The Jezebel Remedy (28 page)

“He is fragile,” Lisa agreed. “Still, there's no doubt Lettie wrote him and claimed that your company—in the person of a couple, uh, envoys in a rented car—paid her a forceful visit concerning the VV 108. More to the point, Mr. Garrison, the rental was under a fictitious name—Jane Rousch—and that same bogus renter returned the exact day Lettie was killed. The mileage on the first rental would take you right to Lettie's trailer and then back to the airport.”

“I'm confused. If the name's a fake, how do you connect it with Benecorp?”

“Lettie e-mailed her pen pal Dr. Downs the plate number from the Benecorp visitors' car. Guess what? It matches the Rousch vehicle. Unfortunately, Pichler lied about that too.”

Garrison stopped eating. For the first time, he didn't sound completely at ease. “And what do the two of you have to share about the mysterious Jane Rousch?” he asked, a small, muted strain of antagonism in his voice. He peered at Joe, then Lisa.

“Nothing,” Lisa said.

“Nothing, huh?” he said, his eyebrows raised. “Not a thing? Really?”

“She didn't work for us,” Joe said.

“No, she didn't,” Garrison answered. “And do you have any information as to what has become of this Miss Rousch?”

“Why would we?” Joe asked.

“You tell me,” Garrison said.

“I can tell you this much.” Joe paused, poured cream in his coffee, stirred it with a teaspoon. “The final connection will be the call Rousch made to you after Lettie ran them off from her trailer and refused your offer. The cops are tracking that down as we speak. I don't guess you'd give us your private numbers and save the state some effort?”

“So if I'm understanding this correctly, after weeks of scamming me about the ownership of my formula and failing to gain any advantage, you're here to accuse me and Benecorp of killing Lettie VanSandt?” Garrison's tone was normal again.

“Not at all,” Lisa said. “We're here to tell you about the evidence the police have compiled, and to confirm that you do indeed own the Wound Velvet. That's hardly a scam. The facts are the facts.”

“From your reaction,” Joe added, “I'm assuming someone called you from Henry County, Virginia, on September third.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Garrison said. “But I will agree ours is a cutthroat business, and we and our rivals have historically been very guarded and under the radar in our movements. The Benecorp flag planted anywhere attracts attention, alerts our marketplace competitors and raises operating costs considerably. Our competition behaves similarly. Nothing unusual. As for Mr. Pichler, he wouldn't be privy to
this segment of a project, this negotiation, so I wouldn't judge him too harshly if he denied it.”

“You've answered my question,” Joe declared. He still hadn't tried his coffee. His food remained in front of him, growing cold.

“No,” Garrison said, “I haven't.”

“If you're so fond of Downs, why're you harassing him with private thugs?” Lisa asked.

“Hello—because he's dangerous and he threatened me. The courts have already ruled on that issue. If I were spiteful or less than his friend, I would've filed charges and had him arrested. I elected not to. I chose merely to keep an eye on him. As I noted, he has a powerful mind. Who knows what injury he might dream up for me.”

“Yeah,” Joe scoffed. “You're pretty damn vulnerable. Especially to a criminal mastermind like Steven Downs.”

“If you were familiar with his skills and his intellectual gifts,” Garrison replied, “you wouldn't be so dismissive.”

“So did you send your people to visit Lettie?” Lisa asked.

“I can promise you this much: I certainly didn't send anyone to do her harm, and I certainly had no involvement with her death. That's just ridiculous.”

“What do you think Lettie's formula is worth?” Lisa asked. “Dollars and cents, I mean. I'm curious, and I can't see any harm in your telling us since we've conceded the Wound Velvet belongs to Benecorp.”

“A reasonable question,” Garrison mused. “But a difficult one. You see, Benecorp isn't really in the health-care business. Same as Exxon isn't in the petroleum business. Power companies aren't there to provide electricity. We're in the profit business, plain and simple. My objective is to make money. I'm not sure where the VanSandt discovery fits in that paradigm. Occasionally, we acquire projects to keep them on the shelf. If I had to speculate, though, based on the numbers I've seen so far, I'd say the VV 108 will probably go into production.”

