Chutes and Ladder

by Marc Jedel

  He released his breath. “Oh, I’ve got a small place way up in the Los Altos Hills. I only help out on Jewish ceremonies down in the Valley in a pinch.” Rabbi Schneiderman paused as he re-checked the room. “Carmela,” he called as she bustled past us, “we do still need a tenth person. Do you think Lawrence’s neighbor on the other side could be persuaded to come over?”

  “Goodness. No, I don’t think so.” Carmela shook her head adamantly. “Those two have not been getting along for a while now. Gloria’d get spittin’ mad about his dog barking or ruining her bushes.”

  As if on cue, the dog barked again.

  She shook her head. “Lordy, can she cuss.” She blushed. “Oh, pardon me, Rabbi.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve heard of cursing.” He gave her a bemused smile, then scratched his head. “What can we do for our tenth person?”

  I had an idea. That happened often, and some of them were actually good. Hollywood hadn’t yet released a movie starring a problem-solving, engineer superhero. There was still time. “Rabbi, does the person have to be here physically?” I explained what I had in mind and he agreed it would work.

  I texted my son, Eli. He was available, if not exactly excited. But college kids didn’t typically have a lot of regular evening responsibilities. Partying didn’t count. One of the few benefits available to a college student’s parent was the ability to remind him or her who paid the bills. A few moments later, I had propped my phone on the chair next to me with Eli’s face looking out at everyone. Proud of my solution, even if I didn’t get to wear a fancy superhero costume or walk the red carpet, I gave a smug nod to the rabbi and he started the service.

  Seeing my son’s disembodied head chanting prayers on the seat next to me during a service for a dead friend felt bizarre. The rabbi didn’t seem at all fazed as he shifted eye contact smoothly around the room, including Eli. Working with Silicon Valley types for years had acclimated the rabbi to creative uses of technology. He kept the service to the bare minimum, and when it ended, I said goodbye to Eli and joined the others in the kitchen to grab a drink and a small bite.

  I checked with the other attendees only to learn that none of them were from Sirius. Strange that none of Larry’s work friends had come. Had Larry been a loner too? And what was the deal with Gloria?

  When I wandered over to the rabbi’s homemade wine, one of the neighbors reached in front of me and took a glass, along with a flyer sitting next to the bottle. Curious, I picked up the flyer as well, then realized it was advertising the rabbi’s produce delivery service. A highlighted section indicated that his crop of weed hadn’t yet matured but would be available soon. Although I knew it was legal now, I wondered if marijuana was considered kosher. Only in California.

  Almost before I could blink, Lauren had hugged me goodbye and the small crowd had melted out the door. My mother had taught me not to eat and run without helping clean up, so I stayed back. A bit embarrassed on behalf of the others, I asked Carmela if she needed any help getting her living room back in order.

  “Oh, you’re a dear. Perhaps if you could help carry these chairs back to Larry’s house, then I wouldn’t have to wrestle them back over there on my own.”

  I agreed and grabbed the chairs. After putting them away, I veered past Larry’s car, still wondering how he had gotten to the forest. Pausing, I peered inside. Nothing remarkable—the inside looked like anyone’s car. In fact, it was neater than most people’s cars, with the front seat and floor empty. Surprised that a hoarder’s car wasn’t crammed with stuff too, I shifted to look in the back. Clear, but something was on the floor. I leaned over to examine it closer.

  “Now don’t you be touching nothing.” Carmela’s voice came from right behind me.

  I jumped, nearly knocking her over. “Why?” I looked around, searching for danger.

  “Just in case them police might want to dust his car for prints.”

  “I thought you said they weren’t coming up here. And didn’t we go in his house? Twice?”

  “Well, now, that was different. We had company over. Where would everyone sit?”

  Carmela must have watched the same crime shows that I did. Using my shirt so I’d keep my fingerprints off his car, I tried the handle of the back door.

  It was unlocked.

  I pulled the door open and leaned forward. Carmela put her hand on my back as she craned her neck to see.

