As she said that, Kendra made the symbol of a heart with her fingers as she claimed Hardy had done. Apparently, he’d also told her, “There’s no ‘e’ in my happy heart, though. It’s spelled H-A-R-T.”
“That helped me remember his name the very first time I heard hit. Wasn’t that clever?” Kendra asked.
“It was,” I replied, and Jessica nodded.
“Follow me, and I’ll make sure there’s room for you on the shuttle.”
“Hmm,” Jessica muttered under her breath as we followed Kendra outside. “Maybe there’s no ‘t’ in his heart either.”
“Hardy Har…har,” I mumbled and then shook my head. “Got it! Hardy Hart, the helpful harlequin sounds too good to be true to me too—with or without the ‘t.’”
“Don’t forget he’s a happy-hearted, helpful harlequin,” Jessica added.
“I’ve had more than enough of his alliteration for one day,” I harrumphed. “Not that he’s done anything I can fault him for. I can’t understand how a guy in a Marley World character costume has developed such familiarity with the company’s high-tech bots. Jack and Frank need to have a long conversation with Max’s security department. If the New Arcadia ship sinks, it’ll be because its security is full of holes!”
“Max may not realize how vulnerable his new innovations are to sabotage if that’s what the blast was about. Or to hacking, if that's how Hardy's been communicating with the bots. Frank asked our friend, Peter March, a security expert, to speak to Max about improving security. Peter argued that they ought to consider higher-level security measures like those being used around the country at dams and power stations.”
“In Max’s mind, this is a utopia he’s building. New Arcadia is a cutting edge community. Still, it's also a small town with tree-lined streets where you can walk to restaurants, shops, schools, and parks. What's gone are the noisy, smelly vehicles, honking horns, and screeching brakes. No high rises and big city congestion, but no suburban sprawl either. Peter March’s recommendations probably sounded more like something in the latest techno-thriller rather than his sunny, blue-skies, green dream.”
“Not to mention that higher security adds to the cost of realizing his dream. Given what you’ve said about the trouble between Max and his CFO, Max may have considered the idea hard to sell.”
“Unfortunately, the idea of beefing up security will be easier to sell now," I said.
"That's probably true. Once Frank and Jack do their jobs, they'll have more specific ideas about how to protect New Arcadia," Jessica said.
“I can't believe this happened given the security measures already in place. It's even harder to believe Max’s cybersecurity is flawed enough not to have caught Hardy’s hacking attempts—if that’s what he’s done.”
“Maybe you should speak to someone about it, Georgie. In your spare time,” Jessica said, laughing.
“I’ll make time,” I said. “I should check with the head of security to officially confirm the status of any current threat to New Arcadia before Charlie arrives. I’ll ask him about the cyber network too.”
We were waiting outside the beautiful façade of the hotel as a group of guests boarded the shuttle. They were surprisingly quiet, perhaps exhausted from the ordeal that had started almost three hours ago. Jessica and I fell silent, too, as we stepped closer to the group. Or maybe it was the sobering presence of armed police, mingling with the hotel security, and stationed at various points. That was a first in my nearly thirty years ‘working for the cat’—Catmmando Tom, the famous cartoon cat that had led to Max’s early success.
The sight of guards with military-style weapons made me feel quite sure the blast was no accident. That wasn’t just because of the ‘mayday’ message from the control room at that transport site. Max was almost fanatical about preventing accidents at the places where he invited guests to visit. That was true about protecting workers Max regarded as members of the Marley World family.
As we followed the guests to take seats on the electric bus, I tried to imagine what Charlie would do if he ended up in charge. I quickly drew a blank. My mind balked at considering the possibility that Charlie would do anything other than honor Max’s desire to see this project through to the end.
The sleek electric bus sped off, moving with surprising speed toward the Visitor Center, almost without making a sound. As we drove away, it easy to see the hotel atrium rising above the rest of the building. It appeared to be made of spun sugar like the biodomes behind. Despite their delicate appearance, they had survived the blast this morning without damage. Everywhere I looked, Christmas decorations embellished the rows of palm trees as we sped past. Big red bows and oversized ornaments hung from them, and strands of lights were laced between them. Lights were also wrapped around the trunks.
Together, the decorations create the appearance of a fairyland. In Max’s fairyland, there are fairies too. They're tiny drones with gossamer wings, lit by flapping their wings as they fly among the palms. His engineers armed them with a tone that humans can’t hear but signaled to bats, and birds didn't mistake them for insects. What a mix of old and new, real, and artificial was intertwined in his utopian vision.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off. Maybe I was dreaming because an image pressed down upon me. Tumbleweeds rolled through a sandy wasteland of rundown, abandoned buildings and half-dead palm trees. Blown by the wind, a tiny wisp of a drone landed on my hand. Its little light shut off. I started and sat up straight.
Was the contested terrain between Charlie and Max as far apart as all that? I wondered.
Jessica must have sensed my distress. Even though she spoke in a low voice to someone on her phone, Jessica reached out and patted the hands clenched in my lap. Then she held the phone to her chest.
