from their house, it was an ideal end to the day. For some reason which he hadnât yet worked out, Caroline had been unusually flirty throughout dinner and, once they got home, she had wasted no time in undressing both of them. He was reliving the moment sheâd removed his boxer shorts when the mention of Fairweatherâs name suddenly caught his attention. He turned up the volume as a reporter, standing in front of a large and elegant townhouse, started to explain what she thought had happened.
âWe understand that in the early hours of this morning, Peter Fairweather, the CEO of Bubble.com, fell from a first floor window onto the railings below. The police are investigating what happened but we understand that Mr Fairweather died of the injuries he sustained in the fall. There appear to be no witnesses but the police are examining CCTV footage as well as interviewing a friend of Mr Fairweatherâs who appears to have been in the house at the time that Mr Fairweather fell to his death.â
Highworth smiled - the game was on. The on-the-scene reporter handed back to the newsroom where the business editor took up the story. He gave a brief summary of Fairweatherâs business career and, in particular, the spectacular rise of Bubble.com. He finished his report by questioning whether Fairweatherâs death would jeopardise the much anticipated roll out of Mymate, Bubble.comâs new social networking application. Given the widely held view that it was Fairweatherâs personal energy and determination that were the driving force behind Mymate, the reporter suggested that the company might now have problems and that it would be interesting to see how the markets responded on Monday when the London Stock Exchange opened for business.
Highworth sat down and took a long drink of his coffee. All thoughts of last nightâs adventures with Caroline, as well as of the meeting in a few hoursâ time, were gone. Instead, he was thinking through what more he needed to do to exploit Fairweatherâs death. His planning to date had been meticulous but he nevertheless forced himself to go through a mental checklist to ensure he hadnât missed anything. Satisfied that, at least for the moment, there was nothing more he could do, he poured himself another cup of coffee and went upstairs to shower and change.
âDid you see the news darling?â his wife asked him as he entered the bedroom.
âYes, tragic isnât it. We only saw him yesterday.â
âYesâ, she replied, following her husband into the bathroom. âItâs a great shame,â she said. âHe promised me yesterday that he would consider joining the trustees of the art charity Iâm setting up. I suppose now Iâll have to find some other rich art lover to replace him and there donât seem to be too many of those around at the moment, at least not ones that I would want to work with on the board!â
Highworth smiled. A capable administrator and remarkably successful fundraiser, his wife ran the charities she was involved in with a steely determination. She liked to get her own way and she would only agree to people joining the board of trustees of âherâ charities if she knew that they wouldnât oppose her. Highworth knew that this is what would make it difficult. âIâll see whether I can think of anyone,â he said. âIâve got a few ideas but Iâll get the team to check out their finances before we discuss them. No point asking them to join only to find out theyâre not as rich as we thought they were!â
His wife came over and kissed him on the lips. âThank you darling,â she said, âthat would be really kind.â
Highworth showered and changed into a dark, single-breasted suit, blue cotton shirt and red spotted tie. Although it was the weekend, he liked to wear a suit whenever he went into the office. He was far more comfortable
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley