“It’s an extended stay with the friends. I have no idea when she is going to get back to Aspen, and she left without finishing her program. That’s almost twenty-five thousand dollars down the drain,” Marcus said.

Steinwood was still distracted by the glossy brochure of his soon-to-be new automobile. “Well, Julian, old boy, you are going to have to come up with a solution, or at least your contribution to the till.” As far as Steinwood was concerned, Charlotte Hansen was Marcus’s problem. Each of them had to pay a fee into the kitty, which was reinvested in the company and used for, among other things, slick office spaces, although Marcus’s in London was far more modest than those of his American partners. Londoners were not as impressed with glam and glitter as were Americans.

“Yeah, I know that, but I’m a bit strapped at the moment.” Marcus was starting to sweat again. He knew his partners would not tolerate being shorted any more than Franny O’Rourke had.

“What do you mean, strapped? You pulled in over a quarter mil during the past three months. And that was your share!” Steinwood was getting impatient with Marcus.

“Yeah, I know. It’s my wife. She keeps spending money on all sorts of things.” Marcus knew that was only half the problem. His little hobby of snorting cocaine was the other half.

“Well, just don’t give her any,” Steinwood admonished him.

“That’s just it. She keeps the house accounts, and I just get the bills.” Now Marcus was whining.

“So close the accounts.”

“She’d kill me. It’s her way of showing off to her friends. They go out to lunch several times a week and order bottles of Dom Pérignon!” More whining.

“Marcus, not to sound rude, but your wife is your problem, not mine. Rein her in. I’ve gotta go.” Steinwood was about to hang up when he realized they had not settled the Charlotte Hansen issue. “Now what are we going to do to get Charlotte Hansen back into the program?”

“I was hoping you could help me out there, buddy.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Steinwood had a modicum more tolerance for Marcus’s high-strung disposition than Corbett did.

“What if you call her daughter here in London and tell her you are going on vacation and that you want to be sure you see her before you leave?” Marcus was close to begging.

“How is that going to help?”

“I figure at least we’d have some idea when she is going to go to Aspen or return to London.” There was desperation in Marcus’s voice.

“I’m sure you want her to return to London so you can get your twenty-five grand, correct?” Steinwood had the feeling that he was being played.

“That would be just jolly, old sport.”