Elementary, My Dear Watkins (19 page)

Of course, she was also a bit indignant about that one condition. A marriage clause, indeed. In this day and age she could hardly believe something like that could be legal and binding. Still, here she sat with her grandmother’s lawyer, learning what would be involved if she desired to fight the terms of the trust in court. Sidney’s opinion was that although there was a possibility she could win, she’d be more likely to lose, especially because the courts usually favored privately held companies over individuals. Sidney said that the marriage clause might be outdated and sexist, but it wasn’t illegal, and her chances of winning would be slim indeed.

“Well, I hate to break it to all of you,” Jo said finally, “but as indignant as that clause makes me feel on a personal level, I have no intention of fighting it in court. You guys don’t seem to understand. I don’t
want
more shares in Bosworth Industries. I don’t need the money, and frankly, in a way, it’s a relief not to get it. Ian can have it all for all I care.”

She didn’t add that if her relationship with Danny progressed as she hoped it would, they would get married in a year or so anyway, and the whole point would be moot because her grandmother certainly seemed healthy and would probably still be around a lot longer than that.

“Let Ian have it?” Kent said. “I didn’t slave for this company my entire adult life just to be superseded by a spoiled, rich playboy.”

Feeling a surge of bravery, Jo responded in kind.

“And I didn’t get heartlessly dragged all over the world my entire childhood just to grow up to be manipulated into a fake marriage by people who call themselves my parents but obviously care more about their own interests than they do about me!”

“Now, now,” Eleanor said, holding up her hands like a referee at a boxing match. “Let’s not get out of line. Jo, you have every right to be angry with your parents—and in the long run you may decide it’s simplest just to leave the trust unchallenged. But let’s not forget the main reason we’re all here now. Someone wants you dead.”

“Dead?” Kent asked, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck. Sidney also looked shocked.

“Someone tried to kill Jo last night,” Eleanor said simply. “Bradford warned her that her life was in danger and that it had something to do with Bosworth Industries.”

“Then, sure enough, someone tried to push me in front of a train, and Bradford nearly died protecting me,” Jo added, looking at her father. “He’s in the hospital now, in intensive care.”

Kent seemed genuinely shocked and upset as Jo told the whole story, from the moment Bradford showed up with roses at the Marriott to the instant he was hit by the train at Grand Central Station.

“He told me that something big is going on at Bosworth and that I’m ‘in the way,’” she repeated. “So does someone want to tell me what that big thing is that’s going on and how on earth it has anything to do with me?”

The others were silent for a long moment as Jo’s question hung in the air.

“There is something big going on,” Kent said finally. “Probably the biggest thing to come along in quite a while.”

“What is it?”

Kent hesitated before speaking.

“The specifics are unimportant, Jo, but to put it simply, one of our subsidiaries is at a major crossroads. There are two directions we can go with something, and I feel very strongly about which direction that should be. Unfortunately, your Uncle Neil is taking the opposite stand. He’s even been trying to rally the board of directors against me. In the last few weeks, I’ve spent much of my time feeling like a politician, trying to soothe people, sway them back, and defend my agenda. It’s not a simple matter. The right choice could have major financial benefits for all of us. Conversely, the wrong decision here could…well, it could cause serious financial ramifications. And I do mean serious. Unfortunately, Neil and I have not been able to see eye to eye. I believe the direction he wants to go in could be a disaster, and he feels the same about mine. We’re at a stalemate right now.”

“You’ve got controlling interest, Gran,” Jo said. “Where exactly do you stand?”

Eleanor glanced at Kent, who answered for her.

“Your grandmother has chosen to remain neutral in this issue. Frankly, as the CEO, I respect her decision to stay out of it and let me run the company as I see fit. That’s how business has always been done at Bosworth.”

Jo didn’t care. Corporate maneuverings of any kind were about as exciting to her as watching paint dry. Actually, watching paint dry was preferable. She focused on the part of all of this that was relevant to her.

“Again, what does any of that have to do with me? How is it that I’m in the way?”

They all fell silent, lost in thought. The longer no one spoke, the more concerned Jo became. She had expected this to be a no-brainer, that they would be able to tell her exactly what Bradford had been talking about as soon as they heard what had happened. Instead, they all looked completely stumped, as if they had no idea how or why Jo was in danger.

“It could be related to the trust,” Sidney ventured, “and how it distributes the shares. I mean, if Jo were killed and then Eleanor died or became incapacitated, Ian would get the bulk of the shares, putting him in the power seat. He would be able to break the stalemate between Kent and Neil by casting the deciding vote.”

“Not that Ian gives one whit about the business,” Eleanor added, “but I feel certain that he would vote in line with his father’s opinion.”

“Which would mean it was either Ian or Neil behind the attempt on Jo’s life,” Sidney concluded.

Jo ran a hand through her hair, refusing to believe that either her cousin or her uncle could be so evil. Her father seemed to agree.

“I’m sorry,” Kent said, shaking his head, “but that’s ridiculous. Neil may be a thorn in my side much of the time these days, but he’s not capable of
murder
. Even Ian, the waste of life that he’s turned out to be, couldn’t—wouldn’t—have done this.”

“You bought a husband for your daughter, Kent,” Eleanor snapped. “I don’t think you’re in a position to talk about who is capable of what.”

Jo took secret pleasure in seeing her father cut down to size on that one.

