One by one the assembled employees of Benson Pharmaceuticals pulled their gazes away from Gus and toward their leader. He waited until he was sure he had everyone’s attention before he started speaking.
“Steve Ecclesine,” he said thoughtfully. “What can I say about him? That he was a dear friend? A great humanitarian? A warm and loving man who cared about this company less because of the money it could bring in than for all the good it could do in the world?”
Gus managed to catch his deep sigh before it escaped his throat. This was beginning to look like it was going to be a very long afternoon. He wished he’d brought some of his work with him.
“It’s true. I could say all those things about Steve,” D-Bob said. “And you know why that is? Because I own this company, so I can say whatever I want. But the flip side of that is that I don’t have to say anything I don’t want to. And I’m pretty sure that none of you want me to take up your time lying about a man many of you despised and most of the rest loathed.”
Gus had been so busy going over a to-do list for the rest of the week that it took a moment for the words to sink in. Once they did, all thoughts of planning his agenda flew from his mind.
“This is not to say that there is no one here who thought of Steve as a friend and who will miss him,” D-Bob said. “That’s one of the great truths of the human race-as my grandmother used to say, for every old sock, there is an old shoe. To those of you who are feeling the loss of a companion and a compatriot, I salute you.”
D-Bob bent down to the bar and picked up one of the beer mugs, which had now been filled with brown, foamy ale. He hoisted it in the air, held it there for a moment of tribute, then lowered it to his mouth and drained half of it in one gulp.
“But for the rest of you, the ones who are here because you felt it was required, or because it was a day away from the office, who knew Steve as a bully and a brownnoser, or a sanctimonious hypocrite who talked about making the world a better place but really only cared about making a better place for himself, let me just say that I understand your feelings, and maybe even share them a little,” he said.
A ripple of assent ran through the crowded room. Gus expected some angry protests, maybe even a walkout or two, but no one spoke or moved. Maybe D-Bob had been overly kind when he suggested there was anyone in the company who actually cared that Ecclesine was dead.
“Even for those of us who do not mourn the specific loss, the fact of Steve’s death must come as a shock to us,” D-Bob continued. “Because it can only remind us of our own mortality. It was the window in Ecclesine’s office that happened to fall out, but who is to say that it couldn’t have happened to any one of us lucky enough to have an office with a view? Or to any of our female employees that Steve might have called in for one of his standard sessions that never quite crossed over to the level of harassment?”
This time the murmur in the crowd sounded a little angrier, as several women seemed to realize for the first time that their experience was not unique.
“We are all going to die,” D-Bob said. “And it is times like this that we must stop and face that fact. That is what this memorial service is for. We come not to bury Steve Ecclesine, not to mourn him, but to let his death serve this great purpose for all of us. We are going to die, ladies and gentlemen, and in acknowledgment of that sad fact, let us seize this moment to vow that until that blackness descends we will live our lives to the fullest. Let us seize every day, embrace every moment, and cherish all that has been given to us. My employees, my friends, this memorial service is for you!”
He raised the beer glass again and saluted the crowd, who cheered loudly and raised their own glasses back to him.
“We love you, D-Bob!” Gus craned his neck to see who had yelled out, but it could have been almost anyone. The assembled employees were all gazing up at him with such affection he might have been their guru or their sainted father.
“I can tell you this death has affected me greatly,” D-Bob said once the shouts and cheers had died down enough for him to be heard. “Following the other tragic losses at our company, it has forced me to deal with the fact that I won’t be around forever to lead you.”
There were shouts of “No!” and “We love you” from the audience. He smiled and shook them off.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got no plans to go anywhere for a while,” D-Bob said. “But even when I do it’s not going to be a bad thing. A company needs new blood. And even though I like to think my ideas are every bit as fresh as they always have been, one man’s mind can only work in certain ways. We need other voices to stay young. And that’s why I’ve chosen this moment to announce a major change I’m going to be implementing at Benson Pharmaceuticals.”
The mass intake of breath from the crowd nearly sucked the light fixtures from the ceiling. Even Gus found that he was holding a lungful of air and he had to force himself to exhale.
“For years our executive structure has been simple and direct,” D-Bob said. “There’s me and then there’s everyone else. Sure, some of you have bigger offices or fancier titles. You’ve probably noticed we’ve got a lot of vice presidents in our company. But in terms of decision making, it’s been you wonderful people coming up with ideas, and me choosing whether or not to implement them. And it didn’t matter if that idea came from a senior vice president or the parking attendant in the garage. A good idea is a good idea and a bad idea can spark a good one.”
The crowd cheered at the sound of D-Bob’s favorite saying, but Gus was still stuck on the earlier part of the paragraph. There was no difference in the company between a vice president and a secretary? Had all his progress been meaningless? Was he simply fooling himself when he believed that he’d really found a place where he was valued?
