Final Venture

'No,' I said. 'I'm pretty sure there was no one manning the booth at the entrance to the beach…'

'There wasn't,' said Mahoney.

'Are you sure no one saw my car? You'd have thought they would have remembered it.'

'You'd have thought so,' said Mahoney. His blue eyes twinkled, and he smiled the irritating half-smile. He thought he'd got me.

'I definitely was there, Sergeant,' I said.

'All we're trying to do is confirm your story, Mr Ayot. Now, according to Daniel Hall, you and he discussed your father-in-law's wealth as recently as last week. Is that true?'

'No,' I replied quickly.

'He says you both discussed the money Mr Cook would make from Revere Partners' BioOne investment.' Mahoney raised his eyebrows, waiting for a reply.

Then I remembered the conversation. 'Oh, yes. That's right. We did discuss that. Or rather he did. Daniel is obsessed with how much money everyone makes, especially the partners. I wasn't very interested.'

'Not interested, huh?'

'No.'

'You have heard about the will now?'

'Yes I have.'

And you've heard your wife is a very wealthy woman.'

'I suppose she will be,' I said flatly.

'That money will be useful for you, won't it?'

'I don't follow.' I wondered what Mahoney was driving at.

'To fight your sister's lawsuit. She needs fifty thousand pounds, doesn't she? That's, what, eighty thousand bucks? And you've sunk thousands in the case already. Isn't that true?'

'Yes, it is,' I said carefully.

And how much have you already spent on your sister's lawsuit?'

About forty-five thousand pounds. She's spent twenty.'

'Which you borrowed?'

'Partly. Part of it was our savings.'

'And unless you can find the money to continue with this lawsuit, then you can kiss goodbye to that forty-five thousand pounds?'

'That's right,' I admitted.

'OK. I understand that your wife asked Mr Cook for some money to help pay for this lawsuit.'

'So she told me.'

'But Mr Cook said no?'

'Apparently. But, listen. I didn't ask her to go to him. It was her idea. She didn't tell me about it until after he'd said no.'

Mahoney watched me closely. 'So then you went to see him yourself?'

'No. I mean, yes. But not about that. I told you what I wanted to talk to him about. We'd had problems at work that I wanted to sort out.'

'So you didn't talk about money?'

'No. Or I suppose Frank did. But I told him I wasn't interested in his money.'

'Oh. So Mr Cook brought up the question of giving you money, and you told him you weren't interested?'

I slowed down, took a breath. 'Frank thought I'd come to see him to ask for money. I hadn't. I told him that. And now I'm telling you.'

'I see,' said Mahoney. He paused. 'It's lucky that your wife is going to inherit all this money, isn't it? Now you'll be able to pay those legal bills.'

'No,' I said. 'No, it isn't. I'd much rather Frank were still alive. And so would Lisa.'

'Of course, Mr Ayot. Of course. Thank you for your cooperation.' The interview was over, and I showed Sergeant Mahoney to the elevators. The irritating little smile never left his lips.

It was very hard to get back to work. I was worried. Although Mahoney hadn't come right out and accused me of murdering Frank, he was steadily building a case against me. No one seeing me at the beach, needing the money for Helen's lawsuit, my argument with Frank. None of these pieces of information was damning in itself, but each was pointing Mahoney where I was sure he wanted to go.

I knew he'd find more evidence from somewhere. I was getting very worried.

Lisa must have told Mahoney about Helen's legal case. She probably didn't see the harm in it, just answering a straightforward question honestly. But I wished she hadn't.

All this reminded me that I had intended to call Helen that afternoon to tell her about Frank's will, and Lisa's willingness to use some of the money to fund her legal bills. But something stopped me. Until I knew the results of Mahoney's investigation, I didn't want to get her hopes up. I still wanted to think that the justice system would inexorably grind on until I was cleared, and the true culprit found. But my doubts were growing. With some justification, as it turned out.

I tried to make it home by seven that evening, in case Lisa was back, but she wasn't there. She didn't arrive until nine. She looked tired and depressed.

'Can I get you a drink?' I asked.

'A glass of wine would be great.' She flopped on the sofa.

I passed her one. 'You did a long day's work.'

'Well, what do you expect?' she snapped. 'I've been out half the week. There's a ton of work to be done.'

I was taken aback by the outburst. 'I'm sure there is,' I said neutrally.

'You're not the only one with a stressful job, you know!'

'I know,' I said. I sat down beside her and put my arm round her.

She sipped her wine. 'Sorry, Simon. It's just that Boston Peptides is in real trouble. We're out of cash. I didn't realize how bad it was. I've agreed to no pay cheque this month, but that's hardly going to help.'

I sighed. 'Have they no leads on any more funds?'

'Not according to Henry. If only we could get all the animal work finished on BP 56. It would make us a much better proposition for any investor.'

This was bad news. Lisa had put everything into BP 5 6. If Boston Peptides went bust before the drug had met its potential, it would be a huge disappointment for her.

I squeezed her, and she pressed herself close into me. Then she began to cry. And she didn't stop.

I arrived at work a little late the next morning. Daniel hadn't shown up yet. I greeted John, who was looking over the Wall Street Journal whilst attacking a blueberry muffin.

'Forty-four and a half,' he said, without looking up.

'It's creeping back,' I said.

'Creeping is the right word for it.'

I checked the Chelsea web-page for details of the match they had played the night before. The Internet was a godsend for English football supporters trapped in America. The boys had won again, two-nil.

John interrupted me. 'Hey, Simon! Did you hear about Boston Peptides?' The whiff of gossip quickened his voice.

'No. What's happened?'

'BioOne's going to take it over. Art and Daniel were working on it all of yesterday'

I put my head in my hands. 'Oh, Christ.'

John was surprised by my reaction. 'It'll be good for Lisa, won't it? She has stock options, right? And BioOne will give Peptides the backing to expand its R &D'

'I don't think Lisa likes BioOne very much, John.' Where venture capitalists saw a high stock price, Lisa saw a big bad biotech company. And now she would be working for it.

Daniel strode into the office, bags under his eyes, and briefcase pulling down one arm.

'I heard about Boston Peptides,' I said. 'John told me.'

'It's a good deal,' said Daniel, arranging the papers on his desk.

'For BioOne.'

'And for Boston Peptides. It has a promising drug for Parkinson's, and BioOne has the muscle to see it through.'

I sighed. I could see the commercial logic.

'They're making a presentation this afternoon,' said John. 'You coming?'

'You bet.'

'It's at their offices in Kendall Square at two.'

'Their offices?'

Daniel grinned. 'Yeah. Enever said he didn't have time to come over here.'

It was unheard of for companies to make presentations to the partnership anywhere else but our offices. They came on time fully prepared. We showed up late, or cancelled the meeting. But in the case of BioOne, the balance of power had long ago shifted from investor to investee.

'Are you going?' I asked Daniel.

'Of course. I've been running all the damned numbers.'

'So if there are any mistakes, I know who to ask.'

'You do and you're a dead person,' Daniel said.

Despite his considerable mathematical ability, he had a tendency to transpose numbers, turning a 586 into a 568, for example. John and I delighted in waiting for the moment of maximum embarrassment to point them out.