  The strap of Larry’s Epi-Pack lay on the back floor, poking out from under the seat right near the door, as if it had fallen off while he was getting out of the driver’s seat.

  I jerked back and then had to grab Carmela to keep her from falling. We took a few steps away from the car before catching our balance. “His EpiPen bag is in there,” I explained.

  “And that’s why you plumb knocked me over?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see it there. That’s evidence for the police.” I had never expected to be the person who found Larry’s EpiPen. I stood up a little straighter.

  Carmela’s eyes grew wide. “Well, that’s mighty exciting news. Should I call 9-1-1?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not an emergency. I’ve been helping out the police already, so I’ll let them know.” Time to call Mace again.

  Carmela seemed impressed and watched as I shut the door, again using my shirt. I didn’t want to contaminate another possible crime scene.

  After helping Carmela back into her house, I waited by the curb for my Rover car to arrive. I’d call Mace once I got away from the disconcerting feeling of Gloria’s dark, empty house looming over me. I tried out my X-ray vision for the umpteenth time, but it was still on the fritz. Only a dark, empty house returned my scrutiny.

  8

  Tuesday Morning

  I woke up Tuesday morning extra early and full of resolve. Visiting Larry’s office at Sirius today could be a key step in figuring out what had happened to him. Learning my boss considered Raj the best engineer at Rover instead of me was also a kick in the pants. I’d always been a top performer, and my ego wasn’t ready for a reset.

  Determined to start setting the record straight, I got to Sirius’s San Jose headquarters before Raj for our rescheduled meeting. I hoped to find someone who knew Larry and could help shed some light on the situation. My pointless victory only meant I got to sit around the lobby for a while waiting for Raj so we could check in together. No one approached me to talk about Larry nor did anyone pass by who looked especially guilty of murder. At least I managed to catch Meghan for a quick text exchange before she had to run for her next meeting. I should have used the extra time to work on my presentation. Or to sleep.

  “Hope second time’s the charm,” I said as Raj walked up, planning to surprise him with an unexpected idiom and gain a small advantage in our never-ending contest.

  “Yes, because three strikes and we’re out,” he responded with a broad grin as he one-upped me yet again.

  Dang. Despite racking my brain, I couldn’t come up with any stupid sayings built around the number four. I used to mine a rich vein of idioms from American sports that Raj didn’t know. Clearly, he’d been studying. Another area where I was losing my edge. Today’s meeting with Doug Samerson better take place. I wouldn’t give three cheers if I had to come back a third time to meet a CEO with poor time management skills.

  After checking in, we waited only a few minutes before the receptionist motioned us forward. A good-looking blond man wearing crisp slacks and a tailored shirt stood by the desk. He handed us business cards and introduced himself. “I’m Sean Peters. Peri is out this morning at a doctor’s appointment, so I’ll give you a short tour and bring you to Doug’s office.” His voice had a deep, resonant tone that sounded more practiced than natural. His card read, “Chief Cat Herder.” I managed to avoid rolling my eyes. At least this had to be better than another dose of Peri’s rah-rah enthusiasm.

  As Raj shook his hand, he asked, “Does Sirius have a lot of cats?”

  Sean let
loose with a hearty chuckle. “Well, that’s not really what I do. I’m the chief of staff for Doug Samerson. I do a little of everything, I’m afraid. I run the executive staff meetings, lead the corporate strategy reviews, and handle any projects that fall through the cracks. If all goes well, I expect to be running some of our new acquisitions soon.”

  Shocked, I took another look at him. He couldn’t have been older than thirty. His comment threw me for a loop. Besides calling into question the intelligence of Sirius Innovation’s CEO for putting such an inexperienced person in charge of a new acquisition, Peters needed to work on his diplomacy skills. Although he hadn’t met us before, the first words out of his mouth were to brag that he’d be running our company. I swallowed any snarky comments and shook his hand. After all, despite how crazy it sounded, he might soon be in charge of Rover.

  I pulled out my badge from yesterday and started to put it by the badge reader.

