The Devil's Analyst (21 page)

Yes, Oliver knew too much, and that kept Josh from wriggling free. But information worked both ways. When he stopped in Chicago back in January, Josh uncovered what he needed to know. He deciphered sufficient details about Oliver’s backers that they could never afford for him to make these facts public. The trick was to use his newfound knowledge to escape their grasp—and not get killed in the process.

All of this
went though Josh’s mind as he considered again how to initiate the necessary conversation with Orleans. Finally, he just blurted, “I think Chip’s death has given us an opportunity.”

Startled, Orleans replied, “An opportunity for what?”

‘To change course,” he replied.

A new direction was exactly what was needed. When all of this started, he could never have predicted Chip’s murder, but he placed that crime’s responsibility squarely on Oliver. How perfect it would be if the death of his friend created a path to fling Oliver and his cohorts completely away from Danny and his orbit.

Since the discovery of Chip’s body, Danny had changed. Josh couldn’t quite describe the transformation, but his boyfriend’s spirit had been tempered into some stronger stuff. Cynthia played no role in that metamorphosis. It was clear she blamed both Danny and Josh in some way for Chip’s death, and even seemed suspicious of them. Now that the police acknowledged there was little in the way of active leads, she at last decided to return home. After she undertook her final hike through Griffith Park to find the spot where Chip’s body had been left, she would be gone. He considered her quest romantic but foolish. In the end, he didn’t care, as long as it ensured her departure.

Danny and he needed time alone. Things were fraying. Danny was too focused on trying to break through Cynthia’s silence instead of tending to home fires. Danny worried that the always emotional woman he loved had simply shut down in grief. Josh had little choice but to suffer through it since he could never let Danny know what was really happening. It had been a mistake to keep Danny from hearing about Oliver Meyers. Even though it was never discussed and Danny might not realize it, Josh had long known enough of Danny’s past to understand why Danny wouldn’t want Oliver around. Yet he allowed the intrusion of the guy, and then even perpetuated the idea that there wasn’t a partner named Meyers.

In the conference room, Orleans was perplexed by Josh’s desire to change course. She opened one of her folders as though to return to her planned agenda. “I see only one possible course,” she said. “If we want a successful IPO, we need to answer these questions we’re getting from Merrill Lynch.”

Josh plunged forward. “Listen to me, Orleans. We could tack in a new direction, even as we continue to shoot for the IPO.” Orleans’ eyes widened at the mere questioning of the initial public offering of stock.

“Chip was on our board of directors,” he continued. “His death creates an opening. He needs to be replaced.”

Orleans agreed with that. “Yes, of course, but remember that Endicott-Meyers is the largest shareholder, especially after you gave them extra shares for the added million dollars. Won’t they see it as their prerogative to select that director?”

“But does it have to be that way?” he asked.

Orleans answered, “Given Cynthia’s share as Chip’s heir and the share that you and Danny own of Premios, the majority of the company is technically yours. But you can’t buck the desires of your primary investors, especially not before going public. You need them on board. Besides, why does it matter?”

Josh chose not to answer that. “I was thinking of someone so influential and so well respected that they could never say no. We would need someone who would add to the prestige of the company.”

“And who would that be?”

“Barbara Linsky.”

The idea came to him in the middle of the previous night. Danny was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning, which in turn kept Josh awake. At two in the morning, his mind went into overdrive. Part of him wanted to get out of bed, put on a robe, and go to work in the office, but he feared such actions would only rouse Danny.

That’s when he thought of Barbara and that strange luncheon discussion about Schrödinger’s cat. Something about how things could be two things at once, and you only knew which it was once you looked. That’s when he thought that maybe the company could be theirs, and also not theirs—but in either case, definitely not belonging to Endicott-Meyers and definitely not to Oliver Meyers and his backers

Barbara Linsky was the perfect conduit for achieving this paradox. Her brilliance and her insights into the Internet economy were undeniable. She ran a small investment firm and sat on other boards. She knew every investor and every up-and-comer in the industry. Why couldn’t they convince her to be a director for Premios? It was a perfect way out. Barbara was a strong-willed person who would always do what was best for the company. And in this economy maybe that would be a route different than the one originally envisioned.

Orleans remained silent. “Well, what do you think?” Josh asked.

“I agree. She would be a great addition to the board. If you could convince Linsky to do it, no one could object. But why would she? People must ask for her participation all the time. Remember how you didn’t want Chip snooping around the details . . . what about her? She could be even worse.”

“Leave those worries to me. I want the board to have a strong and independent voice.”

Orleans closed her folders. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the office buzz that filtered through the glass. She watched Josh. He knew that she was trying to figure out his motives. He just sat quietly. He didn’t need to provide any clues.

Finally, she gave up. “So, tell me. Why do you need someone like Linsky on the Board?

“Because I’ll need her vote when we sell the company.”

Danny yearned
for a friendly voice. Cynthia was on her Griffith Park quest. He contemplated going into the Premios office but at that moment he couldn’t face being around Josh. Instead he suggested that Kenosha meet him for lunch.

Because she claimed she couldn’t be out of the office for long, they agreed to meet in a restaurant around the corner from Premios. Pete’s Café was a popular place with good burgers and a sense of history; the walls were lined with old photos of the area; and the basement restrooms with their tiled walls and floors seemed transported straight from some Eastern city with a long dusty history. Pete’s had the added advantage of being one of the few places in the sketchy neighborhood where Danny was willing to linger.

He arrived first, ordered a café au lait, and thought about his planned discussion with Kenosha. Adrift in currents that seemed to lack direction, he felt as though he had no shelter, no ability to navigate, and was burning under the glare of horrible events.

