by Jerold Last
Suzanne thought for a moment before making up her mind and turning towards me. "I think we should go with the probabilities on this one and assume he's one of the AKC staff we met for dinner in New York. That was where I had my first real sense of being followed. If, and when, we clear all the AKC types, plan B will be checking out the Rockefeller laboratory people as a backup. Didn't you have Vincent run background checks on all of them last month?"
I blushed becomingly. "Yes I did, but I haven't done anything about it. With all of the dog shows and travel to and from them, I've only had two and three days a week to get any real work done. I can get started reading Vincent's reports later this morning, and triage them for the most likely suspects. I’ll bring them home tonight for you to get up to speed on our new suspects."
Suzanne looked energized and satisfied. "That sounds like a plan. We can talk more about strategy over dinner tonight."
I was true to my word this time and dug out Vincent's reports first thing after getting to the office. They made voluminous, but interesting, reading. He had done his usual thorough job on each of the names on the list. I read each biographical sketch with care looking for some hint of deviance, no matter how minor, in the records. My old law school and cop training kicked in and I made extensive notes as I went along.
The pile of reports started at the top with Harold Carswell. My guess of his age at mid-60s was exactly right. He was born in New York City in 1947, just the right age for Vietnam when he graduated from college (Duke, 1968, business and management) and served two years in the army as an officer (2nd Lieutenant, infantry). No record of combat. For his entire period of army service, he was stationed either at Fort Dix, N.J. or Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas. I assumed political connections kept him out of the killing fields of Vietnam, but in Texas he would have been training combat units for Vietnam. Honorably discharged, he then went to work for a large publishing company in New York City and climbed the corporate ladder for 15 years, before joining the AKC. He became their head honcho 10 years ago. No arrests, no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. Married for 40 years to the same wife, three children, six grandchildren; he seemed to be an exemplary member of the community where he lived in New Jersey.
I thought about Carswell for a bit, while I put down my pen and stretched my arms to loosen up. He graduated from one of the top universities in the USA, had a good military record as an officer, and climbed the corporate ladder just about to the top. He was a good family man with a stable marriage and strong ties to his community. He was pretty much the type of CEO I’d expect to be leading a wealthy and prestigious corporate organization like the AKC. His record said that he was one of the good guys---I put his packet down, starting a pile I marked mentally as Very Unlikely to be Suzanne’s Stalker (VUS).
I stood up and stretched, then walked over to pour myself a cup of coffee and drink a few sips. The mostly full cup was set down carefully on a coaster on my desk as I started into the next report. Nathan Forrest had the first biography to go into the other pile, Possible Stalker (PS). No military service. Born in Missoula, Montana in 1956. Graduated from The University of Minnesota in 1977 (math major). Worked for an insurance company in Minneapolis for five years, then moved to his first Information Technology job in Chicago. He bounced through two other corporate IT positions before landing at the AKC in Durham, NC in 1998, and transferred to his current New York City post in 2007. No criminal record, several parking tickets, a couple of speeding tickets. Married in 1977 for five years and divorced just before leaving Minneapolis. No children. Married a second time in Durham in 1999, he’s still married to his second wife, living on Long Island, and has two children. Forrest, like Carswell, graduated from a good university and climbed the corporate ladder systematically and successfully. He made it to the PS pile only because of his obvious computer expertise.
This was slow, boring work. Each report was 10-20 pages of densely packed information, all of which I had to read carefully. I refilled my coffee cup and dove into the next file. Gene Burnett-Smythe's was the second biography to go into the PS pile. Born in Dayton, Ohio in 1957, too late for Vietnam, he did not have any military service. He graduated from Kent State University (1980, history major). Went to work for a manufacturing company in Cleveland, where he stayed for six years. Moved to New York City in 1987 to become the librarian at the AKC, remaining there in that capacity until now. His childhood, however, wasn’t so mundane. He was orphaned by a car accident at age six and was in and out of foster homes until his 18th birthday. There was a missing year in his early life, which accounted for his age at college graduation being 23. I assumed a sealed juvenile court criminal record could account for this. He had two DUI arrests on his adult record and apparently gave up his car after the second DUI conviction. He was single, had never married, lived in an apartment in Manhattan near his job, and there was no record of his ever having children. There were the sort of red flags I was looking for to add someone to the PS pile, an unsettled childhood, not happily married, a missing juvenile year, and a known adult criminal record.
I got up to refill my coffee cup once again and to think about Gene Burnett-Smythe a bit more. He had graduated from college, but not a particularly good one. He didn’t do anything to distinguish himself before snagging the librarian job at the AKC, and he stayed at the same job level for more than 20 years. No family, no obvious ties to a community, a history of drinking too much, and criminal convictions for driving under the influence. What was a mediocrity like him doing on the Board of Directors of an important organization like this one? I wondered what he knew and who he knew it about to explain his movement so high up the corporate ladder for no apparent reason. My notes included the question “What’s he doing here??????” I stood by the window admiring the view of the mountains for a couple of minutes while I asked myself these questions. I didn’t have any answers, at least not yet.
