Feast of Murder(87)

“That’s right,” Gregor said. “And they made a few hundred million, and the firm is now awash in cash. What have we been hearing from Calvin Baird ever since we got on the boat?”

Bennis was sitting up a little straighter. “I see,” she said. “He’s been talking about discrepancies in the cash flow reports for the time of the original Europabanc offer—but Gregor, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does,” Gregor said. “Baird Financial wanted to merge with Europabanc, which in this case meant that they wanted to buy it. Unfortunately, they didn’t actually have the money to buy it. Everybody has told me that. Mark Anderwahl came right out and said it to me at dinner last night, before all the mess started. Baird Financial didn’t have the money, so somebody faked the cash-on-hand reports to make it look like they did. That didn’t matter once the formal preagreements were signed, but at that point what would matter was actually having the cash. Where do you think they were going to get it?”

“From selling the junk bond portfolio McAdam had put together?”

“Exactly,” Gregor said. “It was a good portfolio, right?”

“It was a great portfolio,” Bennis said. “A least four emerging companies that look like first-class winners in the next decade and all for issues with stock conversion provisions—good Lord, everybody wanted those things.”

“Not exactly,” Gregor said. “They didn’t want them if they would benefit McAdam.”

Bennis protested. “They would have eventually, Gregor. Money is money.”

“Eventually wasn’t good enough,” Gregor pointed out. “They’re going to close on the Europabanc deal—when? Right after we get back from this trip?”

“Around Christmas or just after.”

“Fine. So Baird Financial had to have the cash on hand by then. Before it could do that it had to get rid of McAdam. It had managed to get rid of him to the extent of paying him off, but from what I’ve heard that hadn’t made people happy, either. If McAdam hadn’t died—”

“It might have taken months to put that auction together,” Bennis said. “I see what you mean. You might be right.”

“I might be wrong, but I’ll bet you this. Nobody at Baird Financial was going to take the risk that a Donald McAdam with an executed golden parachute was going to be looked on any more kindly by his enemies than a Donald McAdam without one.”

“So, in order to make sure that the money was in place to do the Europabanc deal, someone at Baird Financial murdered Donald McAdam.”

“Right. Now, think about this. If you knew you were going to kill Donald McAdam, why would it be necessary to execute the gold parachute agreement? Why bother with that part of it at all? Why not just kill the man and get it over with?”

Bennis looked confused. “I don’t know. I—maybe it wasn’t the same person. Maybe Jon Baird wanted to give McAdam the golden parachute, and somebody else, Calvin Baird maybe, wanted to kill him, only Calvin couldn’t come right out and tell Jon that he was going to off McAdam—”

“Why not just kill him before the contracts were handed over? Why wait until the last minute?”

“I don’t know.” Bennis looked dispirited.

Gregor moved away from where he had been standing, leaning up against the side of the bunk. There seemed to be a little more motion under them now than there had been. Over their heads, men were calling to each other in tight and urgent voices. Other men—it might have been women, too, it was hard to tell—were running. Gregor heard a pounding of footsteps that sounded like large hailstones hitting against a roof.

“I think we’re about to stop being becalmed,” he said. “Is that what all this activity sounds like to you?”

“I don’t know,” Bennis told him. She walked past him, climbed into the bunk, and looked out the porthole there. She pulled back, shaking her head. “There’s a little more motion to the sea,” she reported, “but I don’t see it’s all that much different than it has been. I don’t know what’s going on up above. Maybe we ought to go and see.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Maybe if I think about this a little longer, I’ll get it all straightened out in my head.” She climbed all the way out of the bunk, fixed her clothes, and went back to her chair. Instead of sitting down in it, she brushed off the seat in that unconsciously neat way she had and then walked over to the locker to get her jacket. Her hair no longer seemed as wet as it had when Gregor had first come into the cabin, but it still looked slick. Gregor found himself wondering why he always liked it best when Bennis looked a mess. Bennis looking perfect made him uncomfortable.