Make No Mistake

Chapter 1

Make no mistake, I had wanted her dead.

My world had been wonderful. I had a very secure job in the fast-paced arena of finance. A Senior VP of one of the largest international financial consulting firms. My credentials were impeccable, my reputation flawless. I spent weeks and sometimes months on the road dashing from one financial crisis to the next. I was the miracle worker, the 'fixer', the white knight fending off ruin and disasters for our clients. I was wined and dined by the most influential companies and people. I could just as easily talk to a country's head of state as to a company's board of directors. I was rich and I was powerful.

I had the perfect marriage, one which was more of a merger than a love-story. Brenda's father was Chairman of the Board of a local Boston bank, near where I had gone to school and had met Brenda. She was pretty in that wholesome way; smart and definitely an asset to my lofty ambitions of running my own bank. Her father loved my drive and offered me a job as soon as I had graduated. Of course, Brenda came along as part of the package, which, by my way of thinking, was well worth the price.

I had insisted I start work at the bottom, taking a teller's position, then rising through the ranks until I made manager of that bank, and finally president. There was never any hint of nepotism; I deserved every promotion I received. Within a few years of employment, I went after and received an MBA, then on to a doctorate in finance. I was the dutiful son-in-law and husband. Brenda did her part; she gave me three children, two sons and one daughter, she kept her body and face youthful, she was a pillar of society, joining or running multitudes of committees and benefits. She was everything an up-and-coming young executive could want or expect in a wife.

When my father-in-law decided to step down from the Bank's Board, I managed to call in some favors I had collected along the way, and was voted in to take his place. The money was great, but the power was exhilarating. I pushed our moderately-sized bank to take on more regional responsibilities, then broadened our influence statewide and finally began connecting with international bankers and companies. Spearheading a mediocre bank to an international financial power gave me recognition not only across the country, but across Europe and Asia too. I was sorry Brenda's father didn't live to see his bank turn into the powerhouse it had finally become.

My overseas reputation as a smart, determined, knowledgeable financial businessman caught the attention of Reynolds and Sons, probably the best and most respected international financial consulting company. They approached me with a large carrot; more money than I ever imagined and, if successful, a quick rise through their ranks, where anything would be possible. The dilemma that faced me was being a large fish in a small pond, or a smaller fish in a huge, but very lucrative and influential pond. I admitted to myself that I had gone as far as I could where I was, and the lure of additional power and prestige won out. The new responsibilities fit me like a glove, and everyone pegged me as the one who would eventually get to the top; my ambitions knew no bounds.

Personally, everything was going as expected. Brenda only gave a brief fight to stay near Boston, but finally agreed that NYC was where I needed to be. The children were put into top-notch private schools while Brenda took no time in getting acquainted with some of the most influential women in the city and joined in their benefits and charities. And I was thriving in my new duties, flying across the country, or to Europe and Asia. I usually had time only to have my clothes cleaned before I would be packing again and off to see another client, or to consult with country leaders during financial summits. Of course I took comfort in a few affairs here and there. The women were always young and extremely attractive and ranged from adoring, fanciful things, to ambitious, sharp, do-anything-to-get-ahead things. These affairs were all short lived, all very quiet, all ending amiably, and no hint of scandal.

But during one of my regular quarterly visits to London, my whole world came crashing down. There I was, in my prime, only 52 years old and my body decided to quit on me. It didn't even do it in a private way, but right in the middle of an international financial summit with me being the head speaker. I was in the reception line, smiling and greeting company CEOs, moneymen, and England's elite. While shaking hands with a London dignitary, his face began shimmering, like the heat waves coming up from an asphalt road. My tongue got thick, and I knew that whatever I was saying didn't make any sense. Then all of a sudden my right leg buckled, and I found myself lying at the feet of some Swedish actress. From there on out it was all a blur, the hospital, the doctors, Brenda, everything. Stroke? That only happens to old men.