My inseparable coffee cup and I sat down at the desk. I yawned, scratched my head, and picked up a freshly sharpened pencil. It was time to move onward to the next report. Hunter Cabot was born in 1944 in Charleston, SC. Graduated in 1966 from a small Christian college in his home state with a degree in "General Studies", whatever that meant. After working for a year at his father's drugstore, he was drafted into the army for two years in 1968. Cabot served in a combat infantry unit in Vietnam for 1.5 of those two years where he must have seen some serious action at a young age. He returned home with a couple of medals and, I assume, a lot more sophistication and probably a lot less religion. He moved to Raleigh, NC where he found a new job having nothing to do with drugstores, selling furniture at a retail store. He moved from sales job to salesman job every 4-5 years until he ended up at the AKC offices in Durham, transferring to the New York office three years ago. He was married in 1974 to his present wife. They have five children and fifteen grandchildren. No criminal record, living in Queens. Cabot had a good military record as a decorated combat veteran and a stable marriage. Professionally he had a mediocre career and had graduated from a mediocre college. Like Burnett-Smythe he had seemingly grossly overachieved to become an executive in a large corporation like this one. I added another “What’s he doing here??????” to my notes, followed by another notation “Something strange seems to be going on here!!!!” He nonetheless earned a place in the VUS pile.
I took another short break to clear my brain. This time I went for a 10 minute walk outside the building before starting to read the next file. Now it was Rosswell’s turn. Rocket Rosswell was born in 1955 in Baltimore, MD. I was tempted to put him in the PS pile on general principles. He was a typical salesman, everybody's buddy, with a personality type I tended to dislike. However, I forced myself to read his dossier. He was raised in a series of foster homes and a church-sponsored facility for troubled youth. Graduated from Our Lady of the Sacred Heart High School in 1973. He completed two years of junior college with an Associate something or other degree. No military service. Worked as a used car sal
esman in Baltimore for seven years. Arrested and convicted for vehicular manslaughter in 1980, served 8 years of a 5-10 year term in the Maryland State Prison system. The accident, which was his fault, occurred when he was drunk (blood alcohol level of 0.18) and killed a family of four in the other car, two of which were young children. He was released from jail in 1988, moved to Philadelphia, PA, and went back to selling cars. He had no arrests on his record after his release from prison. Rocket was married briefly from 1990-1992, divorced, no children. He was hired by the AKC in New York City in 2009, and presently lived in an apartment in Queens, a convenient subway ride from the AKC offices. This seemed to be another strange resume. He didn’t finish college and had a less than mediocre career. Although the success criteria for sales people might have been different than that used for the others, I still had to ask what was he doing on the leadership team? Could selling used cars define the cream of the crop in sales? He went on top of the growing PS pile.
The pile was down to the last two files Vincent had prepared. With half a cup of coffee remaining, I persevered and dove right into the next one. Henry Lodge was born in 1970 in Somerset, MA. He graduated from Colby College in Maine in 1992 with a degree in Computer Sciences. He moved to New York City where he got an IT job with a major investment bank and brokerage firm. He left the lucrative world of fraud and bonuses when his firm was dissolved a couple of years ago. It was merged with a larger bank under the friendly eye and shotgun oversight of the federal government, and apparently Hunter wasn’t invited to stay. He resurfaced almost immediately as comptroller for the AKC shortly after his previous employer ceased to exist. Hunter was married in 1998, when he had the greatest of earnings prospects and the sky was the limit. Muffy, a former debutante and the most eligible bachelorette on the social register at the time, became Mrs. Lodge. They have two children and are seemingly still living happily ever after. No military service, no arrests, no criminal record. The family lives in an expensive suburban Connecticut community, a long, but easy, daily commute by railroad to midtown Manhattan. Lodge was another graduate from a top college with a successful career and a stable marriage. However, his career had taken a turn for the worse just before he joined the AKC. On an impulse and because of his computer science degree, I added him to the PS file.
One of my former partners when I was on the Los Angeles Police force, Harry, used to drink 7-8 cups of coffee, or more, a day. He used to say, “I don’t really drink all that coffee, I just borrow it!” as he visited the men’s room multiple times. I thought of Harry as I walked to our little lavatory, to bid fond adieu to some of the coffee I had been drinking while I read all these reports, and perhaps to make room for more.
This time I poured just half a cup, telling myself I really didn’t need any more coffee this morning, but did need something to do with my hands. I picked up the last file to read. Stanley Morgan was born in 1956 in Brooklyn, New York. He graduated from New York University in 1977 with a degree in linguistics, and from New York University Law School in 1980 with a J.D. degree. He passed the bar on his first try and practiced business and corporate law as an associate in a large law firm. After 19.5 years, when he hadn’t yet made partner, he read the handwriting on the wall and jumped ship to take his current position at the AKC. He was married shortly after finishing law school to a classmate who got a job in the New York City District Attorney's office. His wife Andrea, the former criminal attorney, was now a sitting Superior Court judge in Manhattan. Morgan had no military service, no arrests, no criminal record, a few parking tickets, but no moving violations. The couple lived in an East Side Condominium in New York City. They had three children and an apparently idyllic life. He had graduated from a good university and seemed to know his stuff. His wife had advanced pretty much to the top of her career pathway; perhaps he was content to stay in the background and support her.
