'Hang on in there, Craig,' I said, trying to sound as confident as possible. 'We never said it would be easy'
'I guess not. Speak to you later.'
Damn! I was not prepared to let Net Cop die. I just wasn't.
John wasn't having a good day either. He was looking seriously worried.
'What's up?' I asked.
'National Quilt is screwed,' he said.
'What's the problem?'
'The bank's getting antsy. They don't like all this inventory buildup. They want the working capital line of credit cleaned up by the end of the month.'
'And you're not going to make that?'
'No way.'
'What about the 'Go Naked' strategy?'
'The bankers are not great fans,' said John gloomily. 'In fact I think it makes them even more worried.'
'Oh.' That sounded like a problem. 'What's Art's advice?'
'I started talking to him about it, and then he suddenly had an urgent phone call. He said if things were looking tough I should raise it at next week's Monday morning meeting.'
'Sounds like he doesn't want to know.'
'That's exactly what it sounds like. How's Net Cop?'
'I'd say it's screwed.'
John sighed. 'I guess this is all part of becoming a grown-up venture capitalist.'
'I guess it is.'
John headed off to Lowell to visit the ill-fated quilt company, leaving me to spend the day at my desk. I gathered together some pretty good information on Tetracom's competitors that seemed to suggest their product really was special. And I started on the Investment Memorandum, which would be the document that would, I hoped, eventually persuade the partners to invest.
But it was difficult. I spent long periods of time staring into space, thinking of Lisa, and worrying about Sergeant Mahoney.
Daniel was involved in some heavy-duty number-crunching. Eventually he stopped and stretched.
'So how was Porkopolis?'
'Porkopolis?'
'It's what they used to call Cincinnati. Great town isn't it?'
'I didn't see a pig anywhere. But I did see a very impressive company.'
'So you think we might do Tetracom, huh?'
'I think so. Or else I'm wasting my time with all this.'
'And how was the lovely Diane?'
'Missing you badly, Daniel.' I kept my composure. Or I thought I did.
'Naturally.' He smiled. 'Hey, how about a drink after work?'
'Yeah, why not? But can you get away?' I nodded at the piles of figures surrounding his computer.
'Oh, a couple of random numbers inserted in the right place will sort those out,' Daniel said with a grin. 'Hey, don't worry, Simon. It can't possibly get worse.'
But of course it could.
We went to Pete's, a bar on Franklin Street, in the middle of the Financial District. By the time we got there, the crowd of big loud brokers had already downed a lot of alcohol. Daniel found us a table in the corner and a cold Sam Adams each.
Every now and then Daniel and I had a drink after work. Despite his tendency to be obnoxious, I found him good company. He was funny and intelligent, and a good source of gossip. Once, we'd even been to Las Vegas together, crawling from casino to casino following a set of obscure gambling rules that Daniel called his system. He was a great person with which to live the tackiness of Las Vegas for a night. I had lost two hundred bucks, but enjoyed myself immensely. Daniel claimed he had come out five hundred dollars ahead. My impression was he had lost thousands, but maybe I had missed something.
'So how come you were staring into space all afternoon? Net Cop getting to you?' Daniel asked.
I took a long draught of the cool beer. 'That tastes good,' I said. 'No, it's not that.' I glanced at Daniel. 'Lisa's left me.'
'Oh, no! I'm sorry. Why did she do that? Did she find a one-eyed leper who was better looking?'
'Thanks, Daniel.'
'If she's free, so am I. I'd like to make some new friends. I've always liked her, you know. Have you got her new number?'
I ignored his comment, but I didn't mind Daniel's kidding, however offensive it was, and it could get pretty offensive. It eased the gloom a bit.
'She thinks I killed Frank.'
Daniel winced. 'Oooh. That could take some forgiving. I do hope she's wrong.'
'Yes, she's all wrong.'
'Oh, well that's all right then.'
'But the police seem to agree with her.'
'What, that nice Sergeant Malone who asked all those questions?'
'Mahoney. That's right. He says I had the opportunity and the motive. I was at Marsh House the afternoon Frank was murdered, and I inherit half his fortune. Or rather Lisa does.'
Daniel frowned. 'That all sounds a bit circumstantial, doesn't it? Did they find the gun?'
'No,' I said, keeping my promise to myself not to tell anyone about Lisa's discovery.
'Pity.'
'Why do you say that?'
'If they found the gun in the middle of South Boston or somewhere, it would suggest that you weren't the guy who used it.'
'That's true.' For a moment I wished that Lisa hadn't thrown it away. Then I could have hidden it conveniently in Art's garage. But the moment passed. That would probably just have got me in deeper trouble.
There was one question I needed to ask Daniel. 'Did you tell Mahoney we were talking about how wealthy Frank was just before he died?'
Daniel winced. 'Yeah, I did. Sorry. But he did ask whether we'd had a conversation like that, and I had to tell him the truth. Did it get you in trouble?'
I sighed. 'Not really. I think Mahoney was pretty convinced anyway. It'll just give him some more ammunition.'
'Sorry, Simon. I didn't realize. He was asking all these bullshit questions, and I never imagined you as a suspect. At least not then.'
'Don't worry.' I sipped my beer. 'But what interests me is, if I didn't kill Frank, who did?'
'Good question,' said Daniel. 'All I know is it wasn't me. I was in New York.'
'No need to be so smug about it. What's the office gossip? I don't seem to hear any of it any more.'
'People usually steer clear of the subject. It's like it was in bad taste or something. And Gil did say he didn't want us suspecting each other.'
'And when they don't steer clear of the subject?'
Daniel gulped his beer. 'There's one name that comes up quite consistently.'
'Mine?'
Daniel nodded.
'But people can't really think I murdered Frank?'
'I don't think they do. Which leaves us kind of stuck.'
'What about Art?'
Daniel thought for a moment. 'Not a bad choice for second favourite. He hated Frank, although he was always polite to him. But where was he when Frank was killed?'
'I don't know,' I said. 'Mahoney won't tell me anything. And I could scarcely ask Art himself.'
