Chapter Twenty-One
THE FOLLOWING DAY, at work, Ted becomes aware of the rumours and speculation about his brother’s estate.
He knows his co-workers are talking about it, but they stop when he comes around.
He’s aware that people will assume that he’ll inherit, as the only surviving relative.
Even some news outlets are speculating that Ted is to get his brother’s vast fortune.
It was bound to happen, sooner or later, and Ted finds he doesn’t mind.
He rather likes people thinking that he’s getting Greg’s money.
When he’s alone, or at home with his wife, he can hardly wipe the smile off his face.
At the office, however, he has been subdued, appropriately solemn.
It’s taken all his willpower not to smirk around that arrogant son of a bitch Jamie Pollard.
His colleagues have been sympathetic about Greg.
But they are also sending inquisitive looks his way.
There’s curiosity, and jealousy too. Ted pretends not to notice, doesn’t talk about it, and starts thinking about when he can quit his job. Mustn’t look too celebratory.
But now he wonders if there is really any good reason for him to stay on for weeks or months more.
Why punish himself? Why shouldn’t he give notice – today, even?
It would be a nice fuck you to Jamie Pollard and that bunch, and they could draw the obvious conclusion.
Ted doesn’t need the money, not now. They will get a short-term mortgage to get enough cash to pay off the loan shark and tide them over in style; it will be temporary, until the estate is settled.
He doesn’t enjoy the work. It wouldn’t look too inappropriate, would it?
Wouldn’t it just seem reasonable, in the circumstances?
His thoughts are interrupted by a call from reception. ‘Someone here to see you, sir.’
‘Who is it?’ Ted asks.
‘John Burnley.’
He starts. He hasn’t seen or heard from John Burnley in many years.
They’d worked together when they both started off in their early twenties selling securities in the same large firm on Wall Street, a long time ago now.
They’d lost touch. What’s he doing here now?
And then Ted remembers the attorneys’ warning.
People will come out of the woodwork, they’d said, asking for money.
That’s probably why Burnley is here. He’s heard the rumours, seen the stories in the news.
Ted should turn him away. John had always been a charmer, a glib salesman, and not one to hesitate to cross an ethical line.
Then Ted remembers that he has murdered his brother.
‘Sir?’ the receptionist asks.
‘Send him in,’ Ted says.
When John Burnley swans in, older, but with his familiar grin, and holds out his hand for a firm shake, he seems genuinely happy to see him, and Ted almost falls for it.
John is blond, with all-American good looks, and sharply dressed.
He’s not from the same background as Ted.
He’s had to make himself from scratch, hasn’t had Ted’s advantages.
He’s always known exactly who he is, whereas Ted is just finding out.
John looks like he’s done well for himself, Ted thinks, assessing the Rolex watch, which, from this distance, could be a good fake, and the designer suit, which clearly is not.
‘Please, sit down,’ Ted says after they do the slap on the back that accompanies the handshake, and gestures for his visitor to take a seat as he slips back behind his desk.
And because he’s just decided he’s going to give notice that very day, he puts his feet up on the desk, displaying his handmade Italian shoes. ‘You’re looking well, John,’ he says.
‘Thanks. Trying to stay in shape, you know,’ John replies, modestly patting his trim middle.
‘You married?’ Ted asks. He sees no wedding ring.
‘Oh, no, you know me,’ Burnley says, and gives a wolfish grin.
Ted remembers. John was always very successful with women and professed to see no reason to settle for just one.
He hasn’t changed, then. He remembers John as someone who really only ever cared about himself.
Perhaps Ted should be careful. ‘What have you been up to all these years?’ he asks, genuinely curious.
‘Oh, you know, business. Investments, mostly. Doing pretty well.’
Ted nods, not quite sure what to say. He begins to feel a little uneasy about why his old acquaintance is here and to regret letting him in.
Ted had given in to the temptation to bask in his own success in front of an old friend.
John must surely be aware that he is probably coming into a lot of money.
He decides to take control. ‘So why are you here now, John?’ he asks.
‘I wanted to offer my condolences, about your brother,’ John says smoothly.
Ted finds that hard to believe. ‘Thank you. But that can’t be the only reason you’re here.’
Burnley grins at him. ‘I have an opportunity,’ he says confidently, ‘that I think you’ll find very interesting.’
‘An opportunity,’ Ted echoes. The attorneys were right. It didn’t take long.
‘I have a fund,’ Burnley says, turning serious, looking directly into his eyes, ‘sure to double over the next five years. You could get in now, on the ground floor, make a bundle.’
John Burnley was always a bit slippery, Ted thinks now.
He will look up what John’s been doing these last many years, as soon as he leaves.
Maybe he’s heard somehow about Ted’s last disastrous investment and is thinking a fool and his money are soon parted.
The thought stings. He feels the pleasant expression leave his face. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not? You haven’t even let me tell you about it. It’s a sure thing.’
John smiles back at him but there’s flint in his eyes now. He doesn’t like hearing no. Ted remembers that about him too. Ted rises from behind his desk. ‘I’m really sorry, John, but I’ve got another meeting. Lovely to see you again, though.’
John rises, smiles his crocodile smile. He says, in his most charming voice, ‘Fine. You’ll regret it, though, I promise you that.’
Once he sees John out, Ted closes his office door, goes back to his desk, and googles John Burnley.