chapter twenty-two

We were sitting on the sofa later that afternoon and the sky was starting to turn to evening. So far I’d had a perfect day. I was hoping it wouldn’t end. I could remember as a kid those special Sunday’s when my brother and I would leave the house after breakfast and play outside all day. One adventure after another. Games of baseball. Hide and seek. War. Road hockey. All the kids in the neighbourhood playing together. Mom wouldn’t even bother trying to get us to come in for lunch and she would leave food on the front porch. If we remembered, we’d eat at some point in the day. When she finally called us in for dinner, we went reluctantly. Those days were perfect and I smiled to myself as I thought about them. The games Jay and I had played today didn’t involve the neighbourhood kids but it had been just as much fun. I didn’t want the day to end. I smiled again when I remembered that some of those neighbourhood kids had been Jay and his sisters. History was definitely repeating itself.

“Well, Mr. Harmon. Should I go home? It’s time to be thinking about dinner and what to wear to work tomorrow. Not that you have to worry about what to wear tomorrow,” I said.

“Oh sure. Rub it in. And I thought we’d agreed not to talk about work any more today,” he said. “And no, you shouldn’t go home unless you want to. We can eat here or go out. Whatever you want.”

I thought about staying over at Jay’s for another night and as appealing as that was, I knew I shouldn’t push my luck.

“Well, if we stay here, you’ll have to do the cooking. What’ve you got?”

“Do you care? Let me make dinner and you can see if there’s anything on the TV.” He got up and handed me the remote control off the coffee table. “Don’t exert yourself,” he laughed as he headed for the kitchen.

This man was definitely a catch. He cooked and I got to play with the remote. It doesn’t get any better than this, I thought. I stretched out on the sofa and flicked through the channels. I could hear Jay in the kitchen behind me opening cupboard doors and making cooking sounds. I surfed the channels and settled on a golf game from Pasadena. I wasn’t sure what was more exciting - watching golf on TV or watching paint dry. I flicked the remote a few more times and found some historical show about the castles of Germany. The scenery in the show was beautiful and some of the scenes looked vaguely familiar. My dad had been in the army and we had been posted to Germany for three years and I was sure some of what I was watching on the TV was on our home movies.

The smell of something interesting wafted in from the kitchen and my stomach growled. This was definitely not junk food.

“Let me know when you want me to set the table,” I said over my shoulder to Jay. I don’t think he heard me because he had the radio on low in the kitchen. I pushed the mute button on the TV and just watched the picture. I could hear the radio now and Jay had the station set to soft rock. The whole situation was very homey and domestic. The only thing missing was a dog and two kids. With my luck it’d be a barking dog and two snot nosed kids. I shook my head to clear the thought.

I had dozed off by the time dinner was ready and I woke up when Jay shook my shoulder.

“Hey, sleepy-head. Wake up. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

“How many times in the last few days have you had to wake me up?” I asked with a grin.

“A few. But who’s counting? Dinner’s served, madam. Let me show you to your table.” He held out his hand and helped me off the sofa.

Not surprisingly, dinner was superb. Jay had prepared a pasta dish, the name of which I didn’t ask. I hadn’t seen it recently on the menu at McDonald’s. I took my time cleaning up after dinner because I was reluctant to go home.

“Well,” I said to Jay as I hung the wet dishtowel on the hook beside the refrigerator, “that’s about it. I should be heading home.”

“You can’t stay?” Jay asked.

“I could but I shouldn’t,” I replied. “This has been a perfect day of domestic bliss, albeit in your home. And I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Besides, you don’t wear the same size underwear and pantyhose that I do and I’d have to leave early and go home to get ready for work.”

Jay laughed. “You could call in sick and take the day off.”

“I could. But Didrickson would probably fire me and then we’d both be out of jobs. Triple bypass surgery is the only excuse for missing work during a week when we’re having a board meeting. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“I think I’m going to take your advice and call the Tower of Jell-O. I’ll plead and cry and see if Tom’ll talk some sense into someone. Basically, I’m going to beg for my job back.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” I offered. I thought I might be treading on thin ice here because I knew how proud Jay was. But - a job’s a job.

“No. I can handle it,” he said.

“Will you promise me though that if you think I can help, you’ll swallow your pride and ask me? I can bully Tom into anything you know. I can have him whimpering in a corner in two seconds. All I have to do is tell him his tie doesn’t match his socks. The guy would be a basket case. Then I could swoop in and go for the kill. Make him promise to give you your job back for some fashion advice.”

We both laughed. Jay stood up and put his arms around me.

“If it comes down to it and I think it’s necessary, I’ll ask for your help.” He kissed me lightly on the forehead and then hugged me.

I looked up at him. “Walk a lady to her car?” I asked.

“Sure. But doesn’t that smack of male chauvinism?” he joked.

“Not at all. It’s polite and it shows manners. Your mom would be proud of you. Besides, I haven’t used my car all day and I want to make sure it starts.”

“Then I’d be honoured to escort you. Hang on while I get my apartment keys.”

My car started on the first try. Damn. I think I was secretly hoping it wouldn’t start and I’d have an excuse to stay. Jay leaned in the driver’s side window and gave me a kiss. “You’ll call me?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said slowly. “When? When I get home? Later tonight? Tomorrow? You’ve gotta understand, I’m really rusty at this game and I’m not sure of the rules.”

“Whenever. And I’m rusty too. If you want to call me when you get home, that’d be great. And then you could call me later tonight. And then again tomorrow. Let’s make up the rules as we go.” He smiled at me.

“No problem coach. Thanks for a great time, Jay.” I put the car in gear. “Now get your head out of my car before I drag you down the street.”

chapter twenty-three

By the time I reached the office the next morning I was in a complete panic. It was eight forty-five and I was late for work for the first time in recent history. I had slept like a well-fed baby the night before and my dreams had been wonderful. I slept through the alarm and then got caught in traffic.

My breath was short as I hurried down the hall to my office and I tried to calm myself. First of all, Kate, you’re never late for work. Secondly, who cares? You work most nights well past quitting time. I continued to lecture myself as I hung my coat on the back of the door. Continue acting like a junior secretary who’s required to punch a clock and you’ll be treated like one.

The door caught Harold Didrickson on the foot as I tried to close it after hanging up my coat. I quickly caught the handle and pulled it back open.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I apologized. What the hell does he want, I thought. He never comes in my office.

“Kate. Have you got a minute?” he asked politely.

“Sure Harold.”

He hesitated for a moment like he was on the edge of a high diving board. “I wanted to remind you that working hours here are from eight to five. If you’re late, it doesn’t set a good example for the other support staff,” he said. With a straight face. I looked closely at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. Of course, I thought, he doesn’t joke around.

My blood pressure started rising and my right ear lobe started to burn. I thought about all the times Harold wandered into the office on his own sweet time and left early on those beautiful summer days to get in nine holes. Obviously though, he didn’t consider himself support staff.

I thought about all the times I had stayed late into the night working on documentation for an acquisition. Or preparing for board meetings. All the times I’d traveled on weekends, on my time, to attend those board meetings to look after grown men and all their whims and fancies. Some times I’d worked so late I only had time to go home and shower because I had to be back at the office by eight. Or the times Harold had gone on vacation leaving me to deal with outside counsel, the auditors, bankers and underwriters on a crucial financing.

The miserable little prick was about to find out about my interpretation of work-to-rule.

“Eight to five?” I repeated. He nodded.

“Then remember that when I leave today at five,” I said. “And for that matter, I’ll be leaving every day this week, including Thursday when the board meeting is in full swing, at five.” I opened the top drawer of my desk and slammed it shut for emphasis. He blanched.

“Can I get you a coffee, Harold?” I asked sweetly. His colour quickly returned and his cheeks turned pink. He quickly left my office.

Shit, fuck and damn. I was mad at myself for my reaction to his pettiness and then felt sorry for myself. I’ll never get out of this stereotype of being a secretary. Always having someone to report to. Always looking after everyone else. I was sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of looking after grown men.

I grabbed my purse and went to find Vanessa. In for a penny, in for a pound - I was taking a coffee-break. If Harold could act like a spoiled brat, so could I.

Vee was coming out of Chris Oakes’ office and I raised two fingers to my lips as if smoking. She nodded and pulled the door shut behind her. While she forwarded her phone calls back to the switchboard, I breathed deeply a few times to get my blood pressure back to normal. I was still spitting mad at Harold.

Vee and I didn’t talk as we walked quickly down the corridor to the elevator and this time she had to trot to keep up with me. I viciously punched the button for the elevator.

“Well, who pissed in your Corn Flakes?” she asked.

“Short lawyer, big attitude,” I told her. “He gave me shit for being late this morning. Perfect way to start the day.”

The line-up at the coffee shop was out the door and Vanessa grabbed a table in the smoking area while I waited in line for coffee. By the time I got to the table I was seething.

I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag and watched Vanessa struggle with the little containers of cream. Her nails were so long she couldn’t get the lids off. I grabbed them from her and peeled back the covers and poured two creams in her coffee.

“There,” I said. “Want me to drink it for you too?”

“Oh, take it easy Kate. Calm down. I thought we were on the same cycle. Is it that time of month again?” We laughed. I could never stay mad long and especially not around Vanessa. Laughter was the bond that kept us going.

“So,” I said. “I hope you enjoyed your Saturday. Mine was one straight out of a Stephen King novel. It got weirder and weirder as the day went on. I didn’t get out of here until after eleven.”

“You’re kidding. What happened? Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” she asked.

“Um. I was busy yesterday.” I wasn’t sure about talking out loud about Jay and I yet. “Saturday though,” I continued. “What a day from hell. I got a call from Harold in the afternoon to come to the office to help Grace with an audit. Then Oakes found me. After I called you and got the file he wanted he made me book a directors meeting. Then I had to get everyone on the phone for that. And then Cleveland Johnson arrived and I had to stick around in case he needed any help. Lotsa fun.”

“Stop, stop. Hang on. Let’s start at the beginning. Since when do you help Grace with audits? You’re not turning on me and joining the finance department are you?”

“Right. I’ve always aspired to be a bean-counter. And I’d do so well in the finance group. I’m such a wizard with numbers. You know what Harold always says about me. Kate, you don’t have a problem with math. You have a problem with arithmetic. He’s such a sweet and inspiring little man. Anyway, there was a problem with the stock options. A big problem. I spent about four hours with Grace going over numbers. That’s just background though. The dirt is, they’re firing Rick Cox,” I said.

Vee shook her head. “I knew it. I knew it. Oakes has been digging around for dirt on him for so long, I’m surprised he’s lasted this long. Give it to me. What happened?”

I explained to her what had happened on Saturday night.

“Didn’t Oakes tell you this morning?” I asked her.

“He’s not in.”

“Oh. I saw you coming out of his office and I just assumed he was there. So the spineless wonder isn’t going to stick around for the firing.”

I lit another cigarette from the butt of the one I was finishing and glanced at my watch. It was time to get back upstairs.

“Anyway, the worst part is Rick Cox found out about the board meeting. Oakes didn’t want any inside directors on the call and when I finished at the switchboard with the call I ran into him coming out of the kitchen. Somehow, he knew there was a board meeting. And someone on that call told him that he was being fired.”

“Probably Arthur Graves,” she said. “He’s the one who pushed so hard initially to get Rick appointed COO. He and Rick are thick as thieves.”

“Well, anyway, it gets better. Rick called Jay in to the office around nine-thirty and fired him.”

“For what?” Vanessa was incredulous. “He fired Jay? What an asshole. He can’t fire Jay. Jesus.”

“He said that he thinks Jay was the one who screwed around with the stock option system because he, Rick, never uses the system and Jay has his password.”

“Ohmigod. I can’t believe this. Have you spoken to Jay?” she asked me.

“Yeah.”

“And? What’s he going to do? He should get a lawyer. They can’t do this to him.” Vanessa always felt the worst for the underdog. She couldn’t stand to see people used and abused. Especially at the hands of Oakes and Cox.

“I think he might call Tom James and see if there’s anything he can do,” I said. “I don’t think he should hold out any hope though. Besides, he’s probably better off not here. This place is a zoo.”

Vanessa gulped down the rest of her coffee. She slung her purse over her shoulder and said, “Come on. Dave Rowlandson told me we’ve got a press release going out and now I think I know what it’s about.” She looked at her watch. “The market’s already open so they must be going to release it at the end of the day. Great. This’ll be a day from hell.”

Vanessa was always involved with the press releases because of Oakes. Dave Rowlandson, our public relations director had his own secretary but with press releases, Vee always ended up typing them. Oakes had final say on the contents of the press releases and he would make what seemed like zillions of changes before they were released. Because Vee was the only person who understood his hieroglyphics, she did the typing.

While we waited for the elevator in the lobby Vee said, “This should be fun. I’ll have to be faxing drafts of the press release back and forth today. Chris is back in New York.”

“Yeah? Meeting with you know who?” I asked.

“Yup. Jack Vincent himself. Chris went to New York yesterday. He’s not due back until later today.”

The receptionist was waving frantically at us when we got off the elevator. Vee hurried into reception and I followed.

“I’ve got Mr. Oakes on the phone,” she said. She was very flustered.

“Calm down. I’ll take it here,” Vanessa said and pointed at the guest phone on a side coffee table.

The receptionist transferred the call to the other phone and sat down heavily in her chair. She held her head in her hands and started mumbling to herself.

I leaned on the marble counter of the reception desk and told her, “Don’t take it so hard. The man only bites when he’s standing next to you.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

“He told me if I didn’t find her he was going to fire me,” she sniffed. “He kept ranting about signing my paycheque.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s certifiable,” I reassured her. I turned around and looked at Vanessa who was scribbling madly on a scrap of paper. She wasn’t doing any of the talking.

“Okay, okay,” she was saying. “Fine.” She hung up the phone and looked up at me. “Press release has gone. They let it go before market opened. He wanted to know why I wasn’t here to do the work. I told him he didn’t leave me any instructions and that Dave said it was going out later today. I don’t think he heard because he asked me three times why I wasn’t here to do the work. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

“Who sent the release out? The agency?” She nodded. Buckman & Bettles were our public relations agency.

“Call them and tell them to fax a copy over right away. I’ve got to see this,” I said. Vee picked up the phone and dialled B&B and asked for Tony Player. Tony was the account manager at B&B who handled all of our stuff, and he and Vee worked closely together. Tony did all the slide shows for the company on presentations to analysts, or road shows, when our executives were trying to sell shares to investors. He also handled all the arrangements for our annual shareholders meeting. Usually when the executives were making presentations he traveled with them. If the press wanted an interview with Oakes, Tony set it up.

“Tony, it’s Vee,” she said into the phone. “I just heard from Chris that we had a release go before the market opened. Can you fax me a copy asap? Yeah, my private fax number. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and said, “Come on. We’ll pick it off the machine in my office.”

The press release was waiting on the fax machine when we got back to her office. I read over her shoulder. It was our standard boilerplate release that went out every time we ‘lost’ another executive. Sorry to see him go. Pursuing other business interests. Standard quotes from Oakes. I glanced at the top of the page and noted that Chris Oakes was contact person. So, if the media, analysts or shareholders had any questions, they were to call Oakes. And he wasn’t around. Vanessa was going to have her hands full today fielding calls and lying for Oakes. She’d take messages and he’d never return the calls. The red light was flashing on her phone console.

“The flood has started,” I said pointing at her phone. “Have fun returning those calls.”

“Right. I’ll call them all back. But I have to call the vet first. Chris said that Baby was in getting groomed and I was to call them first. Must get my priorities straight,” she said sarcastically.

Baby was Chris Oakes’ dog. A miniature white poodle. Vee spent half her time arranging for dog walking, dog grooming and talking to the dog. If Oakes called her from home he often would say, “Here Baby. Say hi to Vanessa.” Vanessa was supposed to talk to the stupid dog on the phone. And I thought I didn’t get paid enough. I waved at her as I walked out of her office. No one would ever believe this shit, I thought. I should start taking notes for my book

chapter twenty-four

Harold was on the phone when I walked into his office to retrieve the pile of papers in his out-basket.

“This is a voice message to Chris Oakes and Rick Cox,” he was saying into the phone.

Now this was priceless. I put my purse on the guest chair in front of Harold’s desk and thumbed through the pile of papers to do a quick check of what was in the out-basket in case I had any questions. Actually, I was eavesdropping.

“Rick,” Harold continued. “I’ll have a first draft of the board materials by eleven this morning and I’d like to go over them with you. Especially the numbers for the stock option grants. Chris, I’d like your feedback on the draft agendas.” He punched a series of numbers into the phone to send the message and hung up his phone. I grabbed the pile of papers and my purse and headed out the door.

“I don’t think Rick’s in yet,” I said over my shoulder. “And Chris is in New York.” Ha! Gotcha. Harold had no idea that Rick had been fired. Ha! Serves the little prick right.

But the sick feeling started deep in the pit of my stomach when I thought of the ramifications of Harold not knowing that Rick had been fired. He had been siding with Rick in the corporate feuding and if no one had told him about the firing, maybe he was the next to go. And if he went, what happened to me? Shit. Time to set the little guy straight. I tossed around the idea of keeping Harold in the dark for a while longer but thought better of it. Besides, I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

I poured us both a cup of coffee and sat down in front of him. He was looking a little uncomfortable and I waited for him to speak first.

“Kate, I hope you understand my point about the hours of work,” he started.

I interrupted him because he obviously wasn’t going to apologize. “Forget it Harold. I have no problem with the hours of work. I do have a problem with the fact that you felt it was necessary to point them out to me. Have I ever left you to fend for yourself? Have I ever complained about working late on all the deals we do? Have I ever bitched about the traveling and serving coffee and arranging haircuts for those prima donnas on the board?”

He must have thought those were rhetorical questions because he didn’t answer me. I continued to stare at him for a few moments and when he didn’t answer, I said disgustedly, “Forget it. But I meant what I said about work to rule. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Rick Cox was fired. They’ve issued a press release that went out before market opened.”

I watched his face for a reaction. It was slow in coming but it came. A look of absolute shock. And a little bit of terror.

“I guess you’re reporting directly to Oakes now?” I asked. (Thought I’d rub it in a little.) He flicked his hand at me as if he was brushing away smoke or something in his face.

“When did this happen?” he asked me. I thought about how much I knew and how much I was going to tell him. He had little beads of sweat on his forehead. I gave in. I had my loyalties and as usual, I couldn’t stay mad for long. Harold had been a good teacher to me over the years and usually he was fair to me. About as fair as making sure you feed your dog at least once a day.

I told him. “There was a board meeting on Saturday night. After I finished with Grace, Oakes cornered me and had me poll the directors for a conference call. He told me only outside directors and specifically said not to include you. Harold, you can’t be surprised about this. You knew what Grace was going to find in that audit.”

Harold was thinking and I didn’t interrupt him. He got up and stood by the window and stared out.

“They called Cleve Johnson over after the board meeting. He must have done up the termination documents,” I told him. Harold didn’t visibly react to this and I picked up my coffee to leave.

“Close my door will you? And hold my calls,” was all he said.

I spent the next hour mechanically dealing with the documents I had picked out of Harold’s out-basket. He had marked up all of the draft documents I had given him for the upcoming board and committee meetings, so I made all of the changes on the computer and proofread the documents for mistakes. I printed clean copies and got everything ready to return to him when he opened his office door. Most times I don’t let a closed door keep me out but I thought it’d be prudent to stay out of his way this morning.

Vee called me around eleven and let me know that her phone had not stopped ringing. Shareholders, analysts and the media had been calling steadily. I asked her what the stock price was doing.

“Down one and a half, so far. Trading at seven and five eighths,” she said.

“Much volume?” I asked her. Sometimes if there weren’t a lot of shares trading the stock would flatten out and the price would hold for a while.

“About a million shares so far,” she said.

That wasn’t good. On a typical day, not more than 100,000 shares traded. If the stock market had been open for an hour and a half and a million shares had traded it could get worse.

“Small or large blocks?” I asked her. Maybe someone with a million shares dumped them but then again, it could be five hundred shareholders holding 2,000 shares each. Five hundred shareholders dumping their shares could be a very bad sign.

“I didn’t ask. But a lot of mom and pop shareholders have been calling. One old lady called to say she was sorry that nice man Mr. Cox decided to leave the company. She said he helped her up the stairs at the last shareholders’ meeting and she thinks he’s a prince. Too bad he had to resign she said.” Vee chuckled. “And then she wanted to know why he didn’t have to give two week’s notice like everyone else so we could find a replacement. Little old lady shareholders should take their hard-earned money and put it in government bonds. Not this shit-hole,” she said.

“You know Vee, since last week the shares are down over three bucks. Last Friday there was no visible reason for the shares to go down. Now there’s a reason. I’d say the slide isn’t over yet. They’re trading now at just under eight dollars. Keep me posted if you hear anything.”

My phone rang again as soon as I hung up.

“Kathleen Monahan.”

“Katie, it’s Cleve. How’re you doing today?” he asked me.

“Well, Mr. Johnston. I could only be better if you were here talking to me in person. Listen, sorry about Saturday night. Something came up and I had to leave. Sorry if I left you in the lurch.”

“No problem. As it turned out I had to go back to my office to use my precedents for one of the documents I had to create. I felt bad about keeping you waiting around so long. Anyway, I spent most of yesterday here at the office with Rick Cox doing up the termination documents and I need to find out if they’re all right by Harold. I got his voice mail when I called his line. Is he in?”

“Yeah, he’s here. In a meeting,” I lied. “Where’re the documents?”

“You should have them by now. I sent them over by courier first thing this morning. And Kate, can you have a look at the schedule attached to the agreement? We’ve set out what we think are Rick’s stock options and he said you’d be able to confirm all the numbers and exercise dates. He didn’t have a current stock option statement to verify the numbers.”

Rick would be able to cash in on his stock options if the bottom didn’t fall out of our share price. If someone leaves our company and has stock options that are exercisable they have ninety days to exercise them. It was standard to outline the available options in any termination documentation and also standard to set out what options were not available to them. The executive would acknowledge all of this information in the agreement so there would be no questions after the fact.

I thought it was odd that Cleve was dealing directly with Rick and not Rick’s lawyer. Cleve was acting for us.

“All right, I can do that. I can get a current statement from Evelyn’s file. I’ll make sure Harold reviews the other stuff too.”

“Is Evelyn the lady who died last week?” Cleve asked me.

“Yeah.”

“We were really sorry to hear about that. Should our firm send some flowers or something?”

“I’ll let you know. They’re still doing the autopsy as far as I know. No funeral arrangements have been made. But thanks for asking Cleve. She was a good friend of mine. You know she looked after our computer system for the stock options.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, I know all about that. Chris told me.”

“Did Chris tell you that someone got in to her system after she died and changed some numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you they think it was Rick Cox?”

“Of course, Katie. I didn’t know how much you knew and I’m not at liberty of course to divulge that information. I wasn’t certain you were up to speed.”

“Right,” I snorted. “Listen, can I ask you something in confidence?”

He hesitated. “Uh, sure. As a friend or as the company’s counsel?”

“Cut the crap Cleve. As both. As my friend and as the company’s lawyer. Can you wear both hats?” He didn’t answer so I continued. “Is Rick Cox denying he made those changes to the system?” I knew I was on very shaky ground here.

“Yes, Rick is maintaining his innocence in this matter.”

“Shit, Cleve. You sound like a defence lawyer. Maintaining his innocence,” I mimicked. “Did he tell you he fired someone else in the company for making the changes in the system?”

“Yes. He told me the circumstances,” he said.

“Can he do that?”

“You mean fire someone for the screw-up?”

“Yes. The person he fired happens to be a friend who needs his job. And his reputation. I want to know how the board can accuse Cox, and fire him, and then Cox turns around and accuses someone else. Wouldn’t my friend have a case for saving his job by proving that the board of directors of this company had proof that Rick Cox did it and fired him for it? How can Cox pass the blame and fire someone else? I could see it if they did it together or if the company had proof they did it together. But the board is firing just Cox for this fuck up.” I was out of breath.

“Kate, Rick Cox is resigning,” Cleve said slowly. “The Board is not firing him.”

I was shocked.

“You fuck,” I yelled into the phone. “You know damn well that a lynching occurred on a conference call on Saturday night and all of the board members were made aware of what Rick Cox did. They all agreed to fire him.”

“Kate, I’m aware of no such thing. Chris Oakes made it clear that Rick Cox was resigning to pursue personal business. I met with Rick to ask him for his resignation. The company records will show that Rick resigned.”

“Save it for the press you miserable shit,” I yelled and slammed down the phone.

Jay was going to fry along with Rick.

chapter twenty-five

I had to get out of this place. The morons weren’t only running the zoo, they were being advised by professional morons who they paid handsomely for their moronic advice. Rationally, I supposed, if I thought about it, I could understand where Cleve was coming from. Irrationally though, I wanted to spit in Cleve’s face.

I forwarded my phone to voice mail and picked up the board documents that I’d been waiting to give back to Harold. I saw that his office door was still closed so I went into the bullpen where the legal assistants sat and headed for Jackie’s desk.

She was bent over an open file drawer trying to jam a file folder into the already packed filing cabinet. She looked up at me helplessly.

“I know, I know,” I said. “I promise we’ll go through these drawers soon and get rid of all the dead stuff. Give you more room.”

“Why don’t I make a current list of everything in the cabinets and you can just mark on it which files I can dead store. That’ll make it easier for you,” she said. The girl was always thinking. Jackie had been in the department for about a year now and she was worth her weight in gold. She was keen and had a great work attitude.

“Great idea. And I promise I’ll look at the list. Listen, I’m going out. Harold wanted these documents revised,” I said. I handed the pile to her. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed and I’m sure as hell not going in there. If and when his door opens, put these in his basket. And keep an eye open for a courier package from Scapelli’s. Cleveland Johnston’s sent over some urgent documents and Harold needs to look at them right away. In fact, if the package arrives, send Harold an e-mail telling him it’s here. He might be checking his messages in there. Either way, wait until his door opens. And if anyone asks, I’ll be back when I’m back.”

“Uh, sure Kate.” She hesitated a moment. “You will be back this afternoon won’t you?”

“Don’t worry Jackie. I won’t leave you to be eaten up by the wolves. Yeah, I’ll be back. I’m just going out for a walk. Clear my head.”

“A walk? You’re sure? But you don’t walk Kate.”

“Maybe I’m starting. See you later.”

I came out of the office and stood at the corner of King and Bay Streets. I was confused about which way to go. I’d never deliberately gone for a walk. Sure, I’d walk to get something to eat, or walk to my doctor’s office four blocks over. But to walk for the sake of walking was something new to me. I turned left and hiked south on Bay Street. At Front Street I looked right and left. Nothing interested me either way and the looming Union Station just depressed me even more. I continued down Bay through the underpass towards Lake Ontario and Queen’s Quay. I mentally patted myself on the back as I passed two sidewalk vendors selling hot dogs. I dodged a few homeless people panhandling for money. My pace was by no means brisk, but I walked as fast as my short legs could carry me, although walking briskly wasn’t something easily accomplished at lunchtime in this area of the city. The sidewalks were teeming with people and I managed to hit every red light. The road was torn up as usual at the entrance to Lakeshore Boulevard, and I stepped carefully over the construction debris littering the street.

There was less traffic noise and things were more peaceful when I finally reached Queen’s Quay. The sun was bright and the reflection on the lake hurt my eyes. I found an unoccupied bench facing the lake and I sat down heavily. I rummaged in my purse for sunglasses and cigarettes. I wasn’t out of breath and felt good. I wasn’t sure if the walk could be considered aerobic exercise because I hadn’t worked up a sweat. But I had walked. And I reminded myself as I lit a cigarette, that I hadn’t walked for exercise, I had walked to get away from the office.

I leaned back on the bench and tilted my face to the sun and thought about quitting. The job. The so-called career. I wondered if there were places to work out there that treated their employees like people. Places that realized that the workers were people. I laughed out loud when I realized that those types of places only existed in brochures describing working conditions in communist countries. I knew I was cynical but I had earned the right. I had been watching grown men play at being powerful executives now for so many years it was a joke.

How important was it all, I asked myself. In the whole scheme of things, how important was the business our company was in? In two years, we’d be selling customers something completely different because technology changes so quickly. Our executives clearly didn’t care about our customers. Look at how many of our former customers have us tied up in litigation. We weren’t working on a cure for cancer. We were selling technology. Big fucking deal. I flicked my cigarette butt into the grass.

So Kate, if you quit, what’ll you do? I had always been cocky enough to think I could get a job anywhere. Enough people had told me they wanted to hire me. I could make a list as long as your arm of the number of high-powered executives in this city who had patronizingly told me what a fantastic job I did. “Hope they pay you well, Kate,” several had said to me.

Right. I made excellent money for a secretary and I had surpassed the salary ceiling for that field of work. But you’re not a secretary Kate, I reminded myself. You’re a paralegal. And paralegals make less money than secretaries. There was no way I could go to a law firm and make the money I was making at TechniGroup. I was making more now than many junior associates in law firms.

I mentally kicked myself for not going to law school when I had the chance. I had the applications filled out and had taken the LSAT exams and was ready to take the plunge. There was enough money saved to get by and Mom and Dad had promised to help if things got rough. But then I met Tommy. Whirlwind romance. Every time he’d kissed me, the thought of law school got further and further from my mind. By the time the dust had settled and we were divorced I had no more ambition. I’d quit the law firm and started doing temp work in the city. There was a different job each week and I had started to really enjoy not getting attached to the people I worked with. Like a homeless person wandering the streets, only I wandered the offices of Toronto. It was a great healing time for me.

I was ready to settle down again when they offered me a full-time job at TechniGroup. And now I had the seven year itch. Seven years at TechniGroup. I knew there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go in the company in terms of advancement. But who was I kidding? There’s only so far you can go as a secretary or for that matter, a paralegal. You work with one of the top dogs and you do all their dirty work. Day in and day out. Most times the work was interesting but after a while, it was the same. If I went to another company I’d be doing the same thing after six months. Working for one of the senior people and as soon as I got the hang of the company and all the inner workings, I’d be back in the same boat. What a vicious fucking circle. Maybe it was time to get into a whole new field.

I put my elbows on my knees and cupped my face in my hands and stared out at the lake. Shit, this was depressing. I felt my shoulders getting heavy and knew that if I didn’t shake out of this mood I’d be in sad shape by the end of the day.

The assholes were getting to me and I was feeling sorry for myself. If my mother were here she’d jack me up and tell me to snap out of it. “There’s always someone worse off than you,” she’d say. And she’d be right.

I had a job. A nice apartment. A car that worked most of the time. I had friends. And family. And what did I care about those idiots at TechniGroup? I cared about what they were doing to Jay. And how he was going to get fucked worse than Rick Cox. At least Cox’ll get a very generous severance package. And his stock options. Jay’ll get nothing.

I smiled to myself when I thought about the severance for Rick. Right now we were telling the public he resigned. But when we disclosed the terms of his settlement package, as we were obliged to do under securities laws, we’d have to disclose the fact that we paid him severance. Any shareholder in their right mind should ask the question, why pay severance when someone resigns? I’m sure the company was banking on the fact that shareholders had short memories. The company would part with over a million dollars just to get rid of Rick Cox. And Jay is on the street, without a reference and no severance. I was starting to get pissed off again and being pissed off felt a lot better than being depressed.

I started walking back over to Bay Street and dreaded the thought of the long walk back to the office. Fuck it, I thought. I’d had enough exercise to last me a month. I hailed a cab.

chapter twenty-six

Jackie was standing outside my office door wringing her hands when I got back. She looked worried.

“Kate, thank God you’re back,” she said anxiously.

Great, another crisis. Well, they’ll just have to take a number and get in line. I opened the door and waved her in.

“What is it Jackie?”

“There’s a police officer in the reception waiting to see you. The receptionist has been calling every five minutes looking for you.”

“A police officer? Why? Did anyone say what he wants?”

“No,” Jackie said. “And it’s a she. Do you want me to go get her?”

“No. Thanks. I’ll go.”

Thoughts of disaster ran through my mind as I walked quickly to the reception area. God. Please don’t let it be something awful. I’d never had a police person call on me before. I had no idea what to expect. My mouth was dry and my mind was racing.

She was sitting in one of the guest chairs in the reception thumbing through a magazine. As I came in, the receptionist said my name and the police officer stood up. She was very petite and almost as short as I was.

I held out my hand and said, “Hi. I’m Kathleen Monahan.”

“Hi. I’m Constable Gina Lofaro.” She shook my hand.

Gina had very short, very curly black hair. Her skin was almost see-through and she looked like a china doll. Beautiful dark eyes and a perfectly shaped nose. She could be a model, I thought. Being a police officer on the streets of Toronto must be one tough job and I quickly got past her delicate beauty. She obviously didn’t get the job because of her looks.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” she asked me.

“Uh, sure.” I turned around to the receptionist and asked her if the small meeting room was empty. She nodded.

I pointed Constable Lofaro to the closed door on the opposite side of the reception area. I opened the door and turned on the lights and sat down on one of the chairs at the small, circular meeting table. I looked up at her anxiously as she closed the door behind her.

“Is there something wrong? Has there been an accident?” I asked her. My voice was shaky and my knees felt weak. I put my hands in front of me on the table.

“No, no. Everything’s okay. Danny Morris asked me to talk to you.”

My knees started to knock.

“Danny?” I croaked out. I cleared my throat. “Danny? Evelyn Morris’ son? Is he all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. So to speak. Let me start at the beginning.” She pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. She pulled out a small notebook from her breast pocket and flipped it open.

“As you are no doubt aware, Evelyn Morris died on Thursday night. An autopsy was performed and the coroner has ruled her death accidental. The autopsy report noted that there were very high levels of peanut oil in her digestive system. The report also noted that Mrs. Morris was severely allergic to nuts.” She looked up at me.

“We all knew Evelyn was allergic to nuts,” I said.

Constable Lofaro wrote something in her notebook.

“Mr. Morris came to our station this morning after he received the results of the autopsy. He’s asked us to look into the matter. He was adamant that his mother wouldn’t knowingly eat anything with peanut oil in it. In fact, he said that it was a rule at the office that nothing was brought in by the staff or the caterers for social events with peanut oil in it. Is this your understanding as well?”

I nodded my head.

“What can you tell me about last Thursday night?” she asked me. Her pen was poised over her notebook.

I described to her what had happened.

“Did you see Mrs. Morris eat anything?”

I shook my head. “No. As I said, I was only in the room for a short time. She could have eaten before I got there. She certainly wasn’t looking good when I arrived but I remember her saying she was hot.”

“Tell me about the food. Did you use the same caterers?”

“No. It was a potluck. I think Mr. Oakes, our chairman, asked the staff to bring the food. This wouldn’t have happened if it was catered. The firm we use has strict orders about the use of peanut oil and they knew about Ev’s allergy. I can’t imagine who would bring something to the office with peanut oil in it. I think someone told me the message that went out to the staff about the potluck reminded everyone about Ev’s allergy. She shouldn’t have eaten anything. She shouldn’t have taken the chance. How could she be so stupid?”

Constable Lofaro looked up from her notebook. “She probably trusted everyone. Listen, we’re looking into this because Mr. Morris has asked us to. He’s understandably very upset. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

My conversation with Jay the day before at the restaurant came to mind. Evelyn and stock options. Rick Cox and stock options. Jay and stock options. Fucking stock options.

“No,” I said and shook my head. I wasn’t about to speculate with the police.

She closed her notebook and asked, “I don’t suppose any of the food from last Thursday night is still around?”

“Well, it was stinking up the kitchen on Saturday night. I’m sure it would have been cleaned away though by now. We can go and take a look if you want,” I offered.

She put her notebook back in her breast pocket and stood up. “Sure, let’s take a look.”

She followed me across the reception and down the hall to the large boardroom where the party had been held last Thursday night. I opened the door a crack to make sure the room was not being used. A few overhead pot lights were on and I noticed that the room had been restored to its status as a boardroom. Not a party room.

“Come on,” I said over my shoulder to Constable Lofaro.

We walked through the room to the other side and I opened a door into the kitchenette that was well hidden in the dark cherry wood paneling.

“This is the room where the caterers normally work from if we have a function in the boardroom. The day after the party last week, the counters here and the fridge were full of the leftovers from the party,” I told her. There was no food on the counters and when I opened the fridge, it was empty except for cream and milk.

“Well, they must have finally cleaned it out,” I said.

“Do you know how often they pick up the garbage?” she asked me.

“Every day I think. They come every night to take away the garbage. But the cleaning staff aren’t allowed to touch anything on the counters and they certainly wouldn’t touch anything in the fridge,” I said.

“Do they come on Friday’s or Sunday’s?” she asked me. “At the station,” she explained, “the cleaning staff take Friday nights off and clean on Sunday’s. What happens around here?”

“Friday’s. I’ve never seen them here on a Sunday.”

“Have they been around today?”

“Not that I know of. They come around six-thirty or seven at night. It’s far too early.”

“So,” she said. “If you said the food was stinking up the kitchen on Saturday night, the food would have still been here this morning. On the assumption that the cleaning staff don’t come around until Monday night. Right? Is there someone we can ask?”

“Sure.” I picked up the phone on the wall beside the refrigerator and dialled the office manager’s extension. She answered right away.

“Linda. It’s Kate. Did the cleaning staff clean out the fridge in the kitchenette off the main boardroom over the weekend?” I asked her.

“No, Kate, I did. Someone complained this morning about the smell so I emptied everything into green garbage bags. It was disgusting. And I threw out everyone’s Tupperware containers.”

“So where is it now?”

“I called the building maintenance people to come and haul it away. Why? Did I throw out something of yours? I’m sorry if I did Kate. I just couldn’t bring myself to empty each container and then wash them. Christine is away today so I had to do it. Usually, that’s her job.”

Christine was the office clerk who got all the nice jobs like cleaning the sour milk out of the fridge and washing out coffee cups with science experiments in them.

“No, it’s all right Linda. I was just curious.”

“Well,” she said. “I had to lug the garbage bags out to the service elevator. The lazy pokes at building maintenance told me to leave the stuff there. It’s probably stinking up the service elevator bay now.”

“Thanks Linda. I’ll have a look.”

I went to hang up the phone and Linda said, “Kate, are you nuts? You’re going to go through the garbage? Did you lose something?”

“No, no. Never mind Linda. Thanks for your help.” I hung up the phone and turned to Constable Lofaro.

“The officer manager said she emptied everything into green garbage bags this morning and put it out by the service elevator. Do you want to see if it’s still there?” She nodded.

The service elevator was at the opposite end of the hall from the back door where I usually entered the office. There were large double steel doors with small windows in them about three quarters of the way up the door. It was hopeless trying to see through the windows so I opened one of the double doors and the smell, or rather the stench, wafted out of three garbage bags piled in the corner.

“There’s the stuff,” I pointed out.

She glanced at the bags and looked at me. I knew what was coming.

“No. Please,” I begged. “Take my word for it. I know that smell. Don’t make me do it.”

She laughed. “Come on. Plug your nose. Help me out here. I’ll open one bag and you can confirm it’s garbage from your office.”

“Why can’t Linda do it?” I whined. I had a weak stomach at the best of times and this certainly wasn’t going to help. The only saving grace was the fact that I hadn’t eaten lunch and my stomach was empty.

I plugged my nose. “Okay. Let’s do it. Hurry up.” I breathed through my mouth.

She untied the top bag and I glanced in. I could see a jumble of Tupperware containers and serving platters. There was loose food around the sides of the bag and I eyed one of the brownies I had been so eager to stuff into my mouth last Friday. I was going to puke. Right here. Right now. I made a mental note to never eat brownies again.

I nodded at Constable Lofaro and hurried out the door. I left her there to tie the bag back up. I was breathing deeply when she came back out.

“Hey, that was nothing,” she said. “The food’s only a couple of days old. No maggots, yet. Buck up,” she laughed.

“You sound like my mother,” I said. “How can you do that?” I asked her.

“Do what? Look in a garbage bag? Big deal. At least I didn’t find a dead baby.”

I held up my hand. “Stop right there. Stop it. I appreciate you have a pretty disgusting job at times. But I’ve got a weak stomach.”

“You’re over-reacting,” she said.

“I know,” I agreed. “Kate Monahan’s school of over-reaction. My parents said I should have been an actor. So you’ve found out one of my deep dark secrets. Keep it to yourself, okay?”

“No problem. Look, because the food is still around, I’m going to take it in. We’ll have the lab do some analysis on it.”

“What will they look for?” I asked.

“Peanut oil, obviously. That and other things. I’ll hand it over to one of the detectives. Thanks for your help Ms. Monahan,” she said and held out her hand.

“Kate. Call me Kate. Listen, do you know if they’ve released Evelyn’s body to the family?”

“No, I don’t know. They probably have though if the autopsy’s been done and the report released. You’d have to ask Mr. Morris.”

“You’re right. I’ll call Danny right away. We’re all anxious to know about funeral arrangements. We miss her so much, you know.” I was blathering again and I stopped myself. “Do you want some help lugging those bags?” I offered.

“No, I’ll be fine. Do you know if this elevator goes to the underground parking garage?”

I nodded. “Great,” she continued. “I’m parked inside so I can just take this elevator. Thanks again.” She opened the door to the service elevator bay and disappeared behind it.

I stood there and thought about how strange it was that the police were now involved in Evelyn’s death. I remembered my conversation with Jay yesterday and how we both agreed that no one suspected foul play in Evelyn’s death. Well, Danny thought enough about it to go to the police.

I opened the door to the elevator bay and saw that Constable Lofaro was still waiting for the elevator. With my nose plugged, I told her, “This elevator could take days. Someone might be using it to move in or out of the building you know.”

“I’ll wait a little longer,” she said. “Was there something else?”

“Yeah,” I said. I paused for a moment. “Do you have a card? With your phone number on it? Just in case I think of something else.”

She dug in her pants pocket and handed me one.

“And how can we get in touch with you after office hours?” she asked me.

“I’m in the book.”

chapter twenty-seven

Suddenly I was very tired and realized that my whole body was trembling slightly from the aftershock of finding out what the police wanted. My psyche had steeled itself for a disaster - a personal shock - and when that didn’t happen, my body didn’t react and get back to normal as quickly.

Harold’s door was still closed as I went past and none of the legal support staff were in their area so I closeted myself in my office and lit a cigarette.

