do recognize the potential.”
“That’s why you agreed to finance it. Does-”
“Not the hardware. Just the game, Polizei Two. Say, I’m stuck at an awards banquet this weekend for the city business council-it would be a lot less boring if you’d come along.”
“You’ve only financed the game? Then where did he get the money for that reality ball or whatever it is?”
“The virtual-reality sphere? I assume he used his profits from Polizei One. And what does all this have to do with his Jillian killing herself? Not that I believe she’d do that.”
Theresa had opened her mouth to make one response, and now made another. “You knew Jillian well?”
Did that half-a-heartbeat moment of hesitation spring from a disinclination to speak ill of a client, or something else? “We loaned Evan Kovacic a great deal of money, Mrs. MacLean. Even though all went well, I still spent a lot of time with him and his concerns in the past few months. And frankly, I still don’t see what it all has to do with his wife.”
Theresa kept her voice calm. “When people are unhappy with their lives, it’s usually because of love or money. She seemed happy with her husband, so that leaves money. This must be an interesting job, trying to figure out what’s a good investment and what’s not. You must have to consider every factor that could affect the outcome, just like Evan designing his game.”
“Sure. Except that in my case, it’s real. No vampires or zombies, only interest rates and stock market dips. Which are a lot scarier.”
Theresa worked on a smile. “So you investigated Evan’s finances before you agreed to take him on, of course.”
“Sure. Sterling, absolutely. Yet another reason we felt confident investing in Polizei Two.”
“And he had the money for the factory and the hardware line?”
Cannon paused. “Some, yes. But he formulated those plans after our agreement had been reached. I believe he has separate financing for the factory.”
“Not with you?”
“No. As I said, Polizei Two is a sure thing. Virtual reality, well, that’s like gasohol. People keep trying to get it off the ground, but the runway is littered with aborted flights.”
“Who did finance the factory?”
“I’m not sure anyone did. He probably used the profits from Polizei, as I said. It would have been tight, but apparently he’s doing it.”
“Did he ask you for funds to purchase the factory?”
“I don’t recall, really. He might have run it up the flagpole, but we wouldn’t have saluted, so that would have been that.”
“You don’t know if he has arrangements with any other venture capital firm?”
“He doesn’t. That’s a detail we make sure of, to avoid scams where a fake entrepreneur gets financing from several sources, then the next thing you know the money has been transferred to the Caymans and there’s no sign of your guy. We wouldn’t automatically nix the deal, but we’d definitely be aware of any such arrangement with another firm.” He pulled at his lip, apparently toying with the interesting question. “Unless he had an angel.”
“What’s an angel?”
“The corporate world’s version of a loan shark.”
“Like Griffin Investments?”
The name did not produce a reaction. “I’m not familiar with them.”
“Never mind. What does an angel do?”
“Exactly what we do-provides the start-up capital for a growing firm, but is an individual person instead of a group of investors like we are.”
“Is that legal?”
“It’s perfectly
“Murder?”
“I doubt it…well, the CFO of a start-up pharmaceutical turned up dead in California last year, but I think that’s a story brokers tell each other around the campfire with flashlights under their faces. Besides, if Evan had some angel he had to pay off, he would have been asking me for a capital increase, and he never mentioned it. They have plenty of money. At least they will once Polizei Two hits the shelves. This banquet I mentioned is on Saturday night-”
“Except that Polizei Two is late. Is he worried that you’ll pull the plug on his cash flow?”
She expected him to pooh-pooh the idea, but in a somber tone he admitted, “There’s always a danger. If the delay goes on for too long, we could decide to cut our losses and leave him with big bills and a game he doesn’t have the means to finish. Kind of like a Hollywood producer making a movie and having the studio bail out before he’s finished shooting. Everyone loses in that situation. Happily, there’s no need for anything that drastic. Evan will be finished with the game soon, the money will start pouring in, and all will be right in our world.”
“Even though it’s five months overdue.”
“That’s part of the business. No one’s too concerned about it.” He tapped the blotter again, compressing his lips in a way that made her think he overstated his sangfroid. He and his partners had been shelling out money five months longer than they had expected to, without a definite end in sight. But if they were still supporting Evan, why would he need Jillian’s money?
She needed to know how much Evan had profited from Polizei the first, and what he had done with the money. And she doubted this man could, or would, tell her that. She got to her feet. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Cannon.”
He guided her back down the sumptuous hallways. “Not at all. Anytime you’d like to hear about the oh-so- glamorous world of venture capital, please call on me. And I do hope we can do lunch sometime.”
She paused at the exterior door. “And would your wife be joining us?”
The question apparently surprised him. No doubt most women didn’t ask, played along with-
“My wife died two years ago. Cancer.” He glanced down at the ring on his hand, for a moment with the same empty, desolate face she saw in her own mirror every day. “I just can’t stop wearing this.”
“I’m sorry.” The words left her throat in a choking rush, and she fled to the elevator bank without waiting for absolution. Gulping in huge, deep breaths, she made it to the lobby before the tears came.
“But it’s just his finances,” she protested to her cousin. The Justice Center sat only two blocks from the venture capital firm and she had walked it, putting her hands over her ears for the last half block to protect the thin flesh from the lake air that whipped past the old courthouse in arctic bursts. Now she sat at the desk across from Frank’s, the desk that had been Paul’s. The cracked Formica top held nothing but dust, a stapler, and a bit of overflow from Frank’s work files. Oddly enough this did not affect her. She had rarely visited the plain, brightly lit, and largely impersonal homicide unit and did not look for traces of Paul there. “Can’t you subpoena Griffin Investments to find out if they gave him the money to pay for the factory?”
“No.”
“You can’t just call them and ask, then?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already.”
“I did.”
“Tess!”
“I’m establishing Jillian’s frame of mind, and she may have been acquainted with Evan’s financial manager at Griffin. He may even have been her financial manager, for all I knew. The receptionist didn’t find it that bizarre.”
“Unless the receptionist doubles as the firm’s legal counsel-”
“It doesn’t matter, because I didn’t get anywhere. You know why? Because Evan’s financial manager at Griffin is on a second honeymoon in Asia and refused to take his cell phone with him. The receptionist-she found this very romantic-said it was a dream of the guy’s wife but they’d never wanted to spring for it until a generous client gave them the trip as a thank-you. Want to guess who the generous client was?”
Frank pulled at his lower lip. “Evan?”