“Bernadette wants to know if you and Jack like spicy food. She makes some of the most delicious Mexican food you’ve ever eaten.” Her question immediately brought me out of my funk. It was too soon to worry about what would happen to New Arcadia if Max wasn't still alive.
“We’d love to try it,” I replied. “I hope Bernadette doesn’t go to too much trouble.”
“To Bernadette, there’s no such thing,” Jessica added, as she went back to speaking to her friend.
After talking about food, I was glad we hadn’t sent Larry and his crew packing. I was getting hungry and wondered what Larry would bring us from his kitchen.
“It’s all arranged, except to tell her when we can sit down together and enjoy it,” Jessica said as she hung up. “If I don’t hear from Frank soon, I’m going to call him. I would already have bugged him except that I don’t know how tricky it is for him to get a look at the, um, scene.”
“I wouldn't want to distract them. We should give our guys more time now that you’ve put it that way. They may have had to wait for their helpers to arrive and for the whole situation to cool down,” I whispered. By helpers, I meant the crime lab, the medical examiner, and whoever put out the fire so investigators could get close enough to view the scene and collect evidence.
"Don't you agree?" I asked.
“I know exactly what you mean, and I agree,” Jessica added. Fortunately, we pulled up at the Visitor Center at that point and could stop speaking in what amounted to code.
"I'm going to see if I can find updates from local television," Jessica said. "I'll be right back."
"Good idea," It hadn’t occurred to me to check the television news. The public might know more than we did about activity at the blast site. Especially if the helicopter was allowed to film the blast site.
I quickly spotted the woman Max had hired to manage the Visitor Center. The large lobby was packed, with people coming and going from elsewhere in the sprawling Visitor Center. Shirley Southern moved among them, unflustered. Not a hair was out of place as she stepped quickly from one makeshift checkout station to another, solving problems and reassuring guests.
A security guard was stationed just inside the entrance.
Through the glass doors, I could see more security guards as well as police officers outside. In the parking lot, bots were loading luggage into the open bay of a hotel van. One of the officers checked the identification of a driver who must be here to pick up guests. The officer then passed information to the security guard inside, who announced the van's arrival.
“Pick up for guests headed to the Ritz Carlton,” he called as more than half a dozen guests stood and filed out the door. A line of vans and cabs were in the lot waiting their turn. It appeared to be controlled chaos.
"They're keeping aircraft a long distance away, but there's almost no smoke coming from the site," Jessica said as she rejoined me.
"Things seem to be running smoothly here," I replied. "I'm waiting for Shirley to stop long enough to make sure I'm right."
"I ran into one of the officers from the Palm Springs Police Department. They have a room where they're interviewing guests who believe they may have information relevant to the investigation. They make a request for their help as each new group arrives. I told him it was your idea to canvass guests here rather than try to track them all down. He says thanks. They had no idea a hotel that wasn't even open would have hundreds of guests rather than a few dozen," Jessica said.
"We should be thanking them for their help," I responded.
"Serve and protect--that's what they do! I'm going to run. I'll see you in an hour or less."
Jessica stopped to talk to one of the guards. I presumed she was explaining who she was and that she intended to return. He had her sign something, then she waved and dashed away.
“Welcome, Georgie,” Shirley said when she spotted me waving in her direction.
"It's good to see you, Shirley. I was waving at my friend who just left. I hope I didn't take you away from anything important."
“No. The staff probably don't even need me at this point. We’ve got a system in place that’s working well. Most of our guests are Marley World fans, so some are more concerned about New Arcadia and Max than about their own inconvenience.”
“Why are they concerned about Max?”
“They've been part of the family long enough to know Max would be here unless he was facing a huge problem or something has happened to him. I’ve tried to reassure them he wasn’t injured or killed, or I would have been told about it.” In a raspy whisper, she asked, "That's right, isn’t it? Have you had any updates?”
“No, but I was promised I would get updates if the investigators came up with new information. So far, no one has contacted me,” I informed her.
“No news is good news at this point, I guess,” Shirley responded, sighing.
“You’re handling the questions about Max perfectly. Security reps have given me an update. They haven’t found damage or anything else in the tunnels or resort that poses a threat to us. We can relax a little, but that doesn’t mean we want our guests to pay the price if our information is incorrect. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing right now, although I’m happy you’re here. It’s a relief that I can refer a guest to you who has a question I can’t answer. At least, until Charlie gets here. That’ll be a load off your shoulders, won’t it?”
“It will,” I said, although that wasn’t entirely true. I was still pondering Shirley’s question when the guard at the door called my name. A young man in a courier’s uniform stood there. “I need to get a package from the courier. It's from my Executive Assistant in Irvine who, unfortunately, doesn’t know any more than we do, so it’s not an update.”
"That's too bad," Shirley said. As I left Shirley’s side, I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. A few guests in the lobby waved or said hello, as I hustled to the door. One of them, a board member, walked over and greeted me. He waited as I signed for the delivery and thanked the courier. Then, he took my arm and pulled me aside, eying the package in my hand.
“I’ve tried to reach Max to ask if he needs us to convene a board meeting, but according to Rita, he’s unavailable. That’s understandable, but I wanted to let you know we’re ready to help if there’s anything we can do. I can get a quorum of board members together in less than an hour, if necessary. Rita also said you spoke to Charlie, and he’s on his way.”