The red light was flashing on my phone and I knew I had to get back to work. I had accomplished little today and if things kept going the way they were, I wouldn’t feel too good about leaving at five. And I was leaving at five. Harold may have a short memory, but I didn’t.

I grabbed my notebook and dialled into my voice mail. THIRTEEN new messages, the computer voice intoned. Thirteen new messages in two hours. It certainly wasn’t a record for the most messages received in two hours but it was close. I guessed things had been busier than I thought.

I worked my way through the messages, making notes about who I had to call back. Harold had left me three, describing things he needed done. None of them mentioned Rick Cox or the papers from Cleve.

Two of the messages were from Danny and one was from Jay. I decided to call Danny first.

The phone rang a couple of times on the other end and when Danny answered he sounded out of breath.

“Hello.”

“Hi Danny. It’s Kate. How’re you doing? You sound out of breath.”

“I was upstairs. Cleaning out Mom’s room. Trying to sort through her things.”

God, that must be an awful job, I thought. It would tear my heart out. I hoped he wasn’t calling to ask me to help him so I quickly changed the subject.

“You left me a couple of messages. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that they’ve released her body and I’ve made the funeral arrangements. There’ll be visitation tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow evening and we’ll bury her on Wednesday morning. We’ll have a service in the chapel at the funeral home before we go to the cemetery. I’d like it if you could come by, Kate.”

“Oh, Danny. Of course. I’ll be there. Tomorrow afternoon and evening. Both. If you want. Anything. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m getting there,” he said. He did sound a lot better than he had on Friday night when I last talked to him. “We’re all getting there. Little Sarah is still pretty upset. She keeps asking if Grandma’s an angel now.”

My throat tightened up.

“Well, I’ll be there. Which funeral home, Danny?”

“The Hillson Memorial Home, on Clark. It’s near Exhibition Stadium.”

“I know the one. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Call me in the meantime if you want anything,” I said.

“Uh, Kate. One other thing. I went to the police this morning,” he said quietly.

“I know Danny. Why’d you do that?” I asked him softly.

“Because it didn’t seem right. The autopsy said she’d died from an allergic reaction to peanuts. And they ruled the death accidental. But the coroner told me she had very high levels of peanut oil in her system. It didn’t make any sense. First of all, we both know mom wouldn’t eat anything she suspected might have peanut oil in it. Secondly, if she couldn’t confirm the ingredients in something, she just didn’t eat it. You guys all knew about her allergy didn’t you? She trusted you. And look what happened.” He started to sob. “Someone did this to her. I just want to know why. This wasn’t accidental. I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll let the police decide that Danny. It had to have been an accident,” I tried to convince him. “Who would want to kill your mother? Think about it. If there was anything wrong here at the office she would have told me or you. She didn’t have anything to hide. Danny, I think this was just a horrible accident.”

“Did the police come and see you? I told them to talk to you.”

“Yes, a police officer came by a little while ago. She took away some food to have it tested. We’ll know better when they get the results if it was something she ate at the party.”

“It had to be something she ate at the party. Peanut allergies kick in right away. It’s not like food poisoning you know,” he said.

“I know. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I hung up after we said good-bye and put my head in my hands. This day was an emotional roller-coaster. I thought about leaving Harold a message that I was sick and going home but thought better of it. If Danny wanted me at the funeral home tomorrow afternoon, I’d only be in the office for the morning. And with the funeral on Wednesday morning, I’d be so behind by Wednesday afternoon, I’d never catch up.

I wondered if I should let anyone here at the office know that the police were now involved. They’d probably find out soon enough though. If Constable Lofaro had been waiting for any length of time in the reception, everyone would’ve known about it because tongues wag very quickly around here. Except for Harold there wasn’t one officer of the company I trusted to take the situation seriously.

Before I did anything else I called the office manager again. I got her voice mail and left her a message. I asked her to send a broadcast e-mail message to all employees letting them know about the funeral arrangements for Ev. I also asked her to send some flower arrangements to the funeral home.

I made a quick call to Vee to find out about the stock price and was shocked when she told me it was down two dollars so far for the day.

“That brings us close to seven dollars,” I said unnecessarily.

“I know. We’re getting close to the price the shares were at four years ago when Oakes joined us. If the company lasts and we keep our jobs, I hope the shareholders fry his ass at the next shareholders’ meeting,” she said vehemently.

“Gee, Vanessa. Don’t beat around the bush. Just come out with it and let us know how you really feel,” I joked. She laughed reluctantly.

I returned some more calls and actually got some work done. Harold had asked me in one of his messages to call all of the out-of-town directors to ask them where to send their packages of materials for the board meeting on Thursday. Is the man in his right mind? If the materials haven’t gone out by now, and past history was any indication, the board members wouldn’t receive any material until they were seated at the table and the Chairman called the meeting to order. It was Monday and there was no sign of the documents being ready in time to send out today. If we sent them Tuesday by overnight courier, the directors wouldn’t receive the packages until noon on Wednesday at the earliest, and by then, most of the out-of-town directors would be on their way to Toronto for the meeting on Thursday morning. This was a lame exercise we went through every time there was a meeting, and I was sick of playing the game.

Jackie could make the phone calls and take the heat from the directors’ secretaries. They got tired of playing the game as well and would usually get pretty snippy with me. Or, if they were feeling particularly benevolent that day, they’d put me straight through to Mr. Director himself who would proceed to chew me out for not getting the documents out on time. No way. I was tired of going through the motions and being made a fool of.

I dialled Jackie to find out if Harold’s door was open yet and she said she hadn’t seen him all day and that as far as she knew, the door hadn’t opened.

“So he still hasn’t received those documents I gave you this morning?” I asked her.

“Nope. And the courier package from Scapelli’s is still sitting here. Want me to bring them back in to you?”

“Please.” I wanted to get a look at Rick Cox’s severance package.

The courier package was a large envelope taped up very tightly. The front and back were stamped in red: “Confidential. To be opened by addressee only.” Harold Didrickson was the addressee so I opened the envelope. What the hell, I thought. Some secretaries have very strict orders about opening confidential material but I had never received any such orders from Harold. I believe he trusted me.

The documents inside the envelope were very interesting. The company was kicking in section 4(a) of Rick Cox’s employment agreement. The ‘termination without cause’ section. And termination without cause entitled Rick to three times his annual salary. I flipped to Schedule “A” of the document where they attached a copy of the actual employment agreement. Section 1(a) of the employment agreement stated that his annual salary was $550,000 a year. And that was a couple of years ago. If I remembered correctly from last year’s annual information form, Rick’s salary had gone up considerably.

I continued reading the main document. He was going to receive just over $2,000,000 in severance and was entitled to his exercisable stock options. I was too sick to do a quick calculation on what he’d make on those. Son of a bitch. I must get me fired one of these days. And then I remembered, I didn’t have an employment agreement, and, I’d be lucky if the company gave me two weeks notice. They could get rid of me for not putting my dirty coffee cup in the dishwasher.

Well, well, well. I’m sure the two million dollars would smooth Rick’s transition. Make him feel a little better about getting fired for fucking the company. Jay wouldn’t be getting anything.

I picked up the documents from Scapelli’s and all the other stuff for Harold that had accumulated over the day. I got the keys to his office from my desk drawer. I had decided to barge in if the door was locked.

Which it was. I knocked and when I didn’t get any answer, I went in. Harold was lying on the sofa in his office with one arm over his eyes and I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping.

“Harold,” I said softly.

“I asked you not to disturb me,” he said.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were in or not,” I lied. “I went out for lunch earlier on and I didn’t know if you had gone out.” I dropped the documents in his basket.

“What part of do not disturb don’t you understand?” he asked me snidely. What a prick.

“The disturb part. I don’t understand disturb, Harold,” I retorted. “Disturb means to bother. I’m not bothering you. I’m doing my job. And if you’re finished your little nap, maybe you should do yours.” I looked at my watch. It was four-thirty. That meant it was six o’clock in Newfoundland. Good enough for me. Harold continued to lie on the sofa with his forearm covering his eyes.

“And,” I continued. “It’s quitting time. I’ll see you tomorrow for the morning. I’ll be out tomorrow afternoon and Wednesday morning. If anyone’s focused on the board materials by tomorrow morning, I’d be glad to get working on them. If not, it’ll have to wait until Wednesday afternoon. If I come back from Evelyn’s funeral. The family may need me.”

“I expect you to be here on Wednesday after the funeral. There’ll be a lot of things to get ready for the board meeting. We need you to do up a stock option report in the morning. I understand Jay’s no longer with us and you’ll have to do it.” He said all of this in a monotone.

I walked over to where he was lying and looked down at him. He removed his arm from over his eyes and looked up at me. He looked like shit. But didn’t we all these days.

“In mourning for Rick?” I asked him. I knew I was treading on thin ice here and didn’t care. He’d shown absolutely no emotion when Ev died and I had no sympathy for him.

He sat up and put his elbows on his knees and looked up at me.

“Kate. You’re a smart girl. Think about the effect Rick’s departure is going to have on me. Ergo, the effect it’s going to have on you. Have a little sympathy here.”

A hot flash coursed through my veins and I tried, I really tried, to keep my temper in check.

“Sympathy?” I said quietly through clenched teeth. “Sympathy? You want to know where to find sympathy? It’s in the dictionary. Look it up. It’s between shit and syphilis.”

I slammed the door behind me on my way out.

chapter twenty-eight

I made one last call before leaving for the day.

“Hi. It’s Kate,” I said.

“Well I know that,” Jay said. “How’s your day been?” He sounded awfully chipper for someone who’d lost his job. Well, he probably had every right to feel chipper. He was out of this hell-hole. I guess I’d feel chipper too if I didn’t have to come back in the morning.

“My day’s been so-so. Actually, pretty rotten. But that’s boring and I’m sure you don’t want to hear anything about it,” I said. “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad, all in all. Why don’t I tell you all about it over dinner tonight?” he asked.

“Dinner? I guess I have to eat. And I couldn’t think of anyone nicer to eat with. Where should we meet?”

“How about somewhere close to home? Any ideas?”

“Yeah. I feel like Italian. How about Tony’s? We could meet about six-thirty.”

“I thought Tony’s was just take-out,” Jay said.

“He’s got a few tables. And he’s got other things besides pizza. You’ll like it.”

“Okay. Fine by me. See you there about six-thirty,” he signed off.

I turned off my computer and left my desk in its usual mess. I decided to leave by the reception area, just to let everyone know I was leaving early. No sneaking out the back door this time. I asked myself if I was being petty and bitchy and decided I wasn’t. If everyone else can act like babies, I could act like a toddler.

Traffic was lighter than normal and I realized it had been a long time since I was out of the office at ten to five. I arrived home in thirty minutes and took a leisurely shower. I dressed in jeans and a loose blouse. Because this was almost like a date, I put on clean, white sweat socks. I arrived at Tony’s fifteen minutes early.

“To be punctual, is to be princely,” my father used to lecture. I had tried over the years to be late for things and just couldn’t do it. If I was five minutes early, I got palpitations of the heart and considered myself late. Fifteen minutes early was just right by my father’s standards. I could drive around the block a few times but I saw a good parking spot in front of the Pizzeria and grabbed it.

Alfredo was on the phone behind the counter when I walked in. I glanced to the left and saw that none of the six tables were occupied.

“Are Monday’s always this slow?” I asked him when he hung up.

“No darling. I just had a feeling you were coming in so I cleared the place. We did the same for the Pope you know, the last time he was in Toronto.” He came around the front of the counter with a menu in his hand and gave me a bear hug.

“Are you taking out or eating in?” he asked me.

“Eating in. With someone. He’s meeting me here in a few minutes.” I headed over to my favourite table at the back, beside the window. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten here with someone. Usually, I eat alone and read the newspaper.

“With someone,” Alfredo mimicked me as he followed me. “And it’s a him. Ooh. Someone special Kathleen?”

I sat down and hooked my purse over the back of the chair.

“Yes, Alfredo. It’s a him. And is he someone special? None of your business,” I teased. “Now can I please have a drink?” We both laughed.

“Right away.” He was singing the Katie song as he made his way back to the counter.

I stared out the window and watched the traffic as I waited for Jay. I knew I had really pushed Didrickson to the limit today. Twice. I had never talked back to him like that. Most times I was my usual sarcastic self and most times I got away with it because I knew when it was appropriate. And I didn’t think my sarcasm had any menace to it. It was mostly teasing.

But today he had made me angry twice. And both times I let him have it back. My parents had brought me up to respect authority and I know now that my mother regrets teaching us that. “Blind respect for authority will get you nothing but trouble,” my mother says now. “Let them earn your respect first.” My father on the other hand still believes in blind obedience. That’s what made him a first class, infantry soldier.

I still have trouble defining the line between blind respect and earned respect. But I had learned over the last couple of years that just because someone is in a position of authority, doesn’t mean they deserve to be in that position.

Usually, I’m a good soldier. And I admit that I’m a soldier. I do what’s asked of me to the best of my abilities. But even a good soldier gets tired of the assholes.

I noticed Jay’s car drive by and I yelled at Alfredo for my drink.

“Come on. The service in this place is going downhill. All I asked for was a measly soda water. Did you have to go to the restaurant down the street to get it?”

“Hang on. Hang on,” he yelled back. He was bending down behind the counter and he was triumphant when he stood back up. “Found it!”

He paraded to my table with a soda water in one hand and a round, red glass ball with a candle inside. He placed the soda in front of me and fumbled in his pants pockets for some matches to light the candle which he put in the middle of the table.

“Please Alfredo. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. And you better not make a fuss when he comes in or you’ll lose your best customer. Please,” I begged him. I hated being the center of attention.

“Sure, sure. Don’t you worry. We’ll make this a very,” he strung out the word verrrrry, “romantic dinner.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a romantic dinner. If I wanted romantic, I’d go somewhere else. Somewhere nice,” I teased. “I want food. Good food. Come on Alfredo. Don’t embarrass me,” I pleaded.

“Ah, Cara Mia,” he crooned.

“Cut the phoney Italian shit, Alfredo. Now go away. Get,” I ordered him. We were both laughing so I didn’t notice Jay standing behind Alfredo.

I leaned sideways and smiled at Jay when we both realized he was there. He was wearing jeans and a faded Levi jean jacket with a white T-shirt underneath. Very sexy. He looked good enough to eat. “Come on Jay. Take a seat. Let me introduce you to my great-grandfather Alfredo. Alfredo, this is Jay Harmon.” They shook hands and Jay sat down. Alfredo continued to hover.

“Jay, Alfredo has decided to make my life miserable this evening. Please order something to drink so he’ll go away,” I told him. I smiled up at Alfredo very sweetly.

“I’ll have a beer. Labatt’s Blue,” Jay ordered.

“Right away, sir. And I’m not related to her,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his counter.

“So,” Jay started. “Tell me about your day. How were things at the office?”

“You don’t want to know how things were. Things were shitty.”

Alfredo arrived with Jay’s beer and hovered.

“Can we wait a little while before we order?” I asked him. “I know there’s a line-up out the door and down the street, but please sir, we’ll tip big.”

“All right, already. D’you want another soda water?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks. I’ll yell when we’re ready to order, okay?”

I looked over at Jay and he was smiling.

“You don’t spare anyone do you? But that’s one thing I adore about you Kate. You treat everyone the same.”

I smiled back at him and thought about yesterday afternoon at his apartment. I leered at him and did my best Groucho Marx imitation. “Well not exactly the same, if you know what I mean.”

“So, please. Tell me what happened today,” Jay insisted.

“Well, I left the office at ten to five. Traffic was light coming home. I made it in thirty minutes. I went for a long walk at lunch down to the lake.” Jay’s eyebrows went up.

“A long walk? I’m impressed. Are you turning over a new leaf?” he teased me.

“No. For a moment I thought I was. But I took a cab back to the office,” I replied.

“That’s all very nice. But what happened when you got in this morning?”

“I had coffee with Vee.”

“Are you avoiding the subject Kathleen? I just asked what happened today at the office.”

“And I don’t especially want to talk about it right now.”

Jay took a long drink of his beer which Alfredo had poured into a tall pilsner glass.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about my day. I got up. I went for a run, not a walk. I had coffee by myself. I didn’t get caught in traffic. There. That was my day,” he laughed. “Now tell me about yours. And stop being cute. I’m not going to drag it out of you.”

So I told him. About being late and getting chewed out by Didrickson. About the press release going out before the market opened. About the continuing slide of the share price. About my long walk at lunch. About meeting Constable Lofaro. And the smelly garbage. About my talk with Danny. I left out the part about my conversation with Cleve and Rick Cox’s severance package. I didn’t want to rub dirt into his wounds.

I was fairly long-winded and by the time I finished my story, two more couples had come in for dinner and had already been served their pizzas.

“So, that’s it in a nutshell,” I said. “Hey waiter,” I yelled at Alfredo. “Can we get some service over here?” Alfredo shook his fist at me from behind the counter.

Jay picked up the menu and glanced at it. “I’ve only had pizza from here. What else is good?”

“Everything. I’m having pizza. It’s my favourite. I could eat it morning, noon and night. Now tell me about your day.”

“Like I said, Kate. I ran, I drank coffee and I didn’t get stuck in traffic. I played a little on the Internet.”

Alfredo took our orders and returned with more drinks.

“The Internet? You’re not turning into a geek on me are you?”

“No,” he answered. “You’re only a geek if you surf the net all day and all night. I have other plans for tonight.”

He grinned and continued. “I found some interesting things on the net. I was looking up information on the companies we’ve acquired over the last few months.”

“Yeah? What would the Internet have on those companies that we wouldn’t know already? We cover off almost everything on due diligence. I even know the size of most of the major shareholders’ boxer shorts by the time we’re finished with them,” I said.

“Well, because most of the companies we acquired were American, and publicly traded, their public information is filed on EDGAR through the Securities & Exchange Commission. All of their old 10-K’s, prospectuses and stuff like that are on the web. And as you know, those documents contain facts about the company, their officers and shareholders. And their products. You just have to take the information a couple of steps further and it’s magic. Amazing the stuff you can dig up.”

This was interesting.

“So what amazing stuff did you come up with? Come on. Give.”

“Nope. I’m still researching a few things. I could only get so far on the net and ended up at the library in the reference stacks. Bear with me though. If things lead where I think they’re going, we could be in for a very interesting ride.”

“Bear with you? Whaddya mean? Come on Jay. You know I live for this shit. You can’t hold out on me,” I said. Jay was grinning like the Cheshire cat. I grinned back.

“Me?” he asked. “Hold out on you? Now why would I do that? You and I both know that I follow your example. I share all the information with you.” He looked a little more serious now and his tone suddenly changed. “Just like you do with me Kate.”

“Right Kate?” he asked me when I didn’t answer.

“Sorry. I thought it was rhetorical. Yeah, I share everything,” I said quietly. My bluff and blarney was disappearing. I peered at Jay in the candlelight to see how serious he was. He was serious, not angry, but I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

“Okay, buster. What didn’t I share with you?” I asked.

“Two million in severance? You can’t tell me you didn’t know that. And by the way, it’s not the two million. It’s the severance. The son of a bitch got fired. Fired. And the press release said he resigned. And he got severance?” Jay was angry now.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” I said defensively.

“I’m not mad at you about the severance. I just get extremely angry whenever I think about it. And I’m thinking about it right now and I’m angry.”

Alfredo chose that moment to arrive with our food. Timely, I thought. The man is very timely.

I dug into my pizza and after a few mouthfuls I put down my fork and asked Jay, “How did you find out about Rick’s severance? Will you share that with me?”

He finished chewing what was in his mouth. Good manners.

“Sure. I’ll share. Tom James told me. He told me everything.”

Why wasn’t I surprised?

chapter twenty-nine

“Tom James told you?” I repeated. I was incredulous. Tom was a senior officer of a public company and was bound by confidentiality. The severance arrangements for Rick Cox were confidential information. Tom shouldn’t be sharing that information with anyone, especially an ex-employee of the company. Granted, the information would eventually become public knowledge but eventually was a long time off.

Jay nodded.

“When did you talk to Tom?” I asked.

“I took your suggestion and called him today. I told him what had happened with Rick and asked him if he could do anything about it. He said he’d look into the situation.”

“I guess that’s not all you talked about,” I said.

“No. Tom told me what had happened with Rick. And he told me about the severance. Boy, the guy has loose lips. He told me that Oakes had been wanting to get rid of Rick for a long time. He said there was bad blood.”

I shook my head. Unbelievable. I wondered how much Tom told his barber.

“What did he mean when he said he’d look into the situation?” I asked Jay.

“He didn’t get specific. Tom said he’d call me back in a couple of days.”

“Don’t hold your breath. Besides, you don’t want to work at TechniGroup anyway.”

“Wrong Kate. That’s easy for you to say. You have a job. I don’t. You may not want to work at TechniGroup. I do. At least it pays the rent. Right now I have no job and no money coming in. And no references. How do I explain to a future employer why I left TechniGroup?”

“Lie to them,” I said laughing.

“Stop being so damn flip about everything. I personally don’t see any humour in the situation. It wasn’t so bad you know, working there. I was getting well-rounded experience. I was exposed to a lot of things. The salary wasn’t bad and I had some stock options. All in all, not a bad place. Just because you dislike it so much doesn’t mean everyone else does.” Jay was getting visibly angry again.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “What’re you going to do about a job?”

