Aces and Knaves

Stan?
    "I'm sick about Stan," James said, reading my mind. "I'm beginning to understand why you thought I was involved in Ned's murder. If Stan commissioned it, I must be behind it. But Ned was my best friend, even though we had our differences. I've done some things I'm not proud of, but I'm not a murderer. But Stan...."
    James shook his head, at a loss for words. I'm sure he couldn't understand how a brain like Stan's worked. I couldn't, either. I felt I should say something to console him. He and Stan had been.... Whatever it was, it had gone beyond the usual employer-employee relationship. Otherwise, why would Stan go off the cliff, so to speak?
    There was an awkward silence, during which I tried to think of words that wouldn't come. James broke it, saying, "To show you I'm not such a bad guy, I'm going to let you off the hook. You don't have to work for me and I'm going to cancel your obligation on the baseball card. I've caused you enough trouble by not being alert to what Stan was up to."
    My first inclination was to say, "You don't have to do that," but I was afraid if I did he might take it back. I should learn a lesson from him. When somebody owes you, collect. And James obviously felt he owed me.
    "I'll tell you what," I said, talking slowly to buy time as the idea formulated itself in my head. "I'll keep the job and I'll pay you for the card if you stop trying to take over Dionysus. Don't solicit proxies, and divest Tartan of the Dionysus stock it holds, in an orderly manner so as not to upset the market."
    James smiled as if I had said something funny. "You're a smart young man," he said, "and I'm sure you already know what I'm about to tell you, but I'm going to do it anyway, to give you a chance to change your mind. Number one, if I can't get Elma's proxy, the chances of Tartan taking over Dionysus are slim, and at the moment she doesn't appear to be in my corner. And I have a feeling that when she hears a Tartan employee murdered her husband the news will not endear her to us.
    “Number two, being a part of Tartan might actually be good for Dionysus, for several reasons. It would certainly put your father on easy street, financially, and I have a feeling some of that would dribble down to you.”
    "My father can take care of his own financial interests," I said. Why did I feel I had to defend him? "I've seen you in action enough to know that you usually get what you aim for so I'm not sure Elma is enough to stop you. But in addition...my father wants...that is, he wants to continue running Dionysus. He doesn't want to give it up yet. It's his life."
    James looked surprised. "You're doing this for him, aren't you?"
    "Don't tell him we had this conversation," I said, quickly.
    "I have two daughters. I can't remember that they've ever done anything for me. Oh, they send me Father's Day cards and they come for obligatory visits. But mostly it seems that they want things from me. I think big weddings are next on the agenda."
    The conversation was headed in the wrong direction. "I don't mind working for you," I said. “I might even learn something."
    "The good news is that Tartan will make money on the Dionysus stock it holds." James grinned. "As some famous investor said, 'Nobody ever went broke taking a profit.' I have just one question: Where are you going to get the money to pay me for the baseball card?"
    "From my Tartan stock options."
    James laughed, long and loud

    Chapter 36 ARROW
    It was difficult to get dressed while wearing a caste around my body, a caste that covered my chest and most of my back. It was difficult to do a number of things: sleep, wash, drive and even use a computer. I wore a loose sweater to cover the caste. My image in the mirror was much too bulky to be me.
    I was beginning to get the hang of driving while keeping my back straight as I parked beside Arrow's condominium complex. She should be home from work. I knew this because I had called John, my father's administrative assistant, earlier, and asked him to let me know when she left the office.
    John had wanted to talk. He had heard stories about my adventures in Northern California and they excited him, but I cut him off by telling him that I would give him the whole scoop some day. In about a million years.
    It was painful getting out of the car because I had to bend my head and that radiated down to my cracked vertebra. The doctor had said I should be thankful it was only cracked and that it would be healed in a few