by Rayna Morgan
“That sounds intriguing.” Lea paused. “By the way, in case you talk to Tom, don’t mention what I’m doing for Paul.”
“Ditto our meet-up with the chief. No sense stirring up a hornet’s nest.”
CHAPTER SIX
Lea’s meeting with Mike Young was at the company’s corporate office, within walking distance of the county government facilities. Mitchell Development Company occupied the top floor of a three-story office building tenanted by professional people.
As she waited for the associate to make an appearance, she considered the purpose of their meeting. She hated to admit to herself how important it was to accomplish the task Paul had assigned her.
For once, Paul was asking for her help in a capacity other than professional writing. He readily acknowledged that she had the skills and discipline necessary to produce employee handbooks and marketing material. The area he didn’t give her credit for was her interest in crime.
He chalked up her passion for sleuthing to women’s curiosity, or the investigative nature she inherited from her father, a former police captain. But to her, it was more than that. It was a fascination with human nature and the events in people’s lives, together with their response to those events, which led to seemingly inescapable, and sometimes disastrous, outcomes.
Most of the time, she was content to stick with familiar routines, relying on past knowledge and experience, and staying within the bounds of what felt comfortable. But there were times she wanted to stretch her limits, exceed those sensible, safe boundaries, and push her intuitive skills to the maximum. Sleuthing with her sister provided that outlet.
Paul typically took little notice of her involvement in activities outside the contract work she did from home. When it came to her detecting, his tendency was to humor her rather than to take her seriously.
But this time he had come to her which meant there was less chance he would trivialize her findings. He might begin to visualize her more in a role of intuitive investigator rather than creative copywriter.
• • •
She tapped her shoe on the floor, flipping through outdated issues of Architectural Digest in the reception room. She knew the time she spent waiting for a meeting had a direct relation to the confidence level of the participants. Self-assured clients valued another person’s time; they arrived at the appointed time. Others, with a need to impress people with how busy they were, came late.
A woman appeared who introduced herself as Helen Taylor and led Lea to an inner office. She offered Lea a cup of coffee and said Mr. Young would be arriving shortly before returning to the work she was doing on her computer.
“Your boss must be having a busy day,” Lea said, looking at her watch.
“Oh, he’s busy all right,” the woman said. Her lips thinned. “Between you and me, busy and productive are two different things.”
Waiting suddenly got interesting for Lea. She looked more closely at Helen Taylor, a woman of middle-age wearing a tailored suit and a neck scarf, with her hair pulled back in a chignon. Her makeup was lightly but expertly applied. “How long have you been working for Mr. Young?”
“Thank heavens, I don’t work for him. I work for Mr. Mitchell. I’m filling in, helping Mr. Young prepare a report my boss will be presenting at an investors’ meeting tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t Mr. Young have an assistant of his own?”
“Not at the moment. He’s gone through more assistants in the time he’s been here than Mr. Mitchell’s gone through his entire career.” Her remarks were punctuated with a deep, throaty chuckle.
“He sounds difficult to work for,” Lea said.
“Mike Young is an ambitious young man trying to make a reputation for himself. He lacks experience, but that will come with time. What can’t be learned by a person whose motives are dictated by money is a passion for the business, and the integrity to ensure it’s done the right way.”
The woman looked over the top of the reading glasses resting half-way down her nose. “I’ll reserve further comment and simply say I feel privileged to work for Mr. Mitchell.”
Lea saw the woman’s candor as a way to get more information. “I’m preparing a bid to do the marketing on the condominium project. I’ve heard there’s another residential project coming up. I’d like to submit a proposal for that, too. Is there any truth to the rumor?”
“You must be talking about the ranchette project east of town. It depends on who you talk to. Mr. Mitchell hasn’t worked on it since initial offers were rejected, but yesterday, I heard Mike pitching the project to an investment banker. From the way Mike was talking, a person would think the whole project was his idea.
“In fact,” Helen went on, “the initial concept came from Mr. Mitchell’s client. If the development happens, Mike will only be one of several assistants helping Mr. Mitchell.”
Voices were heard in the hallway. The woman returned to her work as a young man strode into the office casting an offhand comment in Lea’s direction.
“Sorry to be late, busy day,” he said. “Please, come in.”
“No problem,” Lea said, winking at Helen Taylor.
• • •
Lea observed Jim Mitchell’s youngest associate as he removed a laptop from his briefcase. A man in his late-twenties, genes were most likely responsible for Mike Young’s bald head. His well-muscled physique, row of perfectly capped teeth, and tailored suit suggested that appearance was important to him. The trace of a southern accent flowed as smoothly as bourbon.
“I appreciate your making yourself available on short notice. I’m sure you have a full schedule,” Lea said.
“I have my hand in a lot of pots,” the young man agreed, “but I’m always here for whatever Jim needs. The condominium project is one of his favorites. We’re anxious for it to receive a good launch. The grand-opening will be important in generating interest. We expect pre-sales to go well.”