“I’m getting my resume together. I’ve called a couple of my friends from university. I’m putting the word out that I’m looking. But, the wheels turn slowly,” he said.

“I know. Look, if there’s anything I can do, let me know,” I offered. “I could at least type your resume. It’s one thing I do well.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that.”

Jay looked down at his plate of food which had quickly turned cold. He turned around and waved at Alfredo.

“Let’s go. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.” He pulled his wallet out of the hip pocket of his jeans.

Alfredo arrived at the table and looked down at us.

“Ready for some coffee?” he asked. He gathered up the plates.

“No,” said Jay. “Just the bill.”

Alfredo raised his eyebrows and glanced at me.

“Nothing personal Alfredo. The food was great. We’ve got to go,” I explained. “Do up the bill for us, please.”

I gathered up my things and headed for the counter to pay. Jay was right behind me and he snatched the bill from Alfredo’s outstretched hand. I looked at Jay beside me and said, “Let me pay.”

“No way, Monahan,” he said under his breath. He laid two twenties on the counter and took my elbow to steer me out the door.

“Thanks very much Alfredo,” he said over his shoulder.

Outside on the sidewalk he said to me, “Kate, when I ask you to dinner, I pay. Okay?”

“Yessir, Mr. Caveman,” I snapped. “Want to beat your chest now and drag me off by the hair?”

“What the hell is that all about? I asked you to dinner. I pay. If you ask me to dinner, you can pay. I resent the Mr. Caveman remark, Kathleen,” he said. “It was totally uncalled for.” He looked hurt.

Open mouth, insert foot, I thought.

“Sorry,” I apologized again. I had been doing that a lot tonight. Apologizing. It wasn’t often I was called upon to be sensitive and I probably needed a refresher course.

“You’re right,” I continued. “Totally uncalled for. Won’t happen again.” We were facing each other and I looked up at Jay with my best sexy smile.

“Can I make it up to you?” I offered. And I meant it. I admitted to myself that I liked where our relationship was going. And if I kept up the snide remarks there wouldn’t be a relationship.

“How?” Jay grinned at me.

“Coffee at my place,” I offered.

“How can I refuse? Should I drag you by the hair to your car or can you make it on your own?”

I drank too much coffee that night and it kept me awake. Jay and I had talked for a long time. I looked over Jay’s sleeping face to the clock radio on the other side of the bed. The red fluorescent numbers read three-twenty. Lovely. If I didn’t get to sleep soon I knew I’d be a basket case in the morning. I was wide awake now thinking about our conversation and some of the disturbing questions it raised.

I’d been sitting on the sofa and Jay was standing in front of the French doors looking at the park.

“Do you think Danny was right in going to the police?” I asked Jay.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Put yourself in his place Kate.” He turned around and came and sat down beside me.

“He’s grieving and angry. Anger is one of the offshoots of grief. He can’t believe his mother’s dead. But the logic isn’t there for me. Yes, Evelyn died at the office where everyone knew about her allergy. But it has to be an accident. Who in their right mind would want to kill her?” he asked.

“No one who kills is in their right mind. You know, I didn’t tell anyone at the office that the police had come about her death,” I told him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. If the police find anything, they’ll all find out soon enough.”

We sat quietly for a long time. Jay turned on the television and pushed the mute button. He flicked through the channels and I stared at the images on the screen. Jay settled on the Weather Channel and he put the remote control on the table in front of him. We watched the satellite pictures and I tried to read the announcer’s lips. Across the bottom of the screen were several digital clocks showing the local time in Halifax, Toronto, Winnipeg, Calgary and Vancouver. The clock showed nine-fifteen in Toronto and eight-fifteen in Winnipeg. The minutes ticked by.

When the clocks showed nine-nineteen in Toronto and eight-nineteen in Winnipeg I sat up straighter. eight-nineteen.

“Jay, what time did Evelyn die last Thursday?”

“Um, around eleven-thirty I think. Why?”

I ignored his question. “What time did we leave the office to go to the hospital?”

“I can’t remember. Around eight or eight thirty. Why?”

Eight-nineteen set off some bells in my head. I tried to remember the sequence of events that night.

I remembered the paramedics rushing Ev on to the elevator. I remembered trying to call Danny from the phone in my office. I remembered waiting for Jay in the lobby of the building. I remembered my frustration because he was taking so long. And then I remembered looking at my watch. It had said eight-twenty. Or it could have been eight-nineteen. I’m never that accurate when reading the time from my watch because it’s not digital.

Okay, I thought. I was waiting for Jay in the lobby of the building at eight-nineteen. Or eight-twenty. What was the significance of that? It was really bugging me and I couldn’t pin it down. I got up off the sofa and poured myself another coffee in the kitchen.

I leaned back against the counter in the kitchen and sipped my coffee and methodically went through the events of the last few days. Eight-nineteen had been significant in another discussion I had participated in, or listened to, sometime in the last few days. The light bulb finally went on in my head when I remembered it was during the discussion between Ray and Grace. Ray had been helping Grace read the user information from the report Ray had printed out. The system had shown that Rick Cox had logged on the system at eight-nineteen. I remembered now asking Grace to repeat the time to me. Something must have seemed wrong to me at that time as well.

But eight-nineteen was significant to me because I remember waiting for Jay in the lobby of the building at that time. And I remembered that it was five minutes or more before he showed up. And Jay had Rick’s password to the system. I felt sick when I realized it could have been Jay who signed on the system while I was waiting in the lobby. While Ev was dying. Maybe Rick’s protests of innocence weren’t so far off base. Had anyone seen Rick at the party, I wondered. If he wasn’t in the boardroom at the reception, he could have been logged on the system. The log report showed that whoever had logged on, had been at Evelyn’s terminal. In her office. While she was dying.

My mind protested this line of thinking. Rick Cox had been accused, tried and found guilty. I knew Jay. And I knew Jay would never have done what they accused Rick of. No way. He was too honest. Besides, I didn’t sleep with dishonest people. I couldn’t and wouldn’t believe that Jay would have anything to do with this whole mess.

I sensed Jay’s presence in the doorway and looked up guiltily.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said quietly. He was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his jeans pockets. “The Weather Channel was getting boring so I thought I’d join you. You look confused. What’re you thinking about?” he asked me.

“Nothing,” I lied. “Just thinking. About Ev. And the funeral. I have to go to the visitation tomorrow afternoon. I’ve never done this before, you know. I wonder what it’ll be like.”

“Not pleasant,” Jay said. “Funeral’s never are. I’ll go with you. We can find out together.”

Jay came over to where I was leaning against the counter and put his arms around me. I hugged him back very tightly. I felt guilty about putting Jay at the scene of the crime, so to speak. But the dirty deed had been done at eight-nineteen and Jay had had the opportunity.

“I have to ask you a question,” I said into his chest.

“Shoot,” he said back.

I took Jay’s hand and led him back to the living room.

“Sit down,” I said.

He sat on the sofa and looked up at me. “It’s too early for a marriage proposal Kathleen,” he said. “And besides, I wanted to be the first to ask.”

“Don’t joke about that Jay,” I said. “And this wasn’t going to be a marriage proposal.” I sat down beside him.

“Let me take you back through a sequence of events as I remember them,” I continued. I looked down at my hands and said, “Last Thursday night, after the paramedics disappeared on the elevator with Ev, I went back to my office to try and call Danny. When I couldn’t reach him I left. I went to the lobby of the building and waited for you. It seemed like forever before you came down in the elevator. I remember looking at my watch and deciding that if you didn’t show up soon, I was leaving without you.” I looked at Jay. “You said you were just going to get your jacket. What took you so long?”

Jay looked back at me. “I can’t remember. I went back to my office and got my jacket. I met you in the lobby. That’s all, I think.”

I stared at him and measured his words. There was no hedging. He sounded honest.

“Then what took so long?”

“I don’t remember Kate. What’s this all about anyway? Why am I getting the third degree?”

“Because. I know some things that’re bothering me. And I’m trying to figure something out.”

“Well maybe I can help figure it out if you tell me what you know,” he offered.

I lit a cigarette and dragged deeply. I felt the smoke seer my lungs. I have to quit this filthy habit, I thought. I took another drag.

“Okay. I know some things that I’m not supposed to know. I hear things. I’m privy to confidential information. Sometimes, I’m amazed at how much I know. But then I remember that people speak in front of me and forget that I’m there. It’s like I’m invisible. Because I’m a lowly support person, they don’t think I can understand what they’re talking about. So they talk around me and ignore me. You understand?” I asked him.

“Yeah. I understand. Can you be a little more specific?”

“I’m getting there. The other thing I wanted to say is that the confidential stuff I hear, has to stay confidential. Sure, I talk about it with Vanessa, but she’s bound by the same code I am. We keep our jobs because we’re discrete. And we’re expected to keep things that we hear, confidential.”

“Kate, I understand confidentiality. And you should know that people talk in front of you not because they think you don’t understand. It’s because they trust you.”

“Well, I’m about to break that trust. I know we have a relationship. Or at least I hope it becomes a relationship. I keep forgetting it’s only been a couple of days.” I smiled at Jay.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t share any confidential information with you. Especially since you’re an ex-employee of the company,” I said quietly. I wasn’t about to put my foot in my mouth again and rub it in because he didn’t have a job. I was consciously practicing sensitivity here. “Even if you were still working at the company,” I continued quickly, “I wouldn’t be in a position to share this stuff with you.”

“I understand all that Kate. So what’s the big deal? Did you discover the secret to the atomic bomb in Harold’s out-basket?”

We both laughed.

“No. Nothing quite so serious. Did I tell you what Grace and I were doing at the office on Saturday?” He shook his head.

“We were checking the stock option records. My records against Ev’s. And she had Ray print-off a report that shows when everyone uses the computer system. The report shows every time someone logs on, what terminal they’re using, what part of the system they log on to, stuff like that. Did you know they had those sorts of records?” I asked him.

“Sure. I knew. I learned a lot about the internal system when I was working in with some technical guys on one of my rotations.”

“Well, anyway, Ray’s report shows that Rick Cox logged on to Ev’s terminal at eight-nineteen on Thursday night. He logged into the stock option system and was on the computer for three or four minutes. That’s the confidential information I shouldn’t be sharing with you.”

“Rick told me that they had a report showing he logged on. So where do I come in to this?”

“I remember waiting for you in the lobby. You said you were going to get your jacket but it was taking so long. I looked at my watch and it said eight-twenty or something. I waited another five minutes.”

Jay thought for a moment. “So, you’re thinking that because I was taking so long it could’ve been me?”

“Admit it Jay, if anyone knew to ask me the right questions, I could theoretically put you at the scene of the crime. You knew Rick’s password. So you could’ve logged on to Ev’s terminal and made those changes. Help me out here. What took you so long?”

“Admit it?” he demanded. “Who the hell are you? The Gestapo? What the fuck is this Kathleen?” Jay stood up from the sofa and looked around for his jacket. He was going to leave. I’d done it again. He stormed down the hallway towards the door.

“Jay. Please.” I got off the sofa and hurried after him. I grabbed his arm.

“Jay. Come on. Just listen to me. I’m not accusing you of anything,” I said to his back. “Please.” I tugged on his arm and he turned around.

“I have all this information, in bits and pieces. So I put some of the pieces together. I wasn’t going to say anything but it was bugging me. I’m not accusing you,” I repeated. “So work with me here. Let’s figure it out. What if someone did lace Ev’s food with something? What if the police start asking questions? Won’t they find out about Rick getting fired and start putting two and two together? There’s definitely a link here with the stock options. Please, Jay. Don’t make me apologize again tonight. I seem to be starting off every sentence with you saying, I’m sorry. I am. But look at it from my point of view. Think. What took you so long?”

Jay took a deep breath before he answered. “I was pulling myself together. I left you and went to my office. I closed the door and put on my coat. And I sat down for a while. I was in shock. It’s not every day I have to perform CPR on a friend.”

I took a step towards him and put my arms around his waist. He hugged me.

“I was so scared,” he said.

“And you’re too macho to admit it?” I asked him.

“No. I’m not too macho. I learned how to cry from my sisters. There’s no shame in it. I needed to be strong for you. I needed you to lean on me.”

“I’m leaning on you now Jay. And not just figuratively,” I said into his chest. “So why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“Thursday night was the first time I was going to be allowed to do something for you. You had actually asked me for help. You wanted me to take you to the hospital. Call it macho. Call it what you want. I was going to look after you. I had to pull myself together.”

I stood back and looked at him.

“You did help me Jay. Thank you.” I held out my hand to him. “Don’t leave. Especially don’t leave mad.”

He took my hand and looked hard into my eyes.

“Kathleen Monahan, I helped you because I love you.”

My throat tightened. “It’s too early to say that Jay.”

“Not for me it isn’t. I’ve loved you forever Kate.” And he kissed me. Just like in one of my favourite Harlequin romance novels.

chapter thirty

I made sure Harold Didrickson wouldn’t have any excuse to chew me out for being late on Tuesday morning. I arrived at the office at seven-fifteen. I hadn’t slept well and had tossed and turned for what seemed like forever. I tried waking Jay with a kiss just before six but he just smiled in his sleep and turned over. I left him sleeping and dragged myself out of bed.

I put on a black Chanel-style, light wool suit with white piping on the collar and cuffs of the jacket. It was a little heavy for the warm spring we were having but it was the most appropriate outfit I had for a funeral home. I planned on going straight to Hillson’s from the office for the visitation.

I was powering up my computer and having my first cup of coffee of the day when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

“Yeah,” I shouted. “Come in.”

The door opened at few inches and Harold’s face appeared. I looked at my watch.

“You’re in awfully early Harold. It’s only seven-thirty. Come in.”

Harold came in and shut the door behind him. He sat down in the guest chair across from me.

“A couple of things Kate,” he started. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and looked at him.

“First of all. About yesterday. Let’s forget about it okay?” He looked at me expectantly. I figured this was as close to an apology as I was going to get. It must have been difficult for him to say that much. I thought about letting him stew for a while longer and then remembered that I’d said some pretty nasty things to him too.

“It’s forgotten Harold.” I felt simply magnanimous. Like the governor granting a pardon at the last minute. “Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded. And looked relieved. Jesus, did he think I was going to bite him, I wondered. I had heard people say that they were scared of me and I always laughed it off. I doubted that Harold could be scared of me. He was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

“That’s good. Anyway, I know you’ll be out of the office this afternoon and again tomorrow for Evelyn’s funeral. And something pretty important has come up that I need your help on.”

“No problem. Aren’t you going to Ev’s funeral?” I asked him.

“Of course I am. But I’ll be here this afternoon. I’ll probably go to the visitation this evening.” He looked a little offended that I would suggest he wouldn’t go to her funeral.

He continued. “We’ve got a lot to do before Thursday.”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I left the board agendas and draft materials in your basket yesterday. If you can look at those this morning, I can get them out to Oakes for comments.”

“The agenda’s totally changed,” he told me. “If Oakes can make up his mind about what’s to go on it, we’ll do something about it. In the meantime, we’ve got other things on the burner. Do you have a copy of the master list we use for due diligence when we’re acquiring a company?”

I dug the list out of a file in the cabinet behind my desk and passed it to him. Harold went down the list and left check marks in the left margin beside several items. He finished and handed the list back to me.

“Start getting these things together. You do the work. You do the photocopying. How long will this take you?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I looked at the list and saw that he had checked off about seven or eight different items.

The list was a generic one that we would give to a company, or their lawyers, when we were taking a serious look into acquiring that company. Due diligence materials we called them. Documents of their’s that we wanted to see and review. Minutes of meetings, historical financial statements, business plans, press releases, policies and procedures. Materials they would provide to us for our people to look over before making big decisions like whether or not to buy their company.

“You want me to get these things together for our company?” I asked him. Harold nodded.

“This is a change. Are we on the other side now?”

“Yes. Someone is looking at us. And I must emphasize Kate, that this is extremely sensitive and confidential. I understand their lawyers will be contacting us today and I know they’ll want at least this material. I don’t know what else. This’ll at least get us started.”

“Okay. I’ll get right at it. How far back should I go?”

“Last five years. How long will it take you?” he asked.

“Well, most of the financial information will be easy. I’ll just get the annual reports. And I’ve got a start if I use the materials we’d pulled together three years ago when the Germans were snooping around.”

We had gone through a very thorough, I called it painful, due diligence process then. I had spent many long nights getting the material together and indexed for the German’s lawyers. I still had all the documents in binders in one of my filing cabinet drawers. It had remained good reference material.

“I’ve got at least two years of the last five in those materials. I’ll get working on the past three years,” I continued. “I should have everything by noon. Is that okay?”

Harold stood up to leave. “Noon is great. What time are you leaving?”

“Probably around two. Danny, Ev’s son, asked me to be there for the whole afternoon.”

“You leave when you have to.” He shut the door behind him when he left.

I lit a cigarette and chewed on the information Harold had just shared with me. I had wanted to ask him who was looking at us but knew he wouldn’t have told me. I’d find out soon enough on my own.

I wanted to call Vanessa and get the dirt but I knew she wouldn’t be in for at least another ten minutes so I dug out the binders of due diligence materials from three years ago and started getting the material for Harold together. It was going to be another interesting day.

It was ten after two when I arrived at the funeral home and parked my car in the large lot behind the building. I saw Jay standing beside his car when I pulled in and I was glad to see him there. He had agreed to meet me and I had planned on hiding in my car if he wasn’t there when I arrived. I knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant and I didn’t want to go in alone. Jay was dressed in a dark, navy suit and was wearing sunglasses. He reminded me of an FBI agent.

The last time I’d been in a funeral home was when the original founder of our company had died, and that time I paid my respects to his wife and made a beeline for the door. The wife and his sons had been clinging to each other, sobbing. It had broken my heart and I didn’t know what to say in the situation. Funerals don’t usually call for smart remarks and jokes and that was the only way I knew how to handle myself.

Jay opened my door for me and I got out. I brushed the cigarette ashes off the front of my jacket and slung my purse over my shoulder.

“Hi,” I said. “Did I keep you waiting long?” We’d agreed to meet at two.

“No. Just a few minutes. No problem.” He put his arm around my shoulder and we walked around to the front of the building. It was built in the style of a southern plantation home, with white brick and large stone columns across the front of the building. We walked up the steps onto the veranda and Jay opened the large front door.

Inside it was very quiet and I could hear Muzak playing softly in the background. There was an easel set up at the left of the lobby with a listing of the deceased’s names. I looked for Evelyn’s name and saw that she was resting in the Evergreen room. I held Jay’s hand tightly and we wandered down the main hallway, glancing at the brass plaques beside the door of each room. We passed the Whispering Pines and the Grand Oak rooms before we came to the Evergreen room.

We stood outside the room for a moment before entering and I looked in. I could see the coffin set up at the end of the room on the left, and I could see Danny and his twin brother, Jonathan, standing together at the foot of the coffin. At the other end of the room were several wing-back chairs and coffee tables, and I saw Evelyn’s daughter sitting in one of the chairs with her daughter on her lap. There were other people standing around in small groups. It was very quiet.

I was perspiring and could feel a small rivulet of sweat running down my back between my shoulder blades. My mouth was dry and the blood pounding in my temples was giving me a headache. I can’t do this, I said to myself. My hand was wet in Jay’s and he pulled me through the door. I followed reluctantly.

The next five minutes were ones I’d just as soon forget. Jay led me over to Danny and his brother and I can’t remember what we said. Actually, I can’t remember if we said anything. We just sobbed.

Danny was a very large man and I tried to hold him the best I could. It was hard but I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I shook Jonathan’s hand and nodded my head. I kept nodding my head because I didn’t know what to say. Sorry just didn’t seem enough in the situation.

I found my way over to where Elaine, Evelyn’s daughter was sitting and I started crying again when I looked at little Sarah sitting on her lap. Little Sarah was ten now, but Ev had always called her Little Sarah.

Elaine and Sarah stood up when I approached and Sarah gave me a hug. She was almost as tall as I was.

Sarah said to me, “You shouldn’t be crying so much Kate. Grandma said you were the toughest person she knew. So don’t cry. She’s an angel now and she can see you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back through my tears. I gave Elaine a hug and made small talk for a few minutes before excusing myself.

Outside on the veranda I lit a cigarette and breathed in and out. In and out, trying to calm myself. I looked at my watch and saw that it was only two-thirty and wondered how I was going to make it through another hour and a half. I felt emotionally spent. I had lost a very good friend, but Danny, Jonathan and Elaine had lost their mother. I ground out my cigarette and was going back in when I saw Gina Lofaro walking up the steps of the veranda. She looked different and I realized it was because she wasn’t in uniform. There was an older man with her.

“Constable Lofaro,” I said.

“Ms. Monahan. Kate. Hello,” she said. “This is Detective John Leech. John, this is Kate Monahan.”

I guessed that he was about fifty and it showed on his face. The age lines were deeply etched in his face and were especially noticeable beside his mouth. He had steel gray hair cut in a brush cut. He held out his hand and we shook.

“Pleased to meet you Miss Monahan.”

I looked at Gina and wanted to ask why they were here but didn’t know if that would be rude.

She answered my unasked question. “We’re here to pay our respects. And talk to Mr. Morris about the lab findings.”

“Um,” I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure if this is a good time to be talking to Danny. It’s pretty emotional in there.”

