Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions (4 page)

“Thank you for calling,” I said formally. Could I be called the widow? The ex-widow? The widow wanted time alone.

“Kathleen,” Cleve shouted into the phone. “Are you with me?”

His shout brought me back to the present.

“Yes,” I answered, suddenly feeling out of breath.

“I knew I should have had someone there with you. Now listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yes,” I breathed into the phone.

“You have to come. Tommy’s will states that you are his next of kin and his life insurance policy names you as the beneficiary.”

“That has to be outdated, Cleve. We’re divorced.”

“Kate, it’s not outdated. The will was written a few months ago and the life insurance policy is less than a year old.”

“I don’t have to be there, Cleve. I can’t do it and I think you know why. I’m no good in these situations. If there are papers to sign, send them to me.”

“Kate, there’s more. It’s why I need you to come to New York right away.”

“What is it?”

“Tommy’s left you his majority shares in the company. We need a chairman of the board. Now.”

chapter five

There was another blue Lincoln to meet me at the airport in Teterboro and I was glad that the only other person in the car was the driver. The heat of the day greeted me when I stepped off the plane but I shivered nonetheless. I hadn’t asked Cleve how Tommy had died and I shook my head at that. When the phone had rung and Cleve had said “Hi”, I somehow knew. I was thankful the call hadn’t come in the middle of the night. My feelings of foreboding were weird enough in the middle of the day but if it’d happened at night-time, I think I’d be even more spooked.

A very attractive woman, about thirty years old, met me in the reception area at the Phoenix Technologies offices, located at Lexington and East 46th. She was about six inches taller than me and she had one of those hourglass figures you read about. Some would call her too big in the hips, but the suit she was wearing showcased her magnificent hips and small waist. Her hair was a beautiful brown, if brown has ever been described as beautiful, and cut short in a bob. It suited her.

“Ms. Monahan,” she greeted me quietly and put out her hand. “Carrie MacIntosh.”

I was surprised. I had expected Tommy’s secretary to be about my mother’s age.

“Hi Carrie.”

“I’m really sorry about Mr. Connaught.” Her eyes were water-filled but her face was composed.

“Thank you. Is Cleve Johnston around?”

“He’s back in the boardroom. Follow me.”

She led the way through reception and down a long corridor. I had to trot to keep up with her. I hate women with long legs.

“Carrie,” I called after her. “I’d rather see Cleve alone. That is, if he’s with people in the boardroom.”

“I’ll put you in Mr. Connaught’s office. That’s no problem.”

She stopped abruptly in front of a door and opened it. She waved me through and I entered into what was obviously a secretarial office.

“My place,” she explained as she walked past the desk and opened yet another door. I followed her in and quickly glanced around.

“Make yourself comfortable. Coffee?”

“Please,” I mumbled to the door as it closed. She seemed very efficient.

Tommy’s office was huge and the two exterior walls were all glass, overlooking Manhattan. His desk was centered in the room and soft seating was dispersed around the thick, luxurious carpet. One side of the space was taken up with a large, rectangular meeting table with eight, high-backed, leather chairs. I wandered around and noticed there were very few personal touches. A bookcase held two shelves of mementos, marble and acrylic paper weights commemorating various corporate achievements, sales and marketing give-aways and such.

I heard the door open behind me and turned around to see Carrie, entering the room with a tray of coffee. She placed it on a coffee table.

“I’ve told Mr. Johnston that you’ve arrived. He’ll be right in. Is there anything else you need right now?”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll need a hotel room.”

“Already taken care of.”

I looked around for an ashtray. Tommy had loathed my smoking.

“Ashtray?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Monahan, but smoking is not allowed in the office.”

I dug my DuMaurier’s out of my pocket and lit one.

“It’s okay, I’ll use the saucer,” I said as I blew out a cloud of smoke. I knew if I could smoke, I could handle what was going to happen in the next couple of hours.

Carrie opened a drawer in the bottom of a credenza and extracted an ashtray.

