LITMIR.BIZ

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platinum Amex card was declined at Bergdorf Goodman. Grace felt herself blushing scarlet as the women in line behind her stared.

      ‘I think there must be some mistake,’ she said meekly. ‘I have unlimited credit.’

      The salesgirl was kind. ‘I’m sure it’s just a mix-up, Mrs Brookstein. But you’d best take it up with American Express. I’ll be happy to keep the bag on hold for you if you’d like.’

       I don’t want the stupid bag! I only came here to try to distract myself for five minutes. To forget about Lenny. As if I could ever do that!

      ‘Thank you, that’s okay. I’ll, er…I’ll go home and sort this out.’

      Grace called Amex. A drone told her that Lenny’s account had been ‘terminated.’

      ‘What do you mean, “terminated”? By whom? I didn’t terminate it.’

      ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t help you. Your husband’s account has been closed.’

      Worse was to come. Bills started arriving for unpaid services. An unpleasant man rang the apartment and informed Grace curtly that her mortgage payments were five months in arrears.

      ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I think you must have me confused with someone else. We don’t have a mortgage.’

      ‘Mrs Brookstein. It is Mrs Brookstein I’m speaking to, right?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘The outstanding balance on your mortgage is sixteen million seven hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars and fourteen cents. That’s in your and your husband’s joint names. Would you like me to resend you the statements?’

      It wasn’t until Conchita, Grace’s loyal maid, quit over unpaid wages – ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Brookstein. But my ’usband, he won’t let me keep coming here. Not unless you pay me’ – that Grace finally overcame her embarrassment and confessed her money worries to John Merrivale.

      ‘It’s insanity,’ she sobbed on the phone. ‘Lenny’s worth billions, but suddenly I’m getting all these bills. No one will take my cards. I don’t understand it.’

      There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

      ‘John? Are you there?’

      ‘I’m here, Gracie. I think perhaps you’d better come over.’

      John Merrivale was nervous. Even more nervous than usual. Grace noticed the way he kept scratching at his neck and his eyes rarely met hers. She sat opposite him on the couch in his study as he began to explain.

      ‘There have been rumors for s-some time now, Grace. Rumors on Wall Street and among our investors. After Lenny…after what happened, the FBI became involved.’

      Grace’s eyes widened. ‘The FBI? Why? What sort of rumors?’

      ‘Lenny was a b-brilliant man. An uncannily shrewd investor. One of the reasons for Quorum’s success is that he never d-divulged his strategy. Like most of the best hedge fund managers, his model was a c-closely guarded secret.’

      Grace nodded. ‘He told me it was like inheriting your grandmother’s recipe for spaghetti sauce. Everyone who eats it tries to figure out the secret ingredient, but you can never tell.’

      ‘Exactly.’ John Merrivale smiled. She really is a child. ‘My job was to raise f-funds for Quorum. With Lenny’s performance, that was easy. We were t-turning away money. It was Lenny’s job to invest those funds. No one – n-not even me – knew exactly where he put the money. Until his disappearance, it had never really mattered.’

      ‘But afterward?’

      ‘Despite its size and huge success, Quorum was still f-fundamentally a one-man show. When Lenny disappeared, people w-wanted to withdraw their capital. A lot of people. All at the s-s-same time.’

      ‘And that was a problem?’

      John Merrivale sighed. ‘Yes. A lot of the money is…well, we don’t know where it is exactly. It’s unaccounted for. It’s complicated.’

      ‘I see.’ Grace thought about this for a few moments. ‘So is that why the FBI is involved? To try to sort out the confusion?’

      John’s scratching intensified. ‘In a way, yes. But I’m afraid there are some unpleasant sides to this. Because the amount of money involved is so large – tens of billions of d-dollars, at a minimum – the police believe that Lenny m-may have deliberately st-stolen it.’

      ‘That’s ridiculous! Lenny would never steal. Besides, why would he rob his own fund?’

      ‘I d-don’t believe he did, Grace. I want you to know that.’ John took her hand. ‘But other people – the FBI, investors, the n-newspapers, are jumping to conclusions. They say that once the SEC started investigating, Lenny knew Quorum would collapse and that he would be exposed. G-Grace, they’re saying that Lenny might have c-committed suicide.’

      Grace felt sick.

       Suicide? Lenny? No. Never. Even if he had stolen some money, he would never leave me. He would never take his own life.

      She struggled to keep her voice steady.

      ‘Whatever happened on that boat, John, it was an accident. Lenny was happy when he left me that morning. Why hasn’t the FBI spoken to me? I would have told them that!’

      ‘I’m sure they will want to talk to you eventually. Once a d-death certificate is issued, there’ll likely be an inquest. Right now the p-primary focus is on locating the m-missing money. Until that happens, all Quorum’s assets have been frozen, as well as your p-personal accounts.’

      Grace looked so small and lost, perched on the edge of the couch. Had John Merrivale been a more tactile man, he’d have gone over and hugged her. As it was, he said, ‘Try not to worry. I know it’s hard. But you and I b-both know Lenny wasn’t a thief. The truth will come out eventually. Everything will be okay.’

       No it won’t. Not without Lenny. Nothing will ever be okay again.

      It was the next morning that the storm erupted. Angry investors marched on Quorum’s offices, demanding their money back. CNN showed images of a near riot, with mounted police forcing back the mob. Within hours, the likely scale of what was now being called the Quorum Fraud was making headline news around the world.

      Grace watched the television in shock. ‘Leonard Brookstein, once one of New York’s best-loved philanthropists and an American icon, was today being exposed as perhaps the greatest thief in U.S. history. Furious investors in Brookstein’s Quorum Hedge Fund burned effigies of the fifty-eight-year-old, presumed dead after a freak sailing accident last month, outside his former offices.’

      The phone rang. It was John. Grace broke down.

      ‘Oh, John! Have you seen what they’re saying about Lenny? The news…I can’t watch.’

      ‘Grace, l-listen to me. You’re not safe. I’m c-coming to pick you up.’

      ‘But that’s crazy. Why would anyone want to hurt me?’

      ‘People are angry, Grace. Lenny’s n-not here. You’re the next best thing.’

      ‘But, John…’

      ‘No b-buts. You must stay with us. Pack a bag. I’ll be there in t-ten minutes.’

      Ten minutes later, Grace was in the back of an armored Town Car. As she left her building, a small group of hecklers was already gathered outside. They jeered at her.

      ‘Where’s the money, Grace?’

      ‘Where’d Lenny hide it?’

      ‘Is that seventy billion in your suitcase, baby, or are you just glad to see us?’

      By

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