Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 Read Free Page B

eight grades of formal schooling before she’d run away from a sexually abusive stepfather. It had taken three attempts to leave before her parents gave up trying to find her. As part of her newly found freedom, she’d majored in personal survival. In her twenty-one years of making it on her own she’d learned to stay ahead of the curve. A return to exotic dancing was definitely not on her radar screen. Her husband flopped down on the sofa next to her and put his head in her lap.
    “I don’t know, Brenda. There’s a will I guess, and then if the IPO goes through, whatever holding anybody has is either converted to preferred stock or maybe can be turned into common, but the percentage you hold is, like, diluted by the stock held by the new buyers. It’s something like that. I don’t know. He told me, but I couldn’t get it straight.”
    “Who?”
    “Travis Parizzi, I just told you.”
    “Maybe you’re going to inherit. He can’t last forever. What’s in his will?”
    “No clue. I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
    “Because…?”
    “ Because he said I’m on my own at the funeral and all.”
    “If Lucille did it and got caught, wouldn’t she go to jail, and then you’d get a whole lot of money, right?”
    “For Christ sake, Brenda, how many times I gotta tell you? We’re out of it. Besides Lucille isn’t about to do anything. She’s more likely to file for divorce before the papers are signed. You know, like a quickie divorce in Las Vegas or some place, and cash out before the money gets lost in one of Leo’s shell games. We have to do something, Brenda, and soon.”
    “Do? Do what, Bobby. You want me to ask Frankie to get us a hit man? How’s that going to work?”
    He nuzzled her belly and took her hand. She sighed. That was his answer to all his troubles. What is it with men anyway? You have a problem; you work on it. Bobby never faced a problem in his life. They call women ditzes. Like, they should meet Bobby Griswold. His idea of how to solve a problem was to blot it out with booze and sex and let someone else figure it out. Since his mom died, that job had fallen to her. She looked at his boyish face and sighed again. She disliked doing what he wanted but, hey, where else was she going to get a gig like this?

Chapter 4
    Leo Painter stared at the same slate gray lake. His view, however, was considerably better than that from the Griswolds’ Oak Street Beach apartment. His office was high in the Willis Tower. He liked it better when it was the Sears Tower. Sears said Chicago. Who in the hell was Willis anyway? On a clear day, Leo could see across the lake all the way to the Michigan shore or south to the Indiana dunes. The view was spectacular. For what he paid for the space, it ought to be.
    Travis Parizzi sat on the edge of an expensive leather chair, briefcase open in his lap. He shuffled the papers it contained and sorted them into the order he wished to deal with them. Travis had learned years ago that Leo liked his sessions with his COO to be quick, to the point, and no nonsense. Travis looked up, waiting for Leo’s signal to begin. This morning, it seemed, Leo was in no hurry. Finally he turned from the window.
    “We’re set for Africa?” he asked.
    “Yes, I think so. Has Mrs. Painter made up her mind if she’s going?” There had been a debate about Leo’s wife being included in the trip. Somehow she’d discovered the company would be going public and had thrown a hissy-fit. She’d threatened to dump Leo on the spot. He promised to renegotiate her pre-nup, but Travis doubted it would happen. Ethical behavior and fairness were never part of Leo’s makeup as far as Travis could determine. If they were, Leo would still be running errands for Harry Reilly, his first wife’s father. But his shrewd sense of mining, a growing emphasis on their newly developing oil business, and his inability to feel guilty about anything had culminated in the ouster of the old man, a quick divorce from