Murder Over Broken Bonds, page 17
“We have a bid list that just came in.”
The rest of her day was consumed with putting out one brush fire after another. When Anne finally made it home that evening, she was exhausted. Her nerves were frayed from the pressure of responding to dozens of trading inquiries, and all she could see was a mountain of work in front of her for the evening as well.
She kicked off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen to start making dinner. After opening a new can of food for Muffin and pouring herself a glass of wine, she began listening to the messages on her answering machine.
The first one began cheerily enough. “Hi. This is Bob. I want to add another item to the agenda for our condo board meeting.”
She began rummaging through the refrigerator to find something edible while the recording played on, pulling out some leftover lasagna just as it ended with a small beep.
“Hi. This is Louise.” the next one began. “I need to talk to you about the guy in unit four.”
Anne groaned. She began reheating the pasta in the microwave while Louise complained about her neighbor leaving the lid off of the garbage can, inviting raccoons to paw through the contents and leave a giant mess. The message finished at the same time her dinner was done nuking. Beep!
The last message was delivered in a hoarse whisper. “Back off! I’m warning you! Just back off!”
The glass of wine Anne was holding slipped and shattered on her kitchen floor, startling Muffin, who jumped back in surprise. “Damn!” she exclaimed and then checked the caller ID box.
“Unavailable,” it read.
“Of course,” she said aloud to herself.
As she retrieved a broom and dustpan from the pantry close, she noticed her hands shaking and was surprised at how unnerved she felt. Back off from what? She poured a new glass of wine and debated the significance of what she had just heard.
Was the caller somehow related to the Pandora deals and Michael’s death? If so, she should probably notify Peter Eckert immediately and contact the police as well. But what if it was just her neighbor on the first floor who was annoyed about the flower garden fees. He had stood up at the last meeting and complained bitterly that they were exorbitant, specifically calling her out as The Worst President of the Condominium Association Ever, with a strong emphasis on Ever. Screaming that his rights were being trampled and demanding that the association remove the lien on his condo, he had been quite menacing at the time. Back off now, the message had said. Perhaps this was simply Mr. Irate giving her more of the same.
She frowned and took a sip of her wine. The last thing Anne wanted to do was make a big deal about something at work that had nothing to do with work. She would look overwrought, as if she didn’t belong in a professional position with serious responsibilities. Recognizing that she wasn’t giving senior management much credit, she also knew they didn’t deserve it. She had seen too many examples of women at Spencer Brothers being held to a different standard.
As the debate played back and forth in her mind, Anne started to lean toward the option of ignoring the call for the time being. She made a mental note to ask around to determine if other board members had received similar calls and tried to get her mind to focus on something else, anything else, except the strange message.
She wandered into the living room and flipped on the television. Nothing good was playing. She turned it off and picked up a book. Unable to concentrate, she set it down again after a few minutes. Back off, he had said. What was he going to do if she ignored him? Appear at her front door? And why the weird whispering? Mr. Irate had shown no fear in confronting her in person at the meeting.
Suddenly the phone rang. Her heart leapt to her throat, the shrill tone cutting across the stillness of her apartment. She hesitated before picking it up and then cautiously put the receiver to her ear. When the voice on the other end began talking without identifying himself, it took her a moment to recognize the caller as her friend, Jim.
“Are you okay?” He asked after a few seconds.
“Yes. Why?”
“You sound a little distracted.”
“Oh,” she paused, uncertain whether to say anymore. “I’m fine. It’s been a long week.”
“Are you still planning to go skiing this weekend?”
“Absolutely!”
“It’s a bummer that Katie won’t be able to make it.”
“I know, but it means I’ll win the big race for sure,” Anne said with a laugh.
“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you. Kevin quit his job in December and has been hitting the slopes nonstop ever since. He could present some formidable competition….”
As they talked, she found that the accumulated tension began to dissipate, and by the time they hung up, she had put the strange message out of her mind entirely.
14
The Weekend Beckons
A Week and a Half After the Meeting
Anne woke up Friday morning feeling relieved. With William’s weeklong absence from the office almost over, the chaos would finally be coming to an end. More importantly, the weekend stretched open, inviting, and completely before her.
She struggled to get her baggage down the flight of stairs and out the doors and then faced the prospect of carrying everything a good seven blocks to the PATH tubes. Ordinarily a brisk ten-minute walk, it took over twenty minutes. As the subway car rumbled beneath the river separating New Jersey from Manhattan, people stared at her as if they had never seen a pair of skis before. She ignored them and focused her thoughts on the upcoming weekend. Friends. Fresh mountain air. No angry condo people. And no Pandora bonds. Anne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This group ski trip had become an annual tradition, and she was very much looking forward to it.
At the office, the security people furrowed their brows and debated whether to inspect her ski bag for dangerous weapons. She smiled coquettishly, and they eventually waved her through.
“Going on holiday?”