  Sean smirked. “Oh, how cute, you brought your commemorative badge back.” Dropping the condescending tone, he added, “Just flash it at the receptionist and follow me. Our badging system is, um, temporarily not working to its fullest potential.”

  Although we held up our badges, the receptionist may not have noticed them amidst a group of employees filing in along with us. She didn’t seem to care. We hurried to catch up with Sean as he bypassed the elevators and headed for the stairs. Holding the door to the stairway for us, he said, “I’m into extreme sports and don’t get as much exercise as I’d like during the week, so I try to take the stairs whenever possible. Come on, it’s only four flights to the top.” He bounded away up the stairs.

  Raj and I looked at each other. He grinned at Sean’s ridiculousness while I shrugged in resignation. We followed him up the stairs, although at a slower pace.

  By the time I trudged up to the fifth floor, I’d started sweating. As Sean waited, holding the staircase door for me, I tried unsuccessfully to hide my puffing. Maybe Meghan had a point about my needing to get to the gym.

  Raj waited beside Sean, not sweating though breathing harder than normal.

  Peters let out another chuckle and gave me a jocular slap on the back. “Gotta get you taking the stairs more often, hey, buddy? Heart-healthy and all that.” His teasing grin didn’t feel quite as friendly as his words.

  Competitive bugger, isn’t he?

  Hoping to slow Sean down long enough to catch my breath, I asked, “Did you know Larry Cohen?”

  Peters gave me a curt nod as his grin faded. “Yeah.”

  It made sense. Sirius wasn’t all that large, and there couldn’t be too many employee deaths. Unless they made stair climbing mandatory.

  In a flat, near-monotone, Peters said, “I was really busted up when I heard the news.” Without further delay, he swiveled to head off across the floor.

  The combination of his rah-rah attitude, extreme sports, and faking that he cared about Larry pissed me off. “If you were so close, why didn’t you come last night?” I was still puffing as I followed him.

  He didn’t even turn his head. “I don’t do religion.”

  I noticed he didn’t have to ask what had happened last night. He had heard about Larry’s shiva service even though no Sirius employees had attended. If he was the Chief Cat Herder, why didn’t he encourage others to go? Or had he discouraged the other employees from attending? Curious now, I asked, “So you knew him well?”

  Peters almost stumbled, his whole body tensing before he answered, “We were working together on a project when he …” He came to a stop, turning and waving his arms in a half-shrug as his voice petered out.

  My stomach fluttered. I hadn’t expected that they actually worked together. “Really? You’re a biologist too? What were you working on with him?” Before he could answer, I added an even more important question: “Did he mention anything late last week about going hiking in the Santa Cruz Mountains?”

  “I really can’t say.” He looked away and crossed his arms, fidgeting as he glanced down the hallway.

  “Can’t or won’t?” I spit out in my own anger. I didn’t even know which question he hadn’t answered.

  “Now listen.” Peters’ voice grew strident and lost its deep resonance. He clenched his fists as he glared at me with a reddened face. “Our team was working on a strategic assignment that I can’t discuss. I already told the cops everything they need to know. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  I glared back. Larry was more than just a poker buddy. He was my friend, and I wanted to know what happened to him.

  Raj cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Um,” Raj stuttered as he was struck by the combined force of both our glares. Recovering, he added, “I believe Marty only meant that he is very upset about the death of his friend and he wants to understand what happened. It is good that you have talked to the police.”

  In my anger, I hadn’t registered Peters’ words. If the deputies had spoken to him, then they must be looking into Larry’s death. What did Peters mean by “everything they need to know?” What did he leave out? I knew Larry wasn’t the type to go on hikes, especially ones that could kill him. There was more to his death. There had to be. Peters might not even realize he knew something important.

  I took a small step back and tried to swallow my anger, which felt like it fell into a pit in my stomach. Looking Peters in the eyes, I rolled my shoulders back and raised both hands in surrender. Concentrating on calming down, I said, “Hey, I’m sorry. Raj is right.”