Detective Leech nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. We know. We’ll try and pick a good moment.” He took Constable Lofaro by the elbow and led her to the front doors.

“Miss Lofaro,” I called after them. Gina turned around and looked at me. “You got a minute?”

“You go ahead, John,” she said to the detective. “I’ll be just a minute.”

“I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ve never met the family.” He stood by the door and Gina came over to me.

“Did they find anything in the lab analysis of the food?” I asked her. “I don’t know if you can tell me, but I need to know. Evelyn was my best friend. You understand, don’t you?”

“Actually, Ms. Monahan, nothing’s official yet,” she said.

“Kate. Please call me Kate,” I said.

“Kate. And unofficially, yes, we did find something,” she reluctantly told me.

My stomach sank. So there had been something in one of the dishes. Someone had made a mistake and Evelyn was lying in there. Dead. Someone had made a stupid mistake and Evelyn had paid for it. I wanted to wring someone’s neck.

“What did they find?” I asked her. “Which dish was it?”

“Actually,” Officer Lofaro said. “It wasn’t just one dish of food. It was everything. Everything was laced with peanut oil. We found it in almost everything.”

I was shocked. I couldn’t digest this information.

“Everything?” I repeated in a whisper.

“Yes,” she said. “And please. Keep this to yourself. There’s going to be an investigation. Detective Leech is from Homicide.” She turned around and joined Leech at the door.

Homicide. Evelyn had been murdered.

chapter thirty-one

Nothing had changed when I walked back into the Evergreen room. Everyone was talking quietly. Sarah was still sitting on her mother’s lap. Danny and Jonathan were still standing shoulder to shoulder talking to another relative. Evelyn was still in the closed coffin. Everything appeared the same but I knew it was different now. Evelyn had been murdered. At least that’s what the police thought. Danny must have thought so too and that’s why he went to the police.

I looked around for the police officers and saw them standing near the head of the coffin waiting to speak to Danny and Jonathan. My headache was full blown now and it felt like my head was about to explode. The Detective and Constable Lofaro approached Danny and his brother.

Jay came up beside me and said quietly, “Where did you disappear to?”

“I went out for a cigarette,” I said. I looked at him, blinked hard a few times, and tried to smile, but my face hurt. My temples were pounding now and my back was cold where the sweat had dried. I thought my ears were ringing but realized it was the dull Muzak in the background.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked me.

I nodded weakly and thought I was going to throw up. Signs of a major migraine coming on.

“Can you take me home?” I whispered. I knew from experience that if I didn’t lie down soon, in a dark room, I’d embarrass everyone around me when I threw up.

“Sure,” Jay said. “Just let me tell Ev’s family that you’re not feeling well and we’re leaving.”

I waited outside and when Jay came out he put his arm around my shoulder. I shrugged him off because I couldn’t stand anything touching me when I felt this way.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll explain later.” I kept my head level and hurried down the walkway to the parking lot. Every step pounded up through my legs to my head as I walked. Definitely a migraine. My body became incredibly sensitive to everything when I felt like this.

I gingerly sat in the passenger seat of Jay’s car and gently laid my head back on the headrest. Jay got in the other side and started the car. Before he put the car in gear he reached around me to do up my seatbelt.

“Are you sick Kathleen?” he asked me.

I nodded and a sharp pain shot up the back of my neck to the top of my head. I gasped with pain.

I closed my eyes and asked Jay if I could borrow his sunglasses. The light was seeping through my closed eyelids.

“Just take me home. It’s just a migraine. I have to lie down.”

I felt every start and stop on the way home and I thanked the lord that Jay had a decent car with good shocks.

When we finally arrived at my apartment, Jay helped me undress all the while asking me what he could do for me but I couldn’t answer. I knew if I opened my mouth it wouldn’t be pretty. The pillows felt good under my head and the cotton sheets were cool under me. I kicked off the duvet because I couldn’t stand the weight of it on my body but then I started to shiver. Jay disappeared and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol.

I couldn’t shake my head no, so I whispered, “Tylenol Three’s. In the medicine cabinet. Prescription.” I didn’t get many migraines, usually a couple of times a year, and about two years ago I’d gone to the doctor who’d prescribed the stronger painkillers. I didn’t like taking them because they upset my stomach but they usually did the trick with the pain in my head.

I took two and closed my eyes. It was dark outside when I woke up and discovered Jay sitting in my mother’s old rocking chair beside the bed. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was eight-thirty.

To test the pain level, I opened and closed my eyes a few times. My head was still sensitive but the Tylenol 3’s had done their work.

“Hey,” I croaked out. “You the night nurse?” I smiled at him.

He smiled back at me. “Yup. I’ve got the midnight shift. At your service. How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Bless his pointed little head. He was genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be fine. It was just a migraine. Lie down beside me?” I asked him. He complied and gathered me in his arms. He stroked my hair and put his hand on my forehead.

“No temperature. You’ll be fine,” he proclaimed.

“Thank you Nurse Ratchet.”

“Do you get migraines often?”

“Couple of times a year,” I told him. “Brought on by stress. The funeral home was a little much for me today.” I paused. “The police were there, you know.”

“I know. I saw them on the six o’clock news. Harold called. And so did Vanessa. This has been a busy place.”

“You saw who on the six o’clock news?” I asked him.

“The Detective who was at the funeral home. I saw him there but didn’t know who he was until I saw him on the news.”

“Then you know?” I asked. “That Evelyn was murdered?”

“Yeah. They said on the news they were investigating the death of Evelyn Morris as a possible homicide. They interviewed Danny. How did you find out?”

“Constable Lofaro told me they were investigating it as a homicide. All of the food at the reception the other night was laced with peanut oil. Everything.” I told him.

“Jesus,” Jay whispered. “Then it definitely was no accident. Who the hell would do something like that?”

“Why did Harold and Vanessa call?” I changed the subject.

“Vanessa called because she didn’t see you at Hillson’s. I told her you were in bed with a migraine. She was surprised that I answered the phone and I told her I had driven you home. Harold on the other hand, didn’t ask why I was answering your phone.”

“Harold wouldn’t ask if the Queen of England answered my phone. He never asks personal questions. What did he want?”

“Wanted to know what time you’d be in the office tomorrow after the funeral. He asked if I’d tell you to check your voice mail. He’d leave you a message.”

“Fuck voice mail. I don’t check it after hours,” I declared.

“Are you going to tell Vanessa about us?” Jay asked me.

“Of course. I want to tell everyone and I’d love to get up on the top of the CN Tower and broadcast it to the world.”

“Broadcast it to the world? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m an outcast at TechniGroup right now.”

“I know it’s only been a couple of days, but this feels right Jay. For me anyway.”

“And you know how I feel. I told you last night. I love you.” He said that so easily. I wanted to say it back but the last time I responded quickly to someone when they told me they loved me, I ended up married to him.

So I hedged a little bit and told him, “I feel the same.”

The news that Evelyn’s death was being investigated as a homicide was a big item on the ten o’clock news.

A reporter was interviewing Danny in front of his home. He looked scared and sounded mad.

“I was convinced it was no accident,” he was saying to the reporter. “I had to go to the police and beg them to get involved.” The reporter removed the microphone from in front of Danny’s face and looked straight at the camera. Danny’s image faded away.

“This news comes quickly on the heels of a press release issued by TechniGroup earlier in the week which detailed the resignation of Richard Cox, the company’s chief financial officer,” the reporter told Toronto. “Mr. Morris informs us,” she continued, “that Mr. Cox was his mother’s boss.” She finished her story with a brief description of the company’s business.

Great. I couldn’t wait to see what the stock opened at in the morning.

We were sitting in the dark and I was sipping a very hot Cup of Soup. One of the many gourmet delights I kept hidden in my kitchen cupboard.

I asked Jay if he had heard what the stock had closed at today.

“No change,” he said.

“Well, that’s comforting for now. Tomorrow’ll be interesting. With that reporter reminding everyone about Rick Cox and now the news about the police getting involved, it’ll be like October 1987 all over again.” I thought about the possibility of Oakes jumping out of an office window and remembered that they were all sealed tight. “I wonder how much of a hit the stock’ll take,” I said.

“As if I care,” I answered myself. “If one of those sons of bitches is responsible, I hope the stock goes to a negative. Can that happen?” I wondered out loud.

Jay laughed. “Not that I know of,” he said.

“Why’s Didrickson so hot about what time you’ll be in tomorrow?” Jay asked after he muted the sound on the television.

I thought about the news that Harold had told me about the possible buy-out. I was sworn to secrecy and wasn’t supposed the share the information with anyone. I looked over at Jay and he was staring at me, waiting for an answer.

“Confidentially? What I tell you goes no further?”

Jay nodded.

“Pinkie swear?” I asked him. He held out his baby finger and linked it with mine. This was an old ritual all the neighbourhood kids had. It was a stronger promise than swearing in blood.

“We’re being looked at. Someone out there is interested in buying TechniGroup. Didrickson’s got me getting material together for due diligence. I imagine he’s heard from the other side now on what documents and material they’re going to want to look at. He needs me there to be his personal photocopy slave.”

“Interesting,” he mumbled. Interesting? This was big news.

“Hey,” I prodded. “Interesting? No other comment? Come on. Let’s speculate. Who do you think it might be? The Germans again?”

“I don’t know,” he replied distractedly.

“Hey. Earth to Jay. Over here.” I poked him on the shoulder. He looked at me.

“What? Sorry. What’d you say?” he asked me.

“Who do you think it might be?” I repeated. “The Germans?”

“I don’t know,” Jay said. “But I do know this. Whoever it is, will get a nice price for the company. If the stock keeps dropping they’ll get the place for a quarter of what it’s worth.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Maybe someone wants the stock price to keep dropping and that’s why everything has been happening. Maybe that’s why Rick got fired and Evelyn was murdered,” he said.

chapter thirty-two

“And that only happens in books,” I said. “You’re dreaming in Technicolor, Jay. Rick Cox got fired because he fucked up. And because they got him for fraud and sexual harassment too. Remember you asked me how I knew about the fraud? Well, I saw the charges in different memos from a couple of the regional vp’s. Oh, and by the way, the pinkie swear covers those memos too.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. On it’s own. Rick got fired because of apparently legitimate reasons. But why was Ev murdered? And I’ll go on the record right now. I agree that it was murder. You say they found peanut oil in everything?”

I nodded.

“Well, then,” he said. “Why would there be peanut oil in brownies? Or in a ham and cheese casserole? I’ll tell you why. Because someone wanted to make damn sure that whatever Evelyn ate, would kill her.”

Jay continued. “Those two unrelated incidents will no doubt drive the stock price down. And then you hear that we’re a target of a takeover bid. And,” he pointed his finger at me, “tell me why the shares were down over a buck and a half last week, before any of this news got out? Can you explain that?”

I laughed. “No, Your Honour. I can’t. And I’d forgotten about that.” Less than ten days ago the shares had been over $11.00 and now they were trading around $7.00. And with the news on the street about Ev, the slide wasn’t about to stop.

“You have to agree,” Jay said. “That the two events together are cause for concern. Once the police find out about Cox, and they will find out, they’ll want to know what the two had in common. I’ll tell you what they had in common.”

“Stock options,” I interrupted him. “And, let’s not forget about the other variable in this formula.”

“And that is?”

“You. You got fired too. Because of stock options. The common element. I wonder if the police’ll be knocking on your door?”

“Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.” Jay looked concerned.

“But you’ve got nothing to worry about,” I reassured him.

“You’re right. But no one likes being questioned by the police,” he said. “My mother definitely won’t be impressed.”

“She won’t be impressed when she finds out you’ve been fired. Have you told her yet?”

Jay shook his head. “I’ll tell her when I land another job. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

The funeral the next day wasn’t a merry affair by any means but I did a lot better than the day before. Jay and I sat shoulder to shoulder in the chapel at Hillson’s and I held his hand tightly in mine. There were dozens of people from the office at the service and if they’d didn’t know about Jay and I by now, they’d soon figure it out when they saw how closely we were sitting together. I felt safe with his shoulder touching mine. I didn’t acknowledge anyone and stared straight ahead like a zombie. I blocked out everything and tried not to listen to anything that was said during the eulogy. It was a trick I learned as a child. Don’t listen and what they say can’t hurt you.

“Midget,” they used to taunt me. “Shorty pants.” It was something to laugh about now, but as a kid, it used to hurt me through and through. I was very conscious of my size and when the other kids started to tease me, I just wouldn’t listen. I would sit on the curb with my hands over my ears, blocking out their taunts.

Evelyn was buried at the Thorncliffe Cemetery. We stayed back from the crowd around the graveside and I hung on to Jay’s arm. When they started lowering her coffin into the ground I turned around quickly and started back to the car. The rest of the crowd soon followed us and when the front cars in the funeral procession pulled out, Jay quickly followed.

“Do you want me to drop you at the office?” he asked me.

“Sure, but my car’s still at Hillson’s. I’ll have to get it eventually,” I replied. I had no feeling in my arms and my neck felt like rubber. I wanted to lie down and go to sleep and never wake up again. My best friend had just been put in the ground and the sadness overwhelmed me. I wanted to go to the office about as much as I wanted to have a root canal without Novocain.

“I’ve got some things I want to do downtown. I can hang around and take you back after work,” he offered.

My mind wandered and I wondered if Evelyn was watching me, just like Sarah told me. My eyes looked up at the clouds. I’ve got a prince, I told her silently. You’d be happy for me, Ev. My eyes filled with tears for the first time that day and I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hand and turned to look at Jay.

“Thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

We didn’t talk on the way back downtown and I gave Jay a quick peck on his cheek when he pulled up in front of the building.

“I’ll be here at what time?” he asked me.

“Is five-thirty too late?” I had no idea what awaited me upstairs.

“Five-thirty it is. See you then.” I waved as he drove off and I made my way slowly in to the building.

This is the last place I want to be, I thought as I punched the button for the elevator. When your best friend dies, you should be at the home of her relatives, participating in the grieving process. I had given my regrets to Danny before the service and he looked almost relieved that I wasn’t going back to his place after the burial. He probably didn’t want anything to do with any of us now that there was a full-fledged investigation going on.

I caught a whiff of Vanessa’s perfume and turned around. She was standing behind me waiting for the elevator.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked her.

“Didn’t want to invade your personal space,” she replied. “You definitely had the walls up today. I noticed it at the funeral home and the graveside. You alright?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I’m getting there.” We got on the elevator when it arrived and I punched our floor. I backed into the corner and watched the numbers of the floors flash by on the indicator.

“You need to talk Kate, you know I’m here,” she said softly.

“I know Vee. And I know I’m not the only one grieving for Ev. I know she was a good friend of yours too. If I drank, I’d say let’s go out and get drunk.” I grinned at her.

“You could always start. I’d be glad to introduce you to my bedmate, Chardonnay. Hey, you wanna do that tonight after work? Ashley’s over at her dad’s place. I don’t have to go home. We could get something to eat, too.”

“I’d like that Vee. But Jay’s picking me up after work,” I told her.

“Oh,” she said.

We arrived at our floor and got off the elevator.

“I can’t get in touch with him because I don’t know where he is,” I told her. “But we could go as a threesome.”

“No. That’s all right. Some other time,” she said.

“Vee. Get serious. Jay doesn’t bite. And it’s not as if the three of us haven’t eaten together before,” I reminded her. We were standing in the elevator lobby and I steered her along the hall towards the back door.

“We’ve eaten together before when you two weren’t so obviously a couple,” she said. “I don’t want to butt in.”

“Shit Vanessa. This is stupid.” I flashed my security pass at the black box beside the door. It clicked and she pulled the door open.

“So maybe we are an obvious couple. But you’re still my friend. We’ll hoist a few to Ev. Let’s meet at six at Bigliardi’s.”

“Bigliardi’s?” she said. “That’s an old fogey’s place.”

“Yup. And it was Ev’s favourite restaurant. And I’m sure they serve Chardonnay.” I went through the door ahead of her and waved over my shoulder. “Six. And don’t be late.”

chapter thirty-three

It was quiet in the legal department area when I got to my office. Everyone was probably still in traffic coming back from the funeral. So, I took the opportunity to check my voice mail. My friend, the voice mail lady, told me I had six new voice messages, one of which was urgent. Probably Harold, I thought. You could send someone a message and tag it urgent and the computer voice would intone, “Message Three is URGENT.”

Everything was urgent in Harold’s book. And then I remembered I hadn’t listened to my messages last night after Jay told me that Harold wanted me to. I scrolled through the messages and got the urgent one. As I suspected, it was from Harold.

“Kate, this is Harold. We’ve received the list from the other side. I’ll leave it in my basket. I’d appreciate it if you could start getting the documents together that they want as soon as possible.” Click.

“Oh Harold,” I said out loud into the receiver, “you forgot to say thank you.”

I got the keys to his office from my desk and retrieved the dreaded list. The letterhead was that of a well-established law firm who were renowned as the masters of the take-over bid. Scapelli’s often competed with them for business. As counsel to TechniGroup, Cleveland Johnson was probably rubbing his hands together, salivating at all the work about to come his way. Well, I thought, the miserable shit can rub his hands together all he wants. If we get taken-over, his firm will lose our business to the Bay Street firm who were representing the company about to bid on us. Put that one in your pipe and smoke it Cleve. Ah, what goes around, comes around, I chanted. I was still mad at Cleve and was being bitchy.

The list of what they wanted to look at was a long one. The total document was ten pages long and Harold had marked all over it. Harold had put a check mark beside most items but others had NO WAY written in capital letters beside them. I guessed that the other firm was on a fishing expedition and until they made us an offer, we weren’t going to show them our panties until they showed us their’s. The time to lift our kilts would be after we had a firm commitment of an offer in hand.

I sighed as I sat down at my desk. It was eleven-thirty and I planned on being out of the office by five-thirty. I lit a cigarette and started going through the list. Most of the documents they wanted existed, but it was going to take some time getting it all together. I wondered how much time I had.

I flipped to the last page of the document and saw that the lawyer who wrote the letter had indicated in the penultimate paragraph that he expected the documents by close of business next Monday. If that was going to pose a problem, blah, blah, blah. No problem, I thought. I’d gotten a good head start yesterday morning when Harold was decent enough to give me a head’s up.

Some of the items would be trickier than others, though. The ones that stuck out immediately were the requests for information covering the last three years on stock option grants and the employee stock purchase plan. Not my responsibility, I thought. Harold had written “Finance” beside several of the items meaning that the finance department would be responsible for those items. Lists of customers. Accounts receivable. I wrote “Finance” beside the requests for information on the options and the stock purchase plan. They could whistle Dixie if they thought I was going to dig up all that shit. Evelyn, Jay and Rick were the keepers of that information. In a pinch and with the thumbscrews tightening, I could pull together the stock option stuff. But there was no way I could come up with the employee stock purchase plan information.

I dug in the drawer of the file cabinet where I kept supplies and pulled out a new box of legal-size file folders. I marked 1(a) on the first one and inserted the copies of the annual reports I’d already retrieved the day before. I highlighted the item on the list with a yellow marker. I marked 1(b) on the next file folder and inserted the last five years’ proxy statements to shareholders. I checked that one off the list with the yellow highlighter.

I continued going through the list and putting documents in files where I already had the information. I created several new documents on my computer for requests for things that didn’t already exist on paper. The lawyers wanted to know things like number of outstanding shares at certain dates, the names and dates of all companies we’d acquired over the last five years, the number of shares that had been paid to those companies as the purchase price. The list went on and on. By the time I was finished I had a pile of full file folders about a foot high on my desk. I went over the letter from the Bay Street lawyers again and saw that I was more than half way through.

Jackie snuck her head around the door at that point and told me Harold wanted to see me.

I stood at the open door to his office and waited while he talked into his Dictaphone. He finally noticed me standing there.

“Kate, come in. ” I gave him the marked up list from the lawyers.

“Everything highlighted in yellow, I’ve done. I’ll need some input from you on the rest of things I’m responsible for. Whenever you’ve got a minute.”

“I’m impressed. Great job so far,” he said. A rare compliment.

He continued. “We’ll have to put that aside for a while though. The board meeting’s in the morning and his Royal Pain has finally focused on the agenda. Can you help me out here?” He handed me a stack of papers that had been lying in front of him. It was all the material for the director’s meeting.

“And, Kate. You do the books.” We always put the director’s materials in binders with tabs separating each item. “This stuff is really sensitive. And I’ll need them by five-thirty when I head over to the Toronto Club for the dinner. Oakes wants them to have the stuff to read overnight before the meeting in the morning.”

“They’ll be amazed. They’re actually going to see things before the meeting,” I said. Harold grinned.

“Maybe, just maybe, we’re finally getting things right after all these years,” he said.

“Let’s not hold our breath. Oakes hasn’t signed off on all of this yet.” Chris always had to see the final product and nine times out of ten, he made more changes.

“Not this time. He’s out at some meeting and said to let the stuff go. So. Go for it,” Harold said.

“No way,” I laughed. “Three whole hours? I get three hours to do a proper job? Now I believe there is a God.”

I got up to leave and noticed that the location of the meeting had been changed from the last draft of the agenda that I had prepared. The original agenda had the office address as the location for the meeting but Harold had scratched that out and changed it to the Four Seasons Hotel.

