by Alan Cook
Chapter 11
The room phone rang while I was tying my tie. It was Arrow.
She said, "If you're dressed, can you come over and help me
for a minute?"
I finished with my tie and went next door to Arrow's room.
She opened the door to my knock. She was wearing a short
black dress and black stockings. I don't like black on most
women, but on Arrow it suited her coloring perfectly.
"You look nice," she said, surveying my one suit, a dark blue
pinstripe.
"Thank you. So do you."
It's a good thing I got that out before she turned around or I
probably would have choked on the words. The back of her
dress was open to the waist. Now I knew why she was holding
it at the top.
"I need you to zip me up," she said. "I have tendonitis and
I have a hell of a time with this zipper."
My eagle eye immediately noticed that no bra spoiled the
smooth curve of her back. I fumbled with the zipper, trying
not to touch too much of Arrow, and finally got it up. There
was still a generous amount of skin showing. This was also
true in the front as I saw when she turned around and
thanked me.
"I would guess that you're going to attract some attention
tonight," I said, "although not necessarily from Buchanan.
He seems to prefer boys these days."
"Then you admit that I can pass as a girl."
I admitted it and gave her my arm as we walked to the
elevator, figuring it wouldn't hurt to practice my manners.
Our plan was to get to Buchanan's house about eight and
try to get in. I had warned Arrow that there was no
guarantee of that.
Because of the length of our bike ride we hadn't eaten
dinner, just grabbed some fruit from a bowl in the hotel
lobby. I recalled that there had been food available at
Buchanan's and felt we might be able to make a meal
there. Our fallback plan was that if we couldn't get into his
house we would immediately repair to the nearest
restaurant and crowd out our disappointment with food
and drink.
Parking was a problem so we took a taxi, which we caught
in front of the hotel. The driver knew the way to
Buchanan's without any prompting and got us there
quickly.
It was a few minutes before eight when Arrow and I
climbed the steps to Buchanan's house and rang the bell.
A voice said, "Good evening, Mr. Patterson. Could you
please wait for a minute?"
"Of course," I said.
"How can he see you?" Arrow whispered.
I pointed to a hole above the doorframe where the lens
of a video camera was visible to careful scrutiny.
"Oh. Well at least you're part of the in-crowd. I'm
impressed."
"That was Stan, the fellow who drove me back to the
hotel. But we'll soon see how 'in' I am. I'm sure he's
consulting with Buchanan." Stan had told me he only
worked one night a week. This was at least his second
night this week.
It wasn't long before we heard Stan's voice again, saying,
"Here is the puzzle for tonight. If five cats can catch five
rats in five minutes, how many cats does it take to catch
100 rats in 100 minutes."
"What's that all about?" Arrow asked.
"I forgot to tell you. Buchanan likes games and puzzles.
The price of admission is to solve the puzzle. We need
to think about it before replying. We only get one
chance."
"The guy's loony tunes," Arrow said. "I would need a
pencil and paper to do that."
"It shouldn't be so hard. We can play his silly game.
Since we can be sure the obvious answer of 100 isn't
right, we need to figure out how many rats each cat
catches per minute. If five catch five rats in five
minutes, the average cat takes five minutes to catch
a rat. Five cats together average one rat per minute.
Therefore, these same five will catch 100 rats in 100
minutes."
"Are you sure you're not making this up?" Arrow asked.
"Trust me."
"I guess I have to." Said with the distaste of a woman
who liked to be self-reliant.
I took another few seconds to double-check my answer
and then I relayed it to Stan. The door clicked and I
opened it.
As I ushered Arrow inside she said, reluctantly, "You're
pretty good at that."
"I may not be able to create a business plan," I said,
"but I have always been good at math."
Arrow wrinkled her nose at me as I escorted her to the
top of the stairs. Sounds of Sinatra came from below.
Singing about doing it his way. As we started down the
steps I saw Stan at the bottom.
A look of surprise came over his face as he looked up
and he said, "Arrow, is that you?"
"Stan!" Arrow exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"I didn't get a good look at you on the monitor," Stan
said. "You were behind Mr. Patterson."
"Er, I take it you two know each other," I said.
"We were in the same class at Stanford business
school," Arrow said.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and gave Stan
a big hug. So much for her cover.
There were more people than there had been the first
time I was here. Friday evening crowd, celebrating the
end of the workweek. Freed from office prisons. Arrow
and Stan chatted, trying to make themselves heard over
the noise, while I scanned the room, looking for Buchanan.
I spotted him playing backgammon with a man. Although
he was sitting several tables away I could see he made
his moves quickly and decisively, more so than when he
had been playing me. I made a mental note not to
underestimate him.
Stan said, "James wants to talk to you. I'll find out when
he'll be free." He made his way over to Buchanan.
"Old friend, eh?" I said to Arrow.
