Stealing Flowers (36 page)

Isaac drew up and sat down beside me. “Tell
us how you have been, Peter?” Isaac said after we had ordered

“My family has one extra since I saw you
last.” He took out a picture of his wife and their new
daughter.

“She’s beautiful,” Isaac said. “What’s her
name?”

“Cassandra.”

Mary looked at the photo sadly and rose her
glass. “I hope she lives long and sees a good life.”

We all raised our glasses. “Give me what you
have so far,” Peter said afterward.

Stan passed him a folder from his briefcase
and Peter studied it in silence a few moments. “What we have is
considerable,” Stan said, “but not good. There’s enough evidence
against Christian that he’d have to have been an imbecile to commit
this crime in this fashion.”

“I’ve read through the preliminary
information which you sent me,” Peter said, looking up. “Already, I
can say with some certainty that someone is framing you. You think
it’s The Family of Truth?”

“You don’t?” I asked startled, having some
kind of idea how his mind worked.

“Nearly a month ago the president of Nexus
unexpectedly resigned,” he said softly.

This slant, surprised us all. “Cheryl
Garland,” Mom said, “she was with us almost since the
beginning.”

“Without warning, she has left the country,”
he said, “disappeared, and the president of Constant Batteries,
Graham Roberts, an original member of the group of six, a so-called
Stanroid, has also disappeared. Hiroyuki Nakamura launched
company-wide audits with Bill Stanton, using your son and his own
hand-selected people? What was wrong with Jack Denison’s previous
results? Christian, maybe you could shed some light on this?”

I figured whatever confidence I’d shared
with Hiro, he wouldn’t hold me to it now. Besides, Una, Mary, and
Stan, knew something lousy was up. “We found millions missing,” I
confessed. “Misappropriated funds from the Constant Batteries and
Nexus Divisions were most evident. Their disappearances are no mere
coincidence. We were honing in on Susan and Graham, but there are
others involved. It’s company-wide and they stole billions.”

“How long have you known this?” Stan asked
while Mary silently studied me with a gaze which could only be
construed as disapproval mixed with hurt.

“Not as long as Hiroyuki. It was Bill
Stanton who discovered it working under Jack. He went to Hiro out
of fear of reprisal, but now the ongoing investigation has been
expanded, but we’ve had a hell of a time pinning the guilty
parties.”

“Do you feel that someone inside our
organization has framed Christian?” Mary asked. I could tell she
was in total shock.

“Graham Roberts went missing late at night,”
Stan said, not waiting for his answer, “and a police investigation
has now begun. The details are in the folder. His car disappeared
with him. He must be on the run, but the police fear foul-play too.
Do you feel he may have killed Sally and framed Christian?”

“I don’t think he killed Sally,” Peter
answered. “An expert did it. Nothing else could count for all the
evidence against Christian, except professional assassins, but
Graham Roberts may have paid for it. If you and Mary retire, if
let’s say Christian is convicted, who’d control Tappet
Industries?”

“Hiroyuki Nakamura,” Stan answered.

“Could Mr. Nakamura raise the funds to buy
it from you?” Both Mom and Dad shook their heads. “What’s Mr.
Nakamura’s salary?” Peter asked further.

“I would have to check,” Mary said, “but I
think it grew over the two million mark in 1987. We gave him
several significant raises to keep him mollified. After all, Sally
and Christian are being groomed by him, and for that matter, Lloyd
Mills. Lloyd is ambitious, and has a great deal of power inside
Tappets too, but Hiro, after all, is truly capable of running it,
not Lloyd. Hiro has made it known to us that he would like to be
the executive president before Sally and Christian took over.”

Peter scratched his head. “How is it that
you and this brilliant Nakamura guy, don’t know about the missing
millions all these years, but Christian steps in from university
and presto?”

“Bill Stanton discovered it by chance,” I
said. “We haven’t even found enough of a paper trail to fire
anyone. It’s meticulously well hidden.”

“It isn’t always possible to give free reign
to your managers,” Mary replied, “and then on the other hand, make
them account for every penny they spend. Under the system which Una
and I devised, the books can be doctored. We’ve known that all
along. We run almost completely on the honor system. That’s why we
have performed so well in nearly all market changes, even this
depression. We’re flexible, creative, innovative and we aren’t
tight-fisted.”