“Christ Harold. Could they have picked a location further from the office?” I asked him. “What’s wrong with our boardroom?”

“Oakes is hiding. There’ve been press people hanging around since the news about the investigation into Evelyn’s death. He doesn’t want anyone to know about the board meeting. The Four Seasons is very hush-hush by the way.”

“I know, I know,” I said over my shoulder.

“And Kate. One more thing. As soon as you’re done with those books bring them in. I’ve got a meeting at four that I want you to participate in.”

I stopped and turned around. “With who?” I asked.

“Detective Leech from the Police Department. He wants to talk to us about Evelyn.”

chapter thirty-four

The agendas for the meetings had changed drastically since the first draft. Originally, this meeting had been planned as a regular quarterly meeting where the directors would get together and rubber stamp the financial statements and several other administrative things.

Most of those items had been crossed off the board agenda. Some of the new items on the agenda were “Presentation by Jack Vincent re Strategic Partnership”, “Amendments to Employment Agreements”, “Grant of Stock Options to Senior Executives and Directors”. Jack Vincent had been allotted all the time for the meeting of the Investment Committee.

The Investment Committee of the Board had a meeting scheduled for the morning, as well as the Compensation Committee. Each of the items from the board meeting agenda appeared on the relevant committee agenda. Traditionally, acquisitions and investments were initially approved by the Investment Committee before presentation to the board and similarly, compensation issues like salaries, stock options and such were discussed and approved by the Compensation Committee before rubber-stamping by the board.

In my view, the committees were a joke. It had started out that the committees each consisted of three outside directors, with the intention that they were to be independent of the board, and not include inside directors. But Oakes attended each of the committee meetings and instead of three outside directors, each committee now had five. And, because most of the directors were from out of town, everyone ended up attending the committee meetings, rather than sit around and twiddle their thumbs. Besides, for every committee meeting they attended, it was more money in their pockets. So, by the looks of the agendas, the afternoon session of the board of directors would be a repeat of the morning sessions of the committees.

Not that they ever stuck to the agendas. Oakes would take over the meetings, and ramble and pontificate. Then about ten minutes before the end of a meeting, Harold Didrickson would have to put his foot down and have the board approve the items that a board was supposed to approve. Like financial statements. Or grants of stock options.

In one of Harold’s finer moments, he described the board meetings to me as a cluster fuck. He said everyone talked at once over Oakes’ voice because Chris would just ramble on. A couple of the directors were avid deer hunters and would trade macho stories about their latest kills, and two of the other ones were scratch golfers and would catch up on their latest scores.

Tomorrow’s meetings were going to be interesting, I had to give them that. If Jack Vincent was making an appearance, my guess was it was about the company that was looking to take us over. Jack would be acting as the go-between for the two companies and if the deal went through, Jack would no doubt continue being a very, very rich man. I wondered what his fees were going to be for this one. I recalled that we had paid him several million dollars for the deal that fell through a couple of years ago. Several million dollars for a deal that fell through. Nice work if you can get it.

Detective Leech was right on time. I escorted him to Harold’s office when he arrived at four o’clock. On our way down the hallway I pointed to the kitchenette and offered him coffee.

“It’s fresh,” I offered, thinking about all those TV shows I’d seen where the cops were always complaining about three-day old coffee.

“Fine,” he said. “I’d like that.”

He stood formally by the door inside the kitchen while I poured. I held up the container of cream and he nodded.

“Sugar?” He nodded again. Wow, what a great conversationalist, I thought.

“So you want to see Harold and I about Evelyn,” I said as I stirred the cream and sugar into the coffee. I had my back to him and couldn’t see if he nodded, because he certainly didn’t speak. I turned around. He was standing with his hands tucked deeply in the pockets of his overcoat.

“We’ll be talking to quite a few people. Mr. Didrickson and yourself are on the list,” he said. Two whole sentences.

I handed him his coffee and opened the door.

“After you,” I offered. This time he shook his head. He reached over my shoulder and held the door and I went ahead of him. And they say chivalry is dead.

I led him into Harold’s office and after making the introductions, I closed the door and took a seat. Detective Leech looked at Harold who was standing behind his desk, and at me, sitting in one of the guest chairs.

“Perhaps I was misunderstood,” he said. “I do want to talk to both of you, but separately. Ms. Monahan, perhaps I could speak with Mr. Didrickson first and then I’ll find you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Sure, no problem. Harold knows where I’ll be,” I said as I closed the door behind me. I felt like I’d been sent to sit in the hall outside the principal’s office.

Detective Leech knocked on my door ten minutes later. I was chain-smoking my second cigarette. He took a seat and waved his hand in front of his face. The smoke was a little thick, so I butted my cigarette in the ashtray in my bottom drawer and kicked the drawer shut with my foot.

“So,” I said. I pulled my chair closer to the desk and folded my hands together in front of me.

“So,” he replied. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his eyeglasses and put them on. They were half glasses like the grandmother wore in Little Red Riding Hood. He flipped open his very small, spiral-bound notebook. With his pen poised he asked me to tell him about what had happened last Thursday night. I wasn’t about to tell him that I had already relayed all that information to Constable Lofaro because he might make me sit in the hall again. So, I told him.

He took copious notes during my description of the events and didn’t interrupt. When I finished he flipped through the pages of his notebook and re-read his notes. Without lifting his head, he peered at me over his glasses.

“What time did you say you joined the party?”

“I didn’t say. I can’t really remember. Probably about seven-thirty.”

“Did you see Mrs. Morris eat anything while you were there?”

“No.”

“Did you yourself eat anything?”

“No.”

“Who do you recall seeing at the reception?”

“Well, almost everyone,” I said lamely. “Are you asking if I saw someone specific?”

“No, I asked who you recalled seeing at the reception,” he repeated. Well, excuse me, I thought.

“You want a list?”

He nodded without looking up.

I opened the top drawer of my desk and took out our internal phone list that had all of the employee’s names on it. I started at the top of the list and read out loud the names of the people I could recall seeing. Leech was writing furiously so I spoke faster. When I reached the D’s on the alphabetical list, he held up his hand and motioned me to stop, just like one of the officious traffic cops, directing morning traffic downtown under the Lakeshore Boulevard. He continued to write for a moment and then looked up at me.

“Are there many more names?” he asked.

Get a grip Mister and learn shorthand, I thought. I’d only given him about twenty names so far.

“Quite a few. Why don’t I just give you this list and I’ll mark on it who I remember seeing at the party,” I offered. I beamed at him, giving him my Sunday best smile. Anything to help the local constabulary, I thought. And get this asshole out of my office.

“Okay,” he said. He put his notebook on my desk and folded his hands on his lap, waiting.

“Now?”

“I’ll wait,” he said.

I sighed and picked up a pen and went over the list fairly quickly. A few names here and there stopped me and I had to think hard about whether or not I recalled seeing them at the reception. The names of a couple of deadbeats who’d pissed me off over the years also made me stop and think. A good chance for revenge, I thought. I could put a tick beside their name and put them at the scene of the crime. That’s one of the best things about revenge. You can always think about it but never have to act on it. I finished up and handed Detective Leech the list.

He folded the list in half lengthwise without looking at it and put it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He picked up his notebook and I stood up. I was anxious to usher him out because he was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

“Just a couple of more questions, Ms. Monahan,” he said as he opened his notebook again. Fuck.

“Did you know Mrs. Morris well?”

“Yes.”

“Did she have any enemies here at the office that you were aware of?”

“No.”

“Is there any reason why, that you can think of, that someone would want to harm Mrs. Morris?”

“No.”

He flipped his notebook shut and shoved it in his overcoat side pocket. “Thank you. If there’s anything at all that comes to light that you think might have some bearing on our investigation, please call me.” He passed me a business card that was rumpled and used. He probably took them back from unsuspecting people after he arrested them. I took it by the corner and laid it on my desk blotter. I noticed the address was the same station as Constable Lofaro.

He stood up. Thank God. I wasn’t sure why this man was rubbing me the wrong way, and then I reminded myself that he was only doing his job. Maybe I resented someone so cold and apparently uncaring, investigating the death of my best friend.

“I’ll escort you back to reception.”

“That’s fine. I know the way.”

“Sorry. Security, you know,” I told him. I marched down the hall and he hurried to keep up.

“Sign him out,” I told the receptionist. I offered my hand because I could feel my mother standing behind me reminding me of the art of social graces.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Monahan,” he said as he shook my hand. His hand was dry and I could feel calluses on the palm. “And,” he said as he looked into my eyes, “I understand from Mr. Didrickson that you and Mrs. Morris were great friends. I’m sorry for your loss.” With that, he turned and headed for the elevator.

I was pleasantly surprised that it took a stranger to offer me condolences. No one else besides Jay and Vanessa had understood or told me they were sorry. I made a mental note to be nicer to the Detective if I ever saw him again.

chapter thirty-five

Vanessa was furiously punching her phone when I stopped by her office. I sat down in one of the guest chairs and flipped through a magazine she had in her basket. It was a trade magazine, all about the world of high tech. The cover story was about the next chairman of Elite Technologies. Elite was the latest and greatest in high tech companies and had been founded by a handful of young, preppie programmers who had left Microsoft or IBM or Apple, I couldn’t remember. It was the latest darling of Wall Street and was in the news almost every week. I checked the inside index and found the page number for the cover story.

I glanced at the pictures accompanying the story and read the captions underneath. The writers had compiled a list of who they were touting to be the next president of Elite. The preppie programmers had finally decided that they didn’t like managing their company, they liked the development side so the word was out that they were looking for a business-minded, technical-type to captain their ship for the next while. Business-minded, tech weenie. What an oxymoron! I recognized a few of the faces in the article and remembered a few years back when IBM was searching for their next president and the Wall Street Journal had done a similar article.

Some joker at our PR firm had taken the Wall Street Journal article that had about six or seven pictures of likely candidates in it, and had pasted a picture of Chris Oakes in one of the spots. They had rewritten the caption under the picture and faxed it to Oakes, anonymously. The fax looked amazingly real and Oakes bought it. He actually believed it was his picture in the Wall Street Journal. He walked around the office showing everyone. I remember actually being embarrassed for the idiot. No one had the heart to show him a copy of the real Wall Street Journal which happened to be sitting in his in-basket.

I tossed the magazine back in Vanessa’s basket and stared at her, willing her to look at me. She was writing in her book and firing off instructions to someone on the end of the line. As I listened, I realized she was talking to someone at the Toronto Club where the directors were scheduled to have dinner that night.

“Right. Right. And the cigars. Don’t forget the cigars. Thanks.” She hung up and slumped back in her chair.

“They don’t pay me enough for this shit,” she said.

“Stop your bitching. You love it,” I teased her.

“Just about as much as I love my ex,” she shot back. She looked at her watch and sat back up in her chair. “I’m not going to make dinner tonight. Oakes wants me to deliver some shit over to the Club before the dinner. No way I can make it back by six.”

“We’ll wait for you. Whatever Oakes wants, give it to the maitre d’ and hightail it out of there. Why can’t you just send it over by taxi?” I asked her.

“It’s stuff he needs to sign. A letter agreement with Jack Vincent.”

“Ooh. Are we getting ready to mortgage the company again to pay little Jack his fees?”

“Whatever.” She brushed me off.

“Not interested? Or not sharing?” I asked her.

“Not interested. We’ll talk later. I’ll be at Bigliardi’s as soon as I can. Thanks for waiting for me,” she said. She stood up and started gathering up the papers on her desk. “Everything done for the meeting tomorrow?”

“I’ve got all the books together. How about you?”

Vee and I were a team when it came to the director’s meetings. I got the materials for the meetings together and she looked after the physical requirements. If they needed laptops, projectors, conference telephone systems, TV monitors, or whatever, Vee looked after that.

I made sure all of the directors got to the meeting. Vee looked after them while they were there. Booking limos, hair appointments, golf tee times, you name it. Every one of their wishes was our command. Some of the tasks we performed for them were mundane, some were ridiculous and most were useless.

Like the time one of the directors who was very overweight, came out of the meeting with this hand on the back of his pants. We were out of town and holding the meeting in the penthouse suite of a very swank hotel. Vee and I were sitting at a large table outside the meeting room.

“Got a stapler?” he asked through his teeth that were clenched around a cigar.

“Yes,” I said and held it out to him. He disappeared down the hall to the men’s room. When he returned he handed me the stapler and turned around and lifted up the back of his suit jacket.

“Can you tell?” he asked me. The idiot had torn the seam on the seat of his suit pants and had stapled it back together. On the outside.

“Not at all,” I deadpanned. “Great job.”

Vee and I laughed so hard we both had to run to the ladies room. Even funnier though was the next morning when he showed up for a committee meeting wearing the same pants. And they still had the staples in them.

Harold was packing the director’s binders into a large legal briefcase when I wandered past his office.

“Everything in order?” I asked him when I stuck my head in the door.

“Fine. Thanks,” he said. He closed the flaps on the top of the briefcase and threaded the leather handle through the hole in the top. He snapped the two buckles shut.

“Have fun then.” Although he wouldn’t admit it, I knew Harold secretly looked forward to these dinners. The great, secret, male enclave. Farting and belching. Cigar smoke. Brandy. Hangovers in the morning. Ah, he probably thought, it doesn’t get any better.

“Kate, I’d like a word,” he said. “Come in and close the door.”

“Should I get my book?” I offered. If he was going to fire off instructions about work tomorrow or things that needed to be done, I had to write it down. I was never any good without my notes.

“No, no. Uhm,” he cleared his throat. Harold was obviously uncomfortable about something and I knew he was going to talk about something unrelated to work. I closed the door and sat down.

At the best of times, it was hard for Harold to say good morning to me. He never asked me how my weekend was. Once, when I returned from a two week vacation, beautifully tanned and visibly relaxed, he hadn’t even asked me how my holiday was. At first I thought it was because he was ignorant. After a while though, I realized it was because he was very shy and didn’t like to pry. And, he didn’t really care.

I didn’t consider passing the time of day or asking how one’s weekend was, prying, but Harold did. And, we were not allowed to ask him anything personal. I knew he had a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children, but that was the extent of it. If he attended company functions, it was alone. He wasn’t like everyone else who bragged about their kids and had pictures of them plastered all over the place. I often wondered what he was like at home.

“Kate,” he started. “I know this is none of my business.” He was red in the face. I looked at him blankly. I had no idea where this was going and I was starting to feel as uncomfortable as he was obviously feeling.

He ran his index finger under his shirt collar.

“May I ask a personal question?”

If it was about my secrets on how to keep a goldfish alive, I wasn’t sharing.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Are you involved with Jay Harmon?” he blurted out.

Well. Word gets around fast, I thought and then I remembered that Harold had two eyes and had seen us at the funeral. Our first date in front of probing eyes, I thought bitterly. What business was it of his?

“Yes,” I said through a closed mouth. My hands curled into fists on my lap and I felt the sweat starting to bead on my palms. Calm down, Kathleen I told myself. You and Jay are both over twenty-one and single. You were going to announce it proudly from the observation skydeck at the CN Tower. Maybe he’s going to tell me how happy he is for the both of us. Not fucking likely.

“Well, that puts me in an awkward position,” Harold said.

“How so?”

“Confidentiality. The deal that’s about to happen. You know,” he said.

“No I don’t know, Harold. How about you tell me?” I thought about the pinkie swear the night before and the information I had shared with Jay. Sister Josephine was about to tear my right ear off. I knew it.

“I don’t need to remind you of your role in this company and the information you are privy to,” Harold said. I made a mental note to remind him not to end his sentences with a preposition.

“No, you don’t.”

“Mr. Harmon was fired on Sunday and that puts us in an even more awkward situation,” he informed me.

“Get to the point, Harold.”

“I’ll be unable to have you work on this deal with me unless you can give me assurances that I can rely on your discretion and trust that you’ll keep everything confidential.”

“Fine. I get the point. You know, and I know, that I need this job Harold. You also know that you can trust me. I may be sleeping with the man,” I said as I stood up, “but I don’t talk in my sleep.”

We stared at each other across the desk.

“Will that be all, sir?” I asked. I emphasized the sir. He nodded.

I didn’t slam the door on the way out. It would have been a useless gesture. I knew Harold was right and I was mad at myself. I shouldn’t have told Jay anything, pinkie swear or not. I had broken a confidence, a trust that Harold had in me.

This time I didn’t make a mental note. I swore to myself that my days of sharing information were over.

chapter thirty-six

“I’m Luis. Something from the bar?” the waiter asked us. He was an older gentleman, outfitted in a very formal, black tuxedo. A starched white towel folded over his arm completed his ensemble.

Luis took our orders and left us. I looked around and took in the scenery. Bigliardi’s was small and dark, with cozy tables set randomly around the restaurant. The restaurant was renowned for their steak and my stomach grumbled.

We were seated at a small table for four against the wall. Jay was beside me.

“Just for the record Harmon, tonight is my treat. Vee and I are having a farewell dinner to Evelyn and you’re my guest. All right by you?”

“All right by me,” he agreed.

I smoked a cigarette and we sat quietly for several minutes until Luis returned with our drinks. I held my soda water and said, “To Ev.” I took a sip.

“To Ev,” Jay repeated. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Shitty and I don’t think I want to talk about it,” I told him. I was embarrassed and feeling guilty about my talk with Harold. Embarrassed because he felt he needed to raise the subject and guilty because I knew I was in the wrong. If I refused to talk about my day with Jay, I wouldn’t let anything slip.

Jay didn’t respond, he just sipped his beer. The silence was awkward and I let my eyes wander the room deliberately avoiding looking at Jay who was handsome in a solid navy blue suit. I wanted to curl up on his lap and go to sleep. Into oblivion.

I looked at my watch and prayed that Vee would arrive soon.

“So,” Jay said. “Too bad about the Leafs. We’re almost through another season and it’s not looking good. I doubt they’ll get a playoff spot.”

“Yeah. Too bad.” Small talk. I hated it. My right ear started to burn.

“Where the fuck is Vee? It’s six-twenty. That asshole Oakes has probably got her working.” I mashed my cigarette out in the ashtray. A younger version of Luis appeared and replaced it with a clean one.

“Another beer,” Jay ordered tersely. He scurried away and I looked at my watch again.

“Jesus, Kate. Wind down. Take it easy.” Jay put his hand over mine. My hand was balled into a fist and Jay worked at prying my fingers out of the fist. Very gently.

I could feel the heat from his body, he was sitting so close to me.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What’s the matter, Kate?” And then I burst into quiet tears. Jay’s hand tightened on mine. I hated myself. Crying in a public place. I kept my head down and I tasted the tears that ran down into my mouth. I grabbed the napkin that Luis had placed on my lap when we sat down and tried to wipe my eyes with it but it was so stiff from starch I felt like I was wiping my face with a piece of cardboard.

I didn’t see Vanessa arrive at that moment but I knew she was sitting beside me when I caught a pleasant draft of her perfume. Now I was really embarrassed. I heard her order a vodka tonic. Jay passed me a clean tissue and I cleaned myself up.

I smiled weakly at Vanessa beside me.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she said back. More small talk. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Fine. Just fine.”

Luis returned with Vee’s vodka tonic and I surprised everyone at the table.

“I’ll have a Canadian Club with gingerale on the side.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real drink. Maybe seven or eight years ago. I looked forward to it. I felt I deserved it.

The drink relaxed me and we ended up enjoying the rest of the evening. We made a pact among the three of us that we wouldn’t talk about what was going on at the office. We were here to honour Ev so we told Evelyn stories. At one point Vee and I were laughing so hard Jay had to shush us.

“Everyone in the restaurant’s staring at us,” he laughed.

“Fuck ‘em,” I slurred, pretending to be drunk.

Vee agreed. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.” Her slur wasn’t faked. She’d had some wine with dinner and she was now into the liqueurs. Something brown and thick served over ice. The thought of it made me shiver.

I waved at Luis and asked for the bill. Time to get out of here. Hit the dusty trail. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be a picnic. We’d be on call all day for the directors’ meeting. I had no idea if I was going to be expected to run back and forth between the office and the Four Seasons. I remembered that I hadn’t cleared that point with Harold. Normally he’d want me on the premises, wherever they were holding the meeting but I’d received no instructions.

Jay and I put Vee into a cab and waited for the valet to bring his car around. A taxi pulled up in front of Bigliardi’s and five or six Japanese gentlemen poured out. Jay and I backed up against the wall beside the entrance to avoid getting trampled.

Jay put his arm around me and I huddled close to him. I was feeling very sleepy and I was watching the Japanese. They were trying to convince their cab driver to get out of the car and take their picture in front of the restaurant. As I watched the Japanese another taxi arrived.

I just about missed them in the crowd of people in front of the restaurant. When I realized who was passing right beside us I just about fell over.

I elbowed Jay in his side and whispered loudly up at him, “There.” I pointed. “Can you believe that?” I was amazed. Jay looked around and then down at me.

“What?” The valet arrived with Jay’s car and suddenly the sidewalk in front of the restaurant was empty. Jay started towards the valet and was holding out his hand to pass him a tip. The valet opened my door and I slid in. Jay got in and fastened his seatbelt.

“Did you see that?” I demanded.

He looked in the side mirror for traffic coming up behind us and eased the car into the street.

“What?”

“Not what. Who. Didn’t you see who got out of that second cab?”

“No. I was thinking about how tall I was compared to those Japanese guys.”

