Michael Ridpath - Final Venture

'Sounds like a great guy'

'"Yeah. Also, there are rumours that some of BioOne's early research results were manipulated.'

'Jesus. Why the hell did we back him?'

Lisa sighed. 'He sounds convincing. The stock market loves him. I'm worried he'll muscle his way into running things at Boston Peptides, and hog all the credit for anything we produce.'

From what I had seen, that prospect looked quite likely. I hadn't yet told Lisa about Enever's little presentation. Somehow, it never seemed like quite the right time. 'I hope he leaves you alone,' I said.

Lisa gave me a withering look. 'I think that's highly unlikely.' She switched on the TV. 'Weren't you going out with Kieran tonight?'

'No, that's OK. He won't miss me. I'll stay here with you.'

'Don't worry about me,' said Lisa neutrally. 'You go, Simon.'

'I can stay-'

'Go.'

So I went.

The Red Hat was a frequent haunt of ours when Kieran and I were at business school. It was a dark basement bar only a few minutes' walk from our apartment.

Kieran was already there, with half a dozen others from our business school days who had found jobs around Boston. Daniel wasn't present. He had tended to avoid the group occasions at business school, and certainly avoided them now. Pitchers of beer were bought and drunk. There was some tedious talk at first of 'B-school', 'I-banks', 'VCs' and pay cheques, but then the conversation regressed a couple of years to women, drink and sport. I forgot Frank's death, Sergeant Mahoney and Lisa's problems, and my brain went pleasantly fuzzy.

I left early and arrived home at about half past ten, ready to tumble into bed. I didn't make it.

Lisa was sitting on the sofa. She was wearing her running clothes. She was crying.

'Lisa!' I moved over to sit by her on the sofa.

'Get away from me!' she cried.

I stopped in mid stride. 'OK,' I said. 'What's wrong?'

She opened her mouth to say something, then her bottom lip shook, and she bit it. Tears rolled down her face. I moved towards her again.

'I said, get away from me!'

I held up my hands in a calming gesture. 'OK, OK,' I said, and backed off to sit in the armchair.

I waited.

Lisa sobbed, and sniffed, and took a deep breath. 'I found it, Simon.'

'Found what?'

'What do you think?'

'I don't know. Tell me.'

'The gun. The gun that shot Dad.'

'What! Where?'

Lisa glared at me. 'Where do you think? Right there!' She pointed at the large closet embedded in one wall of the living room. 'I was looking for an old photo album I had as a kid, with pictures of Dad. I found it OK. But underneath was a revolver. A Smith and Wesson model six forty, three fifty-seven Magnum. I looked it up on the Smith and Wesson web site.' She pointed to our computer in the corner of the room. The screen was filled with an image of a short, stubby revolver. 'The police said that was the type of gun that killed Dad. And two bullets were missing. It's the gun all right.'

'You found it here?' I said. 'In the closet?'

'That's right. And I want to know how it got there.'

I thought quickly. I had no idea how it could have got there. 'Someone must have planted it.'

'Yeah, right. Like who?'

'I don't know. Hold on. Didn't the police search the closet last week? They didn't find anything then.'

'No. But it was definitely there this evening.'

'Let me see it,' I said.

'I threw it away. I didn't want it in the apartment. The cops might come back at any moment.'

'Where? Where did you throw it?'

'I went for a run and threw it in the river.'

'Oh, Jesus. Did anyone see you?'

'I don't know. It was in a plastic bag.' She looked up at me. 'Don't worry. I'm not going to tell the police.'

I put my head in my hands. Disconnected thoughts tumbled around my brain.

You shouldn't have done that, Lisa.'

'Done what?'

'Thrown the gun away'

'Why? Did you want to hang it on the wall?'

'I could have given it to the police.'

'That would have been dumb, wouldn't it? Give the police the evidence they need to arrest you?'

'But don't you see? It might have helped clear my name. If I gave it to them voluntarily, they would hardly suspect me, would they?'

'It's easy for you to say that now.' She shook her head, and more tears came. 'It was horrible to see it. The thing that killed Dad. I couldn't stand having it here in the apartment. I had to get rid of it right away. And I thought I was doing you a favour!'

This was ridiculous. 'Lisa, it's not my gun. I didn't put it there. I didn't kill your father.'

'It was there, right in front of my eyes, Simon. I can't ignore it.'

I rushed over to her, and put my hands on her shoulders. She tried to wriggle free.

'Lisa. Lisa! Look at me.'

Reluctantly, she did.

'How can you believe I murdered him? You know me. How can you think I'd do something like that?'

Lisa held my eyes, and then looked away. 'I can't bear to think about it.'

'It wasn't mine, Lisa. You must believe that.'

'I don't know what to believe.' Her hands reached my chest and pushed me away. 'Let go of me!'

I released her shoulders and stood back. Frustration at my inability to convince her boiled up inside me. 'Lisa. It wasn't me. I didn't kill your father. I've never even seen the bloody gun. I didn't kill your father!' I shouted.

She sat still, letting the echo of my denial reverberate though the small room. Then she looked up at me. 'I'm going to bed,' she said, and pushed past me to the bedroom.

She said nothing to me the next morning, as we both got ready for work. I tried to initiate some kind of communication, but with no success. Her face was set in stony misery, the corners of her mouth turned down, her brow furrowed. In the bathroom, while she was brushing her teeth and looking in the mirror, she burst into tears. I went to comfort her, I wanted to comfort her so badly, but as I touched her, her whole body tensed up, rigid, and she held her breath in tight, until I removed my hand.

A couple of minutes later, she left the apartment to walk to the Charles Street 'T' for the short subway journey to Boston Peptides' lab in Cambridge, and I set off in the other direction.

It was a long, cruel day at work. I couldn't focus on anything properly. I couldn't even focus on what the gun was doing in our apartment. All I could think about was Lisa. What would she do? How would she react? Would she believe me? How could I make her believe me? How could I calm her down, bring back the old Lisa?

Daniel and John must have realized something was wrong, but they left me alone. I was grateful.

Lisa didn't get home till eight. I waited for her with apprehension, fiddling about with a salad we would have for supper.

When I heard the front door of the apartment slam, I walked out to meet her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips which she reluctantly returned.

'Hi,' I said.

'Hi.'

'Good day?'

Stupid question. 'Simon. BioOne is going to take the place apart. No it wasn't a good day'

'Sorry. I made a salad.'

'Great,' Lisa said with little enthusiasm, and picked up her mail.

I went back into the kitchen, poured a couple of glasses of wine, and handed Lisa one. She grunted her thanks, and read a piece of junk mail from a credit card company with great interest.

'Supper's ready,' I said a few minutes later.

'Oh, I won't be a minute. I just want to call Eddie.'

She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door. She was half an hour. I reread the newspaper and tried not to get angry, but failed.

Eventually she came out. She'd been crying. Her eyes were red, but she'd wiped away the tears. Her face was pinched, the corners of her mouth in what was becoming their habitual turned-down position. I moved over to her to hold her. She didn't push me away, but she remained tense.