“At first, Mary thought that the audits were
a bit insulting,” Stan added, “but I guess Hiro took the right
track.”

Peter refused another glass of wine from the
waiter and looked at a small notepad. “Is the court date set?”

Isaac checked his daily planner pilot. “May
16.”

“Burlington is good,” Peter said, “when can
I meet with him? The sooner the better.”

“We’ll try tomorrow,” Mary said, “if that’s
okay?”

“What does Burlington think of your theory
on the murder motive?”

“He thinks the Family of Truth is more than
capable, but we need facts in a most desperate way.”

“That’s why I’m here. We’ll investigate on
two fronts, The Family of Truth, and Cheryl Garland and Graham
Roberts. Maybe they’ll even overlap.”

Stan sighed. “They better not.”

I agreed. If they did, I’d give up my faith
in man. Already it looked like there were way more Cheryl Garland
and Graham Roberts-types, than there were Una, Mom, and Dad-types,
and far too many people like me, the neutral, the average, and the
vast majority.

About a week later, on Sunday, February 7,
while I was sequestered in the mansion, I had now started reading
the newspapers, and what they were saying about me was extremely
disturbing, Peter returned from Montevideo, Uruguay, South America.
He been hunting down Cheryl Garland. Una, Stan, Mary, and myself
were there when he visited.

“I’ve found her,” he said when we were all
together and took a drink from Una in the parlor looking defeated.
“I’m afraid to tell you that she’s dead. As you know, I received an
anonymous tip that Cheryl often professed that Uruguay was a great
place to retire. When I arrived there, I thought I’d hit a lucky
break. My taxi-driver had seen her. Can you imagine? But, you know
how she has that look of victimhood, so everybody remembered her.
One guy fleeced me for eighty dollars to find out that she lived in
Colonia. I rented a car and that night started to go from diner to
bar. Four establishments later, at ten o’clock, I hit some luck. A
little plump native man studied the picture with great interest. I
thought I was going to get fleeced again, but he told me to go to
the police. I inquired at the police station and an officer told me
that a North American female, going by the name of Cheryl Locke,
had been the victim of a violent house robbery. She’d been
discovered dead with a body full of bullets by her housekeeper.
They gave me her address and I double-checked with neighbors, who
identified her. It was Cheryl Garland.

“I’ve become convinced that Christian has
been set up, but two clear choices still exist. They both seemed to
involve conspiracies. Someone killed Sally to halt the audit at
Tappets or to stop the litigation against The Family of Truth. I
must tell you that I hate conspiracy theories, but if either one is
true, they have certainly been effective: The litigation has been
stopped, and although the audit continues, it is less likely to be
finished than before. Moreover, there seems no proof of any
perpetrator but Christian. This tells us two things: They likely
killed Graham and the murderer or murderers of Sally are quickly
tying up whatever remaining loose ends exist.” He took a long
swallow of his drink. “Josh, my son, is hunting down Graham
Roberts. He has talked to a call-girl and he thinks that she’s the
last one to see him before he disappeared.”

“Mr. Burlington has lost our delay tactic,”
I said, suddenly depressed. “The trial’s date is still set for May.
It’s like the world has rose up against us.”

“Don’t get down, son,” Stan said. “There are
better days ahead. Peter will find who’s behind this.”

But I didn’t have Stan’s faith in life. I
was very aware of The First Law of Life for orphans and those born
unlucky. Twice that week, I cried myself to sleep and I became
depressed and tried my best to hide it. Only Una was aware of how
sad I was, but told me I was still better than Mary, who said that
she was so depressed that it frightened her. Part of my weakness
was caused because of my involvement with Sally. If you build your
strength on something that you have to hide, it zaps your strong
points, (and I didn’t have that many to begin with). Most men with
a foundation who can stand up to the world have either a strong
woman behind them or had a dad like Stan. My wounds had come before
I’d been placed into Stan’s hands, and then, since that time, I’d
managed to wound myself several times more.

At the turn of March, I sat alone in bed
reading, Sun and Steel, by Yukio Mishima, a book Hiroyuki had given
me. I had heard that Mishima had once said, ‘A line of poetry
signed with a splash of blood; that’s my life.’ The very thought
gave me an irrational window into the world of revenge, but modern
life was tricky enough without venturing too far away from Stan’s
relentless calm. On the walls, hung pictures of my family including
Una, and two enormous prints: One of an aerial shot of Musée du
Louvre on the Seine River in Paris, France, and the other of a
famous seventeenth century painting by Claude Lorrains, Harbor at
Sunset.