“How long have you been working with Tommy?” I asked her.

“Three months.”

The office door opened and Cleve walked in. Carrie’s long legs took her to the door in a few steps.

“I’ll be outside at my desk if you need anything.”

“Thank you Carrie,” Cleve and I said at the same time. The door closed quietly and Cleve looked at me for a moment.

“I thought you’d given up that nasty habit,” he said, pointing at the cigarette.

“No willpower.” I butted the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and walked over to the window. I stood there with my arms wrapped around myself and took in the view.

We were both quiet for a couple of minutes and without turning around I asked Cleve, “How did he die?”

“Gunshot to the back of the head.”

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. My stomach turned and my head swam. Tommy had been murdered. It hadn’t even occurred to me. Without thinking too much about it, I had assumed he had died in some sort of accident.

“Have they arrested anyone?” I finally asked.

“No.”

“Any suspects?”

“No.”

I turned around and faced him.

“None? Was it a mugging? Was he in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“We don’t know Kate. It’s too soon for the police to be telling us anything. In the meantime, we’ve got a public company here. A press release has gone out but we have to do some damage control.”

“Fuck damage control. Fuck the company. I don’t care. I’m in the wrong place. At the wrong time. This isn’t right Cleve.” I was having trouble putting coherent thoughts, words and sentences together.

“Right or wrong, Kate, you were listed as his next of kin. His secretary told us that his mother and father are both dead. Did he have any brothers, sisters, aunts?”

“No.” I shook my head. I remembered Tommy telling me how he felt being an orphan at twenty-three. His parents had died in a head-on collision. He had grand plans for a large family, to make up for his loss. We never even got to the planning stages.

“As his heir, you’ll have some decisions to make. Hard decisions.”

“Not now Cleve. I’d rather just help look after the funeral arrangements.”

“That’ll have to wait. The police aren’t releasing the body until after the autopsy and they can’t say when that’ll be.”

He reached inside his jacket and took out a white envelope which he held out to me. I didn’t take it.

“This was found in his papers. It has your name on it and says to be opened only on his death.”

“I don’t think I can right now Cleve. I need to use the ladies room.”

“Please Kate. Be reasonable. I can’t possibly imagine how you’re feeling right now. I understand though. So I’ll leave the envelope here for you and when you’re ready, please, read it. Have Carrie find me when you’re ready to talk.”

He placed the envelope in the center of Tommy’s desk and left the office.

I spent the next fifteen minutes huddled in a cubicle in the ladies room. Trying to sort out my feelings. The heaviness I felt was my body and mind in mourning, that I knew. I had felt the same way when my best friend Evelyn had died earlier that year. I finally surmised that my behaviour was denial. Denial that another good friend had passed. It was too early to be discussing wills and inheritances. Tommy’s body was probably still warm in the morgue and Cleve wanted me to participate in damage control.

Control of what I wondered? Phoenix Technologies was a company I knew little about. I had been involved with it over ten years ago when it was a fledgling high-tech company. What I did know was that technology ten years ago didn’t even resemble technology today. I hadn’t read much of the file when it came over from Scapelli’s, so my only current knowledge of the company was a brief conversation the previous week with Cleve. He had told me that Phoenix Technologies stock was still listed on the TSE and NASDAQ, and that they had grown to over 1,100 employees with offices in several cities. Tommy had moved the executive offices out of Phoenix to New York a few years ago. That was the extent of what I knew of the company.

I edged Tommy’s large executive chair closer to the desk and picked up the white envelope gingerly with my thumb and index finger of each hand. It was addressed to me in Tommy’s handwriting. The first line read:
Kathleen Monahan
. Underneath that in small, printed capital letters it read:
To be Opened By Addressee Only On The Occasion of My Death
. Occasion of his death? How formal. I turned the envelope over and noticed that Tommy had signed his name over the seal.

