money. Everything passed muster.”
“So where did the money come from?”
“I didn’t say I knew. Like I said, the lawyers vetted him, and they say
everything’s aboveboard.”
“Are these the same lawyers who vetted the chain of title on the
script?”
“Look, don’t make waves on this,” Mike said. “Let’s just do what he
says. It’s a business decision for him. He’ll figure out how much to pay to
make this guy go away, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll consider it just
part of his investment. Hell, he’ll probably even write it off on his income
tax. Don’t read anything more into it than that.”
She looked at him for a good fifteen seconds, debating how to
respond. At last she chose acquiescence—at least on the surface. “I guess
you’re right. I’m tired, and I’m still a little scared, that’s all.”
“What you need to do is go home and go to bed. Your mind will be
clearer tomorrow.”
She unlocked her car with the remote, and he opened the door for
her. She slid in behind the wheel and started the engine.
“You want me to come home with you?” he asked.
“Like you said, I need sleep.”
“All right.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Sleep
good. Call me tomorrow when you get up.”
Two hours later, Teri was still wide awake, sitting cross-legged on the
bed, hunched over her laptop. All her research had turned up a big zero.
Although she considered herself an expert at Internet research, Douglas
Bozarth remained as big a mystery as when she started. He had made
money in real estate development in Colorado then parlayed that into oil
and gas, building up an oil exploration company that had international
contracts in the middle east. He sold the company for over a billion
dollars, earning him a place on the Forbes list of richest Americans. Since
then, it looked like he had just played with his money and his contacts,
putting together investment groups in various ventures, home and abroad,
including this virgin foray into the movie business. But other than generic,
publicist-blessed releases and stories, she could find virtually nothing
about his personal life.
The good news, though, was the absence of certain kinds of stories:
no arrests and convictions, no SEC investigations, no sex scandals, no
bankruptcies—and no murders. Ultimately Teri determined that, in this
case, no information was good information. Either he was a good, clean
upstanding businessman or he was very discreet, or both.
She looked at the clock on her computer screen. Nearly four a.m.
Not entirely satisfied, but too tired to continue, she shut down the
computer and set it aside, turned off the light, and crawled beneath the
sheets. Five minutes later, she was asleep.
A thin man slumped in a leather chair in the middle of a U-shaped
computer table. Monitors faced him from all three sides. He stared
intently at the monitor directly in front of him, then picked up his cell
phone and hit a number on speed dial. After four rings, a male voice
answered.
“Learn anything?”
“Internet research. Lots of Internet research.”
“What was she looking for?”
“Lots of searches, but all of them had the same two words. Douglas
and Bozarth.”
“She find anything?”
“Nothing she was looking for.”
“Let me know if she ever does.”
It seemed as if Teri had barely closed her eyes when an unending buzzing
sound filled her ears. At first she thought it was a dream, then the alarm.
After knocking the clock to the floor, but with no success at stopping the
sound, she realized it was the door buzzer. She was going to have to
replace that with a kinder, gentler ring tone.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her eyes. At the same
moment, the Magnum, P.I. theme music blared from her cell phone. She
snatched it up and looked at the read-out. The first thing that struck her
was the notice that she had four missed calls. How had she slept through
those?
Then she focused on Mona’s name as
“So where did the money come from?”
“I didn’t say I knew. Like I said, the lawyers vetted him, and they say
everything’s aboveboard.”
“Are these the same lawyers who vetted the chain of title on the
script?”
“Look, don’t make waves on this,” Mike said. “Let’s just do what he
says. It’s a business decision for him. He’ll figure out how much to pay to
make this guy go away, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll consider it just
part of his investment. Hell, he’ll probably even write it off on his income
tax. Don’t read anything more into it than that.”
She looked at him for a good fifteen seconds, debating how to
respond. At last she chose acquiescence—at least on the surface. “I guess
you’re right. I’m tired, and I’m still a little scared, that’s all.”
“What you need to do is go home and go to bed. Your mind will be
clearer tomorrow.”
She unlocked her car with the remote, and he opened the door for
her. She slid in behind the wheel and started the engine.
“You want me to come home with you?” he asked.
“Like you said, I need sleep.”
“All right.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Sleep
good. Call me tomorrow when you get up.”
Two hours later, Teri was still wide awake, sitting cross-legged on the
bed, hunched over her laptop. All her research had turned up a big zero.
Although she considered herself an expert at Internet research, Douglas
Bozarth remained as big a mystery as when she started. He had made
money in real estate development in Colorado then parlayed that into oil
and gas, building up an oil exploration company that had international
contracts in the middle east. He sold the company for over a billion
dollars, earning him a place on the Forbes list of richest Americans. Since
then, it looked like he had just played with his money and his contacts,
putting together investment groups in various ventures, home and abroad,
including this virgin foray into the movie business. But other than generic,
publicist-blessed releases and stories, she could find virtually nothing
about his personal life.
The good news, though, was the absence of certain kinds of stories:
no arrests and convictions, no SEC investigations, no sex scandals, no
bankruptcies—and no murders. Ultimately Teri determined that, in this
case, no information was good information. Either he was a good, clean
upstanding businessman or he was very discreet, or both.
She looked at the clock on her computer screen. Nearly four a.m.
Not entirely satisfied, but too tired to continue, she shut down the
computer and set it aside, turned off the light, and crawled beneath the
sheets. Five minutes later, she was asleep.
A thin man slumped in a leather chair in the middle of a U-shaped
computer table. Monitors faced him from all three sides. He stared
intently at the monitor directly in front of him, then picked up his cell
phone and hit a number on speed dial. After four rings, a male voice
answered.
“Learn anything?”
“Internet research. Lots of Internet research.”
“What was she looking for?”
“Lots of searches, but all of them had the same two words. Douglas
and Bozarth.”
“She find anything?”
“Nothing she was looking for.”
“Let me know if she ever does.”
It seemed as if Teri had barely closed her eyes when an unending buzzing
sound filled her ears. At first she thought it was a dream, then the alarm.
After knocking the clock to the floor, but with no success at stopping the
sound, she realized it was the door buzzer. She was going to have to
replace that with a kinder, gentler ring tone.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her eyes. At the same
moment, the Magnum, P.I. theme music blared from her cell phone. She
snatched it up and looked at the read-out. The first thing that struck her
was the notice that she had four missed calls. How had she slept through
those?
Then she focused on Mona’s name as
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