Because I can. He’s such an easy target.

“So what’s so important on a Friday afternoon? You and Oakes deciding on a tee time?” I grinned.

“We’re going over the personnel stuff on the acquisition of Marshton Systems. Deciding on who goes where. Who keeps their jobs. You know.” Tom puffed up his chest a little when he said this.

Oh, this was good dirt. Amazing what these guys will share with me. I live for this stuff. Actually, it’s the only interesting thing in this job. The speculation. The rumours. The politics. My brain works a mile a minute trying to keep one step ahead of everyone by putting together everything they tell me. Bits and pieces, here and there. And before you know it, I know what’s going to happen before they do. I do most of my speculation with Vee and between the two of us we re-organize the company on a monthly basis. The way we think it should work. And eventually, the powers that be catch up with us and everything falls into place. We joke that in another life we’ll be management consultants. With the information that Vee’s privy to working for the Chairman of the Board, and the information all the guys share with me, we know everything that’s going on in the company. As much as it’s a game with us to speculate and play around with the information, we keep the information between the two of us. We’re professional enough to know that rumours have killed many a public company.

I like to think that the executives share information with me because they can trust me. I’ve been around and lived through a lot of history in this company and I’ve become the unofficial company historian of fact and fiction.

“So, who’s in and who’s out?” I asked Tom.

“Well, the technical staff stay. That goes without saying. We’re trying to figure out now if there’s any fit for the top guys.” Tom very carefully added Sweet ‘n Low to his coffee. No extra calories for this guy.

“What about Jerry Marsh?” I asked. Jerry Marsh was the majority owner of the company we had just acquired and the word was that he sold the company so he could retire.

“He’ll stay around for six months to consult. Help with the transition,” Tom said.

“In other words, he’s playing golf and buying retirement real estate,” I stated.

“We’ve got a lot of overlap in the finance and personnel positions. We promised them hefty severance packages when we bought them. Most of them’ll be gone when we get their operations working in synch with ours,” Tom said.

This was standard operating procedure. TechniGroup would buy up smaller companies who were in the same sort of business as ours. Usually they would have contracts that were making money so they were very attractive buys for us. We’d purchase the company, keep the technical people and ditch the rest of the staff. I’d seen dozens of people come and go over the last two years. The transitions could take up to six months while our people got to understand their operations. We’d take this time to train their technical staff to our products and internal procedures.

“What about Phil? Oops. Excuse me, Philip?” I asked.

“I can’t see him lasting long. We don’t need two operational guys. Rick Cox’ll make mincemeat of him.”

“Yeah, but I thought we’d promised him a job. We did a separate agreement for him to keep him on. Oakes was adamant about fitting Phil into the organization. Wasn’t the plan to create some sort of position in operations, kind of on a smaller scale? Get Phil running a couple of the regions?” I asked.

“Cox is fighting it tooth and nail. He and Oakes had a major screaming match about it the other day. Cox was so mad I thought he was going to run and get his mommy.” Tom laughed.

Tom and I both knew that Rick Cox had not been very involved in the acquisition of Marshton Systems. It had been a transaction that Oakes had pushed through without any input from Cox. God, what a pair. I wondered if other organizations had such team work at the top.

I took a sip of my coffee. “Well, the next week should be interesting.”

“Have any arrangements been announced yet for Ev’s funeral?” Tom asked.

“No, nothing yet. If I find out, I’ll let everyone know. You know Tom, we’ve got a great gaping hole with Ev gone. It’s going to take some time to get someone up to speed on her job.”

“Jay can take it over,” Tom stated.

Oh yeah, big promotion Jay. Maybe I’ll be the one to tell him. Jay, you’ve been promoted. We hope you’re up to the task. The job’ll involve a lot of data entry work and we’ll be glad to provide training.

“Right Tom. Jay’ll be happy with that. Taking over a clerical job. Tom, you should look at some of the existing staff to see who can do the job. We need someone who can be trusted. If we get someone from inside, the learning curve won’t be difficult.”

Tom was flexing his forearms and staring at himself in the shiny surface of the paper towel dispenser over the sink. I grabbed my coffee and sighed. At least I’d had his attention for about five minutes. Par for the course. The man had the attention span of a two year old.

“Good luck at your meeting,” I said over my shoulder as I left the room.

He didn’t hear me. He was picking at a piece of dry skin over his eyebrow.

chapter ten

I’d had enough by five-thirty. Even a slave gets time off. I signed off my computer and caressed the monitor before I powered off. If I’m nice to the machine, maybe it’ll be running next time I need it.

The office was quiet when I opened my door. On my way to Didrickson’s office, I glanced into the area where the secretaries and paralegals worked. No one in sight. The rats had definitely exited on time. Harold was on the phone when I stuck my head in his door so I waited until he finished. He’d be in the same position when I got in on Monday. Phone glued to his ear, pen in hand, writing furiously. The guy takes better shorthand than I do. I’m sure he takes down every word said to him over the phone. He keeps copious notes and heads up each one with the date, time and person he spoke to.

Didrickson saw me standing there so he swivelled his chair. His back was to me and I overhead him say, “Okay Grace, I’ll let you know as soon as I speak with Chris. Right.” He swivelled back to face the desk and wrote something. “I’ll call you if I need you before Monday.” He hung up.

“I’m outta here Harold. Have a good weekend.”

“Okay Kate. If Vanessa’s at her desk let her know I’m still waiting to see Chris.”

“He’s probably still in his meeting with Tom.” Harold’s eyebrows went up. He doesn’t ask how I know everything going on.

“They’re meeting about the personnel changes for Marshton Systems,” I said.

“Well, that won’t last long. Tom can’t concentrate more than half an hour at a time,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Very good, I thought. The man’s getting some humour.

“See you Monday,” I waved.

I could see Philip Winston leaning up against the doorframe of Vee’s office as I turned the corner and headed down the hall. As I approached her office, I could see through the glass front that she was on the phone, furiously scribbling down information.

“Philip, how’s it going?” I said.

“Kathleen,” he said. At least this man got my name right. He stuck out his hand. The guy was so formal for someone so young. My mother would love him. I took a couple more steps and shook his hand. His aftershave filled my nostrils. God, I could chew this guy’s neck. He smelled so good. I mentally slapped myself. Boy toy, boy toy, I chanted under my breath. Problem was, he knew he smelled good and he knew he looked good. Tom James was going to have a resident rival. I looked up at Philip who was tall by my standards. He was slim and his suit hung on his body perfectly. No doubt about it, I thought, he didn’t shop at Wal-Mart. His tie matched the shirt, which matched the suit. I tried not to giggle as I wondered if his jockey shorts matched too. He didn’t have a hair out of place on his gorgeous head. Amazing how anyone can look this put together at the end of the day. Maybe he hair sprayed his whole body.

He smiled at me and I noticed a dimple in his right cheek. After I finished chewing on his neck I was going for his bottom lip. I felt myself starting to blush and gave myself a mental cold shower.

“Philip, who’re you trying to impress? It’s five-thirty. Go on home,” I urged. I said it like someone in charge. I’ve always believed that if you act like you’ve got authority, people will obey you. I tried this tact with all the new guys who got sucked in right away. Trouble was, most of them figure me out pretty quick and after a while they know I’m just joking. Philip on the other hand was still fair game.

“I’ve got one more meeting for the day,” he replied. Obviously it was with Oakes or he wouldn’t be hanging around Vanessa’s office. Unless I interrupted him trying to put the make on her. If Tom James thought Rick Cox could make mincemeat of Philip Winston, wait until Vee got her hands on him. This woman had absolutely no time for men. Thanks to her ex and Chris Oakes, Vanessa was completely soured on the opposite sex.

The door to Oakes’ office opened and we saw Tom James coming out. He stopped to button his suit jacket and straighten his tie when he saw Philip. Philip stood up a little straighter and buttoned his jacket and adjusted his tie. I watched in amusement as Tom lightly passed his hand over the side of his head to make sure his hair was smooth. Philip did the same. Mirror image. I’d have to follow these two into the bathroom some time and see what happens in front of the urinal.

Philip stuck out his hand as Tom approached and they shook. Tom grimaced ever so slightly and I guessed that Philip was giving him a bone-crushing handshake. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them lifted his leg and pissed on the doorframe of Oakes’ office. Boys will be boys.

Philip went into Oakes’ office and closed the door behind him.

“So Tom. How’d it go?” I asked. As if it were any of my business.

“Not bad. We’ve got everyone sorted out. I’ve got to start on the formal severance packages over the next couple of weeks.”

“And Philip?” I asked. This was definitely not my business.

“Oh, he’ll do fine. Oakes wants me to do up a package for the board on some options for him and draw up a formal employment agreement.”

“Well, we’ve got options on the agenda for the next meeting so get me the information as soon as you can.” I turned to go into Vee’s office and Tom followed me.

“Hey, Vee,” I said. She had her elbows on the desk and was resting her head in her hands. She looked exhausted. “Hey yourself,” she said back.

“Yes Tom?” she asked tiredly. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“How’d the stock do?” Tom asked. It was a daily ritual for the executives to check with Vee on how the stock did for the day. They had to keep track of their fortunes.

“Down a buck. Not a very large volume of shares traded.” She paused. “Anything else?”

“Um, uh, um. Nope. Have a good weekend ladies.” Tom probably had something on his mind but got sidetracked when he saw a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. He was picking at it as he left Vee’s office.

“Oakes is going to have a fit,” Vee stated.

“Why? Just ‘cause the stock’s down? Again? Big deal. His excuse’ll be something lame like the price of rice in China,” I said. “Besides, the rest of us have nothing to worry about. He’ll blame it all on you,” I joked.

“That’s okay. I’ve got big shoulders,” Vee sighed. “At least the weather held today and his flights were on time.” A couple of weeks ago Oakes’ flight to the west coast was delayed because of fog. He blamed it all on Vee. She now had to check weather patterns at least four hours before any of his flights. The man was a lunatic.

“Harold asked me to tell you he was still waiting to see Oakes.”

“I know, I know. Chris isn’t interested in seeing Harold even though I told him it was urgent. He said ‘tough’. What’s the big deal anyway?” she asked. “It’s Friday afternoon.”

“Who knows? It might be something to do with the stock options. The list that was approved at the last board meeting doesn’t jive with the information on Ev’s system. Didrickson’s probably just covering his ass again.”

“Well, Harold better tread lightly. Chris and Rick are at it again. And Chris knows that Harold’s siding with Rick. That isn’t making Chris happy,” Vee said.

The politics among the executives was heating up. What didn’t help matters was Human Synergies, Inc. They had been hired by our board of directors to assist with the most recent re-engineering of our company.

Re-engineering is a term from the nineties to describe reorganization. You can’t even find the word in a dictionary published before 1995. Re-engineering. How absurd. People are out there making millions on coming up with new words. “Hello, pleased to meet you. What do I do for a living? I’m a synonymer. Pardon? You’re not familiar with that term? Basically, I make-up new words to describe mundane things. Yes, there’s oodles of financial benefits.” Gawd!

Human Synergies, Inc. had been hanging around for the last six months fine-tuning our reorganization. All departments had been renamed and reporting lines had reshuffled. All of that had gone relatively smoothly because we seem to reshuffle, rename and reorganize at least twice a year. What they hadn’t anticipated was the in-fighting. The latest reorganization had divided the company in two. And the two camps were headed up by Oakes and Cox. All of the executives had clearly chosen sides and everyone seemed to be aware of who was siding with who. This was all unspoken, of course, but it was as plain as the nose on your face.

Human Synergies had reported to the board of directors at the last board meeting about their concerns on the lack of leadership and team effort among the executives. What a bunch of smug bastards. They had caused all of the unrest and fuelled it constantly with secret meetings and strategy sessions. They’d meet with individual executives to get input and word would filter back to the other members of the executive team. It reminded me of a group of adolescent girls in the seventh grade. They probably passed each other notes in meetings too.

“When is Chris ever happy?” I asked Vee. “I’ll tell you when he’s happy. When he’s stirring up the pot, screaming at everyone and pulling their strings. The man would be miserable if he woke up every day next to Doris Day singing Que Sera Sera.”

Chris Oakes’ office door opened and he walked out with Philip Winston. Oakes had his overcoat on and his briefcase in his hand. He waved to Vanessa and headed down the hall. I jumped out of my seat and called after him.

“Chris. Harold needs to see you. He said it’s urgent.”

Oakes said something to Winston who continued down the hall towards the reception. Chris turned around and headed back to me. I thought he was going to say something to me as he walked past but he ignored me and turned around the corner towards Didrickson’s office.

“Long live the King. Good night Vee,” I said.

chapter eleven

Weekends were my favourite time. Two whole days to myself, away from the office. I was planning my Friday evening as I pulled out of the parking garage and eased my way into rush-hour traffic. The traffic was at a standstill and I took a couple of deep breaths to get my mindset into the weekend. Any other night of the week and my blood pressure would be rising because of the gridlock. Friday nights I didn’t let it bother me. I used the time to plan out what I wanted to do and what needed to be done. The things that needed to be done were easy - housecleaning, laundry, grocery shopping. I could get those things done in a couple of hours and have the rest of the time for goofing off.

