“Son...”
Now he pointed at his father and it was accusatory. “You shut-up. Shut-up and stay out of my life, old man! You interfere in my private affairs and I will walk out of here and leave you to pick up the pieces.” He turned to me again. “This old fool hasn’t done a thing for this firm for ten years! The ancient mariner here has no idea what it takes to run a company like this, in this day and age! I doubt he knows how to turn on a computer!”
I knew. Velda had taught me.
Colby lurched forward and his father, still seated, backed away, frightened, as his son’s fist came down, and I was poised to go for the raving ranter myself; but the base of the blow was meant for the table, and it connected, making everything on that coffee table jump.
Then Vincent Colby stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
We sat in silence for a while broken only by the gentle lapping of flames. Fortunately my coffee cup had been in my hand and not on the coffee table. I took a drink. Vance Colby had a hand over his face and was doing his best not to sob. His best wasn’t enough.
I waited.
Soon he was dabbing at his face with a handkerchief. “I... I apologize, Mr. Hammer.”
I smiled at him, just a gentle thing. “Mike, remember? Families are tough sometimes.”
The smaller Colby gestured with both hands, as if balancing two objects. “That’s just the thing! We’ve always been close, Vincent and I. Always. His mother died when he was seven and we’ve been best friends ever since. Never a harsh word between us. Until...”
I frowned. “Until the accident?”
He nodded. “Yes. I am assured by the medical experts that my son will fully recover, but... it may take time. Vincent is on medication and he is seeing a psychiatrist on a daily basis. So far it’s... frankly, it’s not doing any good.” He swallowed. “But it’s early. It’s early yet.”
“Has there been an impact on his work?”
His shrug was elaborate. “Vincent’s working only half days — seeing the shrink in the afternoons, sometimes his physician, as well. There are... occasional explosions of temper. He’s always been a charmer where the staff is concerned — a bit manipulative perhaps, but that’s not a bad thing in this game. He has not, at least not as yet, evinced any signs of violent behavior.”
My eyes got big as I pointed to the door Vincent had stormed through minutes ago. “What the hell would you call that?”
He lifted a hand. “No signs of physical violence, I should say. He’s been short with his people, and lost it with them, and they understand, but it shakes them. It’s so unlike him. He’s been such a great boss to them. He also... oh, Mr. Hammer. This is hard.”
“I know, sir. Go on.”
Vance swallowed thickly. “When I get home tonight, one of two things will happen. Either Vincent will not remember any of this... amnesiac bouts can come with certain concussion cases, I have been told... or he may break down and cry and apologize. I am not generally a demonstrative man, Mr. Hammer, but I will hold my grown son in my arms. Hold him like a baby.”
And he began to weep.
I went over and sat next to him. Put a hand on his shoulder. It made me uncomfortable as hell, but I did it. Maybe it was the ten grand in my pocket. Maybe I’m a human being after all, not that being one is anything to brag about.
“Your son is correct, I take it,” I said, when he had composed himself, still sitting next to him, “that you want me find the hit-and-run driver.”
He nodded. “I do not feel the police have done nearly a thorough enough job on what is to them, I’m sure, just a routine hit-and-run. They have very little to go on, admittedly. But I fear they’ve dismissed this, or at least downplayed it, due to a victim who was not badly hurt.”
I shook my head. “You’re not helpless in this. Someone like you could make noise. You could make it known that Vincent’s injury was anything but ‘routine.’”
He turned to me alarmed. “That kind of publicity would have a terrible negative effect on this business! Daltree and Levine, the two partners of mine on our masthead, are deceased, and I am semi-retired. My son is the moving force behind our operation. I do not want his condition getting out. It would compromise the firm horribly.”
“Okay.” I got up and resumed my seat opposite him. “I get that.”
Slumped, hands clasped, he stared at the floor. “Also, I feel there’s a chance that something more might be behind this.”
“You think someone might have been trying to kill Vincent.”
He looked at me, his eyes hard now. “I do. My son has made enemies in business — he can be ruthless, which is necessary in this business. And you heard him talk about his own suspicions, though I’m afraid I have my doubts — that may be delusional behavior, another concussion symptom. But just the same, I’m already exploring that possibility.”
“In what way?”
“As you surmised, I employ a major security firm.”
He mentioned the outfit by name and I nodded, said they did good work. Assured him, on that score, they would do better than I could.
“So if this is related to business,” Vance Colby said, “we’ll assume they will find out. But if it’s a personal matter... you will find out. Is that agreeable?”
“It is. Sir...”
“Vance. Please.”
“Vance, your son may be involved in a love triangle of sorts, which provides me with an immediate avenue to go down.”
His eyes tightened. “I knew nothing of that. Had no idea.”
“I only have a vague sense of it myself, but it’s a start. Is there anything else you can think of? I make no judgment when I ask this, but could he have been involved in drugs? Or any other illegal activity that would put him in contact with criminal elements?”
The father shook his head, firmly. “No drugs, certainly. He is something of a health enthusiast. Played rugby at Harvard. Lots of raw vegetables in his diet, very limited intake of red meat. Vitamins. Works out at home in our exercise room. Doesn’t smoke. Very little drinking.”
“What’s he normally like? His personality, I mean. His temperament.”
“In work my son walks a line between being conservative and, as I said, reckless — I’d generally call him moderate, but he will take a risk, if he feels it’s called for. He has always been a deliberate boy. Maintains control. Which is why it’s so terribly disturbing to see him fly off the handle, and go into such an erratic, violent tailspin.”
“What exactly do you expect of me?”
“Find the person driving that red sports car.”
“And what?”
He held up two hands, palms out, as if in surrender. “I’ll leave that to your discretion. If this was truly an accident, turn the individual over to the police. If it does turn out to be someone striking out at Vincent, personally — if that incident was a murder attempt, not an accident... or if the man turns out to have been a drunk driver... use your own judgment.”
I leaned forward. I spoke very quietly.
“Vance, I want no misunderstanding here. Despite my reputation, you’re hiring an investigator, not a vigilante.” I gestured around me. “Even with all this, you don’t have enough money to hire me to kill someone, or even knock them around. I’m not a hired killer. Not a thug. No matter what some people believe.”
“What if someone were to pull a gun on you?”
“I’d shoot them, of course.”
He smiled. “That’s good enough for me, Mike.”