"I've got a story to tell you about Stan." She added,
"Later," as Stan returned.
"Five minutes," Stan said. "Well, Arrow, I'm afraid we
don't play bridge here. There probably isn't anything that
interests you." He turned to me. "She wouldn't participate
in the Friday night poker games we used to play at school."
"There was a lot more drinking than poker, as I recall,"
Arrow said.
I watched Buchanan's face, something I hadn't been able to
do when I was playing him. He was completely engrossed in
his game. Even though I couldn't see the board his
expression told me he was moving in for the kill and when he
won his look of triumph was something to behold.
As he got up from his chair Arrow whispered to me, "His face
looks familiar."
He stood and came over to us. He shook my hand and said,
"It's nice to see you again, Karl." If he was surprised by my
presence he didn't show it.
"This is Arrow Anderson," Stan said. "Arrow, this is James
Buchanan. Arrow went to Stanford with me. She works for
Dionysus as Richard Patterson's executive assistant."
I looked at Buchanan's face again as he shook hands with
Arrow, but his expression, which had been open a few
moments ago was now closed, as if a window shade had
been pulled down. He gave her a bland smile and
murmured how glad he was to meet her.
"Let's go upstairs and get out of this noise," Buchanan
said.
He gave a signal to Stan and led the way up the stairs,
followed by Arrow and me. He climbed slowly, favoring one
leg. From the top of the stairs he went to his study. It
was behind one of the doors on the hallway that led from
the front door to the back of the house. He ushered us
into a good-sized room, dominated by a large desk made
out of a dark wood; the top was in the shape of a
semi-circle. The other furniture matched the desk.
"Would you like something to drink?" Buchanan asked as he
pointed to two padded chairs.
He appropriated a large wooden rocking chair for himself,
which must be an antique, judging from its impressive
size and workmanship. The three chairs were arranged
around a low round table. Arrow and I sat down.
Buchanan took no notice of Arrow's legs as she crossed
them, but I did.
His question about drinks reminded me that we hadn't had
dinner. This wasn't the time to get muddle-headed. I
asked for iced tea. Arrow requested a diet drink. He picked
up a phone sitting on the table and pressed a button. He
spoke briefly and hung up.
"What's the latest on the investigation into Ned's death?"
he asked, without any preliminaries.
"His rental car was found with cocaine in it," I said, speaking
carefully, trying to give him only information that was
common knowledge. "His house was searched, but it was
clean."
"Ned wasn't into drugs," Buchanan said. "He wasn't a user
and he had no need to be a dealer."
"Do you think he was set up?" Arrow asked.
Before Buchanan could answer, one of his young men
opened the door and came in with a tray and three
glasses. Although Buchanan hadn't ordered anything for
himself the server brought him the same drink I had seen
him with before: a colorless liquid in a tall glass, filled with
ice, with a slice of lime and a straw.
The waiter silently served us our drinks and paper napkins,
placing the drinks on coasters on the table. Then he went
out and shut the door behind him.
"If Ned wasn't into drugs, who would have killed him?" I
asked, trying to keep Buchanan talking.
He stirred his drink with his straw and then sipped it
through the straw, before saying, "Anyone who has a
certain amount of success in business is bound to
acquire enemies. I think Ned was killed by someone who
knew him. The cocaine was an attempt at a cover-up.
It may work. From what I've heard there aren't any
good clues."
"Do you have any idea who did it?" Arrow asked.
Buchanan regarded her with a smile as he sipped some
more of his drink. He said, "Richard always did have
good taste in women."
Arrow leaned forward and uncrossed her legs. Her eyes
flashed. She said, "Richard and I have strictly a business
relationship."
Buchanan laughed and nodded approvingly. "Good reaction.
Straight from the book. You'll go far in the business world,
Arrow. However, when you've been around as long as I
have, you'll realize that in spite of an army of bureaucrats
from government agencies breathing down our necks we
beleaguered business people still make employment and
promotion decisions based on more than pure unadulterated
ability, mixed with a generous dose of affirmative action."
Arrow looked as if she might say something, but she didn't.
Instead, she leaned back in her chair, regarding Buchanan
with her dark eyes. I suppressed a smile.
Buchanan continued, "As you may have noticed, I, myself,
prefer to employ good looking young men as my assistants.
They are racially mixed and all have their MBAs, but some
of them have other traits I appreciate, as well. But enough
of that. Where did you get the name Arrow?"
Arrow had recovered her poise. She said, "My mother was
an Olympic archer. I guess she hoped she would hit a
bull's-eye with me, just as she does with her other arrows."
"I think she succeeded." James took a sip of his drink and
looked at me. "What is it that brings you up here...again...so
soon?"
"Police investigation," I said. "They wanted to ask me
additional questions about Ned and where I was that night
before I arrived here. Arrow came along to protect the good
name of Dionysus."