My mind was wandering when the gentleman in the pick-up truck behind me gave me a blast on his horn. I glanced in my rear-view mirror and saw him waving his fist because I hadn’t jumped the intersection on a yellow light. I was in no mood to fight so I ignored him. Probably a good move, I thought, when he pulled out around me, squealed his tires and sped through the intersection still waving his fist. The only thing missing from the gentleman’s truck was his gun rack.

I arrived home in record time for a Friday night. A mere fifty-five minutes. I could have made it in twenty if I’d used public transit but I couldn’t give up my status symbol, my parking pass.

I parked my car at the back and dragged myself and my briefcase up the walk at the side of the house to the front. I lived on the third floor of an old house that had been converted into three apartments. I was dead tired as I walked up the front steps onto the porch and into the small lobby. I thought about having another cigarette before I tackled the stairs but decided I’d save that reward if I made it without coughing up a lung.

My apartment smelled stuffy and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I dropped my jacket and briefcase in the front hall and headed into the living room to open some windows. I gave a nervous, sideways glance at the fishbowl to see if Snapper the Fourth was still alive. I hate facing death straight on and I wasn’t up for any shocks. I was relieved to see he was swimming around as usual and fed him a few morsels of fish food. My luck was holding.

I grabbed an overflowing ashtray and dirty coffee cup off the desk and took them into the kitchen. No time like the present, I thought. I emptied the ashtray and started loading all the dirty coffee cups into the dishwasher. I tried to reach the window over the kitchen sink and found myself balancing on my stomach on the counter with my feet off the floor and one hand in the kitchen sink. I vowed to ask Santa Claus for about three more inches in height this Christmas.

I gave up my balancing act and hooked my foot around a small step stool beside the stove and dragged it over in front of the sink. I felt like the king in the castle standing on the top step of the stool and was able to unlatch the kitchen window and open it. I turned around and surveyed my domain and was disgusted to see dust bunnies on top of the refrigerator.

I decided to get out of my work clothes before I started on my manic cleaning routine and headed for the bedroom where I stripped off my clothes and peeled off my control top pantyhose. Now that’s relief. The pain we go through to look good. After fumbling around in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor I found my sweatpants and an old shirt. Clothes were sorted into two piles, laundry and dry cleaning. I stripped the bed and added the sheets and pillowcases to the laundry pile. I was on a roll.

I considered myself lucky because I had a washer and dryer in my apartment. I loathe doing laundry and the chore became more hateful every time I had to schlep to the laundromat so a couple of years ago I made the plunge and bought an apartment size, stackable washer and dryer. Technology at its finest. A load of whites went in first and I grabbed the plastic dishpan that held all of my cleaning supplies and marched off to battle.

By the time I finished cleaning it was nine o’clock. I sat on the couch, lit a cigarette and looked around me. Beautiful. My stomach was calling and together we thought about dinner. My mind inventoried the food in the fridge but my stomach was yelling for pizza. I couldn’t argue.

Tony’s Pizzeria, in my opinion, was one of the best in Toronto. Alfredo answered the phone.

“Tony’s Pizzeria,” he said with a thick Italian accent.

“I’d like to speak to Tony,” I said in a thick Irish brogue.

“Tony’s not a-here, can I a-help you?” Alfredo replied.

“Hi Al, it’s Kathleen.” I dropped the phoney brogue. Tony had never existed but this was a game we played every time I called. Alfredo was Puerto Rican but had a great, just off the boat, Italian accent when it suited him.

“K-k-Katie, beautiful Katie, you’re the only g-g-g-girl that I adore,” he sang. I cut him off before he finished all three verses of the old wartime song.

“I’m hungry,” I stated.

“The usual?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” I drawled and the saliva in my mouth started up as I thought about the sauce on the pizza, lightly spiced and the gooey cheese. “Just mushrooms and lots of cheese,” I reminded him.

He sounded insulted that I had to remind him. “I know, I know,” he said. He dropped his voice a little and said in his sexiest voice, “So when are you gonna let me take you out for a real meal?” This was another game we played.

I lowered my voice and whispered into the phone, “Ooh Alfredo, you name the time. Just let me know when your wife can line up a baby-sitter, or better yet, bring all the kids and your wife, and we’ll make it a real party,” I laughed.

“Pizza’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Ciao baby.”

I was chuckling as I hung up the phone. I headed to the kitchen to set the table and find my purse to pay the delivery boy. He arrived in about eighteen minutes and I tipped him generously.

I opened the top of the box and breathed in the aroma. I served myself a slice, put my napkin on my lap and dug in. Although I don’t cook, I believe in the formality of dinner time so food prepared by someone else gets the same treatment in my house. I wolfed down two slices before I started to slow down.

After I ate, I curled up on the couch with a new book and covered myself with an old quilt. The breeze coming through the open French doors was chilly but I loved the crispness of the air. The apartment smelled clean and the breeze from outside was fresh. I was in heaven.

I studied the cover of the book. A woman with long, flowing auburn hair was locked in a passionate embrace with a man who looked like he could anchor the evening news on network TV. She was wearing a low cut, peasant-style blouse which exposed the tops of her breasts. I wish.

The book was a fast read and I skimmed through about three chapters before I stopped to light a cigarette. The story was similar to the dozens of other novels I had read - poor woman, rich man. They meet, they argue, they secretly pine for each other and eventually end up locking lips in a mad embrace at the end of a particularly nasty argument.

I thought about why I read these books. Always looking for my knight in shining armour and reading these books kind of kept the fantasy alive. Reading for me was pure escapism and I justified my habit by reminding myself I didn’t drink or take drugs. Cigarettes and romance books. My two vices. Probably time to clean up my act.

I heaved myself off the couch and stood looking out the front windows to the street below. I was restless and had nagging feelings which I tried to pinpoint. I had frantically cleaned my apartment and ate my dinner like a stevedore. My planned and forced relaxation on the couch hadn’t lasted long. As usual, I was avoiding things.

Evelyn’s death hung over me. As trite as it sounded, it made me sad. Sad is an emotion that usually doesn’t have any backbone and it’s hard to define. My whole body started to ache with sadness, thinking about her. The more I thought about Ev, the more restless I became. I paced in the living room and ruined the nice look of the freshly vacuumed carpet. I couldn’t understand her death. Why did she have to die? I had been avoiding thinking about her all day by keeping busy and now I didn’t have anything to keep me occupied. The book bored me. I checked the TV Guide to see if there were any sports on the television and as usual, I came up empty. Friday night sitcoms and news shows. Forget it.

I phoned Danny. I hadn’t talked to him since last night. The phone rang a couple of times before he answered.

“Hello.” He sounded tired.

“Danny, it’s Kathleen. How’re things?”

“All right, I guess.” The tone of his voice told me I would have to carry the conversation.

“Is there anything you need? How are your brother and sister?” I asked.

“They’re fine. The neighbours have been in and out with food. There’s nothing I need right now.”

“Danny, when’s the funeral? Have you set the time yet?”

“No, they’re not releasing the body. The doctor said they have to do an autopsy to determine the cause of death.”

I was surprised. “I thought she died from a reaction to nuts.”

“When I spoke to the doctor this morning, he said the cause of death was undetermined so they had to do an autopsy. He said they’re backed-up at the morgue so it could take a couple of days.” He paused. “I just want to bury her.” He started to cry softly.

I felt helpless and didn’t know what to say. “It’ll be okay Danny. Take it easy. Is there anything I can do? Is there anyone there with you?” I asked.

“Jonathan’s here. Elaine left a while ago to go home. I’m all right Kate. I’ll call you if I need anything. I gotta go.”

I said good-bye to a dial tone.

chapter twelve

I thought I’d try my luck with Jay. See if he’d forgiven me.

“Yeah,” he answered on the first ring.

“What telephone manners,” I said. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine thank you. And you?” he said like a five year old.

“Bored. Sad. Restless. I cleaned the apartment, ate dinner, tried to read for a while. Have you forgiven me yet?” I asked.

“For what?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass Jay.” I changed the subject. “What time did you get out of the office?”

“About seven. I headed for the hills when the yelling reached a fever pitch.”

“Yeah? Who was yelling?”

“I don’t know. It sounded like Oakes and Cox. I was working on that stock option report, trying to get it finished. I had a couple of questions for Rick but never got past his door. When I went to go in I could hear yelling in his office so I hightailed it out of there. They sounded busy.”

“I’m surprised. I saw Oakes with his coat on when I left. What were they yelling about?”

“I didn’t stop to listen Kate.”

“Come on Jay. Didn’t you put your ear up to the door?”

“Unlike you Kate, I believe in letting some people have their privacy. Besides, it was none of my business.”

Ouch. “So Rick never got his report.”

“Yes he did. I sent it to him on e-mail. Not that he’ll read it but my ass is covered. There’re still outstanding problems. I worked backwards and ended up using the stock option numbers you gave me from the last board meeting. There’s no sense to why those numbers on the system were changed and I couldn’t find any back-up for them. I’m sure it’ll get sorted out when I talk to Rick about it. Why did Didrickson keep the originals of the two lists?”

“I’m not sure. And, he was anxious to see Oakes at the end of the day. Must have been something important for Harold to want to see Oakes. Maybe it was about the lists.”

“Oh yeah, really Kate,” Jay said sarcastically. “Didrickson is going to bother Oakes with a clerical error.”

“Well, Mr. Smarty Pants, maybe Harold thought someone had been diddling with the numbers. Maybe he thought you had a fairy godmother too.”

“Are you starting up again?” Jay’s voice went up half an octave.

“Sorry. Really. Forget it. Listen, I talked to Danny. They haven’t released Evelyn’s body yet. He said they want to do an autopsy to determine the cause of death.”

“It wasn’t a reaction to nuts?” Jay asked.

“They’re not sure.” The sadness started to overwhelm me again. I slumped against the wall. “I gotta go Jay.”

“Kate? You all right?” Jay asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I could hear Jay calling my name as I hung up the phone but I ignored him and hung up anyway. I slid down the wall to a sitting position on the floor and hugged my knees and was suddenly so tired I couldn’t move. The adrenaline had finally vacated the body. I had been up since five that morning.

The phone rang and I didn’t answer. If I could just get up the energy to stand up and go to bed, I thought. I didn’t even have enough fuel in me to crawl. The phone stopped ringing after five rings. My throat tightened up and I started to cry. Twice in two days. My crying was quiet at first and slowly changed to gasping sobs. I rolled on my side and hugged myself. I could feel the carpet beneath my cheek getting wet.

I stopped crying when the phone started to ring again. It seemed like I had been crying for a century but it must have been about two minutes. I ignored the phone and closed my eyes and fell asleep and dreamed that Jay was holding me. He was telling me it was okay, that he forgave me. He was stroking my hair and his arms felt good around me.

I opened my eyes and I was looking into Jay’s. He was sitting on the floor in my hallway, holding me on his lap. His arms were around me and it felt good. My heart was in my throat the moment I realized I wasn’t dreaming.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me Jay.”

“Shut up Kate.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Just a few minutes. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I pushed his arms away and struggled to my feet. Jesus, I felt warm. Jay certainly throws off body heat, I thought. He got to his feet and leaned over and touched his nose to mine. “I was worried about you.”

He was going to make me start crying again. “Do you want some coffee?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. I was great at changing the subject. “I’ll make decaf,” I pronounced as I hurried into the kitchen. I fussed about making coffee, feeling like a fourteen year old school girl. Calm yourself Kathleen. The man is like a brother. You’ve known him since you were six. I turned around to look at Jay who was leaning against the doorframe with this hands in the pockets of his jeans. He wasn’t hard to look at. Jay was thirteen inches taller than me and had dark hair that hugged his head. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. His face was square and the most prominent feature was his nose. Not overly large, but noticeable because the slight bend in it where it looked like it had been broken and not properly re-set.

“If I remember correctly, I gave you a key to my apartment to check the fish when I was on vacation,” I reminded him.

“I was worried about you. So sue me.”

“Go and sit. I’ll bring the coffee as soon as it’s ready,” I said. He shrugged his shoulders and turned around into the living room.

No doubt about it, I thought. The man was sweet. Very sweet. And you, Kathleen, are very vulnerable. You’re feeling sad because of Evelyn’s death, I lectured myself. Jay’s a friend. A good friend. Good friends give you a shoulder to cry on. They even hold you to make you feel better. I was good at this. I was very convincing.

I held the two coffee cups in one hand and scooped up a couple of coasters from my desk before placing the cups on the coffee table. Holding two hot cups in one hand is no mean feat, but one of my many hidden talents I learned over the years serving coffee to executives.

Jay was sitting in the corner of the sofa with his long legs up on the coffee table. I sat at the other end of the couch and lit a cigarette. The silence was overwhelming.

“So. Another busy Friday night for you too?” I joked.

Jay put his feet on the floor and leaned over to take a sip of his coffee. He carefully put the cup on the coaster and looked over at me. He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times before he answered.