“Yes. In fact, Charley ought to be here soon. He was in San Francisco when I spoke to him, so it’s taken him longer to get here than if he’d been at his home or office.”
“I’m sure Max will be relieved when Charlie arrives. Not that you haven’t done a good job from everything I’ve heard about the evacuation process. The press release Charlie issued a while ago said that there had been no injuries or deaths associated with an incident that occurred at New Arcadia. I’ve heard otherwise,” the elder gentleman, Sidney Lamont, said. A former member of the state legislature, he’d been a reliable member of the board and one of Max’s close friends. He currently served as the board chair.
“I wish I could say more, Sid, but all I can tell you is that it’s not Max. Hopefully, Charlie will have more to say when he holds his press conference this afternoon.”
When I reached out and patted his arm, Sid grabbed my hand in both of his. Then he shook it, perhaps aware that we were being observed.
“It’s good to talk to you, Georgie. Job well done!” Sid spoke louder as he said that and returned to his seat. Sometimes, I find him a bit condescending, but I generally believe he means well.
“Thanks,” I said and dashed away before anyone else could stop me. I felt compelled to read the letter from Max. Once I reached the back room, I slipped the note from the package and devoured its contents. I was stunned and slumped into the nearest chair.
Max’s doubts about Charlie were graver than I’d guessed, and for reasons that had eluded me. Mistrust was part of it, but there was an even more dire possibility that worried Max. Max’s doubts fueled my own.
I hoped even more earnestly that Max was alive and well. Max's letter left me concerned about Charlie's ability to fulfill Max's role even as a stand-in. Charlie also didn’t strike me as a man who would readily agree to relinquish his place as the next in line to lead the corporation. I suppose this crisis was a test for Charlie. If he performed well in Max's absence, perhaps Max would reconsider the conclusion he'd reached to replace him.
6 Charlie’s Angles
“Hello,” I said. I recognized the number, so it was no surprise when Carol responded.
“I got a receipt from the courier. Have you had a chance to read Max’s letter? Did he tell you about Charlie?”
“Yes, I’ve read the letter, and yes, it’s about Max’s concerns for Charlie’s suitability as his successor—if that’s what you mean.”
“Okay, so he probably already told you what I learned from Rita when I spoke to her for the third time today. Do you want me to go into it to make sure we’re all on the same page?”
“You’d better do that. Max’s letter expressed grave concerns, but he didn’t go into much detail,” I replied.
“Here’s the scoop. Max found several problems with the books after Rita pointed out discrepancies to him. She always gets the reports from Charlie before they go to anyone and looks them over. Then Max reads and reviews them before anyone else. Max was concerned and asked Charlie to drop by. Max's questions about errors in the report set off their fight.”
“Wow! There’s nothing that specific in Max’s letter. He said he’d lost confidence in Charlie as his successor. He also said he was worried about Charlie’s health and feared Charlie was experiencing 'problems beyond those of normal aging,’ as he put it. I thought he meant heart trouble or a related problem. I take it Charlie denied there was trouble with the numbers or trivialized them.”
“Actually, he jumped to the conclusion that Max was accusing him of deliberately altering the numbers,” Carol responded.
“No! Max didn’t even hint at such a thing in his letter to me.”
“According to Rita, Max responded to Charlie by saying he’d never met a more honest man in his life.
Then, he asked Charlie if he was having any problems with his memory or trouble thinking clearly. Charlie flew into a rage and chewed Max out about how he was the one having trouble thinking clearly. Charlie said errors were bound to occur in his reports on occasion. Then he questioned Max’s lack of judgment, given his unrealistic expectations about using the company’s money. Charlie was livid. Not only did he turn red, but Rita said he shook, seemed out of breath, and unsteady on his feet.”
“Max hit a nerve, didn’t he? Charlie reacted worse to that idea than his initial assumption that Max was accusing him of altering numbers on purpose.”
“That could be true, Georgie. Rita said she’d already asked around a bit, and several people said they were concerned about Charlie. They said he seemed confused, misplaced items, and demanded to see reports they'd already given him. Charlie missed a meeting he set and then blamed others for getting the date wrong.”
“I wish Max would have been more direct rather than tiptoeing around the issues. Charlie must be experiencing more severe problems than the ‘senior moments’ common among us as we age. For people to be so willing to speak to Rita, they must be worried about him. He’s always been well-regarded by the people he manages.”
“Rita said almost the same thing. His underlings love and respect him. His Executive Assistant apologized for not talking to Rita about it sooner. She was on the verge of tears while sharing her concerns, which recent bouts of anger, ” Carol added.
“I can understand her loyalty to Charlie. I feel bad even talking about him as we are,” I replied. “There’s a process for reporting concerns about impaired coworkers or managers. I only know of one time that it was used with anyone above a supervisory level. In that case, a mid-level manager was supposedly showing up at the office drunk. Charlie’s situation is a more challenging one because the board of directors would have to get involved, given Charlie's rank and tenure with the company.”
A Merry Christmas Anniversary Mystery Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #9 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series) Page 6
