'I'll tell him.'
'What was that all about?' asked Daniel, back in the associates' office.
'Gil wanted to know whether I killed Frank. It seems I'm everyone's favourite suspect.'
'You're certainly mine,' said Daniel. 'Thanks for the support.'
'Do the police have any other ideas who might have done it?'
'Not that I'm aware of. I'm sure they'll find someone.'
'Poor guy,' said Daniel. 'Revere will be screwed without him.'
'I know what you mean.' BioOne excepted, Frank was easily Revere's most able investor. Gil's record was patchy and Art's was downright appalling, once again BioOne excepted. Ravi and Diane had made some promising investments between them, but it was too early to tell how they would do. But Frank was more than a good investor. He was the voice of caution, the voice of common sense, the voice Gil listened to when he had a difficult decision to make.
'Where's John?' I asked.
'Sick.'
'Huh. It must be serious. He's such a healthy sod, you don't expect him to actually take a day off work.'
'He's taken Frank's death pretty badly. You know how much they worked together,' Daniel said. 'Oh, by the way, I saw Jeff Lieberman in New York last weekend.'
'Was he interested in Net Cop?'
'He might be. Give him a call.'
I sighed. 'Maybe I will. After I've straightened out my favourite lunatic CEO.'
Craig had recovered his optimism and energy as he came bounding over to me, dressed as always in jeans, sneakers and T-shirt. 'Hey, Simon, howya doin'?'
'Not so good, I'm afraid, Craig.'
'Yeah. I heard about Frank Cook. I'm sorry. Come through to my office.'
We went through to the glass-enclosed space in the corner. 'So, is there any chance Revere might change its mind about the money now?' asked Craig.
I recoiled. 'You mean after what happened to Frank?'
'Yeah.' He looked at me expectantly.
'No, Craig, no chance at all.'
'Too bad,' Craig said. Only then did he seem to read my expression. 'Guess that was in bad taste, huh?'
'You could say that, Craig,' I replied. 'It also wasn't such a great idea to try to threaten Gil Appleby. What were you thinking of?'
'Hey. I was angry. I was desperate. I was willing to try anything.'
'Well, you didn't impress Gil. In fact, he told me to tell you that if you squeak a word to the press, we'll fire you.'
'You can't do that,' said Craig.
'We can, and you know it,' I said. Sadly, it was all too common for venture capitalists to fire entrepreneurs from the companies they had founded. Craig had come awfully close. Despite the faith in me he professed, the only thing holding Gil back had probably been his expectation that Net Cop would go bust of its own accord anyway.
'Oh, and after that he'll make sure you never get backing from a venture capital firm again,' I added.
Craig sighed. 'OK, I get the message. I'm sorry.'
A thought struck me. 'When I left Net Cop the day before Frank was killed, you seemed awfully cheerful. That had nothing to do with his death, did it?'
'No, of course not,' said Craig.
I looked at him suspiciously, but his face was all injured innocence.
He stood up and moved over to a whiteboard in his office. There was a string of names, venture capitalists in one column, and industry players in the other. Many of the names were crossed out.
'We're gettin' no luck with the VCs,' Craig said, 'but some of the equipment suppliers are nibbling. Nortel has said 'no', but Ericsson and Luxtel sound interested. I've fixed up a meeting with Luxtel in New Jersey tomorrow…'
Craig rattled on, optimism returned, once again totally absorbed with the success of his company.
Inspired by Craig's enthusiasm, I called Jeff Lieberman in New York. He was pleased to hear from me. He liked the Net Cop deal. Daniel had indeed put a good word in over the weekend. In fact, Jeff had talked to a couple of his colleagues, and they had agreed to put in a hundred and fifty thousand dollars between them for an appropriate share of the company yet to be haggled over. It was much more than I had expected. Craig was impressed. Net Cop would still need more funds to develop the prototype, but Jeff and his friends had bought us a couple more weeks to find them. Not much, but it was something.
I took the train from Wellesley back to South Station and put in a couple of hours' work. I left the office early. I was worried about Lisa.
I went straight home, walking rapidly across the Common. I usually found that was the time when the problems of the day came crowding back into my mind, begging to be solved.
Gil's conversation with me jostled its way to the front of my brain. Mahoney hadn't said I was a suspect, but it was clear I was heading that way. I might need Gil's lawyer friend.
I approached a bench just above the Frog Pond in the middle of the Common. It was a grey afternoon and a few spots of rain spattered my face. There weren't many people about. I stopped suddenly, sat down on the bench, and looked behind me, back towards the elegant Georgian spire of Park Street Church and the giant buildings of the Financial District towering above it. An old lady stumbled by, muttering to herself. Behind her was a young Hispanic man in jeans and a dark jacket. His eyes darted up at me as I sat down, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he walked past me, eyes on the pathway beneath his feet.
I was being followed. He was a policeman, no doubt. I decided not to say anything as he passed, head down, but I kept my eyes on him, until he had left the Common and turned right up Beacon Street. Only then did I continue home.
Lisa looked pleased to see me. She was wearing an old blue oxford shirt of Frank's he had lent her when we were painting the apartment just after we moved in. I hugged her.
'Did your mother and Eddie leave all right?' I asked.
She nodded. 'The plane was right on time. Mom wouldn't go without making me promise we'd visit her for Thanksgiving.'
'That's OK. We were planning to do that anyway, weren't we?'
'I thought so.'
'That was a pretty unpleasant meeting this morning, wasn't it?'
'I can't believe Dad left Eddie out of his will. That was so stupid.'
'It was very generous of you to cut him back in.'
'I didn't want Dad's death to cause any more strain on our family. And after Dad left, Eddie did so much to look after Mom and me. It's only fair to let him have his share. Don't you think so?'
'I suppose so,' I said.
Lisa looked at me. 'Do you think I was wrong?'
'If it were me, I'd have kept the money. Your father knew what he was doing. And Eddie was always going to get the hundred thousand bucks from the life insurance policy.'
Lisa frowned. 'But it's not right.'
'Don't worry, Lisa. It was your decision. And what you did was very generous. Eddie is very lucky to be your brother.'
Lisa smiled. Then her face became serious. 'You don't like him, do you?'
'It's more a case of him not liking me. But after a while, I have to admit I begin to feel the same way about him.'
'He's a wonderful person, really. After the divorce, I was the one who cried. I couldn't bear the thought of not