“Kathleen, do you have to joke about everything?” I noticed his use of my proper name. Things were getting serious.

“Jay, I save my humour for those close to me.”

“You make a joke out of everything,” he started.

I interrupted him before it became a lecture. “Listen Jay, if you’re going to chew me out again for what I said in the office, about you having a fairy godmother, I already apologized.”

Jay sighed. “Kate, this has nothing to do with that. What I’m getting at is that you can’t have a serious conversation without turning it into a joke. Why is that?”

I thought about it and couldn’t come up with an answer so I shrugged my shoulders. This was very reminiscent of getting a lecture from my mother.

This time Jay changed the subject. “I know you’re sad about Ev. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Jay, did you take counselling classes at Western? I heard they have a new one called ‘Death and the Helpless Friend’. No I don’t want to talk about it. What’s there to talk about? One of my best friends has died. Needlessly. Can you explain why?” I didn’t give him time to answer. It was a rhetorical question and I was on a roll. “Why did she die? She wasn’t old. She was healthy. She’s gone and left her three kids and a grandchild. What’s the sense of it all?” I looked at Jay. “She left me.” My throat was tight and I couldn’t swallow. There. I said it. Evelyn left me.

God, how does Danny feel, I thought. I don’t want anyone to leave me again. I want my mommy. I’m 34 years old and I want my mommy. I reached over for my coffee cup and Jay grabbed my hand. He pulled me over to him and wrapped me in his arms.

“And people say you’re tough,” he said softly. I had a million smart retorts to that one but I didn’t bother.

chapter thirteen

I woke up the next morning in my bed and I couldn’t remember how I got there. Jay must have helped me, I thought. A peek under the duvet confirmed that I had my clothes on. The clock radio read seven thirty-six. I got up, took off my clothes and paddled into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. My mouth felt like the French Foreign Legion had marched through it, barefoot, after three months in the desert.

I dressed in jeans and a blouse, which I didn’t tuck in. I put on some clean white gym socks and headed for the kitchen. The curtains above the sink were billowing straight out and I remembered that I hadn’t closed any windows the night before. I pushed the step stool over in front of the sink and climbed up. I glanced at the top of the refrigerator and happily noted that the dust bunnies I had cleaned the night before hadn’t reappeared. With my knees braced against the sink I leaned over and wrestled with the window.

I lit a cigarette while I waited for the coffee to drip through and wandered into the living room to retrieve the dirty coffee cups. The curtains in there were billowing too and it was cold. Jay’s huddled body beneath the quilt on the sofa scared the life out of me.

“Christ,” I cursed out loud. I hate being scared. I crossed the room to close the doors to the balcony and noticed something orange floating on the top of the fishbowl. Oh no, I thought. Not another one. I peeked in the fishbowl hoping it wasn’t what I thought. Snapper the Fourth was doing the backstroke. I give up, I thought. I just fucking give up. I can’t keep anything alive. Imagine what I’d do to a poor dog or cat if I had it long enough.

I picked up the fishbowl to head to the bathroom for the ceremonial burial. Jay was stirring on the couch. He must be frozen, I thought. I looked at his sleeping face and felt like I was intruding. There is definitely something very personal about observing someone in their sleep. I hurried out of the living room to do the dirty deed.

This time the ceremony was shorter. I intoned a few sombre words over the toilet bowl before wishing Snapper the Fourth farewell. “Bye, bye, big buddy,” I finished off. I reached for the handle to flush and heard Jay cough behind me. The toilet flushed and I blushed at getting caught. He was leaning on the doorframe with his hands in pockets. The boy leaned a lot.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning to you too.” He grinned. “I hope that was leftovers you were flushing.” I held up the fishbowl. “Ah, Kate. Not another one. What’s the Humane Society going to say?”

“Shut-up. I’ve given up. The goldfish of the world are safe. Kathleen Monahan will never own another one.” I pushed past him into the hallway. “Clean towels are in the closet behind the door,” I said over my shoulder.

I was on my second cup of coffee and third cigarette when Jay joined me. He helped himself to a mug in the cupboard over the coffee maker and sat at the table across from me. He pushed the ashtray to the side. He had the good grace, and good sense, not to comment on the number of butts in the ashtray.

“What time did I go to bed? I don’t even remember going.”

“You didn’t go. I carried you and tucked you in.” His grin this time had a bit of a leer to it.

“Hope you didn’t strain your back,” I said.

“Right, Kate. What are you? All of a hundred pounds, soaking wet? I carried you with one hand.”

“Bless you my son. No, I’m not a hundred pounds. I wish. I’m a hundred and ten. Besides, it’s rude to ask a lady her weight.”

“What lady?” he joked.

“Well, was it good for you too?” I teased.

“Ooh. I almost needed a cigarette afterwards.” We both laughed.

“What are you up to today?” I asked him.

“This and that. You?”

“Absolutely nothing. I cleaned the apartment last night and did the laundry. I only have to buy some groceries but that can wait until tomorrow.”

“I think I’ll do some of the same. I’ve got to go into the office tomorrow to finalize some reports for Cox. I’m going for a run this morning.”

He finished his coffee in one gulp and stood up. He came around to my side of the table and squatted down beside me. I turned sideways in my chair and our eyes were level. It pissed me off that he got down to what he thought was my level because I was short. It was patronizing. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood up. He put his hands on his knees and pushed himself upright. Great. Now he was towering over me. I grabbed the step-stool and jumped up on it but was still about four inches shorter. I wasn’t getting up on the counter.

“Will you cut it out?” Jay demanded. “I just wanted to say good-bye. God, you’re irritating at times.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Well. Good-bye. Have a good run. See you Monday.” He took a step forward and stopped about three inches from me and leaned into my face. I was sure he was going to touch his nose to mine again but he didn’t.

“Good-bye,” he breathed into my face. And he kissed me. Very lightly. Very friendly. Almost brotherly. I was kidding myself. I blushed about four shades of red and purple and stepped down off the stool.

“Good-bye.”

I was enjoying my Saturday afternoon, under the old quilt on my sofa racing through the novel I had started the night before. I was at a particularly hot and steamy part of the story when the phone rang. It was Didrickson telling me I was needed at the office to help the internal auditor on an urgent audit.

“What’s an urgent audit? Did someone lose a bean?” When he didn’t laugh, I realized he didn’t even have a sense of humour on the weekends.

“She’s auditing the stock option lists and needs your help pulling out back-up documentation.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” I hung up the phone and finished the chapter I was reading while I leaned up against the wall beside the phone. I carefully marked my spot in the book and pulled on my windbreaker, grabbed my purse and headed downstairs to my car. The shit’s hit the fan over the stock option lists, I thought. This should be interesting.

It proved to be a very long Saturday and ended up being a very long week. I didn’t open my book for the next ten days.

chapter fourteen

The parking lot was surprisingly full when I arrived at the office. It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who actually work on a Saturday. Ninety percent of them were probably executives from our company who flee their homes to avoid their family duties. I’ve never seen them actually working on the few Saturdays I’ve been in the office. They seem to hang out and schmooze. And tell war stories.

I smiled at the security guard who stared back at me. He was wearing glasses that were so thick I think the bottoms were made from old Coke bottles. He looked old enough to have been a drummer boy in the civil war.

“How’s it going?” I asked as I signed the security register. As he worked his lips into an answer I ran my finger down the sign-in ledger and noticed that Grace O’Grady had signed in at seven fifty-five a.m. I looked further down the list and saw that Didrickson had come and gone - in at eight-ten and out by nine fifty-five.

I held out my security pass with my picture on it so the old-timer could get a good look. It was turned upside down - I wanted to see if he was really on the ball.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled. The drool on the left side of his mouth was particularly attractive. I wondered if he had been taking personal grooming tips from Chris Oakes.

“13th floor please,” I said. He stared back and I realized he must be deaf too. I tried to figure out how to hold up 13 fingers and gave up.

“13th floor,” I shouted. He nodded and pushed a button on the console. He was asleep before I turned around.

The corridor had an eerie silence about it when I got off the elevator. Creepy. The reception area was dark and locked up tight so I turned down the hall to go in the back entrance. The smell of cigar smoke hit me as soon as I opened the door. Lovely, just lovely. Chris Oakes was on the premises. Well, at least I’ll be able to smoke with my door open. I made a mental note to check that there was a fire extinguisher handy. Chris had a habit of leaving burning cigars wherever he felt like it. He had once fallen asleep and started a fire in his bed in one of the poshest hotels in San Francisco. The cause, of course, was his cigar. He blamed the hotel. His ranting and raving in the lobby of the hotel almost made the front page of the newspaper. The hotel was very nice when they let us know that they didn’t want him back. Ever.

I took a shortcut to my office so I could avoid executive row because the last person I wanted to see on my day off was Chris Oakes. I stripped off my windbreaker and tossed it on the guest chair and sat down in my chair. I swivelled around to turn on my computer and swivelled back to check my voice messages. I was getting dizzy. There were no notes on my desk from Didrickson with instructions or information so I figured he’d left me a voice message. The voice mail system told me I had two messages, both of which were hang ups. Love it, love it. Two less phone calls I had to return.

The only other place Harold would have left me anything was in his out-basket on his desk so I rummaged around in my desk for the keys to his office. The man was so paranoid about confidentiality he kept his office locked whenever he wasn’t in. The cleaning staff were not allowed to clean his office in the evenings and the furniture in his office was always dusty. Every couple of days or so he would put his wastebasket out in the hall for the cleaners and every couple of months we’d have them in during the day to dust and vacuum.

One of my favourite jobs was shredding all his waste paper. I’d have to schlep the paper in boxes down to the photocopier room and stand in front of the shredder feeding it paper. The dust from the machine was incredible and typically, I would be wearing a black suit. I was waiting for the day that he asked me to eat the paper, rather than shred it to make sure it was properly disposed of. He caught me one day getting one of the secretaries to do the shredding and I almost lost my job. For his next birthday, I was going to buy him a personal Ollie North desktop shredder to save my lungs.

There was nothing of any importance in his out-basket so I locked his office and thought about where I might find Grace.

Grace O’Grady was our internal auditor and she was my hero. Capital H. When I grew up, I wanted to be just like Grace. She was one of the smartest, toughest and funniest women I had ever met. Grace told it like it was and didn’t care who she was telling it to. She had been hired out of retirement by the Chairman of our company’s Audit Committee of the Board of Directors and she reported directly to him, and no-one else. Grace knew the dirt on everyone in the company and knew what closet every skeleton was in.

Her job was to make sure financial controls were followed, procedures were implemented, the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed. As a public company we had legal and financial obligations to our shareholders and Grace made sure we followed the rules. Her only disappointment was that the Chairman of the Audit Committee rarely acted on her recommendations. But she kept at it and took her job very seriously.

Grace was rarely seen around the head office because she was on the road most of the time visiting our regional offices and auditing their books and contracts. When she did make an appearance at our place, tongues started wagging and speculation on her presence was the main topic of discussion. She appeared for every board of directors meeting to make her reports but her presence today signalled to me that Didrickson needed her forensic abilities.

In the past Harold has asked for her assistance on some particularly sticky matters. Something sticky had obviously come up and that’s why she was here. I couldn’t wait to find out.

I stuck my head in a few of the offices to see where she had parked herself and was surprised to find her working at Ev’s desk.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya Irish,” I said.

She looked up from the computer terminal. “And the rest of the day to you,” she sang back. I stood in front of the desk.

“Harold said you needed my help.”

“Sit down and I’ll fill you in.”

I sat on the edge of the guest chair. It didn’t feel right to be in Ev’s office and I felt myself getting a little edgy.

“I was sorry to hear about Evelyn. We’re going to miss her. Can you let me know when the funeral is so I can make sure I’m around?”

“Sure. Nothing’s been set yet but I’ll let you know. Let’s get a coffee and go down to my office. You can fill me in there.”

She nodded and I knew she understood. Grace stood up and came around the front of the desk. She slung her arm over my shoulder and the two of us jammed our way through the door. She had on dungarees. Yes, dungarees. I know they went out of style in the fifties, but Grace still had an original pair. Dark blue jeans, wide legs, cuff rolled up three times. She was wearing a plaid, flannel shirt which was unbuttoned and showed a man’s sleeveless undershirt underneath. What a fashion statement. A woman after my own heart. She probably wore white gym socks too. Grace had thick hair as white as snow and she wore it cropped short. I think she cut it herself.

She turned her head and smiled at me. “So, what’s three miles long and has an IQ of thirty-seven?” she asked. The jokes were starting.

I smiled back. “I don’t know.”

“A St. Patrick’s Day Parade.” We both laughed. Grace was a lot like me and she laughed the hardest at her own jokes. She had toned the jokes down a bit to take into consideration people’s feelings in the new millennium. Her only politically incorrect jokes now were aimed at her own heritage, the Irish.

We bumped into the kitchenette door and I let Grace go in first. “Age before beauty,” I joked.