On the other hand, he had struck an ambiguous chord with me at my interview. He was the most obvious member of the group to oppose Carswell’s policies and was probably also the smartest member of the leadership team. He could easily have been the one who concocted the fancy schemes Suzanne’s stalker had employed thus far. I didn’t have any tangible evidence, but my intuition suggested some slight suspicions. On top of these concerns there was also that ambiguous drink he invited me to share when he visited Los Angeles. There was clearly an agenda behind his visit, but I didn’t have a clue what it was all about. I put a bunch of question marks on the last page and added this file to the VUS stack, but with a big mental question mark attached.
I got up, stretched, and walked into Vincent’s office. “Hey, Vincent, did you see anything that struck you as odd when you put together all these reports for me?”
Vincent smiled at me before answering. “Claro. Of course I did. You’ve got an almost perfect bimodal distribution of talent and background there. You could label the two piles you’re making ‘winners’ and ‘losers’. That’s not what the Board of Directors of a big time corporation is supposed to look like. I’m surprised guys like Rosswell or Burnett-Smythe ever got hired by a big corporation like the AKC, much less that they ended up on the Board of Directors. Do you think there may be an agenda there?”
I sat down on the edge of his desk. “What do you think is going on here? When I took this job, I realized things were a little fuzzy about exactly what the AKC expected us to accomplish versus what they really wanted us to do. But the money was great and I was looking for a change, so figured ‘why not?’ Now I’m starting to wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves involved in.”
Vincent fiddled with a ballpoint pen for a moment or two of thought. “Claro. The simplest answer is there are two factions on the board. You’ve got Carswell plus a couple of typical overachievers who probably do all of the heavy lifting, and you’ve got four more guys who are probably there to vote ‘aye’ on whatever Carswell wants. That setup gives Carswell the controlling majority so he can run the whole show his way. I think its pretty darn clear Carswell runs the whole operation, and does whatever he wants to do.”
I got up from the desk and paced a little bit in the small office while thinking out loud. “Do you think maybe Carswell hired us to dig around until we got some dirt on someone on the board he wants to be able to control?”
Vincent looked up at me and replied, “Anything’s possible. At this stage I don’t think we know enough to make a good guess. My advice is you should watch your back, and especially Suzanne’s back, while you’re watching the dog shows. And maybe you shouldn’t trust everything you heard when you were back in New York City. Claro. It looks like someone on that Board doesn’t like you and Suzanne. It’s possible you’ve been hired into the middle of some kind of corporate power struggle.”
I went back to my office and put everything into my briefcase for future reference while I did some overdue work.
Back home, we had time to drink a little wine and study possible perverts before dinner. I explained to Suzanne about my PS and VUS system and who had ended up in which group. I deliberately didn’t tell her my rationale for the choices so she could look at the PS files with a fresh set of eyes. Suzanne reached over and picked up just the pile of PS files to read. "Thanks, Roger. I'll trust your judgment and skip the VUS files for now. We can always go back and look at them if we rule out the others as stalker suspects."
She was lost in thought, taking copious notes until Bruce called us for dinner. Suzanne brought her notes and the files to dinner to share with us over chicken parmigiana, spaghetti and pesto, broccoli with an aioli sauce, and garlic bread. Robert had the jarred vegetables and fruit selection de jour with Cheerios. He was at an age when he could pick up individual Cheerios and put them in his mouth (at least some of the time). He enjoyed eating by himself and playing with the Cheerios for a short while, giving all of us a chance to eat the adult portions. Juliet had already eaten dinner, 1.5 cups of salmon flavored dog chow, served in a bowl a la crate. After finishing her dinner she was released
from the crate to patrol the floor area under Robert, where she enforced the 3-second rule for all dropped Cheerios. Needless to say she loved Robert and he loved her. Neither boy nor dog ever seemed to tire of the game we called “drop the Cheerios”.
Robert squealed with delight as each Cheerio he dropped brought a triumphant pounce and a small woof from Juliet, whose tail looked like a furry metronome as it wagged furiously. The extemporaneous entertainment seriously threatened to keep us from accomplishing our goal of reviewing all of the possible stalker files, but a laughing small person and a happy dog were a welcome distraction. Bruce finally intervened and picked up Robert for his bath and bed, with Juliet following at his heels in case any more Cheerios managed to fall from the sky.
We got back to work. Suzanne looked up from her pad full of notes, finished chewing a piece of chicken, and sipped her zinfandel. "I ranked the suspects based on the materials in the file. From the most likely to the least likely, I'd rank them as (1) Burnett-Smythe, (2) Lodge, (3) Rosswell, and (4) Forrest.
Suzanne reached across the table to pick up the wine bottle and poured some more into both of our glasses. "Burnett-Smythe is the most obvious possibility. He had a rotten childhood, a lost year to still investigate, two DUIs, which indicates a drinking problem and probably a propensity for erratic behavior and maybe violence, plus an unsuccessful marriage, which could indicate problems with women."