She turned to see Alex sprinting toward the elevator. To keep the doors from closing, she waved her foot back and forth in front of them. “Skiing. In Vermont this weekend, with some old college friends.”
“That should be fun.” He pushed the button for his floor. “Although I prefer Colorado, where the conditions are always perfect. New England can be a little dicey.”
She smiled. Compared with the powder out in the Rockies, there was no question that the typical ice and refrozen snow in the northeast could be a challenge. “I’m just glad to get away,” she replied. “It’s been awful with William out of town.”
He smiled. “Office truants wreaking havoc down in research?”
She nodded. “Donna and Elise keep sneaking off for long lunches, and the secretaries have gone totally AWOL. Yesterday, the phones were left unmanned for hours, and it was a nightmare trying to keep up with the calls.” She debated whether to mention the strange message left on her answering machine.
“William will restore order on Monday.”
Anne nodded. She was actually looking forward to his return. With all of the distractions this week, she had not been able to make enough progress on the Pandora bonds. “Hey, I was wondering—”
The elevator beeped, indicating they had reached her floor.
“Have you gotten any weird phone calls?”
He laughed. “What do you mean?”
She stepped off of the elevator, banging her skis against the door. “Oh—” She suddenly felt foolish for having brought it up. “It’s probably nothing.” He looked at her quizzically, so she tried to quickly explain. “Someone left a message in a creepy, guttural whisper, saying to ‘back off’ or something along those lines.”
He pushed the button to hold the door. “At home?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “So, it wouldn’t make sense for it to be work-related.”
“Not really.”
He studied her for a moment, and she found herself feeling self-conscious. Had she overdone it on the blush? She liked to add just a hint of color so she didn’t look like death warmed over, but still keeping the overall look natural.
“Were you thinking it had something to do with the Pandora deals?”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted, brushing a strand of hair off of her face. “But I’m also President of the Condo Association and—”
“President? Seriously?”
She shuddered theatrically. “Don’t ever make that mistake. It’s the worst non-paying job in the world. We’re in the midst of fending off a lawsuit from a guy on the first floor who doesn’t think he should have to pay for the flower beds out front.” She shrugged. “The call was probably from him.”
“What a wanker.” Alex made a face. “Avoid him at all cost.”
The elevator started beeping.
“That’s what I’m thinking too.” She waved. “See you later.”
When she got to her cubicle, she saw that again, none of the secretaries were anywhere to be found, and the phones were already ringing nonstop.
“This is ridiculous,” Jennifer greeted her with a wave at the empty desks. “And Donna just told me that the Ice Princess will be late.”
Anne shook her head. Thank god it was Friday.
“Is that your phone?”
Anne groaned and went to answer it. After the fifth call in a row was yet another broker inquiring about the status of a particular defaulted hospital in Philadelphia, she became exasperated. “I wrote the story up last week precisely so I could avoid these very calls,” she addressed one of her cubicle walls. “If you would read what I’ve written, then I could work on other things.”
The phone rang for the sixth time. She glared at it and debated letting it go, her hand hovering just above the receiver as she flirted with the idea. And then she relented and picked it up.
“Do you realize what Marvin has done?”
Walter’s anguished voice emanated loudly through the line, along with an annoying clicking sound. More like a tapping. His gold pen?
“Do you have any idea at all?”
The rate of tapping increased, becoming more like a drum roll. Anne held her breath and waited for him to continue.
“He’s gone to the SEC behind our backs and shot off his mouth. He plans to save his own ship by sinking ours.”
There was a loud thud, and the tapping came to an abrupt halt. She guessed that Walter had thrown the pen down. Hard. Clearly, this wasn’t a good day for him.
“Interesting,” Anne said, trying to give a neutral response. She wondered how he had found out so quickly.
“Interesting?” he roared back. “Problematic is more like it! Can you imagine what he must be saying?”
She most certainly could, and none of it bode well for Spencer Brothers. “Well—I certainly appreciate the heads up,” she said gingerly, wondering what he actually wanted.
“I should think so,” he sniffed.
“And you’re calling because—” she left the rest of the sentence dangling.
“—Because we have to work together on this. Get our stories straight. My firm isn’t about to take the rap on this one, and I assume yours isn’t either.”
“Which stories?”
“The entire story! What’s with you people?”
Presumably, he was referring to the bonds and the substantial fees they had all collected, but what if there was more that was yet to be uncovered, such as bribes or illegal payoffs. “To be honest,” she said, “we’re still trying to understand the extent of our involvement in these deals.”
“Honest, my foot,” Walter’s voice screamed out. “You know damn well that Michael was up to his eyeballs in these things. Your firm underwrote the bonds and, for all intents and purposes, is responsible for bringing them to market. Now that Marvin is singing to the SEC, it’s only a matter of time before we’re all contacted. I thought perhaps we could work together to ensure the SEC doesn’t find out any more than it has to. Obviously, you fail to see the importance of this matter!” He hung up without saying goodbye.