They’d replaced the Beatle’s posters. The
mansion’s wealthy surroundings contrasted with my former life as an
orphan. They meshed and blended in my nightmares while I slept,
rectangular sections of naked female bodies were inserted with
Lloyd’s thin taut preteen body, like in Cubism. When I awoke in the
mornings to find my name in the headlines of the New York City
papers, the nightmare became real. I couldn’t recall who I was
suppose to be and why I kept living, morose thoughts had often
plagued me in recent weeks, but they were becoming more
frequent.

Una came into the room that afternoon with
some surprising news. “Miss Susan Zucker is here to see you,” she
said.

“Delay her, Una,” I said in a rush and
jumped out of bed, “so I can clean up and shave.”

“She’s a pretty thing, but don’t hurry; I’ll
fix her something.”

Ten minutes later, I came down and found Una
and Susan talking over a hot dish in the kitchen. I could see that
Susan had impressed Una once again and looked like she was enjoying
herself. I felt relieved. For some reason upon seeing me, she
blushed. Her long blond hair fell well below her shoulders. Her
bright blue eyes shone and she was as glamorous as ever. “What has
she made you?” I asked.

“Ham-pancake-chili something.”

“It’s a soufflé,” Una said.

We all tasted it and agreed it was
delicious. “Would you like to go out?” I said to Susan when I’d a
chance. “I’m going nuts cooped up here.”

“Could we talk in private?” she said. “I
can’t stay that long.”

I realized my disappointment had jumped to
my eyes, but I couldn’t help myself. Why had she come if she wasn’t
interested in me? “Will you have something to drink?”

“Tea would be great.” I hadn’t meant that
kind of drink, either, and she knew it. We left the kitchen and
walked the corridors of the mansion, sitting on a love-seat before
an unlit fireplace in the study. Nervous, her movements seemed
rehearsed, as though she had come for a reason she couldn’t plainly
state. This bugged me more than it should have. Something about her
bothered me, as though she thought I might have actually killed
Sally.

“You’ve heard about the murder charges,” I
said. “Do you think I’ve flipped out and killed my sister? I hope
you’ve not come here because you feel sorry for me.”

She half-frowned. “I read the papers,” she
said. “I thought you might be able to use a friend, but you’re just
being rude.”

I reached over and tried to kiss her, but
she turned away. “I became overwhelmed with the death of my
sister,” I said softly, becoming sexually excited and overly
aggressive. It pushed me on as I spoke, “And it’s been confusing.
Strong evidence has been collected against me and it came
immediately to light. You may find this hard to believe, but I’ve
many friends and supporters who believe in my innocence, who
believe the Family of Truth is behind it. Now that you’re here, now
that I see you in the flesh, it’s not just friendship which leaps
to mind.” I tried to kiss her again, but she wouldn’t let her lips
touch mine. She frowned, yet didn’t rise and leave either. It was
nerve-wracking. “I’ve shocked you with my bluntness,” I whispered.
“I’m so lonely that I feel like being deliberately indelicate.
You’re lovely and I’m doing badly. I need you to stay with me the
afternoon and to make love, and I’m not even sorry that I have to
beg for it.”

“You’re fighting for your life and you are
worried about sex.”

Surprisingly, in my own mind, sex was the
furthest thing from what I wanted from her, but of course it
involved sex. She rose. I was bewildered yet still aggressive. My
inner voice was pleading from anything but a reasonable position.
“What are you talking about?” I asked angrily.

“My Grandfather always said, ‘All you can
expect from a pig is a grunt.’”

“Why did you come?” I hissed. “My sister and
I were close. I’d never dream of hurting her anymore than you would
hurt a member of your family, and moreover, that particular night,
we were closer than we’ve ever been. The Family of Truth murdered
Sally and you know it. Sally and I had heard of the Hostility
Branch from Rick Edwards, who they killed also.” I again tried for
a kiss which she deftly refused. “I need you,” I said, “you’re
strong. I saw it from the first time I laid eyes on you. Don’t you
want to be with me?”