Free Outfoxed: An Andy Carpenter Mystery by David Rosenfelt

necessary.”
    “Without my people for that enforcement, you would soon have nothing.”
    “Your people are businessmen. If we pay them enough, they will become our people. And then you will be without people, and without forty percent.”
    “Are you threatening me?” Capuano asked. He was not used to being talked to this way, but he was also not used to being in this position.
    “I would never do that,” Russo said. “I am patiently explaining the situation, because you seem not to understand it very well. The fact is that we want to be in partnership with you, but we don’t need to be in partnership with you. It is a decision that you will have to make for yourself.”
    Capuano didn’t cave in the moment; that was not the way these things were done. But Russo knew that he would toe the line; he had no choice. Petrone held all the cards, and would play them as necessary.
    What Capuano didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that Russo would be playing the cards differently if he could. That he believed the cards were unnecessary, and only temporarily constituted a winning hand.
    But there was a chance that no one would ever know what Russo was thinking; he knew that and was fine with it.
    For now, he had the limousine take him directly back to the airport.
    He wanted to get home.

 
    If Ted Yates is at the center of the storm, it hasn’t so much as mussed his hair. He’s the CFO of Starlight, a company that currently has one founder in jail and the other just recently stabbed to death. Yet when I called to ask to meet with him, he agreed immediately. Just now, when I showed up at his office for our meeting, he smiled and seemed so casual and at ease that I felt like we were about to have piña coladas by the pool.
    We’re in the company’s headquarters in Paramus, and Yates’s office is on the tenth floor of the twelve-story building. It is spacious and modern, exactly what you would expect at a successful, cutting-edge technology company.
    After we exchange pleasantries, I ask him about the large taped-up boxes lining the walls of his office. “Are you leaving?” I ask.
    “Only this office. I’m heading upstairs.”
    “This one seems pretty nice,” I say.
    He nods. “It is. But the board of directors just made me interim CEO, and they think it more appropriate that I be upstairs. I disagreed, but the board overruled me.” He smiles. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”
    “You’re moving to Gerry Wright’s office?”
    He shakes his head. “No way; far too soon for that. I’m moving into Brian’s old office; it’s been empty since he left.” Then he adds, “This has been a rather difficult time for the company.”
    If he’s having trouble coping with the difficult time, he’s hiding it well. Having chitchatted long enough, I ask Yates if he has any theory as to who might have killed Gerry Wright.
    He shakes his head. “No idea. But I do have a theory about who didn’t do it. And that would be Brian Atkins.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Because I know Brian, and I simply don’t think him capable of that.”
    “But you thought him capable of embezzlement?” I ask.
    “Where did you get that idea?”
    “You testified against him at trial.”
    He reacts and leans forward; I seem to have struck a nerve. “Did you read the transcript?”
    “I did.”
    “Then you should know that all I did was recite the evidence, the unauthorized transfer of money out of the company and into private accounts maintained by Brian.”
    “You don’t view that as testifying against him?” I ask.
    “No. They used me to insert the evidence. I simply stated what happened. They never asked my opinion as to who was responsible, and I never gave it.”
    “What was your opinion?”
    “That someone defrauded the company. Either Brian, which I doubt, or someone intent on making it look like Brian was guilty. I have no idea who, and at this point it doesn’t seem to matter.”
    “Did you think it could have