“Our love of ideas isn’t going to change,” D-Bob said. “No matter what else happens, I can assure you of that. But I’ve realized it’s wrong for me to be the sole decision maker in this company. It’s time for me to start sharing some of those responsibilities, so that if something does happen to me, the company can still go on the way we all envision it. And that’s why I’m announcing that I am stepping aside as president of Benson Pharmaceuticals.”
For a moment, the audience was completely still. Then it erupted into murmurs, and then shouts of “No!” and “We love you!” D-Bob let the noise build, and then held up his hands for quiet.
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you,” he said. “I will be keeping my position of CEO and chairman of the board. But I’m tired of talking only to myself. So at our company-wide annual retreat next week in Santa Barbara, I will be announcing that I am appointing one person to be president of Benson Pharmaceuticals.”
The murmur now was mostly confusion and some concern. No one knew what this was going to do to their own jobs, or if they should even care.
Gus cared. He had fought his way to the level of executive vice president, which was the highest office in the company below D-Bob himself. Now he was going to be shoved down in the ranks, forced to answer to some corporate lackey. He’d had unbelievable freedom in his job, almost as much as he had with Psych. But he knew a little about corporate politics from his position in his old pharmaceuticals company and there was no way the new executive was not going to clamp down on everyone beneath him. Sure, he’d play the game, pretending to hold to D-Bob’s ideals, but at the same time he’d be spending every waking hour consolidating his own power base. This had been a dream job for Gus, but there was no way that was going to last once the new guy took over.
Gus was so lost in thought he missed D-Bob’s next few words.
“… a man who has shown not only wisdom but compassion,” D-Bob was saying. “Who understands what our business needs, but also what the world needs from our business. I have come to admire and even love this man, and as you see what he brings us I know that you will love him as much as I do.”
Sure, Gus thought. Kiss up and kick down. That’s what they’d be getting. The new corporate h
ack would make sure to echo D-Bob whenever the boss was around, but as soon as his back was turned, out would come the knives. First order of business would be to start eliminating any potential competition. One by one he would find reasons why the vice presidents had to be demoted or transferred to Kabul or forced out of the company. There would be a crisis overseas that only this longtime executive could handle, an incipient scandal that could only be prevented by the immediate firing of a vice president who could be made to take the fall. Gus wondered which excuse the new president would use to get rid of him, but deep down he knew it didn’t really matter.
“I’m sure that many of you already do love this man, as you’ve had the opportunity to get to know him over the past few weeks,” D-Bob was saying. “For the rest of you, you’ve got something great to look forward to. As I said, the official announcement will be made at our company retreat, but I wanted you all to have a chance to get to know our new president before he takes on that title. Friends, employees, partners, I’d like to introduce you to the president of Benson Pharmaceuticals: Burton Guster!”
Chapter Thirty-four
Gus must have walked back to the Benson building, but he had no memory of the trip. The past two hours had gone by in a blur. From the moment D-Bob had called his name Gus had barely been able to think or even to breathe. He’d been mobbed at the meeting and every one of Benson’s employees had shown him the love that D-Bob had urged. They pressed food and drinks on him, they hit him with ideas for moving the company forward, or they just came up and hugged him.
But none of it meant as much to him as when Jerry Fellows came up and took his hand. “I’m so happy for you,” he said. “Chanterelle and I both are.”
And indeed Chanterelle did seem impressed. She was gazing at him with an intensity he’d never noticed before, at least not when her eyes were pointed in his direction.
“Thanks,” Gus said, pulling his own gaze away from hers.
“No, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Jerry said. “Because you’re in a position now where they’ll have to listen to you. I’ve seen so many people take a stab at the orphan drugs issue, and they’ve all fallen short. But I know you won’t. You’ll make us all proud. Won’t he, Chanterelle?”
She nodded, still staring at Gus with eyes that seemed to see straight through to his musculoskeletal system. “It’s my da’s passion, you know,” she said. “And now you’re in a position where you can do something about it.”
Gus felt an odd tingling at the base of his skull and turned back to Fellows. But the elfin gentleman was still smiling happily at him. He was nothing but pleased. How could Gus ever have been so crazy as to think of him as a killer?
Finally the party had broken up around three. D-Bob had told everyone to take the rest of the day off, and the employees filtered out to enjoy the perfect afternoon. Gus had tried to find D-Bob to talk to him about this promotion, but when he was finally able to extricate himself from the mass of well-wishers the boss was nowhere to be seen.
Gus hadn’t planned to go back to the office. Actually he hadn’t planned anything at all. He felt incapable of thinking. He just wanted to experience this day, to feel the uncomplicated joy that this expression of confidence in him brought. Later, he knew, there would be nothing but complications. There would be the terror of facing the new job, the difficulties of dealing with the other executives who had been passed over in favor of him, the responsibilities that came with the presidency. But for now he wouldn’t worry about any of it.
When Gus stepped back into his own office he was feeling so good he didn’t even notice that the duct tape had been peeled from the carpet and the curtains were now open. If the window had fallen out, Gus felt he could have floated down to the ground and landed like a feather.
He also didn’t notice that he had a visitor.
“I think they bought it,” Shawn said, popping up from the couch he’d been lying on.
Until this moment Gus hadn’t realized what was missing about this day. He’d had no one to share it with.
“You will not believe what happened today,” Gus said, delighted that the afternoon’s deficiency had been addressed. And then he felt that delight dissolve into confusion as he realized what Shawn had said. “Bought what?”
“But you realize this was only the first step,” Shawn said.
“The first step toward what?” Gus said. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know,” Shawn said.
“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking,” Gus said.
“I think you would,” Shawn said.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Gus said.
“I think you haven’t,” Shawn said.
“Stop that!” Gus shouted.
“I think you-” Shawn said, then broke off. “You’re seriously interfering with my rhythm here, you know.”
“And you’re seriously interfering with my life,” Gus said. “Here I was all excited to tell you my big news, and you start talking like Darth Vader.”
“Vader, really?” Shawn said. “At least you mean the Darth Vader from the first films, right? Because if you’re comparing my silk-smooth delivery to that whining little punk from the sequels, we are going to have serious issues.”
“We can deal with your issues later,” Gus said. “I want to know what was bought and who bought it and what you’re doing here when you’re supposed to be in Santa Barbara.”
“Can I take the second part of that question first?” Shawn said.
“Whatever,” Gus said.
“Okay,” Shawn said. “What was the second part again?”
Gus tried to reconstruct his thought: Although he’d only uttered it seconds before, the sequence was completely jumbled in his mind. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“They did,” Shawn said.
“Who did what?”
“I remembered the second part of your question,” Shawn said. “It was ‘Who bought what?’ and the answer is, ‘They did.’ ”
“That’s not an answer,” Gus said. “It’s not even a hint. It’s completely meaningless. ‘They’ only has any value if there’s a precedent in the sentence.”
“There is a precedent,” Shawn said. “That’s you.”
“What?”
“Precedent Gus,” Shawn said. “Didn’t Damp Blouse make the announcement?”
“That’s president,” Gus said, then broke off. “Wait a minute. How did you know about that?”
“What do you mean how did I know about that?”
“If you study my question I think you’ll find that there’s absolutely no ambiguity about what it means,” Gus said tightly. “It is simple, straightforward, and without any possibility of misunderstanding. So the fact that you are stalling and refusing to answer it is telling me that you are up to something.”
“We’re up to something,” Shawn corrected.
The thought occurred to Gus that what they were up to was 160 feet above the sidewalk, and if there were a way to get the window open he could count how long it took Shawn to hit the ground. But that brought images of the late Steve Ecclesine to mind. He took a step away from the window.
“How can we be up to anything?” Gus said. “ We don’t work together anymore. You’re a private detective and I’m the incoming president of a multinational pharmaceuticals company.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Shawn said. “No one’s ever going to suspect a thing.”
“Because there’s nothing to suspect,” Gus said.
“That’s exactly the right tone of outrage,” Shawn said. “Keep that up.”
Keeping the level of outrage high enough was not going to be Gus’ problem. He took a deep breath and then another before he spoke again. “I need to know what’s going on,” he said. And then before Shawn could answer he started over. “I take that back. I know what’s going on. What I need to know is what you think is going on.”
“Nothing big,” Shawn said. “Just you
r undercover assignment.”
“My what?” Gus said. “We’ve already had this conversation. I’m not undercover.”
“I realize that the phrase doesn’t really do your mission justice,” Shawn said. “The way you’ve burrowed into this company is really inspiring. All I can say is wow.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” Shawn said. “Why wow?”
“Yes, fine,” Gus said. “What are you talking about?”
“The way you were willing to walk away from your old life so completely,” Shawn said. “Giving up your apartment, quitting your job, pretending that the Echo had been stolen so the company wouldn’t insist on taking it back.”
“What about the Echo?” Gus said.
“Just part of your master plan,” Shawn said. “And what a plan it was. I’ve got to say, if I hadn’t known better, there were times when you would have fooled even me.”
“I wasn’t trying to fool you,” Gus said.
“Why would you?” Shawn said. “We’ve been in this together all along, haven’t we?”
“We have not.” Gus felt a familiar throbbing at his temples, the special kind of headache that only a particular type of conversation with Shawn could bring on. Although in the privacy of his own skull, he had to admit that now that he was feeling the pain he had missed it a little bit.
Shawn gave a chuckle of wry amusement, or what he imagined wry amusement would sound like if you were able to experience such a sensation without wearing a smoking jacket. “There is such a thing as going too far undercover,” he said.
“There’s also such a thing as getting to the point,” Gus said.
“See, that’s what I mean,” Shawn said. “You sound exactly like a busy corporate executive when you say things like that. You don’t have to keep up the cover when we’re alone together. Although if we’re together we can’t really be alone. Which is either kind of a deep thought or something I read on a Hallmark card.”
Mind-Altering Murder p-5 Page 21
