Heads You Win

Jardine ignored the sotto voce interruption and plowed on. “I therefore have no hesitation in proposing our former CEO, Mr. Douglas Ackroyd, to be the next chairman of Lowell’s Bank.”

“Do we have a seconder?” asked Fowler.

“I shall be delighted to second the nomination,” said Alan Gates, coming in bang on cue.

“Another of the fifty-thousand-dollar-a-year expenses brigade,” said Underwood, “making sure the gravy train rolls on in perpetuity.”

“Thank you,” said Fowler. “If there are no further nominations, all that is left for me to do is call for a vote. Those in favor of Mr. Doug Ackroyd being elected as our next chairman, please raise your hands.”

Six hands were raised.

“On a point of order, Mr. Chairman.” The well-organized juggernaut suddenly ground to an unscheduled halt. “I feel I should point out,” said Underwood, “that under standing order 7.9 of the bank’s statutes, no one standing for the position of chairman can vote for himself.”

Alex smiled. Clearly Harbottle wasn’t the only person who’d been burning the midnight oil. There was some muttering among the board members while Fowler looked up that particular standing order.

“That appears to be correct,” he eventually managed.

“Well, what do you know?” said Underwood. “Our founding fathers weren’t that stupid after all.”

“However,” said Fowler, “Mr. Ackroyd still has five votes. I will now ask if anyone wishes to vote against?”

Five directors immediately raised their hands.

“Any abstentions?”

“Only me,” said Evelyn, in her most innocent voice.

Ackroyd was baffled, while Alex couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Then the vote is five each, with one abstention,” said Fowler.

“So what do we do now?” asked Tom Rhodes, a director who rarely spoke.

“I suggest Mr. Fowler reads standing order 7.10,” said Underwood, “and we just might find out.”

Fowler reluctantly turned the page and read out, “In the event of a tie, the chairman will have the casting vote.”

Everyone turned to face Alex, who didn’t hesitate before saying, “Against.” Even louder muttering broke out among the board members.

It was some time before Fowler, after once again checking the standing orders, asked, “Are there any other nominations?”

“Yes,” said Bob Underwood. “I propose that Mr. Alex Karpenko continue as our chairman, as no one can be in any doubt about the outstanding contribution he has made since he took over the chair.”

“I second the nomination,” said Rhodes.

Fowler resumed his role as arbitrator. “Those in favor, please raise their hands.” Only five hands shot up, as Alex couldn’t vote for himself.

Just as Fowler was about to ask for those against, Evelyn slowly raised her hand to join the other five. Fowler couldn’t have sounded more dismayed when he had to announce, “I declare Mr. Alex Karpenko to have been elected as the chairman of the Lowell Bank and Trust Company.”

Several members of the board burst into spontaneous applause, while Ackroyd was unable to hide first his disbelief, then his anger. He along with four other directors immediately rose from their places and left the room.

“Judas,” said Ackroyd, as he walked past Evelyn.

“More like the Good Samaritan!” shouted Underwood before the door slammed shut.

“They’ll be back,” said Alex with a sigh.

“I don’t think so,” said Evelyn quietly. She didn’t speak again until she was sure she had everyone’s attention.

“The reason I was a little late for the board meeting, gentlemen,” she said, “was because earlier this morning I had a visit from a senior officer with the Boston police department.” Every eye was fixed on her.

“It seems that a Blue Jackie by Andy Warhol was stolen from the Lowell Collection while Lawrence was serving in Vietnam.” She paused and took a sip of water, her hand trembling to show how distressed she was.

“When the officer told me the name of the culprit, I was so shocked, I immediately consulted my lawyer, who advised me to attend this meeting and make sure that Mr. Karpenko continues as chairman of the bank. I also felt it nothing less than my duty to assure the chief of police that when Mr. Ackroyd comes up for trial, I will be happy to appear as a state witness.”

Some of the directors nodded, while Alex remained puzzled.

“Congratulations,” said Underwood. “You single-handedly managed to remove five shits with one shovel.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Alex, once the laughter had died down. “Why would you be willing to support me?”

“Because who am I to disagree with my brother’s choice for chairman?” Not one of the remaining board members believed her for a moment, and they were even more surprised by her next statement. “And to that end, I would like to place on record that I am willing to sell my fifty percent holding in the company for one million dollars.”

Now Alex understood exactly why she needed Ackroyd out of the way. He was about to respond to her offer, when Miss Robbins burst into the room and handed him a slip of paper. He unfolded it, read the message, and smiled before rising to his feet.