“Your accent suggests you aren’t a native,” Lea said.
“I grew up in Texas and attended business school out here on a scholarship. I met both Jim and my future wife at a beach party my roommate dragged me to. It turned out to be the best weekend of my life.” He leaned back with a smug look. “I married her and went to work for him six months later.”
“You’re young to be an associate.”
“I’m a goal-setter. I know exactly where I’m going. The day of graduation I wrote on a piece of paper how much money I’d have in my bank account on my thirtieth birthday. My birthday is two months away, and I’ve almost reached that number.”
“It sounds like you’re handsomely compensated.”
“My salary’s more than adequate,” Mike said, “but it’s the profit-sharing I participate in on Jim’s projects which sweetens the deal.”
“How do you like working for Jim?”
“He’s great; I’ve learned a lot from him. The only thing I could fault him on is coloring inside the lines a little too much for my liking. I’m the creative type, I like to think outside the box.”
“What other projects have you worked on?”
Mike described several developments in the county from what Lea felt was a self-serving bias, attributing successes to personal efforts, and failures to factors beyond his control.
“It sounds like you’re making a real name for yourself in the industry.”
“That’s my plan,” he said. “Now, how can I help you with marketing material?”
• • •
They spent the next hour discussing the condominium project until Lea saw Mike look at his watch. She didn’t want to leave without finding out what Paul needed to know. She sensed an appeal to the young man’s vanity was her best approach.
“What new projects will you be dazzling us with once this present development is successfully launched?”
He stretched his arms behind his head and cradled his head in his hands. “I’ve convinced Jim the time is ripe to build some single-family ranchettes east of town. P
eople are about self-survival now. They want to grow healthy food, live in clean air, and surround themselves with nature.”
“That’s quite an undertaking,” Lea said. Helen Thomas was right; Mike made the project sound like his idea.
“It will be the biggest residential development folks around here have ever seen,” Mike continued. “It will make Mitchell Development Company the most sought after developer in the county.”
“That sounds wonderful. How many houses are you proposing?”
“It depends on how much land we get our hands on, and how the city allows us to subdivide the parcels. It could be anywhere from fifty to more than one-hundred dwellings.”
“I didn’t realize there was so much vacant land available.”
“That’s where thinking outside the box comes in,” Mike boasted. “I’ve figured a way to parcel together land from existing farms.”
“Aren’t most of the farms and ranches still in Agricultural Preserve?”
“That’s what makes finding the right number of contiguous parcels expired from the Preserve a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“I’m surprised you find farmers willing to sell their land once the restriction is lifted. After all, they’re giving up their livelihood, something they’ve spent a lifetime doing, in exchange for a specified amount of money.”
“You’re right. Many farmers aren’t interested in selling, but most of them come around, given the right incentive.”
“What kind of incentives do you offer?” Lea asked, trying to maintain a neutral tone.
“Whatever it takes to close the deal.”
The smug look on Mike’s face made Lea feel uncomfortable. She was relieved when he ended the meeting.
• • •
After leaving the meeting with Mike, Lea went into the coffee shop on the ground floor. Waiting at the front desk to be seated, she noticed Helen Taylor, the woman from Mike’s office, sitting in a booth by herself. The woman waved her over. “Why don’t you join me? It gets crowded during the lunch hour.”
“Thanks, I’d love to.”
“The lunch special is good today,” Helen suggested.
“Lunch special, it is,” Lea told the waitress, “and iced tea, please.”
“I hope your meeting with Mike was productive,” Helen said after the waitress left.
“As productive as he wanted it to be. He spoon-fed me information in the exact wording he wants used in the marketing material. I’m not sure I understand why he’s bothering to hire a marketing consultant at all.”
“Because Mr. Mitchell wouldn’t be satisfied with the presentation if it were left in Mike’s hands. Even though Mike assumes he can do everything better than anyone else, Jim is smart enough to hire experts for each phase of the project. Mr. Mitchell will be best served if you sift through the information Mike gave you, and apply your professional skills to the marketing campaign.”
The woman’s directness appealed to Lea. “That’s my intent,” she assured her.
“With your looks, I was hoping Mike might proposition you to replace his last assistant so I could get back to my regular work for Jim.”
“I wouldn’t be interested in working for anyone, but Mike didn’t make any suggestions.”
“He probably lost interest after talking with you. He’s easily threatened by any woman he thinks is smarter than he is.”
Lea choked on her tea, and both women laughed.
“With all the equal opportunity floating around, he’s more worried about a woman rising above him than a man,” Helen said.
“He doesn’t act like a person who’s worried about anything, least of all, his own success. He made a point of assuring me he’s well on his way to achieving his goals. He has the self-serving attitude I saw too much of when I worked in the corporate environment.”
“I hear you,” Helen said, cutting the crusts off her sandwich. “It’s become ‘forget the company: it’s all about me.’ Employees don’t have much loyalty anymore.”
