LITMIR.BIZ

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judgment might be clouded. The D.A.’s opening words did not reassure him.

      ‘Well, I wanted Brookstein’s head on a plate. Looks like I got the next best thing. His torso on a slab.’

      ‘It might not be him,’ said Harry Bain. ‘His wife’s on her way to identify the body. What’s left of it. Then we can conduct the autopsy.’

      ‘Good.’

      It was the job of the FBI task force to find the missing Quorum money. But it was Angelo Michele’s job to prosecute those responsible for the theft. Part of him was pleased they’d found a body. The possibility, however remote, that Lenny Brookstein might have somehow escaped and be living the high life on a private atoll in the South Pacific had been keeping Angelo awake at night for weeks. But another part of him felt robbed. If Lenny Brookstein was dead, he couldn’t be punished. Somebody had to be punished.

      ‘Have you got any further with Merrivale or Preston?’

      ‘No.’ Harry Bain frowned. ‘Not yet.’ He had personally interviewed the two senior Quorum execs a total of six times, but was no closer to untangling the mystery of how Lenny Brookstein had managed to spirit away such insane amounts of money. Instinct told him that both men knew more than they were telling. But so far, he couldn’t prove it. ‘Agent Williams has uncovered something interesting, though.’

      Angelo Michele looked at Gavin Williams. The man gave him the creeps. He was more like a robot than a human being. When he spoke, it was in a monotone, studiously avoiding eye contact.

      ‘It appears that in the week before his death, Leonard Brookstein changed the company structure at Quorum. Effectively, he arbitrarily stripped John Merrivale of his partnership status.’

      ‘Damn it.’ Angelo Michele shook is head.

      Harry Bain cocked his head to one side. ‘That’s bad?’

      ‘Sure. If Lenny Brookstein was the only legal partner, it’ll be almost impossible to indict, much less prosecute, the other players. Short of seventy billion showing up sewn into Merrivale’s suit pants, we’re fucked.’

      ‘He wasn’t the only partner.’

      ‘But I thought you said…’

      Gavin Williams sighed, like a grade-school teacher explaining something painfully simple to a seven-year-old. ‘I said, Lenny stripped John of his shares. I didn’t say he was the only partner. He didn’t keep that equity. He transferred it.’

      Angelo Michele’s heart was racing. ‘To who, for God’s sake?’

      Gavin Williams smiled.

      ‘To his wife.’

      

      Donna Sanchez said gently, ‘Are you sure you’re ready, Mrs Brookstein?’

      Grace nodded. It doesn’t matter. This is all a dream, a nightmare. When she pulls back the sheet, I’ll wake up.

      ‘We’ll do this very quickly. Try to focus on the hand. If you recognize the wedding ring, that’s all we need.’

      Donna pulled back the sheet.

      Grace threw back her head and screamed.

      

      John Merrivale stared at the documents in front of him, rubbing his eyes with exhaustion.

      ‘There must be some m-m-mistake.’

      Harry Bain lit another cigarette. The smoke made John Merrivale feel nauseous. ‘No mistake, John. This is Lenny’s signature. And this is Grace’s. You don’t think we had them checked?’

      The documents were legal instructions, changing Quorum’s ownership structure. They transferred John’s entire equity stake in the fund to Grace. They were dated June 8, the day before the Quorum Ball. Both Lenny and Grace had signed them.

      ‘Face it, John. The Brooksteins ripped you off. They were planning to grab what was the left of the money and run.’

      ‘No. Lenny wouldn’t d-do that. N-n-not to me.’

      ‘Read it, John! It’s right there in black and white. He did it. They did it, together. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped protecting them?’

      John squeezed his eyes shut tight. It was so hard to think. How long have I been in this room? Three hours? Four? He thought about Grace, alone at the morgue. The police had refused to let him go with her. The poor girl would be terrified.

      ‘Lenny had a l-legal right to restructure the company any way he chose. Quorum was his business.’

      Harry Bain looked at him in disbelief. ‘You’re saying you don’t mind that Lenny Brookstein robbed you blind?’

      ‘I’m saying he didn’t rob me.’

      ‘But he did. It’s right here in black and white.’

      ‘He m-must have had his reasons then. Lenny’s dead. He’s not here to explain, to d-defend his good name.’

      ‘His good name?’ Harry Bain laughed out loud. ‘Lenny Brookstein? The man was a crook, John. So was his wife. That much we know. The question is, what don’t we know? What are you hiding from us?’

      ‘I’m not h-hiding anything.’

      ‘Why are you protecting him?’

      ‘He was my friend.’ My only friend.

      ‘He wasn’t your friend. He used you, John. He used you from the beginning. Why do you think a brilliant guy like Lenny needed a schmuck like you on the team, huh? D’you ever ask yourself that question?’

       All the time.

      ‘Because you gave him legitimacy, that’s why. Because you were dumb and adoring and blindly loyal. Like a dog.’

      John looked up. It was Harry Bain’s face sneering at him, but the voice was Caroline’s. You’re a lapdog, John. You’re pathetic! Stand up and be counted!

      ‘No. I wasn’t Lenny’s d-d-dog. It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘No? What were you, then? Because the way I see it you’re either a fucking moron who couldn’t see what was going on right under your nose. Or you knew.’

      ‘No. I d-didn’t know anything.’

      ‘I don’t believe you. Where’s the money, John?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Where’d you stash it, huh? You and your good friend Lenny Brookstein. The guy who trusted you so much. Who relied on your advice. Where’d you put the cash?’

      ‘I’ve told you. I don’t – ’

      ‘Maybe it’s Andrew Preston we should be talking to. Was Preston was the one Lenny really trusted?’

      ‘Of course not. Lenny was always much c-closer to me than to Andrew. ’

      ‘So close that he gave your shares to Grace?’

      A high-pitched whistle in John’s head was getting louder, like a boiling kettle.

      ‘Where is it, John? Where’s the money? If you weren’t Lenny’s little dog, prove it.’

      The whistle was so loud, he thought his eardrums would shatter.

      ‘WHERE’S THE FUCKING MONEY, JOHN?’

      ‘I DON’T KNOW!’ Slumped over the table, John Merrivale broke down in sobs. ‘For G-God’s sake, what’s the matter with you? I don’t know.’

      On the other side of the two-way glass, Angelo Michele turned to the psychologist.

      ‘What do you think?’

      ‘I think

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