An emotional wall separated Cynthia and him, and there seemed no way to break through her suffering. Initially when he sat with her as she met with the police, he thought she welcomed his help. The small town police from the Lattigo reservation, perhaps biased by their admiration for the tribal leader, operated with the premise that Chip was a victim. On the other hand, the L.A. cops always dismissed the theory that Chip was framed for the disappearing funds. Each day the case seemed to drop in the LAPD’s priority. Although they never said so, they seemed convinced that Chip had stolen the money and that some unknown accomplice killed him. Both teams accepted the coroner’s report that Chip had been drugged, smothered, and rolled dead into a secluded ravine. The killer made no attempt either to hide Chip’s identity or cover his grave, nor did they take his expensive watch or his wallet. The scene suggested a cold, calculating killer who seemed little concerned with when or how the dead body would be discovered.

But as the police visits went on, Cynthia shut Danny out. She said she preferred to meet with her investigator alone. Samuel Denkey’s office was only a few blocks from this restaurant, and Danny was tempted after his lunch with Kenosha to drop in on the guy. He suspected the detective might have his own theories. Cynthia had every right to keep the investigation private, but shutting him out felt like a betrayal. They had been friends since high school.

He wanted to lean on Josh, but Josh wasn’t there. He was all consumed with the future of Premios. Still trying to be more involved, Danny asked Orleans to walk him through the roadmap for the planned public offering in late April; he sat down with the marketing staff to approve the planned advertising campaign designed for increased traffic and engagement on the site; and he even made what he thought were constructive suggestions on honing the message.

Most challenging for him, after agreeing to help assemble a broader team of writers, he sat around a long mahogany table with Lopez and potential writer interns. Danny understood the site needed fresh voices and compelling content because interesting material drove the numbers, and Danny recognized that Lopez’s program attracted some of the most talented young writers in the country. He had once been one of them. As he reviewed their samples and listened to their story pitches, he welcomed the real strength they could bring to the writing bench. But he hated that finding these writers required him to work with Lopez.

Lopez was part of every interview, but generally so were Josh and Kenosha. On the Premios organization chart, Danny was the editor in chief and the vice president for content. It was his ‘zine and blog that gave credibility in the early days of the site so he accepted his responsibility to guide editorial direction. That’s what Josh told him, although Danny suspected it was only Josh’s approach to keeping Danny involved.

Still he tried to do his job. For hours he sat in the same room as Lopez, conferred with him after each candidate’s interview, compared notes on writing style and attitude, and negotiated compromises on overall rankings. Throughout it all, Danny pushed back the unsettling suspicion that Lopez knew not only the details of his teenage past, but also spent hours, days . . . maybe months working through those details until his fecund imagination could transform it into the fantasies that marched forth as the sentences and paragraphs of
The Dumping Ground
. Somehow, Lopez meshed facts and imaginings into a character named Gary—an alternative version of the real Danny, a creative character that was manipulative and uncaring, rather than a betrayed teenage boy. It wasn’t Danny, but others would think that it was, and Danny detested that possibility.

As they interviewed potential new staff writers, Danny watched their faces for clues. Had they read Lopez’s latest book and did they know it was based on Danny? And he wondered about Lopez’s motivations. Why did he recast Danny’s character in such an unflattering light? What did Lopez actually think of him? Did he see Danny as the unlikeable cad who was at the center of
The Dumping Ground
? It was painful to admit, but Danny realized he was hurt more by how unsavory the novel’s main protagonist was than by the way his very private life had been appropriated without permission. Lopez must hate him.

Kenosha walked briskly
past the outside sidewalk patio tables and headed toward the corner door. Danny stood to wave. She walked over and sat.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

“Happy to,” she replied. “Besides I needed to clear my mind. Josh and Orleans have been holed up in the conference room all morning. Plotting their next move forward.”

“I know,” Danny acknowledged. “It’s a hectic time for them. Lots of things underway to ensure a positive IPO. But Josh is so upbeat. Says we’re going to make millions on opening day.”

Kenosha grimaced.

“What?” Danny demanded.

“I hope Josh is right. I have a lot riding on this too. All my options and everything. It’d be great if the company ended up north of three hundred million in valuation like Josh promises. After all, a couple of months ago when Webvan went public it was valued at eight billion dollars—and that’s for an online grocery store. Who believes anyone is really going to buy a gallon of milk and fresh berries online?”

Danny didn’t understand Kenosha’s pessimism. “If anything, what you’re saying is that Josh is thinking too low. He told me the Goldman Sachs folks think we should reach at least five hundred million. They claim Premios is a whole new paradigm for leisure communications.”

Kenosha sighed, “Yeah, I know. After all I am the communication director. But we’re seeing all these companies going public this quarter: pets.com, e-greeting. There must be a hundred. Did you know that last year there were nearly eight hundred venture capital firms pumping money into start-ups? But with the Dow down and the Fed changing the discount rate, the financial climate is changing. And if you don’t believe me, look at what happened to pets.com when it went public this week. It was priced at $11 a share, but by the end of the day it was down to $7½.

“Is that bad?” Danny asked.

“Of course it is. People who bought that stock on the first day lost millions. Right out of the box. It’s got to make people stop and think.”

“I suppose,” Danny acknowledged, “but Josh doesn’t seem worried.”

The truth was that Danny didn’t know what Josh thought. Since Chip’s disappearance, he felt Josh slipping away. The problem wasn’t the sex, which remained intense but erratic; rather, it was the quiet moments of really speaking with one another. Now Josh was always in another place. Danny wanted the full Josh back.