“You have a nice day, too,” she said to the dead telephone line.
“I wonder how he found out,” Alex said when she reported the conversation a few minutes later.
“Most likely the same big mouth who tipped Nick off,” Anne said derisively. “So much for quiet investigations. This business is incredible.”
“Quite. I’ll give our outside legal counsel a ring and see what they advise.”
As she put the phone down, she heard a light sneeze. She whirled around in her chair to see Carter leaning against her cubicle wall with that false-friendly look she had come to recognize. Will this day never end? She took a deep breath and braced herself.
“What have you been up to lately?” he squeaked. “You’ve been virtually incommunicado for weeks.” He blew his nose again, more loudly.
She shrugged. “Trading inquiries and everything else we do. You know how it is.”
“What about those bonds you were working on? The ones that Michael Kingston—”
“I’m still working on them.” She glanced at her watch, wondering how long it would take for him to get to the point.
“Elise was asking.”
Anne furrowed her brow. Why would the Ice Princess care? The good thing was it meant she was actually in the office.
“She seems to think that you’re spending an awful lot of time on them. That it’s unfair to the rest of us.”
And why ask Carter, of all people? Wouldn’t the Puff Queen make more sense?
“And William just made things worse when he told her the Pandora Bonds were none of her business. She was furious after that. He has the worst interpersonal skills.”
Anne looked at him, flabbergasted. “When did she—”
“Just before he left on vacation. Which reminds me. He gets back on Monday. Elise is hoping they’ll fire him on the spot. But I doubt that will happen.”
Anne agreed with him there.
“He’s a perfectly good bond analyst, so my recommendation is to keep him.” His eyes darted back and forth. “I mean, that’s what I would say if I were asked.”
As if Carter would ever have any say in the matter.
“Just between you and me,” he leaned toward her and lowered his voice, “I think there will be some big changes coming to our group. Very soon.”
“Wow,” she said, keeping her voice and demeanor even.
“He’s just not right for the manager job.” Carter put on a sad face. “It’ll be hard for him at first, but I think he’ll eventually appreciate the advantages of letting someone else take the reins. Once he sees someone with real talent in charge.”
Anne was not sure she could stand to listen to the self-aggrandizing twerp list the particular strengths and skills he had that would so obviously make him better suited for the position. “Thanks for the update.” She turned to look at the papers on her desk, hoping he would get the message that it was time to leave.
“If you ever have any ideas about how things should be run around here, I’m all ears.”
Perhaps a little less backbiting? She glanced briefly at him. “Okay.”
“You know.” He rearranged his features into a small smile and began acting like a politician addressing a crowd. “I try not to make a big deal about this, but Peter Eckert maintains an open door with me. He trusts my judgment…because of my experience…So really, if you have any concerns…”
This time she kept her eyes aimed down at her desk. “Thanks.”
At 4:30 pm, she practically ran out of the office. With just two hours standing between her and her flight, she wasn’t about to risk a horrible traffic jam in the tunnel or some other random natural disaster. She spotted one of her friends at the Eastern Airlines departure gate and waved, firmly resolving to put everything about her job out of her mind until after the weekend.
“Hey,” he greeted her. “Did you know that investment banker who killed himself?”
She looked at him and sighed.
15
Let’s Make a Deal
Sunday, Two Weeks After the Meeting
After an action-packed weekend of skiing in the blustery cold, Anne returned home on Sunday evening. She immediately headed over to her neighbor’s place to pick up Muffin.
“She missed you,” he said as the dog ran over to greet her, jumping up excitedly with a big sloppy kiss.
“Thanks so much for watching her,” Anne replied, stroking Muffin’s soft, warm fur. “Any word from our friend in unit one?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I bumped into him on Saturday. He seems to have cooled down.”
“That’s good to hear.” She leaned down to attach the leash.
“He even apologized for yelling at our last meeting. Said his girlfriend had just dumped him….”
Anne stood back up, ready to go. “What about the lawsuit?”
“I got the impression he doesn’t plan to go forward with it.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Her mind jumped to the weird message. Had the guy in unit one left it on her answering machine while he was still angry? Or did this mean the call had come from someone else? “By the way,” she tried to sound casual, “have you gotten any odd phone calls recently?”
“No.” Anne’s neighbor looked at her, puzzled. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” she shrugged. “Probably a wrong number. Thanks again for taking care of Muffin.”
The following morning, Anne bumped into two more of her neighbors who had supported the condo plant fees, and they gave her the same response—none had received strange phone calls either. As she stood on the upper deck of the ferry, watching the Manhattan skyscrapers come into view, she began to consider the strong possibility that her irate neighbor had no connection to the strange message. She disembarked and headed toward her building feeling vaguely disconcerted. If the call was related to the Pandora bonds, why hadn’t Alex received one as well?