“To be fair,” Lea said, “companies don’t stand by their employees the way they used to either.”
“That’s why I’m grateful to work for Jim. He views the company’s business as a team effort, and makes sure his employees are rewarded accordingly.”
“I don’t mean to be unduly critical of Mike,” Lea said, retracting her previous statement. “But his type reminds me of a boy I went to school with. He was good-looking and outgoing with the self-assurance that comes with being from a wealthy family. He excelled at everything and won a lot of awards. He also had a big ego and a tendency toward being a show-off. He could be a bully when he chose to be.”
“Yes, I know the type.”
“Our freshman year, this boy and I were elected from a group of ten nominees to serve on the student council. I couldn’t imagine why I won.
“I have a sister who’s a year older than me. Growing up, she was the extrovert; easy-going, popular, fun-loving. She knew everyone in our school by their first name. I was the shy, studious one who made our parents proud with good grades. I was surprised enough students even knew who I was to vote me onto the council.
“I dreaded our monthly lunch meetings. I’d get a stomach ache the night before, worrying about what I should say. When the president of the council called on me, I was too tongue-tied to contribute anything. My counterpart always had stunningly, brilliant ideas for projects the school could undertake. I knew the brainstorms he took credit for came from his groupies.
“From that first year, he had visions of being president of the student council in our senior year. All I hoped for was that someone else would be elected in my place.
“I still get a knot in my stomach when I’m in the presence of someone with that kind of arrogance.”
“We’re all inclined to judge people based on personal experience,” Helen said. She covered her glass as the waitress offered refills. “We have subconscious prejudices we aren’t even aware of.”
“I may have mistakenly reached the conclusion that Mike sets broad boundaries when it comes to what he will do to further his career, but it does make me wonder how far he’s willing to go.”
“What are you referring to?” Helen asked.
Lea leaned back while the waitress removed her empty plate. “When I enquired about the ranchette development, he represented it as a viable project and was anxious to take credit for the progress being made. Am I wrong in reaching the conclusion from your earlier remarks that Mike is pursuing the project behind Jim’s back without his boss’ knowledge?”
“I can’t say Jim is not aware of ongoing activity, but I can tell you that you haven’t missed the mark in your assessment of Mike and how far he’s willing to go. Your instincts about him are correct.”
“Would he stoop to sabotage?”
“He wouldn’t dirty his own hands,” Helen said, “but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t put a bug in someone else’s ear to do it.”
“Do you have anything specific in mind?” Lea asked, sensing that she was onto something.
“I overheard Mike telling someone on the phone they should do whatever was necessary to grab a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Helen said. She looked at her watch and stood to leave. “It’s time for me to get back. I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”
Lea picked up Helen’s bill. “Let me get this.”
“Thank you,” Helen said. “Good luck with your submission.”
Lined up at the cashier’s desk, Lea noticed Mike Young in a booth at the front. All she saw of the man sitting across from him was the back of the man’s head, but the overalls were an interesting contrast to Mike’s pin-striped, tailored suit.
• • •
Lea returned to her car and called Paul with her impression of Jim’s associate.
“I’m glad to hear from you,” Paul said, anxiety flooding his voice. “I’m avoiding Tom, but he’ll want answers when we get together for dinner tonight. How did your meeting go?”
“Were you able to ask if his boss considers the project to be active?” Paul asked.
“I think I can safely say that Jim and his associate are at odds in their view of whether or not that project is on a go-forward basis.”
“What about the damage to the ranchers’ property? Was there any mention of that?”
Lea repeated Helen’s comments about Mike’s phone conversation with an unknown party.
“It sounds like Mike was playing on someone’s baser instincts to encourage them to do whatever needed to be done for Mike to achieve his own ends,” Paul said.
“Are you going to tell Jim what Mike said?”
“It’s a sticky situation,” Paul admitted. “I don’t want to put Mike in a bad position with Jim, but I think Jim needs to know. What do you say?”
“I think Tom is the person who needs to know. As far as I’m concerned, he’s looking at the wrong person in Jim’s company as a suspect.”
She sat in the parking lot wondering if she was guilty of jumping to conclusions about Jim Mitchell’s associate the same way Tom was jumping to conclusions about Scott Miller. Were her personal past experiences and prejudices casting a shadow over an innocent man, or was Mike Young taking advantage of the only person who had shown an eagerness to sell?
CHAPTER SEVEN
When the officers of the Homicide Division gathered for their daily meeting, one of the men asked a question Tom had been avoiding since his return from vacation.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” Jensen asked. “We aren't giving up on Operation Kingpin are we, just because that oily Card Club owner got away?”
The room went silent. Several officers shook their heads hearing the ill-advised question. All eyes turned to the man at the front of the room.
Tom’s steely gaze zeroed in on the questioner like a laser honing in on its prey. “No, Jensen. We aren’t giving up on Operation Kingpin.”