“I'm seriously considering a suit to get it back,” Joe told him. “You know damn well you didn't come by the rights honestly.”

“I see. So I have the local Henry County police to worry with, and now your threat of a suit. A pincer.” Garrison slid his plate to the side. He removed a napkin from his lap and laid it—clumped and
balled—on the table. “Is your bottom line money? A payment? Is that why you're here? I suppose there's always a cost to litigation. It's trashy to come right out and say it, and I assume it probably offends your extremely high professional standards, but would you like for me to price our situation?”

“No, we wouldn't,” Lisa replied.

“No,” Joe said curtly.

“How on earth would you possibly expect to win such a suit? Neal is Lettie's only blood heir, and you, a lawyer, signed away your interest under her will. I can't see how we're in jeopardy.”

“Fraud,” Joe answered. “Or mutual mistake of fact if Neal wasn't in on the smoke and mirrors from the beginning. We explicitly asked if there were any valuable assets he wasn't disclosing. We sent him a list of items. We asked him every which way from Sunday if there was anything in the estate not on the list. Doing your bidding, he lied to us.”

“A lot of gaps and stretches there, Mr. Stone. And a big, ugly swearing contest. I'm confident Neal doesn't recall any such conversation. Your prospects seem extremely limited.”

“We're anxious to take our chances,” Lisa said. “I think a Henry County jury will believe us.”

“You're positive we can't negotiate a fair settlement?” Garrison asked. “I hate to see this escalate. A Henry County jury will never hear this case. Diversity of citizenship will take us to a nice, neutral federal court. I know this because I'm frequently sued.”

Joe leaned forward, closer to the table. “We can't strike a deal on a murder investigation, sir. Mr. Bushnell, the commonwealth's attorney, will make those decisions. As for the Wound Velvet, we simply want it returned to us. We're not happy about being screwed over. Who knows—once it's ours, we might even sell it to you if you're the right fit and the high bidder.”

“Nothing's ever easy, is it?” Garrison stated. He sounded perturbed. He grimaced. “I hate entanglements. It's why I never venture too far ashore for very long, and then only when I have to. I prefer staying just beyond reach. I like international waters, outskirts, obscure ports, Indian reservations the states can't control and third-world districts at
the margins of things. Your brand of stupidity is precisely why—for no reason, I'm being threatened with a bullshit criminal case by two lawyers who're angry they're on the losing end of a business deal.”

“You can end half of your problem by giving us the Wound Velvet,” Lisa said. “If you had no involvement in Lettie's death, the other half of your ‘entanglement' will end well for you too.”

“Please listen carefully,” Garrison said. “Today, you and Mr. Stone can fly off the ship with half a million dollars—tax free, if you prefer—and we'll all part on happy terms. I'll gift you with a bottle of champagne so you can celebrate back in town. Or…” He paused, sipped water. “Or I can push the button and ensure your personal annihilation.”

“How bright is that?” Lisa asked. “Believe me, if we were to go missing, Detective Toliver Jackson would be on your doorstep, no matter how far offshore you're anchored. You don't think we left without telling most of Martinsville where we are, do you?”

“Mrs. Stone, despite what you must think, I'm not a gangster. I'm not traveling around with a pistol strapped to my hip like your husband. I—”

“Right,” Joe interrupted him, “you've got the hired help to handle the firearms for you.”

“This is so terrible,” Garrison said. “I don't understand it. Why would I harm Miss VanSandt? You've both worked yourself into a frenzy, and it's going to cost you dearly. I have no intention of touching either of you—how uncool. There's no need to be so paranoid and aggressive.” He shook his head. “But if you bring this baseless suit against me, and if you claim I somehow had a hand in Miss VanSandt's death, you will bitterly regret it. You'll be ruined. I promise to annihilate you
legally
, in your own corrupt arena, with lawyers and judges and juries. I'm not going to have you kneecapped with a pipe or dump you into the sea. Or poison your food. What's wrong with you?”

“Let me ask you this,” Joe said as soon as Garrison finished. “Would you settle with us for five million?”

Garrison studied him. “A lot of money. And as you mentioned, thanks to your false alarms, only half of my worries are eliminated by paying you for an asset you've already signed over to Neal. As to the other, do you have any influence with the local police?”