  Sean’s glare eased and he unconsciously smoothed the front of his shirt, as if to wipe away the memory of our confrontation. “Okay,” he said before clearing his throat. “Let’s get you to Doug’s office.” His earlier baritone revived as he set off at a brisk pace.

  Before following, I nodded my thanks to Raj, who raised his eyebrows as if to communicate, “Not a great plan to upset the guy who may soon be running Rover.” As usual, Raj was right.

  “What kind of extreme sports do you do?” asked Raj, changing the subject in an attempt to rescue today’s visit.

  The distraction worked. Sean slowed and brightened. “I like wingsuit flying. You get to be like an eagle.” His enthusiasm reignited as he proceeded to explain the sport to Raj.

  As I followed them across the fifth floor, I resolved to avoid all team-building events if Sean wound up running Rover.

  *****

  “You ever been to the Cayman Islands?” Doug Samerson boomed yet another one-sided question at us. A slightly overweight man with a goatee that tried to make up for his thinning hair, he waved his arms a lot and projected his voice as if to make up for his short stature.

  I’d spent the last five minutes staring at the pictures on his desk, his wall, and occasionally making eye contact while he yammered on about himself. For a meeting sold as a get-to-know-you session, apparently it should have been labeled a get-to-know-Doug meeting, as we had yet to do more than introduce ourselves. At first he seemed a little surprised to have a second visitor, but that hadn’t stopped his monologue.

  He continued, “We went a few weeks ago for a long weekend, down Friday and back on Sunday. I love it there.”

  Acting his normal, polite self, Raj kept attempting to interact. He gestured to the photo of Samerson with his family. “And did your wife enjoy it too?”

  Samerson looked startled by the question as he hunched down in his chair. “What? No, she didn’t go. I mean, I went by myself. She went to her sister’s.” He darted his eyes from side to side and repeated, “I went by myself.”

  To me it seemed awfully far to travel for a three-day trip, whether alone or with someone, but I didn’t say anything.

  Samerson recovered his equilibrium by returning to an obviously well-worn line. “Did they tell you why I named the company Sirius Innovation?”

  We were back to being his audience for today’s performance. Without looking at each other, we answered his question with a shake of our heads in unison.

  Within the f
irst two minutes, I’d concluded that Doug Samerson was a moron. Most of the CEO/founders that I’d met were wicked smart. Every once in a while, however, an idiot somehow got funded by the venture capitalists, or made it through the dog-eat-dog competition to the top. Now this top dog was about to eat another dog, Rover. Someone else must write Samerson’s public speeches.

  “It’s because we’re aiming high. Shooting for the stars.” Samerson paused in his explanation and waited, flashing us a smug grin as he folded his arms over his ample stomach, now confident again as he watched for our reaction.

  Neither Raj nor I understood what he was talking about.

  After we didn’t react, Sean Peters jumped in to explain. “Sirius is also the name of the brightest star in the sky. Get it? Aiming high? Shooting for the stars?” He and Samerson laughed, as if this was the funniest joke they’d heard all day.

  Maybe it was.

  In a rare moment of discretion, I didn’t point out that Sirius was also known as the “Dog Star,” so of course they should buy Rover. In my humble opinion, that would be an even funnier comment. Growing up, my dad had warned me about not making the boss look bad. He had forgotten to mention that most bosses managed to do that all by themselves, and that it was the workers’ role to make their bosses look good. At least, that was how it seemed to work wherever I’d been.

  When Samerson took a breath, I interrupted to ask my long-awaited question. “I understand you have a number of strategic initiatives underway in addition to the acquisition of Rover. Could you tell us about the strategic project that Sean was working on with Larry Cohen?”

  “Was that the one with Larry, Gloria, and …” Samerson glanced to Sean for confirmation.

  Gloria!?

  I started to speak, but Sean leaned forward, his eyes flashing with anger, and interjected, “I don’t think we should discuss other strategic projects with our guests today since they’re not employees yet.”