All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth
Mike’s watch told him it was after 9:00 a.m. when the
rap on the door sounded. “Hey, Oates, you awake yet?”
The sneer in the man’s voice made Mike’s fist clench.
“Why don’t you come in and find out?” Mike retorted
and then realized the question was intended to make him
angry.
When Sal entered his room, his sharp eyes took in the
untouched food and the clothes that were still on Mike. Sal
sauntered in and made a small smirk on his face. “You gotta
eat, Oates. You need some of the calories to get through today.
It’s gonna be a big day for you.”
“So you say, Sal.”
“OK, you are now going to have brunch with the boss.”
“Is he a boss? So what is he, some kind of mob boss,
Sal?”
Sal’s dark face darkened even more in anger. “You shut
up about that, Oates.”
“I’m ready for my breakfast,” Mike said coolly as he
passed him on the way out the door.
The morning room was well-appointed—lots of light
and airy drapes that hung from the ceiling down to the floor.
The windows were opened to a courtyard. In the room, a long
table, made of mahogany, was laden down with covered
dishes—silver and ornate, heated from beneath with small
sterno candles. There was the aroma of fresh coffee, scrambled
eggs, all kinds of pastries, and croissants. In one corner, a chef
prepared the meal for Henderson, who was standing at the
french doors, looking out.
When Mike entered the room, Henderson looked
around and saw him. He paused momentarily and scanned
Mike’s face. “Mike, Mike, so good to see you looking rested!”
Henderson came up to Mike and steered him to the table.
“Look, here. We have a great spread for you. You are an
honored guest. After all, you father and I—we go back a long
way.”
“So I hear,” Mike said without emotion.
“I’m having our breakfast outside—on the balcony.
Orange juice? Or a Bloody Mary perhaps?”
“I’ll have coffee and whatever you are eating, thank
you.”
“Good choice. I don’t like juice in the morning. Makes
too much fat, you know? All those carbs from the—” He saw
Mike’s face and stopped. He frowned slightly before handing
Mike a plate. “Here, a nice plate big enough for a hearty
breakfast. We have a lot to discuss today.”
Mike mechanically went through the dishes and put
something from them on his plate. He wanted to kill
Henderson, but that wasn’t possible. All he hoped for was that
he would be leaving today and going to see Lauren. It killed
Mike that Lauren was all alone. He feared Jonathan Moore’s
anger more than Henderson any day. And then he
remembered that glowering look that Marsh gave him.
“Lost in your thoughts, Mike?”
“Uh . . . no. I’m ready to eat. Is this where you wanted
us to eat and talk?”
“Yes, yes.” Henderson looked at him with a winning
smile. “Take a seat, relax. Once we have our talk, I can have
Sal take you to your room where you can shower and shave.
The road back to New Haven is a little long, but you’ll be
fresh as a daisy when you arrive.”
They ate in relative silence. Henderson had a copy of
the Wall Street Journal at his elbow. He never looked at it. Mike
decided that Henderson was eager to talk.
Mike debated whether he ought to say something first.
Then Henderson beat him to it. “Mike, you remember what
we talked about last night, don’t you?”
“Why don’t you refresh my memory, Henderson? I
wasn’t exactly in a great mood to receive your proposal.”
“Mike, now you know that your father, George, and I
had a contract that gave me half of the shares of your bank in
Columbus.”
“I did not know that. My father didn’t discuss his bank
dealings with me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, so now, in this contract, I really want this bank
on my terms. I want to run it and manage it and get my
people in it.”
“I see.”
“You are in some need of support, are you not?”
“Tell me how I am.”
Henderson pursed his lips and sat silent for a moment.
“What I will say, Mike, is that you are in an existential pit of
snakes now. You are a suspect in a murder case, and don’t try
to deny it.”
“I do deny it, Henderson. What are you talking about?”
Henderson clenched his jaw. “You were seen running
away from a murder scene. You were seen, Mike Oates.”
“Who was I supposed to have killed?”
“You play this very well. I won’t give you too much
more. I am sick of your innocent playacting.”
Mike leaned forward, his blue eyes dark with anger.
“Let me out of here, Henderson. Whatever you want, just ask
me and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“You must know that you are going to be nailed for the
murder of James Levy. Do you not remember that night? It
was in January, and you got into words with Levy, isn’t that
what happened?”
Mike said nothing.
“OK. Here’s the deal. For your freedom from further
investigation, I am prepared to buy from you the remains
shares of Columbus Bank and Trust, owned by your father
and then your representatives. I want to get this bank, and
then if you and when you sign those over to me, I will give
you enough money to get the hell out of this country. You
have all the money you need. And I’ll sweeten the deal for
you, my friend Mike.” Henderson smiled with a wink. “Missy
Wright is going to be your long-loving wife when you finally
get your money, and she and you will have a one-way ticket
to Paris after you have said your marriage I dos.” He flipped a
coin over to Mike. “Capisce?”
Oddly enough, Mike felt unsurprised by this. It seemed
as though he had a scenario of this that was in his mind
sometime in the last twenty-four hours. Mike pretended to
think. He took a small portion of bacon and ate it. Then he
wiped his lips with the linen napkin.
Finally, he leaned back and stared at Henderson. “On
two conditions.”
“What are they?”
“One, that Lauren Moore does not get harmed in any
way through any of this. She gets home free and clear.”
“Done.”
“Two, I need two days to get my lawyers to draw up
the paperwork.”
“Two days?” Henderson was irate. “What the hell? I
have lawyers, Mike Oates.”
“You don’t see it my way, at least on this end. I need
my mother taken care of. She is still one of my dad’s heirs, and
the money that is profited by Columbus Bank and Trust keeps
her happy with whatever stuff she needs.”
“So you want her to get some kind of annuity?”
“Damn right I do.”
Henderson shrugged. “OK.”
“And I want to go back to New Haven in ten minutes.”
“That’s OK.” Henderson stood up. “You are a smart
one, Mike Oates. No wonder the guys in Harvard took you
in.”
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