"No…that is, I don't think so."
"Are you going to tell them?"
That was a stumper. "I…don't expect to," I said, hedging a little.
"Well, you're a nice looking boy so I hope I can trust you. Tell me how you knew Ned." Her voice had a musical sound now that she had accepted me.
"He worked with my father, Richard Patterson."
"Oh, that Patterson. I thought your name sounded familiar." She looked at my face with her dark eyes. "Yes, you do resemble your father."
"So you know him."
"I've met him a couple of times. And I own some stock in Dionysus. Tell me, has he recovered from his stroke?"
"Er, yes," I said, caught off guard. "He's back at work. Ms. Sung, I wanted to ask you about the night Ned died. I heard that he might have come here before he was shot, to get a gun."
"My, you're just a fountain of information, aren't you?" Ms. Sung said, looking at me with surprise. "Tell me what else you know."
"That's all."
"That's a relief. For a minute there I thought you were going to tell me my life story. The gun actually belonged to Ned. He insisted that I keep it to defend myself because I live alone. But I can't picture myself ever shooting anyone."
Ms. Sung stopped talking and sipped her tea. I didn't say anything, hoping she'd continue.
"I don't think Ned intended to take the gun when he first arrived," she said, and then apparently rethinking the way that sounded, continued, "I've known Ned almost forever. James, too. Anyway, the phone rang and I answered it. It was a woman who said she had a message for Ned from James, or Mr. Buchanan, as she called him. I thought that was strange because, as you know if you know James at all, he surrounds himself with young, good-looking men like yourself."
"But he does have a woman receptionist."
"Anyway, I gave the phone to Ned. He talked for a minute, then hung up and asked me for the gun. Naturally, I was concerned so I asked him why he wanted it. He said James wanted to meet him in a questionable part of town so he felt safer carrying the gun. He said he would return it later in the evening." Her voice faltered when she said the last.
"But you didn't see him again."
"No." Softly.
"Do you know what time that was?"
"A little before nine, I think."
"Did Ned say why he was meeting James?"
"They had been talking together about a possible takeover of Dionysus by Tartan, James' company. Ned would have become CEO of Dionysus. Your father would have been out but he would have been left financially well off so I didn't feel too sorry for him. But then Ned had a change of heart and decided he didn't want to team up with James again. I think he was going to tell James this."
"You know more about what Ned was doing than his wife," I blurted.
"I've known him longer than his wife-at least in this country," Ms. Sung said, an inscrutable look in her eyes.
She had been honest with me, as far as I could tell. Should I ask the definitive question? Why not? "Do you think James had Ned killed?"
Her dark eyes studied me. "No, James isn't a killer. What I do think is this. I think Ned may have taken the gun to give him the guts to tell James off. Not that he would have ever used it against James."
"But then, was the telephone message from James legitimate or not? I don't think James left his house all evening." A fact easily verified.
"James told me the message did not come from him. I believe him."
Then who did it come from?"
Ms. Sung smiled, sadly. "If you can answer that question you can probably find the killer."
"Shouldn't you go to the police and tell them what you know?"
"I don't know anything that would help. It is too late to trace the telephone call and I don't believe James did it so I am not going to implicate him."
"But it was you that James called when he was looking for-or pretended to be looking for-Ned."
"Yes."
"So he knew Ned had been here."
"But that was no surprise. Ned visited me every time he came to San Francisco. And James, bless his sexually mixed-up little heart, knew that."
I tried not to show a reaction. "What about the cocaine?"
She shrugged. "Ned was as clean as a newly diapered baby. I don't know anything about the cocaine."
I couldn't think of any more questions. I said, "Ms. Sung, thank you for your time." I stood up.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked, also standing. "Are you going to tell the police about me?"
"No. Although…I would like to reserve the right to do so if I can find out who made the phone call-so that you can verify that the phone call was actually made."
"If it will clear James I will testify. But I don't think my testimony would make Ned's wife very happy."
"Probably not. But I guess that's a chance we'd have to take."
Chapter 32 LOSER
I arrived at James's place in my rental car just before seven. Arrow pulled into the driveway ahead of me. We walked up the steps together. I had decided not to tell Arrow about Flora Sung because doing that would be tantamount to telling my father and the whole world.
I was feeling better about Arrow being there. I said to her, "Are you going to solve the puzzle tonight or am I going to have to do it?"
She said, "The Arrow approach is to bull your way in."
"Like Alexander the Great cutting the Gordian knot."
Stan answered our ring and I wondered whether he would let us in at all. He did, without even giving us the puzzle. Either Arrow had set a precedent or you didn't need to solve the puzzle when you were in the middle of a bet.
Stan met us at the bottom of the stairs. He gave Arrow a hug and shook my hand. I didn't detect any animosity toward me, but that didn't mean it wasn't there.
He did say to me, "I understand you're going to come to work for us."
"If he loses," Arrow said. "But he's not going to lose."
Stan laughed and said, "If we had voted for the most determined student in grad school you would have won. But I'm afraid you can't substitute determination for luck."
But my luck, or rather my skill, was working and I increased my stake to $3,000 in a relatively short time. Only $1,000 to go. At that point Arrow made me take a break, even though I was hot.
"I don't know what you mean by hot," Arrow said after we sat down. "I took statistics in grad school and I know that each trial is independent of all others. Each throw of the dice, each deal of the cards, has no relationship to what happened on the previous throw or deal. So there's no such thing as hot."
I grinned sheepishly and said, "I guess you really did learn something at Stanford."
"One thing I know that I didn't learn in school is that the longer you play the harder it will be for you to maintain concentration. Therefore, I suggest the following: Bet small until the odds swing in your favor. Then bet a thousand or whatever you need to win."
"In other words, all or nothing."
"Not quite. If you lose you'll still be ahead of your original stake."
The more we discussed this the better it sounded. I went back to the table determined to try to win quickly while Arrow kept an exact count of my chips. The opportunity came three deals later. Toward the end of the deck the odds swung radically in my favor.
I nudged Arrow. We did a quick calculation and pulled out the chips I needed to reach $4,000. If the dealer was surprised at my bet he didn't show it. He dealt two cards each to the other two players, to me and to himself. His up-card was a six.
This was the best of all possible worlds. I cautiously looked at my cards. A king and a jack. I mentally counted my money. The other players didn't take any hits and neither did I. The dealer flipped over his down card. It was a five. He dealt himself a jack. Twenty-one. I had lost.