We caught up on old times while we waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. When I opened the fridge to get some cream for the coffee, I noticed there was still an awful lot of leftover food in the fridge from the Thursday party. I plugged my nose in disgust.

“Disgusting,” I said. “Why doesn’t anyone ever clean this fridge out?” I felt sorry for the person who had to do it. It wasn’t so long ago that it had been one of my jobs but now that I was among the high and mighty, I felt the task was below me. I slammed the door and handed Grace the cream.

“Still smoking?” Grace asked me.

“Hardly at all,” I replied and started craving a cigarette. “Have you started up again?” Grace was forever quitting and starting. She said the reason she quit was to save money so she only smoked OP’s. Other people’s.

“I quit last week. But I’ll have one of yours. Come on.” We headed back to my office.

When we were settled in my office puffing away, I popped the question.

“So. What’s the dirt? What’s going on?”

Grace took her feet off my desk, put her cigarette out and put on her serious face. The joking time was over. Down to business.

“There’s a slight problem with the stock option system. As you know, because Harold told me you pointed it out, the information on Evelyn’s system doesn’t jive with the numbers that were approved by the board.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Evelyn obviously input the wrong information. You know how these guys work. Nothing’s final. They fuck around with the numbers so much I’m surprised anything in Ev’s system is right.”

“Tell me what the procedure is. What information do you give Ev?” she asked.

“Okay. After a board meeting, Didrickson gives me the lists of numbers that have been approved.”

Grace interrupted me. “Bear with me here. Where does Harold get the lists?”

“Rick Cox has responsibility for producing the recommendations to the board. When he hands out the papers at the board meetings to the directors, those are the numbers they approve.”

“What do the lists usually contain?” Grace asked.

“They have the names, the number of options to be granted, the exercise date and the expiry date.” I turned around to open my file cabinet. “I’ll show you what they look like.”

“Yeah, I know what they look like. Harold gave me the copies you gave him.”

I shut the file drawer.

“Grace, I’m not sure how much you know or how much detail you want,” I said.

“I’m just trying to get in my mind a step by step procedure. So, Rick Cox presents the numbers and board approves them. Then what?” she asked. I wondered if she had asked Harold these questions.

Before I could answer, Grace said, “I’ve asked Harold, I’m just checking for your understanding of the process.” Jesus, she was scary. She could read my mind. I better not think too much about those dungarees.

“Then what? Um, after the board meeting Harold gives me the approved list with his initials on it. If it’s initialled, it’s the official list, as far as I’m concerned.”

Grace thought for a moment. “How soon after the board meeting does he give you the list?”

“Depends. If the meetings are held out of town, he might give me the lists at the meeting because I end up carrying all the papers back to Toronto. If the meetings are held here, I usually get the list the next day or so when he does the minutes.”

“What do you do with the lists?” she asked me.

“A couple of things. I’ll make a copy and give it to Ev so she can enter the information in the system. I make a copy for myself because I have to get stock exchange approval for all options granted and I use it as my working copy. The original I keep on the file for the specific board meeting.”

“In your experience, did Ev enter the information on the system in a timely manner?”

Whoa. In my experience. Grace was starting to sound like a prosecuting attorney.

“In my experience,” I mimicked her, “Ev did her work as fast as you could give it to her.”

“Listen Grace,” I continued. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for what’s happened here. If we could get into Ev’s paper files, I’m sure we’d find that the information on the system matches up to some paper. Ev just got a wrong list. One that Rick had created and then changed his mind.”

“Kathleen, we opened Ev’s files this morning. There’s no paper back-up for the information on the system.”

“So her filing abilities were like mine. Non-existent,” I stated. “Big deal.”

“Her files appear to be immaculate. She notes on each list the date and time she’s entered the information. Her last paper back up is the same one you have on file.”

I digested this little tidbit and wondered how much more Grace was going to share with me.

“So? What happened?” I asked and waited to see if she’d answer. There were a lot of things that Grace didn’t share with me and rightly so. I usually figured it out though but I wondered if she’d help me along this time.

“The computer log shows that those correct entries were made the day after the last board meeting,” she blurted out.

“And?”

“And the computer log shows that the more recent entries making the changes were made on the night Ev died.”

Wow, I was impressed. Our computer system had a log? And it had information? Technology at its finest. But I started to get indigestion as I digested this tidbit.

“Is our computer log smart enough to show who made the entries?” I asked. I was treading gingerly here.

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Are you going to share that with me?” I asked.

“No. Sorry. I have to finish my investigation. Can you grab all your files relating to stock option grants and bring them down to Ev’s office? I’d like to compare your lists to the ones in Evelyn’s files. I think we should do a complete check.”

Yuck, I thought. One of my favourite things, going through files. Especially my files which were always in a mess. I think I’d rather clip my nails in the Cuisinart than go through files.

“Sure,” I said. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll meet you down there.” Grace stood up and grabbed another cigarette from the pack on the desk before making her exit.

“This should be fun,” she said and grinned. Sadist, I thought.

chapter fifteen

The next couple of hours were very painful. Painful in the sense that Grace, thorough by nature and career choice, showed her true colours about “checking” my files against Ev’s. She had her auditor’s hat on and was all business. Because my files contain a jumble of papers in no particular order we decided to use Ev’s as the starting point.

Evelyn’s files were neat and orderly with all the papers ordered by date with the most recent information on top. All documents in the files were neatly punched with two holes in the top of each page and secured in the file with metal clips. I never believed in using those metal clips because I considered them a hazard. When a clip caught you under the fingernail and gouged out a hunk of skin, your files ended up with blood all over the papers. Not a pretty sight.

Grace was methodically taking each sheet of information from Evelyn’s files and matching it to one in mine. This was time consuming because I had to rifle through at least three inches of paper each time to find the matching sheet. Grace would then check the computer system to see if the information was the same. A simple three-step process but because of the shape of my files it was taking too long. And it was embarrassing. Thankfully Grace didn’t comment.

By six-thirty Grace was satisfied that the process I had described could be proven. I got the final numbers from Didrickson, gave them to Ev, and she entered it in the system. Easy. Grace was also satisfied that all stock option grants that had been approved by the board of directors over the last three years were safely entered in the computer.

“Good, good,” Grace was mumbling to herself. She was scrolling through the information on the computer on a final check.

“We’re finished?” I asked. She kept her attention on the computer screen and nodded. I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. I was leaning back in my chair stretching my neck when I heard a light tapping on the door behind me. I turned around and Ray was standing there with a bunch of papers in his hands.

“Raymond,” I said. “To what do we owe this pleasure? Good to see you up and about at this time of day.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “I’ve been up since eight when Grace called me. All these early morning wake-up calls are ruining my beauty sleep.”

“Ah, the important life of a system administrator. Doesn’t it feel good to be needed?” I joked.

“Yeah, just great. At least the system wasn’t down this morning,” he said.

I looked over at Grace who was still staring at the computer screen. “Grace,” I said to get her attention. Boy, could she focus. She took a couple of more seconds and then looked up.

“You’ve got that information for me?” she asked Ray.

“All right here,” he said as he passed her the papers. I held out my hand to take the papers but he passed them directly to Grace. Damn.

Grace started flipping through the sheets of paper which were stapled in the corner. “Educate me,” she said. “What is all this?”

Ray walked around to the other side of the desk and I made myself small in the chair. After the last couple of painful hours I felt I deserved some compensation. If I sat here quietly I might be lucky enough to pick up some information.

Grace ignored me and started firing questions at Ray.

“This indicates what?” she asked and pointed to a line of text on the page. I thought about leaning forward and trying my reading upside-down trick but thought better of it. I had to keep myself invisible.

“That’s the user i.d.,” Ray said. “The numbers beside it indicate the date and time the user was on the system and the line underneath shows how long their session lasted.”

“What’s this?” Grace asked.

Ray studied the information beside Grace’s finger on the piece of paper. “That shows which part of the system the user was logged onto.”

“For example?” Grace asked.

“For example, if the user was using the accounting part of the system or the employee information system, these numbers indicate that,” Ray said. “So, this information shows Ev was logged onto the computer, the date and time, and here it shows that she was using the stock option system.”

“How far back does this information go?” she asked.

“The current system keeps it for a year. We have information stored off site for all the previous years.”

“So you can tell every time a person uses the system?” Grace asked Ray.

“Of course. There’s all sorts of information in the background that’s transparent to the user. If I needed to, I could find out exactly what keys they punched while they used the computer.”

“Good. That’s what I needed to know. You told me this morning on the phone that the system showed that Rick Cox was on the system on Thursday night. Show me where the log confirms that.”

Ooh. So the culprit was Rick Cox. I didn’t know what to make of this little tidbit. First of all, I thought, Rick Cox using a computer was totally unbelievable. Out of the question. We may be a high tech company, but none of our executives were users. Well, maybe they used scotch but they certainly didn’t use computers. In fact, one of the biggest laughs we had was when Chris Oakes was interviewed for the Globe & Mail business section and the picture that went along with the story showed him sitting in front of his computer, supposedly working away. The only keys he punched were on his telephone to use voice mail. Oakes could talk good computer. Cox on the other hand was a total technophobe. He had respect for computers because they meant money and money was his business. But to actually use a computer was beneath him. And probably rightly so. Unless you were a secretary or a finance type, using computers to generate information or gather information was below an executive. They had people to do that for them. Rick Cox using our internal computer system was totally unbelievable. He would have a user i.d. because everyone in the company did. But Rick actually logging on and creating or generating information? No way. He’d call someone at home and get them out of bed before he did that. I wonder if Grace understood this.

“Now explain to me levels of access,” Grace demanded. “Who exactly has access to the different systems?”

“Select people are identified as users and depending on their job descriptions or responsibilities, they have access to different levels. For the stock option system, there are three people who are users. That means those three are the only ones who can input information, change information and gather reports,” Ray said.

“And the three users are? You mentioned Rick Cox and Ev. Who’s the third?” Grace asked.

“Jay Harmon.”

“Jay. Oh yeah. He’s one of the management trainees. He’s working for Cox now, isn’t he?” Grace looked over at me for confirmation. At least she knew I was still sitting there. I nodded rather than answer out loud. Better not to break her concentration.

“Show me some instances of Jay’s usage of the system,” she said to Ray.

He pointed to the first entry on the top page. “Here,” he said. “Jay was the last person to log into the stock option system. See,” he ran his finger across the page, “that’s his user i.d., this shows the date and time he was on the system, this number here shows he generated a report. I don’t know what the report was, I’ll have to check.”

“God. This is like learning a new language,” Grace laughed. “What’s this t.i.d.?”

“Terminal identification. That shows which computer the user was logged on to,” Ray said.

Grace was now really intent on the information. She was a quick study and was flipping the pages. Ray backed up and sat on the credenza behind Ev’s desk. We were both quiet while Grace did her reading. I glanced at some of the pages as they flipped by and all I could see was a jumble of letters and numbers. She turned back to the first page of the document and ran her finger down the page.

“There. That’s the entry. Right?” she said.

Ray slid off the credenza and looked over her shoulder.

“Yup,” was all he said.

“Translate for me,” she demanded.

“User i.d. is Rick Cox’s. He logged on at eight-nineteen p.m. He was on the system for about three minutes. This number indicates he was in the stock option system. The number beside it indicates what part, or sub-menu of the stock option system, but I’ll have to check what that is. And the terminal i.d. says he was logged on to this computer. Ev’s.” He rattled off the information like he was reading a Dr. Seuss rhyme.

“Okay. And the two entries above it are Jay Harmon’s?” Grace asked.

“Right. Both entries are almost identical. User i.d. is Jay Harmon’s. Date and time. Stock option system. I’ll have to check what part of the system. And the terminal i.d. is his own computer,” Ray fired off.

“How do you know all the terminal i.d.‘s?” Grace asked.

“I know all the terminal i.d.‘s and all the user i.d.‘s. Can’t remember a phone number but I know all my users.” Ray grinned.

“One last question Ray. How many people know that you can access this information? Do the users know that their usage is tracked and records are kept?”

Ray looked at me. “The technical types in this company would certainly know. They design these systems. The users though, I don’t know. Kate, were you aware of this?” he asked me.

“Hell no. I suppose if I thought about it, it makes sense. But I just use the system. I don’t know how it works.”

Ray said to Grace, “And that’s probably typical of everyone except the techies. People love having computers and using them but don’t understand the guts of them.”

“Well thank you for the lesson. I’ll keep these records,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything else right now. Ray, go on home and if I need you I’ll call you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I’m at your service.”

After he left Grace looked up at me across the desk.

“Well, I suppose you’ve figured it all out?” she said.

“Basically. Rick Cox logged on to the system and made the changes to his stock options and a couple of other people’s on the night Ev died. What time does the log say he did the dirty deed?” I asked.

Grace looked at the sheet. “Eight-nineteen,” she said. “Why?”

“No reason,” I said and stood up. I needed to think. Something wasn’t right here but I wasn’t going to share my thoughts with Grace. Yet.

“Anything else?” I asked her.

“Not from you. Thanks so much. Your files were a great help,” she said.