Jesus.

“Tell me pretty Kathleen. Who got out of the second cab?” He looked over at me and smiled. “Dini Petty?”

“No. I don’t think Dini travels around the city in a cab. You’ll never guess.”

“I don’t want to guess. Who was it?”

“Rick Cox and Philip Winston.”

Jay went right through a red light.

chapter thirty-seven

“Shit, Jay,” I yelled. “Are you trying to kill us or just put us in the hospital for the next three months?”

“Stop over-reacting. The streets are deserted. Nothin’ coming either way,” he said as he checked his rear-view mirror. The streets may have been deserted, but he was still checking for cops.

I relaxed my shoulders and sat back in my seat. I stared out the window and breathed deeply. He was right. I always over-react and I’ve probably given myself high blood pressure because it.

“Rick Cox and Philip Winston?” Jay questioned me. “Sure you weren’t seeing things?”

“Ah ha. You weren’t trying to kill us. You were listening to me. Yeah. Rick and Philip Winston. Can you believe that?”

“I can’t believe Philip Winston would be caught dead in Bigliardi’s. Sure he didn’t have his grandmother with him?” He laughed.

“You didn’t see them get out of that cab?” I asked him.

“No. I was watching the Japanese and thinking I should move to Tokyo. I’d be big man on campus there.”

I thought I heard him giggle.

“How many beers did you have tonight? Should I be driving?”

“Forget the beers I drank. You actually had a drink. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have a drink of hard liquor. Or wine or beer for that matter. Why is that?”

I paused thinking of a good answer.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” Jay said. “I shouldn’t pry.”

Now I giggled.

“I’m not a recovering alcoholic if that’s what you think,” I reassured him. “Although sometimes their twelve-step program sounds like a good path to sanity. You’ve known me all my life Jay. I think you’d know if I’d had a drinking problem.”

Jay slowed the car and carefully came to a full stop at a red light.

“I don’t drink for various reasons. One of them is I normally can’t stand the taste of alcohol. Another is I don’t like the feeling I get when I drink. I can feel the effect immediately. But most of all I don’t want to lose control. I need to be in control of my wits at all times,” I told him.

“Somebody who’s so dead set against drinking must’ve had some pretty bad experiences with it. Did you get really hammered on cheap wine or lemon Gin?” he asked. He looked over at me.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I told him. “No, nothing awful ever happened. In fact, I’ve never been drunk. Never had a hangover.”

“Yeah right.”

“Believe it or not. I don’t care if you do,” I snapped.

“Just joking Kate. As you would say, can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined up.”

“I know.”

“So, are you out of control now?” he teased. “Seeing things? Like Rick and Philip?”

“No. I’d just like to know what those two were doing together. In fact, next time I see Philip, I’ll ask him.”

“You will not.”

“Will too.”

“We sound like two little kids. Philip’s probably sucking around after Rick’s job and he’s getting some pointers from him,” Jay said.

“As if. Rick didn’t have two minutes for Philip. In fact, I heard that he was dead set against the acquisition in the first place, and had no time for Philip. Tom James told me.”

“Tom James’d say anything.”

I put my head back against the back of the seat and stared out the window. My head was starting to ache and I wanted to go to bed. To sleep. I was exhausted emotionally and physically.

I thought back to Evelyn’s funeral that morning and had trouble remembering details of it. And then I remembered that I’d forgotten to send flowers and suddenly felt sick. How could I have been so stupid? Oh Ev, you know I love you. Why didn’t someone remind me? Because you’re always so frigging efficient, no one needs to remind you, I yelled at myself.

I felt tears well-up in my eyes and took a few deep breaths. This was no time to feel sorry for myself and I didn’t want to cry again today. I had cried so much now since Evelyn had died, I wondered if I had any tears left. My throat was tight and I willed myself to stop. Quit it. Stop your whining. I closed my eyes.

I was disoriented when Jay stopped the car and I opened my eyes and looked around. I realized we were back at Hillson’s. Jay had parked next to my car in the dark parking lot. Shit, I thought. I can’t do this. I don’t have the energy to drive home. I had completely forgotten that my car was here.

“I’ll follow you home,” Jay told me.

“No. I’ll be fine,” I said.

I fumbled with my seatbelt and groped in the dark for my purse on the floor. Jay looked over at me.

“You don’t want me to come over?” He sounded a little hurt.

I shook my head because I couldn’t speak. I didn’t feel up to having a guest. In fact, I just wanted to put on my sweat socks and crawl under the covers. And never come out. But how could I tell Jay that? He’d certainly seen the emotional side of me in the last few days and he was probably good and sick of it. He took my hand in the dark and put it to his lips.

“I’ll still follow you home. Just to be sure you make it all right,” he told me.

I hurried out of the car and almost tripped as I stumbled over to my car. I yanked open the door and jammed the key in the ignition. The engine coughed a couple of times and then turned over. I put the car in gear and left the parking lot.

I watched Jay’s headlights in the mirror all the way home. Waves of exhaustion continued to pour over me and I thought about all those poor bastards who fall asleep at the wheel. I understand now, I thought.

I saw Jay parked on the street in front of my house when I came around the side and up to the porch. I waved at him as he pulled out and drove off. The tears started again on my way up the stairs.

I dreamt I was back in the desert searching for Evelyn. I couldn’t find her and I remember running around for what seemed like days, searching and searching. I was frantic.

I consciously woke myself up and stared at the clock. Normally, I slept well but since Evelyn had died my sleep had been fitful at best. This has got to stop, I told myself. Grieve for Evelyn and move on. Remember her. Never forget her. The pain would heal over time, I told myself. I tried to recall things I’d heard about the grieving process. Anger. Feelings of loss. Despair. I had never suffered the loss of a friend or a close family member and all of this was new to me.

I was feeling the loss, that was certain. And despair was right up there. I looked at the clock and knew if I didn’t get back to sleep soon, I’d be functioning like a zombie in the morning. I’d have to deal with my anger then.

The alarm went off at five-thirty and I dragged my sorry ass out of bed. I put the coffee on before I showered because I knew I was going to need at least three cups before I hit the road. My head felt thick from lack of sleep and I took two Extra-Strength Tylenol’s to try and clear the fog.

I turned the showerhead to pulse and let the hot water pound at the back of my neck. By the time I had dressed I was feeling a little more human. The air that wafted through my open bedroom window had the smell of spring to it so I put on a light cotton summer dress and said to hell with pantyhose.

I slipped my feet into white, low heeled sandals and practiced my dagger look in the mirror in preparation for the snotty comments I’d get when someone realized I was wearing white shoes before the Victoria Day weekend. No one had ever accused me of being a fashion hound.

I poured myself a coffee and wandered into the living room where I could hear the birds singing. I opened the French doors and breathed in the warm air. I loved this time of the day. No traffic sounds. No sounds from neighbouring houses. No kids screaming outside.

Despite my lack of sleep I was feeling better today. Some of the dreadful weight I’d been feeling in my shoulders that I associated with depression was lifting.

I poured myself a coffee for the road in a plastic mug someone had given me from Tim Horton’s and glanced at the clock. It was almost six and I wondered if it was too early to call Jay and apologize for last night.

I dialled his number and the answering machine picked up right away. It was doubtful that he was on the phone this early so I assumed he had turned on the machine deliberately.

“It’s me,” I said into the machine. “Call me sometime today. I want to apologize for my behaviour last night. Miss you.” I hung up.

I hated talking into machines. I was only good at leaving my name and number.

I thought about my message. Damn it. I didn’t want to apologize, I wanted to explain. I had said sorry so many times lately, I was turning into a wuss. Begging forgiveness was not something I usually did.

I quickly dialled Jay’s number and said into the machine, “Correction Harmon. I don’t want to apologize for last night. But I do want to explain. Please call me.”

chapter thirty-eight

Shit, shit, shit. Let that be a lesson to you Kate, I told myself. Checking your voice messages from home is sometimes not such a bad thing. I checked my watch again and prayed that everyone else would be late.

I had been proud of myself for arriving at the office earlier than everyone else but had panicked when I listened to my messages. Didrickson had ordered me to be at the Four Seasons for seven-thirty to make sure the breakfast and meeting room arrangements were in order.

Those are Vanessa’s responsibilities, I thought as I flagged a cab in front of the building. Everything’ll be in perfect order but Harold obviously needs me to hold his hand. As Corporate Secretary of the company he took his duties seriously. He at least wanted the meetings to look organized even though they typically fell apart as soon as Oakes took center stage.

The meeting area on the top floor of the Four Seasons was empty except for a busboy laying out the food and a person who was obviously the floor captain. I introduced myself and checked out the arrangements.

Several small, round tables with fresh, white linens draped over them were placed around the room and I saw a separate table against one wall with a fax and small photocopier on it. The breakfast buffet was laden with fresh fruit, muffins, croissants, cereals, yogurt, coffee, tea and juices. I asked the busboy to bring in several Diet Cokes for Larry Everly who always made a point of letting everyone know he didn’t poison his body with caffeine and refused to drink coffee or tea. He obviously had never checked the label on the Diet Coke. He could swallow about five or six cans before coffee break.

I pulled open the heavy double doors that led into the meeting room and wasn’t surprised to see the room in perfect order. Each place setting had a fresh pad of paper on the blotter, pencils, pens, and a carafe of water. There was a projector on a mobile cart in the middle of the room hooked up to the laptop on the podium.

Samuel Welch and Arthur Graves were piling their plates with food at the breakfast buffet when I pushed open the doors back into the ante room. I didn’t need to check my watch to know that it must be exactly seven-thirty. The agenda that went out noted that breakfast would be served at seven-thirty and the meeting would start at eight. You could always count on Sam and Arthur to be on time, especially where food was concerned.

“Gentleman,” I greeted them. “Welcome.”

They both offered me big smiles, and Sam put his plate down and gave me a big hug. Some people would consider a hug not very professional and certain huggee’s would probably scream about sexual harassment, but Sam was a true gentleman and I considered him a friend. Arthur and I shook hands.

Both men were the longest-standing directors on our board. Sam had been a senior vice president at the brokerage firm that were the underwriters of TechniGroup’s initial public offering years ago. It was a tradition back then to appoint a representative of the underwriters to sit on the board. Sam had retired after a big shake-up at the brokerage firm but he kept active by being a member on the boards of directors of many companies. He was the current chairman of our compensation committee. Sam’s hair was pure white and I couldn’t help but notice how much older he was looking these days. He was sixty-nine years old and certainly looking his age today. His light gray suit hung well on his square body and I noticed that his tie, the handkerchief in his breast pocket and his suspenders were a matching set, all brightly coloured in a red and blue paisley. I wondered what he looked like on the golf course where he probably wore matching shorts and T-shirts, like a little boy.

Arthur and Sam sat at one of the small tables, and Sam pulled out his Globe & Mail before digging into his breakfast. I stood beside the buffet and smiled at Arthur who was delicately buttering a muffin. Arthur was a classically handsome man who got better looking with age. He looked about twenty years younger than Sam but was in fact only ten. Arthur’s hair was a dark brown with not a speck of gray and I often wondered if he coloured it.

Arthur had oodles of money and his occupation in our shareholders’ proxy and annual report was listed as “private investor”. He had loaned mega dollars to the original founder of the company almost ten years ago and had been a member of the board since then. I think he was bored with our company now and most times his boredom showed when he would nap during the meetings. Arthur was a quiet man and I was sure Chris Oakes’ bluff and bluster turned him off. With the exception of Larry Everly, Arthur was the one director of our company who directly held the most shares. Amongst all the other shareholders of our company, Arthur probably held close to one percent of the issued and outstanding. Very wealthy.

Vanessa’s voice came to me from the hallway and I gulped down the cold coffee in the bottom of the cup I was holding and headed for the door to meet her. She came barrelling through the door at a fast clip speaking into her cell phone. I wondered how she did that. Talking on the phone was definitely a sit-down affair for me. If I stood while I was on the phone, I didn’t move. But then again, I had trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time. She took the phone away from her ear and flicked the off button with her long thumbnail.

It was quarter to eight and I was amazed at the energy she was throwing off. Vanessa was a hyperactive adult and she was constantly on the go. I could see that today would be no exception. I peered at her, looking for traces of a hangover. She looked yummy in a short-skirted lavender suit with a white lace teddy showing discretely at the top of the buttoned jacket. Her high heels were the exact colour of the suit and I immediately felt like a frump when I looked down at my low heeled sandals and cotton dress. Her hair was perfect as usual and I congratulated myself for not having a jealous bone in my body.

“Vee, you’re embarrassing me. You look like you’re dressed to go gardening. You should have called me. I could have dug something out of my closet for you,” I teased her.

“Shut up,” she shot back. She looked down at my sandals. “How many times have I told you that you don’t wear white shoes before Victoria Day?”

“I heard on Oprah the other day that it’s now acceptable to wear white all year long,” I lied.

“Not in my lifetime,” she said.

She glanced at the double doors to the meeting room and back at Arthur and Sam. “Anyone besides Frick and Frack here yet?” she asked.

I shook my head and heard voices in the hall. I grabbed her by the arm and led her over to “our table” before the other directors piled in. I’d greet each one on my terms, not like a servant standing at the door. I was glad it was spring because they wouldn’t be handing me their overcoats when they arrived.

I told Vanessa to empty her briefcase. If she had anything for me to distribute to the directors, I wanted it now. While she fumbled around I noticed that Bill Frankford, Whit Williams and Neil Adam had arrived. There was some serious macho back slapping going on and several guffaws. I saw Neil Adam look my way and I busied myself with nothing.

“Katie, Katie,” he bellowed. I gritted my teeth. The man was becoming far too familiar and I was sick of him already. Neil was the ex-Liberal Premier of one of the Atlantic provinces and still acted like he was on the campaign trail. He was a snake and because of him I had stopped voting.

He lumbered across the room with his hand outstretched. I steeled myself and felt a unpleasant shiver go up my back.

“Mr. Adam,” I said and held out my hand. He grabbed it and pulled me close. He caressed my arm with his free hand and it brushed against my breast. Pig. I looked up at his little eyes set in his fat, sweaty face and felt my stomach turn.

“Katie, Katie, how many times do I have to tell you? We’re like family. Call me Neil.” I pulled my hand out of his and took a step back. His aftershave was overpowering and I knew that within the hour he’d smell sour from sweat. Neil was huge and his weight had billowed to about three hundred pounds after he lost his home riding in the last provincial election. No doubt about it, the man repulsed me. I gave him a weak smile and saw him eyeing Vanessa, who was bent over the fax machine and giving the world a beautiful view of her rear end. Neil had already forgotten about me and was on his way to rub her tits.

“Get a haircut,” I told him and he touched the back of his head. I laughed to myself and checked his rear view to see if there were staples holding his pants together today.

Bill Frankford and Whit Williams were standing by one of the windows with coffee cups in their hands. They were in a deep conversation and I didn’t interrupt them. Larry Everly and Chris Oakes were missing and would probably be late. The only time Chris showed up on time was when we were out of town for a meeting and he was staying in the same hotel where the meetings were held.

Harold had arrived unnoticed and was sitting with Arthur and Sam. Sam’s nose was buried in his newspaper, and Arthur and Harold were laughing. It was a rare sight to see Harold in a good mood and I sidled up to the table and waited for a break in the conversation. Harold finally stopped talking and looked up at me.

“Need anything?” I asked him. He shook his head sharply, dismissing me, and continued talking to Arthur. The urge to curtsy came over me but I got him another coffee instead. I placed it very gently in front of him and beamed. He ignored me and I tired of the game.

I eased myself into a corner and enjoyed the view out the windows. I would play invisible now until someone had a mundane request.

“Over there,” I heard someone say. “By the window.” Let the games begin, I thought to myself. Someone must need their nose wiped or their wife called. I turned around and saw Detective Leech heading my way.

chapter thirty-nine

Detective Leech wanted to see Mr. Oakes. Now. He’d had an appointment to meet him last evening and when Oakes broke that he made another one for this morning. Oakes never showed up.

“He should be here any minute Detective,” I told him. “But I don’t proclaim to have any say over his schedule. His secretary is the master of his day.”

“His secretary wasn’t in. So I thought I’d try you,” he said hopefully.

“You’re mistaken if you think I can make magic when it comes to Oakes’ schedule,” I said. I pointed to Vanessa on the other side of the room. “His secretary is over there. You should talk to her.” He glanced in Vee’s direction and I asked him how he had found us. “The location of this meeting is supposed to be confidential.” He shrugged and dismissed me with a wave as he walked towards Vee.

I heard more voices and saw the rest of the gang arrive. Oakes and Larry Everly looked like twins dressed in old-fashioned, light-blue and white striped seersucker suits. I knew white shoes were a no-no before the long weekend in May but this was ridiculous. There should be a law, I thought. Larry’s ferret eyes were scanning the room while Chris spoke into his ear.

Jack Vincent was standing behind them with his hands clasped in front of him. His briefcase rested on the floor between his feet.

I leaned back against the wall and took in the scene before me. The noise level had risen and conversations were taking place all around the room. Vanessa had her hand on the Detective’s arm and was gesturing at Oakes with the other hand. She was talking rapidly to him.

Larry Everly was trying to get everyone’s attention. He obviously wanted to get the show on the road. People were reluctantly picking up their briefcases and heading into the meeting room.

Chris was shaking hands and patting everyone on the shoulder. I spied some shaving cream on his ear and smiled. Vanessa led Detective Leech closer to the crowd and I fumbled in my dress pocket for a cigarette. I took a deep drag and waited for the scene to unfold.

As the last director before Oakes passed through the double doors into the meeting room, Vanessa hurriedly presented the Detective to Oakes. I couldn’t hear the conversation but Oakes was pointedly ignoring him and looking past him into the meeting room. The Detective spoke sharply at Oakes and Chris walked away. Vanessa threw her hands up in the air.

I was glad to see that Chris Oakes treated everyone equally. Like a bug that needed squashing. But he was never prepared to do the squashing. He left that up to Vanessa.

The room was suddenly quiet because Chris had pulled the double doors closed behind him. I heard Vee apologizing to Detective Leech.

“I’ll wait,” he said. “What time do they normally break for coffee?”

Good luck, I thought. Chris’ coffee break time was reserved exclusively for harassing employees on voice mail.

Vanessa led Leech out the door towards the elevator bay. If anyone could handle a disgruntled civil servant it was Vanessa. I found an ashtray and butted my cigarette and waited for her to return.

I spent the next hour quietly, listening to Vanessa on the phone and reading the discarded Globe & Mail which I hated because it didn’t have a very good sports section and the movie reviews were too highbrow. The busboy busied himself clearing away the dirty dishes.

I was bored and thought about all the things I could be doing at the office. I hated this part. Waiting around. Fiddling my thumbs. I checked at the office for messages and was disappointed that there wasn’t one from Jay. I slumped in a chair and put my feet up and smoked several cigarettes and wished I had a pack of cards in my purse.

When I heard voices in the hall I sat up and put my feet on the floor and tried to look busy. I was surprised when Detective Leech walked back in the room with Cleveland Johnston.

I stood up and went to stand by the window. The only exit out of the room was by the door that was filled with the two men. I kept my back to them and recalled my last conversation with Cleve. I was stilled pissed off at him and was embarrassed to see him here although I shouldn’t have been surprised because I remembered typing his name on the list of attendees for the meeting. He was supposed to give the directors a resounding speech reminding them of their duties to the shareholders of the company at the time of a takeover bid.

I watched Cleve and the Detective talking to Vee in the reflection of the window and felt my stomach sink when Cleve walked towards me.

“Detective Leech a friend of yours?” I spoke at the window without turning around. Cleve stood closely beside me and my shoulder touched his arm. I moved away slightly.

“We met on the elevator coming up.”

I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke against the window. It wafted right back at us and Cleve waved his hand to clear the smoke.

“When are you going to quit that disgusting habit?” he asked me.

“On my list of disgusting habits, Cleve, smoking rates at the bottom. There’re other things I want to quit first,” I told him.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like useless friendships,” I snapped.

“Our friendship is useless?”

“You catch on quick, counsellor.”

“Thanks for not calling me a miserable shit. I prefer counsellor,” he quipped. “And, if you’re having trouble drawing a line in the sand to delineate between friendship and my relationship with TechniGroup as a lawyer, let me outline it for you.”

“Forget it. I don’t want to know because I already figured it out. The company comes first, then our friendship. I understand that Cleve. So call me when the takeover bid happens and we have new corporate lawyers. You’ll be off the file then.” With that I turned and marched out of the room.

There were several more surprises that day but when I thought about them collectively, they weren’t that surprising.

I was sitting in my living room with all the lights out sipping a decaf coffee. I had left the hotel when the meetings adjourned about four-thirty and returned to the office to fetch my car. I felt exhausted when I got home and fell into a deep sleep on the couch. It was now eleven and I wondered if I’d be able to get back to sleep. Sitting around a nice hotel suite all day, doing practically nothing was more exhausting than being run off my feet at the office.

Cleve Johnston had hung around for the rest of the meetings and had avoided me the whole day for which I couldn’t blame him. I had been out of line and I knew it. But fuck it, I thought. Sometimes friendship has to rule.