“If the distribution of shares is the motive for murder here,” Kent said, pretending to ignore Gran’s remark despite the fact that his face had flushed bright red, “and we are assuming that somehow the confidential details of this trust have been leaked, then Neil and Ian aren’t your only suspects, by any means. The fact is that a number of high-ranking executives at Bosworth Industries would also be greatly impacted by how those shares are divided.” He looked at Jo. “I could name ten or fifteen people off the top of my head who are taking Neil’s side in this conflict and who would benefit greatly if he were to win. Are we really going to pursue the idea that one of them would want this badly enough to kill Jo for it? I’m not sure you could ever narrow down that many suspects to find the one responsible.”

Jo’s head was spinning, and she wasn’t sure she even understood the complex situation in its entirety.

“There’s something I don’t get,” she said, shaking her head. “Right now, I’m not married. So why is there a target on my back at all? If this theory is correct, shouldn’t Gran be the one who’s in danger? I mean, I hate to say it, but if she died right now, because I’m not married Ian would get my shares, right? So why try to kill me? Why not just go straight for her? It’s not like I’m in a gown, carrying a bouquet. I may not be married for another year, at least.”

Sidney reached for the copy of the trust that Jo’s grandmother had been reading from earlier. He ran a finger down the text, reading, until he came to a paragraph below the one with the marriage clause.

“This is why,” he said simply. Then he began reading right where Eleanor had left off. “‘In the case of unmarried females, shares will revert to the Bosworth Charitable Trust. Dividends on those shares will go to the unmarried female for the period of her lifetime, after which dividends will be paid to the trust.’”

He looked at Jo, but she shook her head. “Can you translate that for me?”

“Of course. What we’re talking about are three different scenarios. First would be if you got married and then your grandmother died. In that case, you and Ian would receive equal shares.”

“Which is why my parents tried to buy Bradford for me.”

“Correct. The second scenario would be if you were still single and your grandmother died. In that situation, Ian would still only get half of the shares. According to the provisions of the trust, the other half would go into a charitable trust which would pay dividends to you for your lifetime. Upon your death, the dividends would then pay into the trust.”

Jo thought about that.

“So I would still get the money from the shares. I just wouldn’t have any control or ownership of the company?”

“Exactly. Your grandfather wasn’t trying to give the short end of the stick to the unmarried females in the family. He was still providing them with an income, just not any control to go along with it.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Jo said, feeling somewhat consoled about the unmarried female clause. She’d love knowing her shares went into a charitable trust, especially one that was well-funded enough to do some really good work. “That wouldn’t bother me at all.”

“But there’s a third scenario here,” Sidney said. “And this is the one that I think has put your life in danger. If you were to die first and then your grandmother died, Ian would get his shares
plus yours
since he would be the only surviving grandchild. That’s what I’m talking about when I say he would end up with controlling interest. You’d have to be dead first in order for that to happen.”

Jo thought about that and then looked at her grandmother.

“Then it’s a good thing you got me a bodyguard,” Jo said grimly. “But if somebody does succeed in killing me, you’d better make sure you get one for yourself next.”

Back in Zurich, the three men finally checked into their hotel, which was conveniently located but otherwise quite modest. Danny and Luc were given a simple room with two single beds and a shared bathroom down the hall. At least Mr. Bashiri had a private bathroom, though neither room had a telephone or television.

They agreed to meet in the lobby in exactly two hours, and Danny was glad to learn that Luc had a few errands to run in the meantime. That would give Danny the room to himself for a while, which would be a welcome relief. Mr. Bashiri still looked very tired, and Danny suggested he squeeze in a nap before the evening’s festivities.

Upstairs, Danny shut his own door and took a deep breath, relishing the silence. Used to living alone, all the togetherness in the last 24 hours had been a bit tiring for him. The room was stuffy, so he opened the window and pulled back the curtains. Cool air breezed in, fluttering the bottom of the gauzy fabric. Danny leaned on the windowsill and watched the traffic for a moment down below, glad he was a few peaceful stories up and above the fray.

The view from there was nice, though not as good as what they’d had from the doctor’s balcony earlier in the day. This room faced away from the river, mostly looking out on other buildings. Down the street, he spotted Luc coming out of a bank, talking on his cell phone. Danny gave him a wave, but Luc’s eyes were trained straight ahead and he didn’t see Danny. Luc seemed wrapped up in the phone call anyway, his gestures choppy and almost angry. Finally, he stopped walking, hung up the phone, slipped it into his pocket, and turned toward another store.

Danny recognized it as the visa expediter service where they had gone earlier in the day. As Luc pushed open the door to step inside, Danny wondered if the Frenchman had decided to ask out the bucktoothed girl after all.

Smiling at the thought of his incorrigible friend, Danny stepped away from the window, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on the bed. He had a lot to do, but he was so tired that he thought maybe he’d grab a ten-minute nap and then he would get up and get rolling again.

Just ten-minutes’ rest was all he needed.

T
he meeting in Jo’s grandmother’s office was adjourned without reaching a real resolution. At least they decided that the security at the estate would be tightened, and Eleanor said that she would make arrangements to stay posted on Bradford’s condition at the hospital, in case he regained consciousness and could supply them with more information about what he knew and had been planning to tell Jo. She also said she would sit down with Winnie and let her know the full story about what was going on.

“The details of the trust were supposed to remain confidential until after my death,” Eleanor said. “But now that all of this is happening, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag.”

Sidney said his goodbyes and left, and though Jo’s father tried to make a quick exit as well, Jo came hobbling outside after him, asking him to wait, her bodyguard close behind.

“Daddy, I think you and I need to speak privately about the whole Bradford wedding issue, which is far from being resolved.”

“We’ll have to deal with it later,” Kent replied, continuing on to his car, which was parked in the front circle. “Right now, I’ve got to get to work. I have an important meeting.”