“Yeah right,” I said. I gathered up all my stuff and headed for the door.

“Kathleen,” Grace said. I stopped and turned around.

“I’ll have to ask you to keep this information to yourself. What’s happened here is very serious and the fallout is going to be messy.”

“I know,” I said. “Mum’s the word.”

chapter sixteen

Something was wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint it. It was easy to see the mess with Rick Cox. That was obvious. But I had niggling thoughts. I thought about shaking my head to get my jumbled thoughts in order but knew I’d only make myself dizzy. I barrelled around the corner to head down the hall to my office and ran smack into Chris Oakes.

Ooof, was the only sound I made. I had been holding all my files against my chest with my arms wrapped around them and my head was down. The impact of running into him pushed the files into my chest and I now knew what a body check in hockey felt like. The files dropped at my feet and I took a step backwards to get my breath.

I looked up at Oakes and said “Sorry” and immediately wished I hadn’t said it. Why should I apologize? The asshole should have been watching where he was going. And you Kathleen, should have been watching where you were going, my internal Jiminy Cricket said to me.

I bent over to scoop up my files.

Oakes said, “Call Vanessa and tell her to check her voice mail.”

I stood up.

“I’m fine Chris. And you?” Jesus Christ, whatever happened to social niceties?

“Uh, uh, fine.” The man was a master conversationalist. Inspirational. “Sorry about the files,” he said. Now we were getting somewhere. I decided to forgive him.

“No problem. What’s that about Vanessa?” I asked.

“Call her and tell her to check her voice mail,” he repeated.

“Yeah, I got that part. Have you tried to reach her?” I asked.

“She’s not answering,” he pouted.

Is it any wonder, I thought. The man hounds her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She doesn’t answer her phone on the weekends because of it.

“I’m sure she’s checking her voice messages Chris. She always does,” I pointed out. “Do you need something?” I asked reluctantly. I could be letting myself in for some work here, and immediately regretted offering my services.

Chris latched on right away. “I can’t find something in her office,” he whined. As if he’d ever been in her office. “I’m looking for a couple of memos I got last week.”

“Let me put these files back in my office and I’ll take a look for you. Which ones do you need?” I asked. I sighed. You stupid idiot, Kathleen. I mentally slapped myself for offering to help. I was never going to get back to my book. Oakes followed along beside me to my office. I glanced up at him as we walked and saw traces of shaving cream on his right ear lobe. Yuck. To think he’d gone through a whole day and hadn’t noticed a hunk of dried something or other hanging off his ear. Double yuck!

“Some of the regional vice presidents sent me memos,” he said. I said nothing. The regional vp’s sent him memos every day. He’d better be a little more specific, I thought, or he’s going to get about six inches of paper dropped on his desk. He obviously thought I was a mind reader because he offered no other information.

“Chris,” I finally said. We were stopped outside the door to my office. “More specifics. Which memos?” I demanded.

“Vanessa knows,” he stated. And he turned around and continued down the hall towards his office.

Great, I thought. Just what I need. A treasure hunt. I lobbed a mental grenade at his back and savoured the thought of him going up in smoke. I dropped the files on my desk in a heap and headed to Vee’s office. As usual, her desk was neat as a pin and there wasn’t a piece of paper in sight. I knew everything would be locked up because she took the confidentiality factor very seriously. I lifted the vase on the back credenza which was filled with a beautiful silk flower arrangement and found the key to her filing cabinet underneath. Confidentiality, yes. Security, so-so. I had no idea where to begin and I knew I’d have to call her to find anything.

I dialled her cellular phone number which a few select people had. The company supplied the phone but the number was secret so Oakes couldn’t reach her. He was so thick he never thought to ask her for that number.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi, it’s Kate. Enjoying your Saturday?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s great. Ashley’s out at friend’s for a sleep-over and I’m just veggin’ out.” Ashley was her daughter.

“Checked your voice mail lately?”

“No, and I don’t plan to until tomorrow. Why?” she asked.

“I’m at the office. Oakes needs some memos and he’s being very vague as usual. I need some help finding them.”

“What the hell are you doing at the office?” she asked. “Catching up on your piling?” she joked. Everyone calls my filing, my piling. Because before it became a file, it was a pile.

“No, I thought I’d save that for you,” I teased. “You haven’t been that busy lately, so you can help me out.” We both laughed. “I’m in your office,” I continued. “He’s looking for some memos from the regional vp’s. That’s all he said.”

“He asked you to get them?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah. Why? What’s the big deal?”

Vee paused for a moment. “I’m just surprised. The memos are pretty sensitive.” I was amazed. She obviously knew exactly what Oakes wanted.

“Well, he did say he’s been trying to call you. I’m his last resort. So, you’re holding out on me,” I said. “What’s in the memos?”

“I would’ve let you know eventually,” she said. Vee and I share everything related to work. Besides giving us something to talk about, we keep each other informed.

Vee continued. “The memos he’s looking for are in the third drawer of the filing cabinet, in a file marked Roosters.”

“You’re sure those are the ones he wants?” I didn’t want this treasure hunt going on forever. I held the handset of the phone between my cheek and shoulder and unlocked the file cabinet as we talked. The file marked Roosters was near the back of the third drawer.

“Got it,” I said and shoved the drawer shut with my foot. “I’ll call you back if he needs anything else. I won’t tell him I talked to you. The man is going to think I’m amazing because I found the file,” I half bragged.

“Oh yeah. You’ll get a big raise. Get serious Kate,” she said.

“I know, I know. Just joking,” I laughed into the phone. “I’m going to give him a test and see if he remembers my name twice in one day. Talk to you later.” I hung up the phone and opened the file to take a quick glance and make sure there were memos in it from the regional vp’s. There were exactly three sheets of paper in the file. Three separate memos from three different vice presidents. The top third of each sheet looked the same because the memos had been created on our standard company memo paper. To, from, date, subject. Standard stuff. The subject line on each memo said Rick Cox.

Interesting, I thought. Very interesting. Rick Cox’s name was coming up at every turn. I quickly read each memo. The first one was what I thought a police report would read like: dates, times, names, places. The second and third memos were in a more narrative style but still covered dates, times, names and places. I slapped the file folder shut and headed into Oakes’ office.

He was barely visible through the cigar smoke where he was sitting at a very large oval table in the center of the room. Oakes didn’t have a desk. He worked at a table. I crossed the floor and my feet sunk ever so slightly into the plush carpet. His office was the size of a school gym but was sparsely furnished because he could never make up his mind on furnishings. He would order furniture and reject it as soon as it came in the door.

He was on the phone. I placed the file folder in front of him and turned around to leave the room. He called after me. “Kate.”

Be still my heart, I thought. He remembered my name. I turned around and he went back to talking on the phone. I was near the door and couldn’t make out what he was saying so I waited until he finally hung up.

“I need you to poll the directors and call a board meeting,” he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I chanted under my breath. Vee, you owe me one, I thought.

“There’s a board meeting called for the end of the week,” I reminded him.

“I know. I want one tonight,” he said.

“Okay.” This wasn’t unusual. Chris called board meetings on a whim. The board members loved it. More directors’ fees. Every time there was a meeting they got paid big bucks. If the meetings lasted all day or half an hour, they got paid for it.

“Subject matter?” I asked. The board members like to know in advance exactly what they’re going to be required to rubber stamp.

He ignored me. “I only want the outside directors and Grace on the call. Don’t tell Didrickson,” he ordered. “There won’t be any minutes taken.” Great, I thought. Put me on the spot. When Harold finds out I knew about this, he’s going to be extremely pissed with me.

Oakes looked at his $14,000 Rolex. “Set it up for an hour from now. Around eight-thirty.” He picked up his phone and started dialling furiously. Yes, your majesty. Right away, your royal highness. I curtsied, but of course, he didn’t see me. He was making love to his phone. I turned around and hurried back to my office. My mind was in overload with all the information I was taking in and I needed time to sort it out.

In the whole mess, Rick Cox’s name came up at every turn. Rick Cox and the stock options. Rick Cox and the memos from the regional vp’s. A board meeting with only outside directors. That meant Rick Cox was not to be invited. As an employee of the company he was considered an inside director. Outside directors were the big guns we put on the board to give us a good name. Besides Cox and Oakes, the only other two inside directors were senior members of our management team. Senior puppets. And both of those puppets had sent Oakes memos which were on the file called Roosters.

What the hell did Roosters mean, I thought. I couldn’t remember seeing any reference to Roosters in the memos I had read. And then I got it. Very good, Vee. Cox, roosters. Cocks and roosters. Things were about to take an interesting turn.

chapter seventeen

I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out the list of directors. The sheet of paper had each director’s name and beside the name were their various telephone numbers. Some of them had office, cellular, home, country home, ski chalet and hunting lodge telephone numbers. Beside two directors’ names, in pencil, was the phone number of their current mistress. Below the director’s information was their secretary’s name and phone numbers. Oops. Executive Assistants, excuse me. It was very passe and uncouth to call someone a secretary nowadays. Everyone was an executive assistant. A junior clerk typist was an executive secretary. And most of them didn’t even work for executives. Up until the time I became a full fledged paralegal, I called a spade a spade and referred to myself as a secretary.

I started at the top of the list. It was seven-thirty on a Saturday night and I had to track down six people. I decided to put their secretaries to work. They should all know if their bosses were available on a Saturday night.

Bill Frankford’s secretary, Jessica, was the first on my list. Bill was a paper baron. At least that’s the way Oakes described him when he was bragging about our directors.

“Hello,” a voice answered.

“Jessica?” I asked.

“That you Kate?” she replied.

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry to bother you. Chris needs to get in touch with Bill. Any idea where he is? I thought I’d start with you before I tried his numbers.”

“He’s out at some social function and I don’t know if he’s got his cell phone with him. Want me to try him?” she offered.

“Please. Let him know Chris wants a board meeting at eight-thirty tonight. By phone. Call me back. If you get my voice mail leave me a message.”

“All right. So they’re keeping you hopping on a Saturday night, aren’t they? Where’s Vanessa?” she asked.

“I got roped into it because I was in the office. She’s at home enjoying some peace and quiet,” I said. I had to get a move on here to get in contact with everyone else, so I ended the conversation quickly.

I grabbed my Hilroy notebook that contained my doodlings and notes from each day and turned to a fresh page where I wrote down Bill’s name and marked beside it, l/m. Left message. Oakes would no doubt want a status report within the next fifteen seconds and I’d have to let him know the situation with each person. If I heard back that Bill was able to attend the meeting, I’d scratch out the l/m and write okay.

I had the same luck with the next four secretaries I talked to. They were all at home and would get in touch with their bosses. Whit Williams’ secretary didn’t answer her home phone number in Dallas, so I called his house directly. Sue-Ellen, his wife, answered on the fifth ring. She sounded out of breath.

“Sue-Ellen, it’s Kathleen Monahan at TechniGroup. How are you?” I started.

“Kathleen,” she drawled. “How nice to hear from you.” What a classy broad. I had probably interrupted her Saturday evening and she didn’t act the least bit put out.

“Sorry to bother you Sue-Ellen. Is Mr. Williams in?” I asked. I used the Mr. because with Sue-Ellen it seemed right to be formal.

“Certainly Kathleen. Hold on just a moment.” There was a slight knock as she laid the phone down and I could hear her calling his name. Whitney Williams was an oil baron. We had lots of barons on our board. He insisted that everyone call him Whit. I waited a few minutes and he finally came on the phone.

“Kate,” he bellowed. “How’s my favourite girl?”

“I’m just fine, Mr. Williams. How’re things in Dallas?”

“Glorious, just glorious. I’ve got my grand-kiddies here for the weekend and they were just teaching me how to use the computer. I’m not sure I’ve got the hang of it yet, though,” he said with a chuckle. The man was a charmer and I liked him.

“Sorry to interrupt your computer lesson. Chris asked me to poll the directors to find out their availability for a board meeting. Tonight. In about an hour,” I said.

“Fine, fine. Is there a number to call in to or will you call me?” he asked.

“We’ll call you,” I said.

“What’s the meeting about? Don’t we have one set up for later in the week?”

“Chris didn’t say,” I said.

“Alright. Call me back,” he said.

The red light on my phone was flashing indicating messages. Before I checked them I wrote down Whit’s name and okay beside it in my notebook. All six names were there now and I dialled my voice mail. Two confirmations and I scratched out l/m beside their names and marked okay. I looked at my watch and it was seven forty-five. Not bad for fifteen minutes. Three okay’s and three to go. My phone rang. It was Jessica.

“Hi Kate. Listen, Bill’s at a black-tie function at the Four Seasons. He said he can sneak out and you can patch him in through his cell phone. He wasn’t impressed that I called him in the middle of his shrimp cocktail,” she giggled.

“Well, we can save him a few calories. I’ll probably call him about the time they’re serving the baked Alaska,” I responded. I confirmed his cell phone number and marked okay beside his name.