Chris Oakes had surprisingly kept his appointment with Sherlock Holmes at the coffee break. Their interview had been short and Detective Leech left shaking his head. You’ll be okay, I wanted to yell after him. He had the look about him of someone who had just been returned to earth after being poked and prodded by aliens. I wondered who had done the interviewing because giving someone the third degree was an art that Oakes had perfected himself. If he could concentrate long enough, I reminded myself. I almost ran into the hall after Detective Leech to beg him to cuff Oakes and drag him out.

Not that Chris Oakes was any stranger to handcuffs. Vanessa had reported to me one day that yet another limo driver had called and quit. She was upset because there weren’t many more limousine services in the city that would serve us. If Oakes wasn’t firing them, they were quitting. The latest driver had quit because when he arrived at Pearson Airport to drop off Oakes, Oakes wouldn’t get out of the car because he was on the car phone talking to someone. The conversation dragged on and on, and the police knocked on the driver’s window a few times motioning for the driver to pull away. The driver waved over his shoulder a few times at Oakes who pointedly ignored him. Finally, the driver got out of the car and explained to the police that his passenger wasn’t moving.

The police tried gesturing to Oakes through the passenger window but he ignored them too. Chris finally caught on that he had to hang up the phone when the police officer reached behind him and pulled out his handcuffs which he waved at Oakes through the window. Oakes quickly hung up the phone and got out of the car. The driver got a fine that we ended up paying. The saying that no man is above the law didn’t seem to apply to Chris. He was in his own world and he had his own rules. I hoped that one day his attitude would catch up with him.

Tom James and Philip Winston had showed up at the directors’ meeting during the coffee break. I knew Tom would be needed for the compensation committee meeting but I had no idea why Philip was there. I waved at Tom and motioned him over to where I was standing.

“What’s Mr. Winston the Third doing here?” I asked.

Tom shrugged. “Chris wants the board members to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Figure it out Kate.” I looked over at Philip, grinning from ear to ear, shaking Arthur’s hand. “You’re looking at one of our new senior officers.”

“Senior officer of what?” I asked him.

“Confidential,” Tom whispered.

“Oh, fuck off Tom. Confidential my ass. I’ll be doing the minutes of the meeting and I’ll find out soon enough.”

Tom leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Oakes wants to put his name up for chief operating officer.”

“Larry Everly’s obviously bought in,” I stated.

Tom nodded and walked away.

So, I wondered. What the hell had Rick and Phil been up to the night before? Philip was taking over the chief operating officer side of Rick’s job but I couldn’t possibly fathom why Rick would be meeting with Philip. Rick had been fired and was the latest untouchable in our company’s leper colony of cast-offs. Philip was shaking everyone’s hand and moving about the room. When he headed my way I wiped my hand on my dress, waiting for the inevitable handshake.

“Kathleen,” he pronounced as he walked up and held out his hand.

“Philip,” I boomed back and gripped his hand. “So, I understand congratulations are in order.”

He nodded and grinned.

“You’re sure you’re up for the challenge?”

“I think it’ll be a good fit. I’ve got big shoes to fill and I hope to live up to the board’s expectations,” he pontificated.

“Save it Phil. You sound like a press release.” I had made him uncomfortable and he looked around for another hand to shake. Time to go for the kill, I thought.

“So, how was dinner last night?” I asked sweetly.

He was looking across the room and my question obviously didn’t sink in right away.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled. He started to walk away and I grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Rick give you some good pointers?” I asked. Now I had his attention.

“Pardon?”

“I asked you if Rick gave you some good pointers. You know, where the best place is to go for lunch. Which secretaries in the office have the cutest buns. When and how to avoid Oakes. You know. Inside stuff.”

He was staring at me and I knew, that he knew, that I knew.

“Rick who?” he asked innocently and walked away.

chapter forty

My phone rang and I hurried down the hallway to answer it, hoping it was Jay. I hadn’t heard from him all day and was anxious to talk to him.

“Hi, it’s me,” Vanessa said.

“Oh, hi,” I said, slightly disappointed.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Expecting someone else to call?”

I laughed. “Hoping is more like it. I just thought it was Jay calling.” I looked at my watch. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Calling you.”

“I gathered that Vee. Get to the point,” I urged. I hoped she didn’t have something work-related for me to do.

“They’ve taken Rick Cox in for questioning in connection with Ev’s death,” she announced. I was dumbfounded.

“Taken him in?” I repeated. “What does that mean?” They had questioned me even though the Detective said it was an interview. Only my questioning was done in the comfort of my office.

“I don’t know what it means. I don’t think they’ve arrested him.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

“How did you find out?” I asked her.

“Oakes. He called and I made the mistake of answering the phone. It was late and I thought it might be my ex calling about Ashley. Oakes was gloating. He’s drunk and he was rambling but I made out that they had taken in Rick.”

I wondered how Oakes had found out.

“Some reporter called Chris,” Vee answered my unspoken question. “I guess those bloodsuckers hang out at the police stations waiting for news.”

“Jesus. What happened with our stock today?” I asked out of the blue.

“Down another buck.”

And the slide continues. News of Rick’s ‘questioning’ certainly wasn’t going to help the share price, I thought grimly.

“Thanks for calling Vee. I’ll see you tomorrow.” We hung up.

I paced up and down the hallway by the front door and thought about the latest revelation about Rick Cox being ‘taken in’. I couldn’t put the pieces in place but I figured the police must be putting two and two together now. I tried to think like they would and came up with all sorts of possibilities.

One of the reasons Rick was fired was for fiddling with the stock options. Evelyn’s job had been stock options. So maybe the police think that Rick needed Ev out of the way so he poisoned her. But why would Rick need Ev out of the way? He didn’t need Evelyn dead to be able to sign on to the stock option system and make changes. Certainly if Ev were alive she would have found out and done something about it. If Rick had been guilty of wanting Ev out of the way, why would he then be so stupid to ask Jay to generate reports from the system? Jay wasn’t dumb and he would no doubt find the same changes. In fact, he had discovered that someone had screwed around.

Maybe Rick didn’t think the changes would be discovered so quickly by someone other than Ev. Maybe Rick would kill Jay next, I thought irrationally. Stop it. We have no proof that Rick killed Ev. The police are just questioning him.

I grabbed the phone and dialled Jay’s number. The machine kicked in right away and I slammed the phone down without leaving a message. I hadn’t spoken with Jay since this time last night. He hadn’t returned any of my calls. He must be really angry with me, I thought. I made a mental note to tell on him, next time I saw his mother. Rude. He was downright rude.

I wondered what he had done all day as I got undressed for bed. Probably slacking off and playing on the Internet. I missed him and was mad at him for not calling me. I stood in front of the mirror on my dresser and practiced a pout but decided the look didn’t suit me so I flicked off the light and crawled into bed.

My sleep started off with very pleasant dreams of Jay. And then I was back in the desert running around in circles looking for Ev and Jay.

I woke up in a sweat and was surprised that it was morning. I kicked off the duvet and let the cool air from the window wash over my body. I wondered if I could burn off calories while dreaming of running. Not a bad thought.

In spite of being awake, I still felt lost, and my chest felt hollow. I got out of bed and shuffled down the hall to my phone to check my voice mail at the office. I didn’t have an answering machine at home and deliberately left the phone at the point farthest from my bedroom so it wouldn’t disturb me. I wished now I had an answering machine. What if Jay had tried to call? I felt like a schoolgirl again, waiting for someone to telephone and ask me to the prom. There were no messages on my system at the office so I tried Jay’s number again. The machine was still on and I hung up the phone slowly.

“Well, fuck you Jay Harmon,” I said out loud. Fuck you and the horse you came in on.

I showered and dressed quickly and went to work.

TechniGroup made the front page of the paper that morning. They ran about a quarter of a column outlining the recent events and at the bottom of the column it was noted in bold print that there was a further story in the Business Section.

Wow, free press. You can’t buy publicity like this I thought. Dave Rowlandson and Tony Player were probably frantic at this point and would be huddled together charting out the damage control.

When something like this happened, where the press reiterated all the bad news, it was bound to have a continuing adverse affect on the stock price. My prediction came true when the stock opened down half a dollar.

The office was buzzing with speculation and the many employees who held stock through the employee stock purchase plan weren’t impressed with the latest slide in the price. In fact, not impressed understated the issue somewhat. If it was possible to have a mutiny in a corporation, I’m sure we would have had one on our hands that morning. I wanted to remind them all that they were shareholders and that they did have a voice. Collectively, their voices could be heard at the annual shareholders meeting. They weren’t dumb though. They all knew that their shares in total couldn’t make a difference when it was time to vote for the directors.

I closed my door and got to work on the stack of materials from Harold’s out-basket. I started at the top and worked my way through. Mostly mundane tasks. I saved the minutes of yesterday’s meetings for the last. Harold had been a busy little beaver because there were two full tapes of dictation. He must have been up all night dictating.

I ate at my desk and worked straight through staring at my phone every couple of minutes, willing it to ring. Jay still hadn’t returned my calls and I was starting to get a little worried. I tried his number again and when the machine kicked on, I hung up quickly.

I pulled the Dictaphone transcription machine closer to the side of my computer and plugged in the first tape. The machine was set to broadcast from the little speaker in the front because I couldn’t stand to wear earphones. I pushed the right hand side of the floor pedal to activate the machine and listened to Harold’s voice. He talked and I typed. His voice droned on through all the standard verbiage that appears at the beginning of all minutes of meetings. Who was present. Who chaired the meeting. The fact that the corporate secretary was present. Resolutions to approve the minutes of the last meeting. His voice droned on and I went into automatic. I found myself typing things before he said them. This must be what it’s like to work in a factory, I thought.

When he said, “New heading. Strategic Alliance with Morgenstern,” my ears perked up. This next part would be about Jack Vincent’s presentation. I wondered who the hell was Morgenstern? I’d never heard of a company by that name. It turned out to be a code name because Harold mentioned in the minutes that it was agreed by all directors to refer to the possible acquiror as Morgenstern. Typically, because of confidentiality, any time a deal was about to take place and either of the companies involved were a public company, code names for the companies were used, to guard against leakage of information that could possibly affect the public stock price. Envision very high-priced lawyers, sitting around an exquisite boardroom table about to enter into negotiations for a huge, takeover bid. First item on the agenda - what code names are to be used. By the time that issue was settled, the legal fees were into the six digits.

I typed along in automatic pilot and remembered reading a Herman Wouk novel when I was a young teenager. The girl’s name in the book was Morgenstern. Marjorie Morgenstern. It was a great novel about a Jewish girl in her late teens growing up in New York City. The name Morgenstern was Yiddish or German. And I remembered she had changed her name when she became an actress to Marjorie Morningstar. I couldn’t make any connection with the code name and I shook my head and tried to concentrate on what Harold was saying. I checked the computer and saw that I had typed two full pages and couldn’t remember doing it. I pushed the page up button on the computer and re-read everything I’d typed. Boring.

Everything so far in the minutes was non-committal. Generic stuff. The first side of the tape ended and I flipped it over. It was the start of the minutes of the compensation committee meeting. Harold talked. I typed. My fingers were working and I closed my eyes. I wondered if it was possible to be blind and be a dicta-typist. I typed along for awhile and checked what I had done. Not bad, but I’d definitely need a proof-reader.

I snapped out of my trance because Harold was talking directly at me on the tape.

“This next section Kate, covers the employment agreements. Can you please pull out the agreements for Chris Oakes, Tom James, Roger Smith, Roy Dunleavy and Patrick Hanks and draft amending agreements incorporating the changes I’m about to dictate here.” He continued on with the minutes.

The board had agreed to amend the employment agreements of the top executives by amending the change of control clause. I was familiar with it because it had been a disclosure issue a couple of years ago. Change of control happened when another party became the majority owner of the company’s shares. Each executive’s employment agreement had a clause covering termination of their employment due to a change in control. In other words, how the company would have to compensate the individual if there was a change of control and they lost their job. A majority shareholder was all it would take. Right now our largest shareholder was Larry Everly’s company and they held only 6% of TechniGroup’s shares.

Now why wasn’t I surprised? We know there’s going to be a change of control because someone, code-named Morgenstern, was knocking at the door. We also know that top executives usually lose their jobs in a takeover. So, let’s belly-up to the bar and cover our collective asses. Let’s make sure we get paid a shit-load of money to lose our jobs. This definitely sucks, I told myself.

I stopped typing and turned around to my desk, and pulled my notebook towards me where I made a note to amend the employment agreements and disgustedly turned back around to my machine. The clock at the bottom of the screen told me it was only three-thirty so I stopped for a cigarette break and started to feel depressed. These guys certainly have horseshoes up their asses.

I knew that if the takeover happened, Oakes would be walking around like a peacock. Bragging about how he had pulled it off and ‘won’ the game. It was all a game to him. When Chris had first started working at TechniGroup I was convinced that he wasn’t driven by personal gain. He couldn’t have been because he never seemed to care about the share price which stayed steady for a long time. After the aborted deal with the Germans fell through and the stock was on a rollercoaster, it didn’t seem to bother him. A hefty portion of his compensation package was tied to stock options and he’d never made a move to cash in on any of them. He had some very low exercise prices because his stock had been granted to him when the shares were trading at around $6.00. On paper he was a multi-millionaire. Well, he was last week before the stock took a shit, I thought with glee. This thought made me a little happier and I ground out my cigarette and got back to work.

I was even more depressed though a few minutes later when Harold dictated in the minutes that the board had approved the grant of 150,000 additional stock options to each of the senior executives. The exercise price would be the closing price of the shares on the date of grant. That was yesterday and the shares had closed at about $7.00. If a takeover bid was imminent, you could bet your sweet bippy that Morgenstern would be paying a little more than $7.00 a share.

I wondered to myself what would happen to stock options on a takeover bid. That area of the law was cloudy to me and I wasn’t sure if unexercisable stock options would be acknowledged and paid for in a takeover. The options granted yesterday wouldn’t become exercisable for one year.

The minutes of the directors meeting were a rehash of everything that had been discussed and approved at the two committee meetings. The only additional item was the appointment of Philip Winston the Third, to the position of Chief Operating Officer.

“Make sure you type his name in full Kate, with a comma and the roman numeral three,” Harold reminded me.

Harold droned on and I was surprised to hear that the board also appointed Winston a director to fill the vacancy created by Richard Cox’s resignation. I choked a little as I typed the word ‘resignation’. The board was happy to have Philip joining the team, blah, blah, blah. They approved the grant of 250,000 options to Winston and the exercise price was to be set on the date his employment agreement was signed.

Harold spoke at me again, “Kate, give me a copy of a standard executive employment agreement and I’ll fill in the blanks. It can wait until Monday.”

chapter forty-one

My eyes were glazing over and I was having trouble concentrating while I proofread the minutes of the meetings. I’ve never believed in the spell check feature on the computer because it always misses my glaring errors, like “there” instead of “their”, or “your” instead of “you’re”. Try and convince a tech-weenie who believes that the only thing a computer can’t do is breed, that the computer doesn’t have a brain. That’s why I made the big bucks. Proofreader extraordinaire.

My phone rang and I eagerly answered it, hoping for a break in the monotony.

“I have a favour to ask,” Harold said.

“Shoot.” I never understand why he asks for favours when he knows I’m here to work and I don’t care what I do. Sometimes I wished he’d ask me to pick up his dry cleaning because it would be an excuse to get out of the office. But Mr. Fair Didrickson would never ask anyone to do something he considered beyond the scope of their duties.

“I know it’s almost quitting time,” he said and I groaned inwardly. I couldn’t face working late tonight. “But I was wondering if you could attend at Rick Cox’s house and have him sign some documents. I know he lives near you and I thought on your way home… ” he trailed off.

Well that certainly answered one of the day’s mysteries. The police obviously hadn’t arrested Rick. “He’s at home and expecting me?”

“Yeah. I spoke with him earlier this afternoon. I’ve got the documents in here. I said someone would be there before six.”

I didn’t need any more encouragement to turn off my computer and pack it in for the day.

Rick Cox lived in an older home off Avenue Road in Rosedale, the richest residential area of Toronto. Lots of old money. And, lots of new money too because I knew of many executives and Bay Street lawyers who owned mansions in Rosedale and whose families certainly hadn’t started out there. The streets in the area were tree-lined and the houses were set well-back from the street. I cruised slowly down the street glancing at house numbers looking for the one that matched the address I had quickly scribbled on a piece of paper. I had been to Rick’s house only once before and that had been at night. I recognized the house and double-checked the number before I pulled into the empty driveway and parked my car. There was a garage at the far end of the driveway and the yard at the back of the house was fenced.

The house was a very formal, old colonial and large windows dominated the front. The walkway which ran parallel to the front of the house was long, and paved with red, interlocking brick in a circular pattern. The sharp heels on my pumps slipped between the cracks of the bricks a couple of times. The third time it happened the heel stuck in the crack and I stepped right out of my shoe. I cursed as I bent over in a most lady-like fashion and yanked on it and cursed again when the lift on the heel came off and exposed the steel tip of the heel. I couldn’t find the piece when I tried to stick my finger between the crack in the bricks. Great, I thought.

Me and my shoe clicked and limped up the sidewalk and I admired the neatly trimmed lilac and forsythia bushes which were strategically planted in the formal garden in front of the house. Hired help, I thought.

I tucked the large brown envelope with Rick’s severance documents firmly under my arm and straightened my suit jacket as I approached the front of the house. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Rick and I hoped that his wife or one of the kids answered the door. I couldn’t leave the envelope and run because my instructions were to get Rick’s signature on everything and return the documents to the office on Monday. If his wife answered the door, I thought, I’ll give her the envelope and tell her I’d wait outside while he signed.

The door of the house was open a few inches when I stepped onto the small front porch. I listened for sounds inside and rang the doorbell and waited. When no one came to answer the doorbell, I stuck my face in the opening of the door and called out Rick’s name.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was only ten to six. There was no car in the driveway and I couldn’t imagine that they had gone out and left the house open so I pushed the door open a little wider and called out again.

“Hello. Rick?” I waited for a few more moments to give him the benefit of the doubt. I listened for a toilet flushing or water running but heard neither.

I stepped off the front porch and angrily marched around to the back of the house to see if anyone was in the backyard and the shoe that hadn’t lost its lift got stuck immediately between the bricks in the walkway. I swore out loud, not caring who heard. “Fuck.” I took off both shoes and walked in my pantyhose-clad feet and made a mental note to charge the company for lifts for my shoes and one pair of pantyhose. This was definitely above and beyond the call of duty.

The gate to the backyard was locked and I yelled over the fence.

“Hello? Anyone?” I tried peering through the minute cracks in the fence to see if anyone was there and all I could see was blue. The shit has a pool too, I thought miserably. With all his severance money, he’ll be able to enclose it and swim all year round.

On my return trip to the front of the house I made up my mind to leave the documents and come back on the weekend to fetch them before returning to the office on Monday. I pushed lightly on the open front door and glanced around the marble-tiled foyer for a table to lay the documents on. The foyer was pristine and the only furnishings were a large chandelier that hung above the circular staircase and some very old-looking paintings hanging on the walls. To the left of the foyer the door was open to the room I remembered as Rick’s study. I called out once more and when no one responded, I scurried across the marble floor to the study.

The room was dark because the heavy, green velvet drapes were drawn. Rick’s desk was on the far side of the room and an eerie, greenish glow surrounded the high back of the leather chair behind the desk. The chair was turned around and the tall back faced me. I realized that the green glow must be coming from a computer screen behind the desk. Rick must be in the house if the computer is on, I thought with a jump.

I turned around and faced the foyer and called Rick’s name once again, but I heard nothing. I took a deep breath and reminded myself it was unlikely that I would be arrested for trespassing. The man expected you and was supposed to be here, I told myself.

I hugged my shoes to my chest and crossed the room to the desk and laid the envelope in the middle where he wouldn’t miss it. It was then that I knew something was wrong. I could see an arm hanging limply beside the chair.

Someone was sitting in the chair and I hadn’t seen them because of the high back.

“Rick,” I croaked out in a whisper but didn’t expect an answer. My bare feet were stuck to the floor and I was frozen to the spot.

Move, I urged myself. He might need help. I tried reaching across the span of the desk for the chair to turn it around but my arms weren’t long enough. I grasped my shoes tighter to my chest and slowly walked around the desk.

Rick Cox was staring at the blood spattered computer screen. The bottom half of his face was gone and in his lap was a gun. I tried to scream but the only thing that came out of my mouth was a hoarse moan.

I couldn’t remember the house number or the street name when I called 911 from the phone on Rick’s desk. The dispatcher assured me help was on the way. She tried to keep me on the phone but I hung up and I hurried outside. I was suddenly very cold and shivering violently as I ran to my car for the cigarettes I had left on the dashboard. I grabbed the pack and stood against the side of the house smoking and waiting for the police. My legs started to tremble and I looked down at them and willed them to stop. I stared at my bare feet and wondered where my shoes were. My big toe was sticking through my pantyhose and I thought irrationally that if Vee were here I could use some of the nail polish she always keeps in her purse to stop the run that was moving slowly up my shin.

I was on my second cigarette when a police cruiser silently glided into the driveway. The police probably felt that no sirens were necessary because I had told the dispatcher he was dead. I had made certain of that when I touched the limp arm hanging over the side of the chair. The arm was cold and I knew there was no need to check for a pulse. I had stared at the half of his face that was still recognizable and felt bile rising up in the back of my throat.