lover, but for the pain he clearly felt in having to discuss it with me. Or anyone else. Now I understood why he wanted to extort my help. It would be easier to control the embarrassment from a position of strength.
“I’m going to ask you a lot of personal things,” I said. “Don’t expect me to be good at it.”
“If it was tact I needed, believe me, you wouldn’t be my first choice.”
“How were things going with the relationship when she disappeared?”
“I thought they were going fine, but something was a little off. Nothing overt. Nothing apparent. She was distracted. Maybe a little distant. I might have imagined it. Conjured the memory after the fact.”
“How secret is this thing?”
He thought that was amusing.
“You’re now the third person in the universe who knows. Unless there’s a God or Iku has a confidante she’s hidden from me. I pray she doesn’t. Exposure would be ruinous.”
He read my expression.
“You know Arlis,” he said. “My wife.”
I pictured a small woman with iron-grey hair and a face that looked unnaturally young for her years. She was formal, but in a gracious, kindly way, and always looked me in the eye and smiled when I tried to make idle chitchat.
“Sure. I guess you don’t want to lose her either.”
“The loss would be total. You’re probably unaware her family holds a significant share of Con Globe’s voting stock. Enough to compel the board to review the chairmanship.”
Now I understood why he wanted a stick to go with the carrots. Better yet, a hammer.
“I might’ve known that back then,” I said. “Not the kind of thing I’d pay much attention to.” I was probably the only VP in the place who could’ve said that, but that was one of my career specialties. Political myopia.
“Arlis Cuthright is her maiden name. Back in ’38 her grandfather sold off his coal mines and cargo ships and needed to reinvest the proceeds. Hydrocarbon processing seemed a good bet on the future. The dot-com of its time. The familynever thought much of me. Just another shanty Irish in their eyes. So the connection did little to help me on the way up. But it would surely grease the slide in the other direction.”
I looked around the room and breathed in the aroma of leather and oiled furniture. I once thought people who lived like Donovan had discovered a secret tunnel that led from aching nervous want to a paradise of eternal security. Until I got to actually know people like George Donovan.
“I know I’m taking a monstrous risk involving you,” he said. “But it’s no worse than having this thing just hanging there. I couldn’t possibly trust a private investigator. I’m even afraid to do a computer search. Afraid of leaving a trail. I know you’re a capable man. The best troubleshooter the company ever had. And even if you hate me, I believe you’ll honor a deal.”
Now that I had a chance to focus on him, he didn’t look so good, even in the dim light of the study. Older, wan. He prided himself on physical fitness, showing off his straight posture and knuckle-grinding handshake. But no exercise routine could counter this stew pot of uncertainty, loss, embarrassment and dread.
“What about family and friends?” I asked.
He looked around at the ersatz erudition that surround ed him.
“I don’t think she has any friends. Just a boyfriend. Ostensibly. A man named Robert Dobson. She calls him Bobby, of course. I have no idea what he knows, or where he lives, or what he does. Just the name.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
He nodded with a half smile.
“Not in a frame on my desk. But she’s part of a group photo in Eisler, Johnson’s annual report. You can see it on their website. It’s not very big, but you can make out her features.I visit the site as often as I dare. Rather wretched of me, but there you are.”
“Parents?”
“She was the product of an army officer’s liaison with a woman on Okinawa. Adopted by an American
“I’m going to ask you a lot of personal things,” I said. “Don’t expect me to be good at it.”
“If it was tact I needed, believe me, you wouldn’t be my first choice.”
“How were things going with the relationship when she disappeared?”
“I thought they were going fine, but something was a little off. Nothing overt. Nothing apparent. She was distracted. Maybe a little distant. I might have imagined it. Conjured the memory after the fact.”
“How secret is this thing?”
He thought that was amusing.
“You’re now the third person in the universe who knows. Unless there’s a God or Iku has a confidante she’s hidden from me. I pray she doesn’t. Exposure would be ruinous.”
He read my expression.
“You know Arlis,” he said. “My wife.”
I pictured a small woman with iron-grey hair and a face that looked unnaturally young for her years. She was formal, but in a gracious, kindly way, and always looked me in the eye and smiled when I tried to make idle chitchat.
“Sure. I guess you don’t want to lose her either.”
“The loss would be total. You’re probably unaware her family holds a significant share of Con Globe’s voting stock. Enough to compel the board to review the chairmanship.”
Now I understood why he wanted a stick to go with the carrots. Better yet, a hammer.
“I might’ve known that back then,” I said. “Not the kind of thing I’d pay much attention to.” I was probably the only VP in the place who could’ve said that, but that was one of my career specialties. Political myopia.
“Arlis Cuthright is her maiden name. Back in ’38 her grandfather sold off his coal mines and cargo ships and needed to reinvest the proceeds. Hydrocarbon processing seemed a good bet on the future. The dot-com of its time. The familynever thought much of me. Just another shanty Irish in their eyes. So the connection did little to help me on the way up. But it would surely grease the slide in the other direction.”
I looked around the room and breathed in the aroma of leather and oiled furniture. I once thought people who lived like Donovan had discovered a secret tunnel that led from aching nervous want to a paradise of eternal security. Until I got to actually know people like George Donovan.
“I know I’m taking a monstrous risk involving you,” he said. “But it’s no worse than having this thing just hanging there. I couldn’t possibly trust a private investigator. I’m even afraid to do a computer search. Afraid of leaving a trail. I know you’re a capable man. The best troubleshooter the company ever had. And even if you hate me, I believe you’ll honor a deal.”
Now that I had a chance to focus on him, he didn’t look so good, even in the dim light of the study. Older, wan. He prided himself on physical fitness, showing off his straight posture and knuckle-grinding handshake. But no exercise routine could counter this stew pot of uncertainty, loss, embarrassment and dread.
“What about family and friends?” I asked.
He looked around at the ersatz erudition that surround ed him.
“I don’t think she has any friends. Just a boyfriend. Ostensibly. A man named Robert Dobson. She calls him Bobby, of course. I have no idea what he knows, or where he lives, or what he does. Just the name.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
He nodded with a half smile.
“Not in a frame on my desk. But she’s part of a group photo in Eisler, Johnson’s annual report. You can see it on their website. It’s not very big, but you can make out her features.I visit the site as often as I dare. Rather wretched of me, but there you are.”
“Parents?”
“She was the product of an army officer’s liaison with a woman on Okinawa. Adopted by an American
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