Joe Grundy Mysteries 2-Book Bundle by Marc Strange

Author:Marc Strange
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC022000
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2007-08-31T00:00:00+00:00

chapter forty-two

We've nicely settled into October now. The Lord Douglas is running smoothly again. Lloyd Gruber managed to hang on to his job, though I get the impression there was an element of grovelling involved. Rachel Golden now pretty much manages JG Security for me. I still pull a few shifts, but mostly I just roam the place and anticipate things. Gritch does his time in the lobby, reading his papers and seeing everything. Larry Gormé is point man for the Emblem’s coverage of the Prescott Holdings/Horizon Foundation scandal.

Both Hubble and Gowins may be going to jail if they can’t come up with a suitable explanation for the evaporation of a hundred million dollars or more. That trial will drag on for some time. Jeremy, the whistle-blower, didn’t automatically become the managing director of the Horizon Foundation — there isn’t anything to either manage or direct just now, other than the traffic jams of forensic accountants, tax assessors, duelling lawyers, and court-appointed overseers. Nonetheless, he appears to have gained a level of celebrity as the Crown’s star witness in the fraud case and should be able to parlay that into some worthy position in whatever new entity Molly MacKay establishes once she’s proven her case. She and Bubba are living in Prescott’s cabin at Harrison Lake. I’ve been invited to the wedding.

The city has seen a succession of vintage days, if you don’t mind a steady west wind keeping the skies clear and the surf all worked up. Stanley Park is showing a fine array of autumn colour, and the bright green grass above the beach is littered with red, gold, and yellow leaves, dry enough to dance in the wind.

Norman Quincy Weed, with his eye for complementary colours, has chosen his wardrobe with care this bright morning — purple tie, brown suit, black shoes. If his socks are blue, I won’t be surprised.

“Can’t we find a better place?” he asks.

“Is there such a thing?”

“Yeah, when the sun shines you forget the two weeks of drizzle that went before. I mean, for sitting down. Last time here I sat on a log. Preparation H didn’t do me any good. What’s that you’re wearing?”

“It’s a track suit,” I say, feeling defensive. I’m wearing expensive running shoes and I’m carrying a water bottle.

“Very fancy.”

“Leo Alexander. I made the mistake of complimenting him on his.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Fit as a fiddle. We’ve got a gym set up for him in the penthouse. He’s walking a treadmill every day.”

We find a bench with a panoramic view of freighters at anchor and gulls wheeling overhead. Weed lowers himself carefully, hiking his creases and giving me a glimpse of his socks. They are dark blue with orange clocks.

“His kids still cruising like sharks?” he asks.

“Not showing their fins if they are. Leo made some business moves too complicated for me to understand, but he pulled an end run somewhere that severely limited their ability to wheel and deal.” I hold on to the back of the bench

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