While I waited for the other two secretaries to call me back I lit a cigarette and thought about everything. Rick Cox was in deep shit. And I think I knew what the board meeting was going to be about. Oakes was obviously about to make a power play and Cox wouldn’t be around to defend himself. Couple of babies, I thought. Oakes obviously knew about Grace’s investigation because he wanted her on the call for the meeting. And the most disturbing factor was the contents of those three memos.

The three regional vice presidents had sent memos detailing incidents involving Cox. One incident reported was on the west coast in a client meeting. The client was upset about the progress on their contract and Cox had chewed out our people in front of the client. Chewed out is probably mild. The memo said he was a raving lunatic and had embarrassed the company. Nothing about Cox embarrassing himself. I believed this story. Cox didn’t give a shit who he chewed out. His ranting and raving put professional wrestlers to shame.

The second memo was about Cox ordering the controller of our international division to falsely report revenue. I didn’t understand the mechanics of it but Cox was being accused of fraud. This story I didn’t believe. He may be a lunatic but I had trouble believing he would do anything criminal. Most of his ranting and raving was because he was a perfectionist, and the fact that he believed the people around him didn’t live up to his standards.

The third memo was just as bad as the others. It was from a female vice president who accused Cox of sexual harassment. She ended the memo threatening to charge Cox with sexual assault, and I didn’t know what to think about this one. The harassment accusation I could understand. Harassment takes many forms and verbal abuse is one form as far as I was concerned. I could understand it if she’d accused him of verbal harassment. The sexual side, I wasn’t so sure. Assault? Had I ever seen him get physical?

Regardless, Cox was history. Whether these stories were true was besides the point. Oakes had managed to get his people to write these memos and assuming that they were willing to confirm everything if asked, Cox was toast. Coupled with the stock option fiasco, Cox was finito. History. Oakes was victorious. Sure glad I’m not working for him, I thought selfishly. When he leaves, so does his secretary. I wondered if it was too soon to ask the office manager for his reserved parking spot.

I heard from the other two board members’ secretaries in the next five minutes. It was five to eight when I headed back down the hall to Oakes’ office to give him an update. I could have called him but I knew he wouldn’t answer his phone. He never talks to a person, voice to voice, unless he initiates the call. His door was shut so I knocked before I opened the door. Grace was sitting across from him at the table and they both looked up when I came in.

“I’ve contacted the outside directors and everyone’s on board for a call at eight-thirty,” I said.

“Get everyone on the line,” he replied. He started to speak again to Grace and I interrupted him. “Do me a favour then. When your phone rings at eight-thirty pick it up,” I said. “If I have to get everyone on the phone I’ll have to do it from reception. My phone only has the capability to patch in five others. I need to use the switchboard and I don’t want to be running back here to make sure you pick up.” He wasn’t listening.

“I’ll be sure to answer,” Grace said. “Thanks Kathleen.” It was a dismissal.

My stomach was grumbling and I knew there wasn’t enough time to go out and get something to eat before I had to make the call. I headed for the kitchen and thought about eating some left-overs in the fridge but my stomach turned at the thought. Ptomaine poisoning was not on my agenda for the weekend.

I settled for a coffee with sugar to stave off the headache I felt coming on. I had another 20 minutes to kill so I grabbed my cigarettes off my desk and headed for the reception to familiarize myself with the switchboard. It’d been a long time since I used the system and I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing. If I cut one person off on this call, Oakes would consider it grounds for firing me. I needed the job.

chapter eighteen

I picked up the phone and dialled Arthur Graves first because he was the least pushy of the directors and wouldn’t mind being the first on the call and waiting for me to patch in the others. He answered on the first ring and I asked him to hold while I went to work. I was successful getting the next two and then ran into two busy numbers so I thought I might as well get Grace and Oakes on the phone and they could all chat while I got the other three. I dialled Chris’ extension number and Grace answered. Her voice sounded hollow so I knew they were on the speaker phone.

I punched a button. “Mr. Oakes, I’ve got Mr. Graves, Mr. Frankford and Mr. Williams. Go ahead. I’ll try the other numbers now,” I said into the phone.

I was able to get two more directors and waited for a break in the conversation going on before I announced them and added them to the call. The last number kept giving me a busy signal and after about ten tries I wondered if I should go on the call and tell Oakes I was having trouble reaching the last director, but he’d probably bite my face off for interrupting. Jesus, this was pissing me off. The guy knew the call was scheduled for eight-thirty, I thought to myself. I tried one more time before having to admit defeat to Oakes, and the phone on the other end finally rang.

“Larry Everly,” the voice barked. Ooh, what a charmer. Larry was an investment banker and he never let anyone forget it. He acted as if his participation on our board of directors was the single-most irritating factor in his life. He was impatient and pushy.

I sugar-coated my voice and said, “Mr. Everly, please hold for the conference call.” I hit the button on the console to patch him through and waited for a break in the conversation to announce him but the pace of the conversation I overheard made it difficult to cut in.

Before I could announce Larry, he did it himself. “Chris, Larry here,” he cut in. “What’s up?”

“Well, we’ve got a serious situation here with Rick Cox,” Oakes replied.

“I take it he’s not on this call,” Larry said.

“No he’s not. There’s just outside directors and myself,” Chris continued. “I’ve filled in the other directors on the situation and I don’t think we have any recourse but to fire Rick.”

I realized with a start that I was eavesdropping and thought about hanging up. To hell with them. They don’t pay me enough, so I considered this a bonus. I continued to listen.

“What’ll that do to the stock price?” Larry asked. My, my, another one with a heart. No one was allowed to express a view on the stock price without bowing to Larry first. He was Mr. Dow Jones. Because it was a rhetorical question, Larry continued. “I’ll tell you what it’ll do to the stock price. It won’t be pretty. And we can’t afford any more dips in the price. The stock closed down a buck on Friday. Overall for the week, it was down one and seven-eighths.” That was a dollar and eighty-seven and a half cents. I wasn’t just another pretty face.

Larry continued. “If it goes down much more it’s going to fuck the deal we’re working on.”

Whit Williams interrupted. “What deal’s that, Larry?” he drawled.

Oakes’ turn to interrupt. “I’ll call you each individually and fill you in. I had a meeting with Jack Vincent this week. About the stock though, I don’t think this’ll have an adverse affect.”

“Who’re you kidding Chris?” Larry Everly demanded. “When a company fires its chief financial officer, it affects the stock price. When a company fires its chief operating officer, it affects the stock price. Rick is both chief financial officer and chief operating officer.” He had yelled for emphasis when he said affects. I moved the receiver away from my ear.

Larry continued. “If you remember correctly Chris, the analysts like it when a company has a chief financial officer. It gives them a warm and fuzzy feeling,” he said sarcastically. “The analysts are not going to feel warm and fuzzy if we fire Rick Cox.”

“Well, then,” Whit said. “We’ll just have to get him to resign.”

I was amazed that Larry Everly hadn’t even asked what had gone wrong. But I knew that he and Chris Oakes were on the phone many times during the day and Vee and I sometimes wondered who in fact was running this company. Chris had probably filled Larry in before the conference call.

Larry must have read my mind because he demanded, “What happened anyway?” I almost laughed out loud and quickly caught myself. Cutting someone off a call would be nothing compared to getting caught eavesdropping on a board of directors meeting. Oakes would definitely have grounds to fire me. I had sat in on several meetings before but in those instances I had been invited to take minutes in Didrickson’s absence. This was a little different.

“A few things. You know this has been building up for the past while,” Oakes said in response to Larry’s question. “The straw that broke the camel’s back was the discovery today that he fiddled with the stock option numbers and granted himself a whole bunch more.”

“He what?” Larry asked incredulously. “How can anyone be so stupid? Have you got proof of this?”

It was Grace’s turn to speak. “Hi Larry. Grace O’Grady here. Yes, we’ve got proof. I’ve been in the office all of today going over things and my investigation points to Rick being responsible. In fact, our computer logs prove he did it.” She sounded a little depressed as she reported this. She was certainly not flying high like Oakes and I could tell Grace was very disappointed in Rick.

“What else?” Larry demanded.

“We’ve got an accusation of fraud and a sexual harassment claim,” Oakes answered.

“Sure he didn’t murder the Pope as well?” Whit Williams asked.

“This all happened today?” Arthur Graves asked. I was impressed because I was sure Arthur would be asleep. He normally slept through most board meetings.

“No Arthur. The fraud and harassment charges have been lying around. The stock option mess came to light yesterday. One of the clerks discovered it,” Oakes said.

Jay was going to be happy to hear he got a promotion to clerk.

“As far as I was concerned,” Chris continued, “that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Larry interrupted. “When did you find out about the fraud?” In typical male fashion, he was ignoring the sexual harassment issue. “This stock option thing is fraud too. Our shareholders’ll kill us when they find out we didn’t act on the first complaint. A chief financial officer has to be beyond reproach,” he lectured.

“Uh, um. The other fraud issue was just brought up too,” Chris lied. He had just told Arthur the other charges had been lying around and no one reminded him of this little slip up.

“Good,” Larry said. Larry had now taken over the meeting and was in charge. “If asked, we can say both things came to light at the same time. Grace, have you looked into both charges?”

“I’m not aware of the other issue. The only thing I was asked to look at by Harold Didrickson, with Chris Oakes’ approval, was the stock options,” she said.

“Chris, you haven’t investigated the other charge?” Larry demanded. Before Chris could lie again, Larry charged on. “Grace, investigate the other fraud charge. Let me have your report by Monday afternoon.”

“People,” Larry continued. “We’ll issue a press release before market opens on Monday. Take the hit right away. Chris, get Rick into the office and have him sign a resignation. Grace, you should be present as a witness. The only way this goes out is as a resignation. Word it something like, Rick Cox wants to pursue other business interests. Get your PR people on it. Is everyone in agreement?” he asked.

There were a few murmurs of consent but Whit Williams piped up, “Now hold on a second Larry. We have to at least give the man a chance to defend himself. Accusing him of fraud is a very serious issue. We’ve got to look at the legal ramifications here. Has anyone consulted Harold?”

Chris answered. “I don’t want Harold consulted. I’ll call in outside counsel. Harold and Rick are too chummy-chummy for my liking.”

Well. The cat was out of the bag. I knew Harold had been quietly and discretely aligning himself with Rick Cox and I guess I wasn’t surprised that Chris Oakes knew it. I wondered how long Harold could hold on to his job. This was a fast lynching.

“And another thing,” Larry said. “Get the Human Synergies people in to do damage control. This has to come across as a resignation and we’ll have to get working on Rick’s replacement.”

“Uh, Larry,” Oakes said. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’d like to talk it over with you.”

Well. Chris Oakes was seeking someone’s permission. I was glad someone had him by the short and curlies.

“Call me tomorrow and we’ll discuss it,” Larry said.

“Sure Larry.” Oakes took back the meeting. “Okay everyone, if there’s nothing else I’ll let you go. I’ll be in touch about that other matter over the next couple of days. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone on Thursday for the quarterly meeting.”

Everyone started saying good-bye and I hit the release button on the switchboard console. I quickly turned it over to the nightline, grabbed my stuff off the desk, turned off the lights and hightailed it back to my office before someone could ask me to do more work. It was late and I’d had it. I was going home.

chapter nineteen

I had every intention of going home and I almost went there in an ambulance. I suffered the closest thing to a heart attack I had ever experienced when I saw Rick Cox coming out of the kitchen as I hurried down the hall. The sight of him made me stop dead in my tracks. When did he come in, I wondered frantically. He certainly didn’t get off the elevator when I was at reception. Maybe I was so intent on eavesdropping, I’d missed him. But he was one of those fitness nuts and had probably taken the stairs.

His presence frightened me so much my heart was in my throat. Not just his sudden appearance but knowing what was about to happen.

“Rick,” I croaked out. I cleared my throat and tried to act nonchalant. “When did you come in?” I asked. I still felt like I had a fur ball in my throat so I coughed again.

“I just got here. What’s this I hear about a board meeting?” he asked. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I thought quickly of a response but nothing came to mind. I’m not a good liar.

My eyes widened in mock surprise. He was dressed casually in chinos and an open-necked golf shirt and the muscles in his jaw and neck were moving. He must have been clenching his teeth.

“Cut the crap Kate. I know there’s a meeting going on. And, I heard Oakes on the phone in his office. Who’s on the call?” he demanded.

Who’d he think I was? The Amazing Kreskin? Who was I to know what was going on in this godforsaken place? I continued to stare at him, speechless. Sweat was pouring out of my armpits and down my back. At least offer me a last cigarette before the firing squad cocks their rifles, I prayed.

“Don’t know,” I mumbled. There. I said it. I lied. God was going to strike me dead. I could feel Sister Josephine pulling on my earlobe and sweet Jesus, it was painful. That was the last time I out-and-out lied. Six years old. I hadn’t forgotten. I hope the poor dear wasn’t turning over in her grave.

“Fine,” he hissed. This man was pissed and I didn’t want to be in his way. He hurried down the hall towards executive row.

Really Kathleen, you have nothing to worry about. The man’s history. I headed towards my office and vowed to myself I wouldn’t get interrupted this time. I was leaving. My phone was ringing when I got to my office and I automatically answered it.