I touched the floor with the tips of my toes and swiveled the chair around to face the windows. I sat that way for a few minutes while I smoked and collected my thoughts. Sure, we’d been friends all these years. I tried to remember if Tommy had ever had another girlfriend. He had never remarried. When I asked for a divorce he’d told me very somberly that he’d never marry again. Not fucking likely, I remember thinking. Tommy was a catch. Handsome, caring, rich, funny. But after a while there wasn’t any spark for me. I thought of how I felt about Jay. Jay could cause a spark.

So Tommy and I split amicably, and remained steadfast friends. Occasional dinners and frequent phone conversations. I never had an inkling that he had cared so much about me that he felt the need to name me as his beneficiary. And leave me in such a
fucking mess
.

I swung the chair back around and quickly slit open the envelope. It was dated two days after my brush with death a few months back, and was written in Tommy’s handwriting.

Dearest Kate
, it read. Dearest? He had never referred to me as dearest. It continued:
What I saw on television the other night made my heart stop. But just for a second because I saw you were walking into the ambulance and you were obviously all right. I’m not sure how I would deal with the news if someone came to tell me you were dead. But that’s what you’ve just heard about me, and for that, I’m sorry. That last sentence was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.

My eyes filled up with tears and the rest of the letter became a blur. You son-of-a-bitch, I thought. Why are you dumping this on me? I wiped my eyes angrily and continued reading.

If you’re reading this letter, I’m dead. There. I said it. I’ve missed you all the years we’ve been apart but I understand why you decided our marriage couldn’t work. I am truly grateful that we’ve remained friends. You have my utmost respect for the person you are.

Enough of the mushy stuff
, he wrote. Thank God.
This letter is by way of explanation of what you will learn of the contents of my last will and testament.

I have left to you the sum of my worldly goods. Sounds quite Victorian, doesn’t it? My worldly goods include my golf clubs, my aquarium with the exotic fish
(just fucking lovely, I thought, more fish to kill off)
, my collection of Beatles albums, and the rest of my possessions. Including my majority ownership of Phoenix Technologies, Inc.

Why? Because there is no one else I trust to continue the company. And yes, Kate, I’ve stipulated that you are to become the Chairman (or Chairperson) of the Board, immediately. Being the good little legal beagle that you are, you know that the shareholders appoint the directors and the directors appoint the officers. Being the rightful owner now of the shares, you can appoint yourself a director. And rest assured that the remaining directors will immediately approve your appointment as Chair.

You have the brains, the guts and the willpower to do this. You’ve just never been given the chance.

Trust Cleveland Johnston to give you the counsel you deserve. My kindest regards, with much love and affection. Tommy.

I immediately lit a cigarette just to show him I
didn’t
have the willpower.

chapter six

“Carrie?” I called her name quietly through the door I had opened a crack. She quickly turned around in her steno chair.

“Yes?”

I beckoned at her with my index finger and motioned for her to come in. Being the efficient secretary, she quickly picked up her steno pad and two sharpened pencils. I asked her to sit in one of the chairs in front of Tommy’s desk. I took the chair beside her.

“I need to go to my hotel,” I told her.

She made a note on her steno pad.

“Right away, Ms. Monahan. I’ll have Mr. Connaught’s driver out front immediately.” She rose from her chair to leave and I put my hand on her forearm.

“Please. Carrie. Sit down.”

She reclaimed her seat and poised her pencil over the pad to take more instructions. I reached over and took the pencil and steno pad out of her hands and placed them on the desk in front of us. That made her finally look me in the eye.

“This situation is very hard for everyone,” I started. “And I imagine, especially hard for you. I know Tommy, uhm, Mr. Connaught, was a very good man and I’m sure he treated you well.”

“Yes. Yes he did.” Her eyes were filled with water again. This time her face did not remain composed and she pursed her lips to try and control the tears. I knew the feeling.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Tommy was a great guy. I’ve just read a letter he left me and it seems he wants me to have some involvement with the company.”
Some involvement.
Nothing like understating the situation.

“Yes. Yes. That’s good,” she whispered. “Mr. Connaught always spoke highly of you.” She took a deep breath and I could see she was trying to regain control.