“None.”

“Why five million?” Garrison asked.

“I wanted to see your reaction,” Joe said. “Simple as that. This must be quite a discovery; you didn't even blink. Thanks for the offer. But we're not interested in bribe money, no matter how large the check.” Joe finally took a bite of his food. “Probably the only chance I'll ever have to taste a fresh seafood omelet on a private ship.” He chewed and began nodding. “Amazing. Even cold, it's delicious.”

“Enjoy the moment and bask in your tiny little stunt. Perhaps Mrs. Stone thinks it's clever. I'm sorry we couldn't reach an agreement. Remember, please, my warning. Understand that the plans for your beat-down are already on my desk and foolproof and all the groundwork is in place. You'd have to realize this situation has been on my mind before today. Please don't push me. I never make idle threats. It's not in my nature.” Garrison stood. “I'll have them tell Alden you're ready to leave. He'll return your pistol for the flight back so you'll feel secure. Good luck to you both.” He walked away briskly, passing the steward as he left, and despite the goofy socks and disco hair and overplayed departure, he made an impression on Lisa, left her convinced he could accomplish what he promised, or come damn close.

“Do you think they'd reheat this for me?” Joe asked her. “Or would that offend the chef? Maybe a to-go box is a better choice.”

Concerned about eavesdropping, they didn't speak during the helicopter trip. Lisa emptied her purse, inspected the contents and felt and fingered the lining, pockets, bottom and flap. Joe carefully checked his holster and removed the bullets from his gun, gave them to Alden when they landed. “Souvenir,” he said to the pilot, who looked confused. They changed rooms at their hotel, then sat on the carpet directly in front of a loud television, close together, and spoke quietly.

“I feel positive he's not bluffing us, Joe. But what does he have up his sleeve?”

“No way to tell,” Joe almost whispered. “But for sure, the formula's a monster, and I'm positive he sent our old friend Jane Rousch and another henchman to take care of some ugly work with Lettie. Pichler wasn't high enough in the food chain to know about it.”

“But this is still a mess. How the heck will we even know he's giving us the genuine formula if we win our suit? We don't even know
the contents of the Wound Velvet, much less the proportions of each ingredient.”

“Downs has some general idea, I think.”

“Not really,” Lisa said. “I quizzed him, and he doesn't know any particulars. And he's not the steadiest character on the planet.”

“Yeah,” Joe laughed. “Like how he's paranoid that Benecorp can hear everything he says and is constantly spying on him, so he takes all kinds of bizarre precautions.”

Lisa laughed, too. “Maybe I should turn the microwave on and see if we can jam their satellite's listening capability.”

“It's weird how Garrison said his defense was already in place. You think he ran in a Lettie impostor so you'd have to testify at a criminal trial that she's alive?”

“I can't see how that would injure
us
, not really,” Lisa said. “And it would for damn sure hurt Benecorp—Garrison wouldn't own the VV 108 rights.” She glanced at the TV. “I meant to ask him about Don and the missing animals, but he stalked away before I had the chance. Maybe that's kind of a signal to us, his fish in a newspaper, how it was so easy for him to make them disappear.”

“Lord only knows what you can buy with his kind of money.” Joe was silent for a moment. He leaned away from her, braced himself on straightened arms. He hinted at a grin. “Even scarier, he's one of the few men with a pulse you didn't delicious. Sounds strange for me to say, I suppose, but nearly every guy falls off the cliff when he sees you for the first time. It was like a comic book, where the superhero meets the supervillain and the heat ray or green lantern beam or spiderweb is battled tit for tat and they just lock up in a standoff. A tie.”

“His last girlfriend was a super
model
. Or so say the gossip websites. I doubt an over-forty woman in Patagonia travel slacks is of much interest to him.”

“Shit—you absolutely know you're still sexy. No doubt. I'll guarantee that you noticed his reaction too. After twenty years, I have a sense of what's passing through your mind.”

“So do we file?” Lisa asked. “Do we sue a guy with metal detectors on his boat and a six-million-dollar helicopter? Tell me again why
we're walking away from a comfortable settlement and provoking a shitstorm that might pay us far less?”