“Kathleen Monahan,” I barked into the phone.

“Yes ma’am. Security here. There’s a Mr. Johnston here to see Mr. Oakes and I’m not getting any answer on Mr. Oakes’ phone. Do you know if Mr. Oakes is in?” the security guard asked.

I sighed. “Yes, he’s here. Please send Mr. Johnston up and I’ll meet him at the elevator. Thanks.” I dropped the handset back into its place on the phone from my standing height, hoping it would break. I couldn’t answer a dead phone, now could I? The handset bounced once and settled on my desk. Fuck it, I thought. I should have brought my jammies. I knew I was going to be here all night.

Cleveland Johnston was waiting by the back door when I opened it and I smiled up at him. Cleve and I went back a long way and as tired and fed up as I felt, I was glad to see him. He leaned over and pecked my cheek.

“Katie, how are you?” he asked. I stood back to let him pass and the door swung shut behind us. Cleveland was the only person besides my brother who was allowed to call me Katie.

“Not so great. You’re here to see Chris?” I asked. He nodded. “Want a coffee or something before?”

“Naw. I was at dinner when Chris tracked me down. I had just finished a coffee and brandy. My sister and her husband are in town and we were having a great time.”

I was impressed that Chris had actually tracked someone down on his own.

“Well, Cleve, you know the way to his office. I was just leaving and I’m outta here as soon as I get my purse.”

“Katie, can you stick around? I might need your assistance drafting some documents and if things turn out the way I think, it could be a long night.”

“For you Cleve, anything.” I couldn’t say no to Cleve. Harold would want me to help out.

“What’re we working on?” I asked him.

“I’ll let you know.” We had reached Chris Oakes’ office and I knocked on the door. I opened it a crack and peeked in not knowing what or who I’d find. I wondered if Rick Cox had barged in on Oakes yet demanding an explanation. Chris was sitting by himself at the table.

“Chris, Cleveland Johnston’s here,” I announced. I opened the door wider and Cleve winked at me as he passed.

I once had an enormous crush on Cleveland Johnston and was thinking yummy thoughts about him as I headed back to my office. There were voices coming from Rick Cox’s office and I slowed down to listen. I couldn’t make out the conversation but I think he was alone and talking to someone on his speaker phone. I hurried on because I didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. Didn’t think of that while you listened in to a whole board meeting, did you Kathleen?

I slumped in my chair and put my feet up on the desk and thought about Cleve. We had first met about ten years ago when I was working as a legal secretary at Scapelli, Marks & Wilson, one of the largest law firms in the city. He was a junior partner and we had worked long nights together on some pretty hairy deals. Initial public offerings, cross-border transactions, junk bonds, you name it. It was the high flyin’ nineties. Limos, expense accounts, posh hotels, fancy dinners. He was the brain and I was the brawn. Most of my work was strictly clerical and secretarial but we were a great team.

We were both single at the time but never had the energy to make anything of it. I had the energy now but he was married. I burned out before he did and moved on. He’s still with Scapelli’s but now he’s the senior partner in charge of the securities department. Scapelli’s were hired as TechniGroup’s outside counsel when the company had first gone public and Cleve had worked on the file at that time. I was sure it wasn’t a securities matter that had brought him here tonight to see Oakes. Chris was most likely having Cleve draw up the termination documentation to fire Rick. Cleve would want to make sure everything was nice and neat so when we had to disclose the termination package in our annual information form, the annual filing we made each year with the Ontario Securities Commission, we’d all be speaking out of the same side of our mouths.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew Jay was shaking my shoulder. The man was making a habit of waking me up lately.

I touched my hand to the side of mouth to make sure I wasn’t drooling. My face was dry, thank God.

“Jay,” I said. I tried to push my chair back and get my legs off my desk. This must be very attractive, I thought. I was having obvious difficulty so Jay helped by pulling on the chair. I put my feet on the floor and looked up at him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. I looked at my watch and saw that it was eleven p.m. I’d been asleep for over an hour and a half. My father always said a good soldier could sleep anywhere and I was proving his theory.

And where the hell was Cleve? If he’d left me here without saying so much as a good-bye, the man was in trouble. I focused on Jay. He definitely wasn’t looking well.

“The fuck just fired me,” he stated.

“I beg your pardon?” I was in shock. “What the hell happened?”

“Rick called me at home at nine-thirty and told me to get in here. I thought it was about the stock option report I was supposed to be preparing. I wish I never answered the phone.”

Getting called into the office on short notice on evenings and weekends wasn’t an unusual thing around here. Jay was a poor lamb heading for the slaughter when he agreed to come in.

When he didn’t continue, I prompted him, “And?”

“Rick was calm. No ranting. No raving. I was surprised at how mellow he was. I figured he’d been drinking.”

“What’d he say? Why’d he fire you?” I asked.

“He said that he was about to be fired by the board because of that information on the stock option system. You know, the different numbers I showed you yesterday.” I nodded. Oh yeah, I knew. Rick Cox obviously had an ally on the board who had let him know what happened at the meeting.

“He said that Grace O’Grady had proof that the numbers had been changed by him on the system.”

“Right,” I agreed. Seen it with my own two eyes.

“But he said that both he and I knew that he never used the system so it must have been me. I asked him why he thought I would do something like that.”

“What’d he say?” I asked.

“He said to benefit me. His numbers, mine and two others were changed. I’d benefit he said.”

“But Jay, Grace said she had proof it was him,” I said. I wasn’t letting on that I knew everything. “If Grace had proof, it must be pretty solid. The proof must’ve shown that he was on the system,” I prompted.

“He said it was me using his password. He’s never used the system,” Jay said.

“How would you know his password?”

“When I first transferred into finance Ray was away a couple of days and wasn’t able to set me up with access to the stock option system. Rick gave me his password to log in.”

“Right, but the system requires a password change every month, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“Yeah, and that’s where he thinks he’s got me.”

“How?”

“He told me to change his password every month. I change it to the name of the month. In March I changed his password to March. Same for April.” Jay was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and he hung his head.

“Can’t you take the Nuremberg defence on this one?” I asked him.

“The what?”

“The Nuremberg defence. You were just following orders. That’s the excuse all the Nazis used at the end of the war,” I said.

Jay stood up and started pacing in my small office like a caged animal. “But I didn’t do it,” he yelled. “He can’t just fire me. He’s got no proof.”

I felt helpless. Rick felt he was being falsely accused. So he fired the person who he logically thought was guilty.

“What the hell am I going to do?” Jay asked me. I didn’t know what to say to him. He turned his back to me and slammed his fist against the door. “Fuck. Fucking cocksucker.” I heard him take a deep breath. “I’m screwed. This isn’t fair.”

He turned around and smiled weakly at me. “He gave me thirty minutes to clear the premises. I was on my way out when I saw you sleeping in here so I just thought I’d let you know. I’m going to get drunk. You coming?” he asked me.

“I can’t. Cleveland Johnston’s here meeting with Oakes and he asked me to hang around. He needs me to help with some agreements. At least I think he’s still here. Let me check. If he’s gone, I’ll go with you. Wait here.”

I hurried out of my office and down the hall to Oakes’. With the amount of walking I do in these halls each day, you’d think I’d wear off my excess pounds. The door to Rick Cox’s office was open and I could see that he wasn’t there. I could hear voices inside Chris’ office and I put my ear up to the door to listen. I tried to decipher the voices but couldn’t make out anything. I opened the door a crack and peeked in. Cleve was standing with his back to me looking out the windows. Oakes was talking. Shit. This could go on all night. I closed the door quietly and walked back to my office. This was going to be hard. I didn’t want to have to make a choice between a good friend and this thankless job. In fact, there should be no choice. Fuck ‘em. Jay was more important. Cleve could call his own secretary. I wasn’t getting paid overtime.

Jay was gone when I got back to my office and there was a yellow post-it note on my computer screen where I wouldn’t miss it. “Nose to nose” it said. “I’ll call you later. Jay.”

I shoved my cigarettes and lighter in my purse and headed out the door. I stopped and turned around to grab the note off the computer screen. I put in my shirt pocket. Fuck ‘em all, I thought. They won’t engrave on my tombstone, “She should have spent more time at the office.” I pulled the door shut behind me.

chapter twenty

I hurried to the elevator to see if I could catch Jay. He wasn’t in the main lobby of the building and had already signed out at security. The man moves fast. In typical fashion my car choked and coughed a few times before starting and I gunned the engine impatiently when it finally caught.

I could see Jay’s car going up the ramp out of the building as I waited behind two other cars at the exit. The idiot at the head of the line had to get out of his car to put his pass in the machine and he turned and grinned sheepishly at us. Moron. I wanted to lean on my horn but better judgment prevailed. I wasn’t sure what the statistics were on drive-by shootings in underground garages.

When I finally cleared the garage and came up to the street the only car I could see was the one that had been in front of me in the garage. Traffic was light, and it was twenty minutes later when I pulled up in front of Jay’s place where he lived in a multi-storied apartment building. I rang his doorbell a few times and when I didn’t get any answer, I hurried back to my car and lit a cigarette. I left the car idling while I thought about what to do. I could go home. The thought of sinking into bed and feeling the duvet settle around me was definitely an option. I could leave a note for Jay letting him know I tried. But that was wimping out. I had to at least make an effort to find him so I put the car in gear and pulled back into the street. He said he was going to get drunk so I thought I’d try the bars in the neighbourhood.

Luck was with me because I saw his car parked in the lot at Murphy’s.

The sour smell of beer hit me as soon as I opened the door to the tavern. The cigarette smoke was thick and I felt right at home. It was relatively quiet for a Saturday night and there was a country song playing in the background. Most of the round tables were occupied with couples talking quietly and the dance floor was empty. All of the barstools were taken and I saw Jay sitting at the far end of the bar staring straight ahead. He was running his hand repeatedly through his hair.

I walked down the length of the bar and came up behind him. “You’re brushing,” I said into his back.

He turned around with a sad grin on his face. “Let me be,” he said. He got down off his barstool and took my elbow. “Let’s get a table.” We found a small table near one of the front windows.

“What do you want to drink?” Jay asked me.

“Soda water with lime, please.” Jay waved at the bartender who was leaning on the bar reading a newspaper. When the bartender didn’t respond Jay got up and went to the bar to get me a drink. I lit a cigarette and waited.

When Jay returned and was settled in his chair I asked him, “So, why didn’t you wait for me?”

He shrugged and took a deep drink of his beer, straight from the bottle. “My 30 minutes were up and I had to get out of the office,” he said. “I thought you were too busy to join me.” I listened for sarcasm in the remark but didn’t hear any.

My turn to shrug. I picked up my drink and saw that it had a slice of lemon instead of lime. Not the time to get picky, I thought. I sipped my drink and smoked my cigarette and Jay stared out the window. Silence engulfed both of us. I didn’t want to patronize Jay and I didn’t want to mouth trite words. My hand reached for his across the table and his thumb lightly caressed the side of my hand.

“You want another drink?” he asked abruptly.

I shook my head. He came back from the bar with two bottles of beer and I wondered if he was serious about getting drunk because I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. I have a low tolerance for people when they get drunk. Not that I have anything against people drinking, I just totally lose interest when they reach that ‘other’ place. Drunks speak another language and think like aliens as far as I’m concerned. I had never seen Jay drunk and wasn’t looking forward to it.

“You planning on getting drunk?” I asked him.

“Who’re you? My mother?” he snapped back.

“Nope. Just asking. Just making conversation.”

“Well just mind your own business,” he said.

I gathered my cigarettes and lighter, and reached for my purse on the back of my chair. I stood up. I kept my expression neutral and refused to show him how hurt I was by that comment. I took a step around the table and leaned over and put my nose against his.

“Call me if you need me,” I whispered into his face. He stood up abruptly and took my purse off my shoulder

“I do need you. Let’s dance.” He steered me toward the empty dance floor.

Oh yeah, this should be cute. I think the last time I danced was in the seventh grade when we learned folk dancing. The music from the jukebox was country and the singer was crooning softly. When we reached the middle of the dance floor Jay put his arms around me and started to sway to the music. I guessed we weren’t going to polka.

When the song finally finished, Jay stopped moving but he didn’t take his arms away. We stood like that for a moment and I looked up at him. He was looking down at me and I felt my throat tighten. He lowered his head and put his lips on mine. I didn’t react to his kiss because I didn’t think I should. He was upset and vulnerable. Just like I had felt the night before.

The music started up again and Jay put his hand on the side of my face. He shook his head and said, “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.”

I took his hand in mine and led him off the dance floor back to our table. I retrieved my cigarettes and lit one, dragging deeply. Jay was chugging his beer from the bottle. We were both uncomfortable with what had just happened.

I looked at him sitting across from me. His eyes stared back at me and I tried to figure out why I felt so uncomfortable. The man was like a brother to me and that was why this felt wrong. There was six years difference in our ages and we had known each other forever. The last couple of days had definitely changed things. I was changing the way I felt about him.