"There's more," Arrow said. "We know you're trying to get
control of Dionysus."
Arrow's candor surprised me and Buchanan raised his
eyebrows. Then he smiled and said, "So you were sent
here by Richard."
"Richard doesn't know we're here," Arrow said.
Buchanan looked as if he didn't believe her. He said, "I
consider Dionysus stock to be a good investment,
especially at its current price. My company, Tartan,
invests in a lot of good companies. Just because we're
buying Dionysus stock doesn't mean we're planning a
takeover."
He was trying to disarm us. I said, "Why are you buying
the stock if you think Richard is doing a bad job?"
"Who told you that?"
Richard had told us that. I decided I was in over my
head and didn't say anything. An awkward silence
followed. I glanced at Arrow. She gave me a look
that said she wanted to hear his answer. I forced
myself to be quiet.
Buchanan finally broke the silence by saying, "Richard
is very good at doing certain things. He's a visionary,
an entrepreneur. He can picture a new product and its
market, get financial backing, start a company and grow
it rapidly. But at a certain point in the life of every
company different skills are needed in a CEO. The ability
to run it on a day-to-day basis. Some entrepreneurial
types aren't good at that."
"And you think that Richard is one of them?" Arrow asked.
"The next few years are key for Dionysus. Competition is
catching up to them. Can they continue to be a leader
in their field? Do they have the right management? These
are questions that any investor, like myself, has to ask."
That didn't exactly answer my question. "Do you think
Ned would have been better for the job?" I asked.
"Ned had more of the temperament of an administrator
than Richard."
"And since you had worked with Ned before, you knew him
better and felt more comfortable with him."
The corners of James' eyes crinkled in a hint of a smile and
he said, "You've been doing your homework, haven't you?"
"You're a very successful, man, Mr. Buchanan...er, James,"
I said. "You've made a lot of money. What drives you to
keep going, to keep making investments?"
"My fellow shareholders, for one thing."
"But as you yourself suggested, there comes a time to
turn the management over to somebody else."
"You haven't told me what you do, Karl. I assumed you
worked for Dionysus when I first met you. Since I now
know you don't I'm curious about you."
"I'm a baseball card dealer. I sell cards on the Internet."
"And you do this because...?"
"I love it. Since I was four all I've ever wanted to do
was to collect and sell baseball cards."
"Are you going to build your business up to a certain
point and then turn it over to somebody else to run?"
"Why would I do that? Then someone else would be
having all the fun."
"Exactly. Someone else would be having all the fun.
Someone else would be finding the perfect card.
Someone else would be matching it with the perfect
buyer, who has the same passion for it as you do and
would give it a good home. In my case, someone else
would be finding the perfect company, with the right
product, the right management at the right time.
Someone else would get the credit when it grows and
adds to the value of the Tartan portfolio."
"I'm sure Richard feels the same way about being the
CEO of Dionysus," Arrow said.
"I rather imagine he does," Buchanan said. "But there's
more. There's the thrill of being able to do something
better than anybody else; in fact, being able to do
something that nobody else can do. Karl, what's the most
valuable baseball card?"
"A T206 Honus Wagner," I said, without hesitation. "It
came out in 1909. Only a few were produced, and of
those there are only a handful in really good condition."
"How much is it worth?"
"One of the good ones sold recently on eBay for over a
million dollars. The card is so famous that Wayne
Gretzky, the hockey player, owned one at one time."
"How would you like to own one?"
"It would be a dream come true."
"Exactly. I'll tell you what. Keep your eyes open. If
one of the good ones comes on the market let me
know and we may be able to arrange it, together."
"I'm afraid it's a little out of my league." I said,
although I noticed that saliva was coming into my
mouth.
"You never know until you try. The offer stands. Well,
I'm going to have to get back to my guests. What
would you two like to do while you're here?"
"Ask you another question," I said. I had just
remembered something that had vanished from my
mind at the news of Ned's murder. James nodded,
so I said, "The other night when we were trying to
find Ned, between the time you called the restaurant
and the police, you made another phone call, and it
sounded like the person you talked to had seen Ned.
I was wondering who you talked to."
James looked puzzled. He said, "I didn't make another
call. You made a call to the hotel..."
"It was a call you made."
"I don't think so. Although at my age I sometimes forget
what I did five minutes ago, let alone three days ago."
He jumped up from his chair and said, "You two look
hungry. Come on downstairs and try our Friday night
buffet. Prepared by one of the best chefs in San
Francisco. I think you'll like it."
He led the way to the door and opened it. As he waited
for us to precede him through it, he said, "And if you
want to do any gambling, Stan will get you some chips."
Aces and Knaves copyright ©2002 Alan L. Cook
Give me feedback
Home Page--read about my mystery novel, The Hayloft,
available as a trade paperback book.