I waited for Diane with trepidation. The bar at Sonsie's was full of young professionals and wealthy students limbering up for a Friday night on the town. Rather them than me. I had considered cancelling, but there was no point. Diane had to be faced some time.
She arrived only a couple of minutes after me.
'Hi,' she said, as she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Her scent overwhelmed me, reminding me of her apartment, the music, the whisky, her.
'Hi.' My throat was tight.
I ordered her a beer to go with mine. She seemed relaxed and confident in a bright blue suit with a tight short skirt. I didn't feel relaxed and confident at all.
'How have you been?' she asked.
'Busy. Running around trying to find out who killed Frank.'
'Have you got anywhere?'
'It's a case of the more I find out the more questions there are unanswered.'
'What about the police?'
'Oh, they're getting somewhere. Closer and closer towards arresting me.'
Diane smiled sympathetically and touched my hand. It was just a gentle pressure, but it sent a shock through my whole body. 'You've had a tough time.'
I nodded stiffly.
'Has Lisa come back?'
'No,' I said, pulling my hand away. 'But I really wish she would. I miss her.'
Diane withdrew her own hand and watched me.
I took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry about the other night. I almost did something I didn't want to do. No, no, that's not right, I wanted to do it at the time.' I paused to get the words right. 'I mean, something I shouldn't have even started. I want Lisa back very badly. And I'm not going to make the same mistake again.'
I watched Diane for a reaction. For a long moment she remained still. Then she spoke in a low, reasonable voice. 'I guess that says it. But if she's stupid enough to let you go, then she has only herself to blame. I like you, Simon. I think we could be good together. Just remember that.'
'Sorry,' I said. I didn't know whether Diane was putting a brave face on her rejection, whether she didn't care one way or the other, whether she was trying to show her interest without scaring me off, or whether, in fact, she just meant what she said. That was the trouble with Diane. You never really knew.
'So, what are we going to do about Revere?' she asked.
'We?'
'Yes. You and me.'
'I don't think I have much of a future there, Diane.'
'That's baloney. They'll find Frank's murderer eventually, and you'll be in the clear. Gil will retire, Art will be out of it, which leaves me.'
Diane's confidence was good to hear, although I wasn't even sure I'd be out of jail when Gil retired, let alone back at Revere.
'Lynette Mauer has told me she'll continue to invest in Revere, as long as I'm in charge.'
'Well done,' I said.
'Has Gil spoken to you?' she asked.
'Yes. He took me for a drink at his club last night,' I said.
She smiled. 'I know. What did he say?'
'Don't you know that too?'
'I'm well informed, but not that well informed.'
'He wanted me to promise I would back whoever took over, whether it's you or someone else. He seemed to have discounted Art.'
Diane's eyebrows shot up. 'Someone else?'
'Yes. He's talking about perhaps getting in an experienced venture capitalist from outside to take over the firm.'
Diane frowned. 'Hmm.'
'You'd better move quickly.'
'Maybe I should.'
We finished our beers in silence as Diane's brain whirred. I was thinking about how much I could trust her. I really didn't know.
We left the bar, and Diane set off on foot back to her apartment, while I grabbed a passing cab. It was still only eight o'clock when I arrived home.
I knew that I should appreciate my liberty, since it was looking ever more likely that I would soon lose it. But I was finding the waiting very hard.
I surveyed the apartment, empty without Lisa and her things. I hadn't heard from her since she had left for California. I didn't even know where she was staying: Kelly wouldn't tell me, and neither would her mother, whom I had called twice. I'd even tried her brother's number, only to be told I had dialled incorrectly. He must have moved. I had called Information, but they didn't seem to know anything about him.
I couldn't face the rest of the evening alone in my own apartment, wrestling with Frank, the police, Lisa and Diane. So I went out to the Red Hat. Kieran was there with a couple of the boys. The beer, friendship and laughter helped.
I came home late, and a little drunk. The answering machine was winking. One message.
'Hi, Simon, it's John. It's about eight thirty. I think I've got something on BioOne you might find interesting. Can you come round to my place tomorrow evening, and we can talk about it? Say about eight? Give me a call. 'Bye.'
It was too late to call him back, so I tumbled into bed, and fell asleep.
24
I arrived at John's building in the South End at ten to eight, very curious about what he had to tell me about BioOne. I buzzed his apartment number at the entrance to the building, but there was no reply. I was a little early. He had said eight o'clock, and I had called his machine back earlier in the day to confirm I'd be there, so he shouldn't be long. I decided to wait for him on the street.
It was cold, and I cursed John under my breath. Pictures of Provence shone brightly out of the gallery next door. I tried to go in, but they were just locking up, and the woman inside shook her head at me. A couple of rain drops began to fall.
Then the door to John's building swung open, and a man came out. He was thin with close-cropped dyed blond hair. A diamond stud gleamed in his ear. I walked past him, attracting a suspicious glance, and climbed the stairs to John's apartment, to wait for him there. There were two doors leading off the hallway on the second floor. A crack of light seeped out of one of them into the dark hallway. It was John's, and it was ajar.
Wondering why he hadn't answered the buzzer, I pushed the door open.
'John?'
I walked in. 'John!'
He was lying face down on the floor in the middle of his living room, a blood-soaked hole high in his back.
'John!'
I rushed over to him. His face, always pale, was pressed against the floor, a pool of blood near his mouth. His eyes were open, staring dully at nothing.
Stupidly, I felt his neck for a pulse, desperately asking myself whether I should try mouth-to-mouth or CPR. There was no point. His neck was still warm, but he was very dead.
I couldn't take my eyes off the body. I felt weak. Time seemed to stand still as my brain struggled to take in what I was seeing. I dropped to my knees next to him, closed my eyes, and put my face in my hands. An image of