I tried to put the age issue aside. Six years. Big deal. He was 28 and I was 34. At least no one would say I was old enough to be his mother. I decided to take the bull by the horns.

“What just happened out there?” I asked him softly.

“I’m sorry,” he said back. “I shouldn’t have done that. Look, can we just forget it?” Forget it? I could still feel his lips on mine.

“You caught me off guard, Jay. I didn’t know how to react.”

He pulled his chair closer to the edge of the table and leaned forward.

“Kate, I’m pissed off about being fired. I’m scared shitless. I don’t know if I can get another job in this city after being fired. I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was way out of line. I apologize.” He was rambling. “I’m sorry about this morning too. I don’t know what got into me.”

I took his hand. “Jay, you’ll get another job. TechniGroup isn’t such a great place. Besides, Rick Cox is getting fired. I think you should call Tom James and let him know what happened. If the board fires Cox for the stock option fiasco, then that’ll prove that you didn’t do it. Call James and explain what happened. Maybe he’ll let you resign if they don’t rescind the dismissal.”

Jay slumped back in his chair and sighed. “This is so bogus. I’ve been set up. What the fuck is going on at that place anyway? Why can’t everyone just get to work and forget about the shit that’s constantly flying around? Oakes and Cox are such assholes. In a forty hour week, I’m lucky if I spend four hours producing meaningful work. Maybe I’m better off.”

The fight was going out of him quickly. Probably the beers.

“You hungry?” I asked. My stomach was protesting. I hadn’t eaten since lunch. Jay looked at his watch.

“It’s one o’clock. Nothing’s open. Come on back to my place and I’ll cook you something,” he invited.

His place? Good girls don’t go to a man’s place at one in the morning to be cooked for. I saw my mother shaking her finger in my face. I threw caution to the wind.

“Sure.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t been there before. I’d spent many evenings at Jay’s place watching Monday Night Football or the Maple Leafs on TV. I doubted though that there was anything on TSN at this time of night except drag racing or bass fishing. I followed Jay to the parking lot.

“I’ll drive. You’ve been drinking and you can walk over in the morning and get your car,” I said.

Jay looked fondly at his Saab. “I’m okay to drive and I don’t want to leave it in this parking lot overnight. I’ll be careful,” he said. “You follow me.”

My car started on the first try and I followed Jay the couple of blocks to his place. I grabbed the first parking spot I saw close to his apartment and waited in the outside lobby of his building for him to come up from the underground parking garage. We didn’t speak in the elevator and I was starting to feel uncomfortable again. I stared at his back as he fit the key in the door to his apartment. My knees felt weak and there were butterflies in my stomach. I felt like I was sixteen again and about to receive my first kiss. Jay flicked on the light switch in the hall and reached over me to set the dead bolt lock on the apartment door.

“How about eggs and toast?” he asked.

“Sure. Sounds great.” I took off my jacket and hung it in the closet. “Need any help?” I offered, but Jay knew better. I was just being polite. He didn’t let me in his kitchen when the stove was turned on.

“No. Thanks. I can manage,” he laughed and headed down the hall. The living room was at the end of the hall. The kitchen was on the left through the living room and his bedroom and bathroom were on the right of the living room. He left the living room in darkness and turned on a light in the kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” he said over his shoulder. I dropped my purse on the coffee table and said, “I’m just going to use the little girl’s room.”

Like the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was neat as a pin. Jay had been taught well by his mother. She showed no favouritism when it came to household chores and Jay was familiar with all of them.

I splashed cold water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. A very round, pixie-like face stared back. My hair looked like I had been standing in front of a fan and I tried to remember if I had brushed it that morning. Once a day was my rule. I was stalling in the bathroom and didn’t know why.

Our relationship had taken a definite turn today. Jay had shown some unbrotherly-like interest in me and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I wasn’t a neophyte when it came to relationships but the river had run dry during the last year. I hadn’t been seeing anyone seriously in a long time. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a date.

After my divorce from Tommy, it had taken me a long time to get back in the dating mode. At one time I’d been a real pro. At dating. I was quite the girl about town. When I worked at the law firm I met lots of interesting, fast men. Tommy was one of them. My autobiography will describe our courtship as whirlwind, our marriage as a disaster and our divorce as friendly.

Tom Connaught was an Irish-American from Phoenix who I’d met when our law firm was acting for his company on their initial public offering. We’d married shortly after the deal closed and he went back to Phoenix to look after his business. I was going to follow as soon as I could close up my apartment. Weeks stretched into months. I was flying back and forth to Phoenix every second weekend and when business allowed, Tommy would come to Toronto. My excuse was work. I always had one more deal to close. Half packed boxes sat in my apartment and I just never got around to moving. We drifted apart as fast as we had come together. Tommy still called me whenever he was in Toronto and it was times like this that I missed him. I hadn’t been involved in a serious relationship since. It had been seven years since our divorce.

I turned out the bathroom light and went back to the living room. Jay was standing there with two plates in his hand. The living room was dark and the light from the kitchen silhouetted Jay’s body.

I turned on a lamp on the side table and pulled the coffee table closer to the sofa. Jay sat down beside me and placed the two plates on the table. He had prepared scrambled eggs and toast. He pulled two forks and two knives out of his shirt pocket and handed me one of each.

“Eat,” he ordered. I dug in. The food was good and hot. I sank back in the sofa when I was finished and tucked my legs up under me. I turned sideways and leaned against the back of the sofa and looked at Jay. He was sitting close to me and I could smell his aftershave.

“Thanks for the eggs. You could always get a job as a short order cook,” I joked. He smiled and gathered up the two plates and returned them to the kitchen. I heard him rinsing the plates and I thought about leaving. He sat down closer to me when he came back and I threw caution to the wind for the second time that night. This time I kissed him. And he wasn’t rude like I’d been. He responded. He tasted like beer.

When we came up for air I asked him, “Should we be doing this?”

He held me back at arm’s length and said, “Why not? This isn’t against the law Kate.” I decided not to argue and my lips closed over his again. The man could cook and kiss. Definitely a keeper.

chapter twenty-one

I looked at Jay’s sleeping face beside me the next morning and promised myself there would be no mental bashing. Although I hadn’t thoroughly analyzed the pros and cons of a relationship with him, it had happened. And I was glad. Maybe it could be a stronger relationship because we’d known each other for so long. Many experts say solid relationships are based on friendship, I reassured myself. He definitely knew all my faults. And there were many.

I lightly ran my finger down the side of Jay’s face and mentally pinched myself. What had happened last night after the kissing had been tender. I eased myself out of bed and went looking for a toothbrush. I used Jay’s. Now that our relationship had reached a new plateau, I was sure he wouldn’t mind. Besides, we exchanged enough spit the night before that using his toothbrush didn’t seem out of line.

Jay found me sitting at the kitchen table smoking and drinking coffee. He was shirtless and wearing jeans.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” I replied. He poured himself a coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. I felt shy and cursed under my breath. I’d never been at a loss for words with him before. The man was bringing out that feminine side that I’d always abhorred in other women. I was definitely not the cute type.

I looked at him and swallowed. Fuck it. Let’s barge on.

“So. Are you okay with what happened last night?” I asked him. I tried to be cool about this. I wasn’t looking for a marriage proposal but I did need to know where we stood. I needed to know if it had been a one-night stand for him. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about that, but I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself either.

“Okay?” he laughed. “I’m great with it. You?”

“Great,” I said slowly. “Is it likely to happen again?”

“Well, Kate. You were the one who initiated it. Are you going to do that again?” he teased.

“Depends on how drunk you get and if I think I can take advantage of you,” I joked. I was feeling better. “Can I buy you breakfast?”

“Sure. Did you want to shower before we go out? You’ll find clean towels in the closet in my bedroom.”

“Yeah. Give me a few minutes.” I stood up and he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. He held me like that for a few moments and lightly kissed the top of my head. He slapped my butt and said, “Get a move on. I’m hungry.”

We decided to walk because the day was gorgeous. Actually he decided to walk and I thought about my arteries. A couple of blocks won’t hurt, I thought to myself. But I found I was enjoying myself as we set a brisk pace block after block. I had to remind him not to walk so fast because his legs were about ten times longer than mine. We finally found a place and we ordered large breakfasts.

When Jay was finished, he pushed his plate back and stretched.

“Ah,” he sighed. He grinned and looked at me. “Good food. Good woman. What else could a man want?”

“Good job?” I teased.

“Don’t remind me,” he said. We sat quietly for a few minutes and I thought about Jay and TechniGroup. There were some screwy things going on.

“Do you realize what we’ve been through in the last three days?” I asked him. “Evelyn died, you discovered some fuck up with the stock options, Oakes called a board meeting and they’re going to fire Cox, and Rick fired you.” I ticked each event off on my fingers.

“I can’t believe that Rick would screw around with the stock options. It’s so bush league. What could he possibly gain?” Jay asked himself out loud.

“And,” I said. “I think they’ve got a couple of other things on him too.”

“Like what?”

“Fraud and sexual harassment.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said. His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up.

“You heard me. Fraud and sexual harassment,” I repeated.

“Just how do you know this?” he asked.

“You know. I hear things.”

“And the board knows about all of this? That’s why they decided to fire him?”

I nodded my head.

“Fraud. I can’t believe it. Won’t believe it. He may be a raving lunatic but he’s no criminal. I’ve worked with the guy and he takes his legal obligations very seriously. What kind of fraud?” he asked me.

“Something about falsely reporting revenue. I don’t really understand it. You know me and financial statements,” I said lamely.

“I admit some of our accounting treatment is questionable but the auditors always sign off on it. I can’t believe Rick would falsely report revenue,” Jay stated.

“He supposedly ordered one of the controllers to do it,” I said.

“And the guy did it?”

“I don’t know if he did. The memo said he ordered the guy to do it.”

“What memo?” Jay asked.

“Nothing. Forget I said it. Look, I think the house of cards is about to come tumbling down. Once the public find out that Rick Cox is gone, our shares’ll be in the toilet. The analysts’ll have a heyday with this shit. Monday is not going to be fun.”

“Yeah, well the bastards have pulled it off before. They’ll say he resigned and we’re seeking a replacement. Remember the last time?”

I remembered. We’d had a brief sojourn with a chief operating officer that lasted six months. We had touted him to the world as the second coming of Christ. Oakes had hand-picked him and he was going to save the world. The analysts loved it and the share price rose steadily for the six months he was around. I thought the guy was a perfect fit because he was as loony as Oakes. He didn’t last long enough though, and when the board fired him they told the public he was resigning to pursue personal interests.

I should write a book. It probably wouldn’t sell though because it would be so unbelievable. And now we were firing another chief operating officer who was going to ‘pursue personal interests’. Our only hope was that the public and the analysts had a short memory. The other guy got fired almost exactly two years ago. This was becoming almost an annual event.

“Well, I have a feeling we’ll have a replacement before you can say Bob’s Your Uncle,” I said.

“Yeah,” Jay joked. “Maybe I should apply for the job.”

“Well, you’ve always wanted the job,” I reminded him. “Actually, I think Oakes wants to see Philip Winston in the position.”

Jay snorted. “Yeah, right. He’s got no more experience than I do. There’s no way the board will allow that.”

“The board’ll do exactly what Oakes and Larry Everly tell them to do. The board members are there for one reason only. The money. The board fees. And their stock options. Having a conscience and thinking for yourself are not requirements for being on our board.”

We sat silent for a few minutes, both of us thinking. I was thinking about stock options and how they had been the center of almost everything that had happened in the last couple of days. Evelyn and stock options. Rick Cox and stock options. Jay and stock options. Stock options had caused the demise of three people in three days. And two of those people were very close to me.

“Jay, have you ever known anyone who died?” I asked.

“My grandmother. And when I was in high school some guy killed himself. Walked in front of a train. I didn’t know him well but everyone at school was upset about it. And Evelyn. But we still don’t know why she died.”

“Exactly. Why she died. Notice you didn’t say how she died. Why. Do you think it could have anything to do with the stock options? Do you think someone planned it?”

“Kate, get real. Let me ask you a question. Have you ever known anyone who was murdered?” I shook my head.

“Right,” Jay continued. “Neither have I. This is the real world. Not some movie about corporate America where they murder off people every twenty minutes. Our guys are stupid but I don’t think anyone would murder one of the employees.”

“You’re probably right. Besides, they’re all too stupid to have planned something like that. And the police haven’t been knocking on the office door. So obviously no one suspects foul play.”

Another thought occurred to me. Was someone smart enough to set up Jay and Rick Cox? But why? With Rick Cox gone the stock was going to take a hit. And all of the top guys were driven by the stock price. They were smart enough to know that when the stock price went down, so did the value of their stock options. Maybe someone hated Rick Cox so much they didn’t care about their personal wealth.

Fuck it. I was spending too much time worrying about the office.

“Let’s forget it, Jay. This shit is making my head hurt. It’s a beautiful day. What do you want to do?”

Jay grinned. “Well, we could go back to my place. I won’t make your head hurt.”

It was a pleasant thought and I felt a blush starting at my neck and rising up my face. I grinned back.