Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  “You wait there. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “Look out for the crowd outside the elevator,” She warned, but he had already disconnected the call. Leaning against the door Sara scanned the headlines:

  Mayor’s Son Arrested! Lover’s Tryst Uncovers Drug Ring! A federal agent and Sara Stafford, a senior officer of Starr Shine Communications, stumbled onto a drug deal at hotel poolside in downtown Chicago early this morning. A late night swim? A stake out? Or a lover’s rendezvous? Timing was all wrong for the Mayor’s son, 19-year-old Jeffery Dane. The scuffle that followed sent Jeffery Dane to jail and the agent to the hospital, where he was treated and released.

  “Oh Jesus!”

  “Yeah, and that’s not the worst of it,” Pam added.

  “Pictures are of the two of us in the ER, had to be. At least, we were dressed.”

  “Oh God! Don’t tell me you were skinny dipping in the hotel pool?”

  “Of course not! We’d been following the kid from Monday. He seemed to be everywhere and on all three shifts in a hotel staff uniform. We staked out the pool and the locker room where we saw him the night before.”

  “Matthew Farrell is a federal agent?” Pam asked.

  “You know he works for the fed’s.”

  “Yeah, but as a communications advisor for projects with federal funds.”

  “Well that, too. I’ve got to call Robert.”

  “He’s probably in the air at this point. Do you have his number with you?”

  “In my briefcase, I hope he’s on the corporate jet. The first call was from Jonathon in Washington. He’s already got the headlines.”

  “This isn’t good,” Pam folded the paper over.

  “We did nothing wrong. Now, if the Mayor’s son is the kid they arrested last night, he’s the one who’s going to have to answer for this. He pulled a knife on Matt. It took nine stitches to close the wound. I panicked when I saw the blood and the gun went off.

  “Gun! What gun?”

  “Matthew’s, I dropped it in the pool when it fired.”

  “Sara, Pam, let me in,” a British voice called out from the other side of the door.

  “Matthew,” they said in unison and stepped away from the door. He slipped in and slammed it shut behind him.

  “Are you two all right?”

  “Have you seen the headlines?” Sara asked.

  “No, I caught CNN in my room. The corridor is crawling with reporters. The kid’s lawyer was interviewed and is claiming the kid caught us in a sex and drug scandal.”

  “Well, shit!” Pam whispered.

  “That won’t hold up. Anyone who knows us would know better,” Sara said.

  “He can try but he doesn’t have the video tapes.” Matthew added, “The Chicago DA’s office has been trying to get enough on him for two years. With our tapes and testimony they finally have what they need.”

  “I hope so,” Pam said. “He’s sleazed out of one crime after another. He’s also been linked to the local band of Nazi punks.”

  “What?!” Sara nearly shouted and glanced toward Matthew.

  “I said...”

  “I’m sorry. I heard what you said. It’s just a shock.”

  “Everything that kid does is a shock,” Pam said. “I’m glad he’s not mine. I’d kill him.”

  “Matt?” Sara asked and he shook his head.

  “Pam, here’s the presentation handout; we need a hundred copies,” Sara changed the topic and passed Pam the packet from her briefcase. “Matt and I have to work up something for the media. I really want to start the presentation on time.”

  “I’ll do what I can. You better try Robert while you have this isolation,” Pam slid out the door.

  Sara pulled out her pocket calendar and flipped to Robert’s travel number. “Are we going to be able to pull this presentation off, Matt?”

  “Maybe.”

  Robert answered on the second ring in his charming southern drawl.

  “Robert, have you seen CNN this morning?”

  “How are you, little lady?”

  “I’m fine; a little shocked by the publicity.”

  “Mr. Farrell?”

  “He was stabbed, sir. He says it’s minor. We’re co-presenting Jonathon’s piece this morning. And you know Matthew’s the keynote at lunch. Robert, I think we should make a statement to the press so we can get on with the conference.”

  “Don’t say anything until I get there and meet with you both. This calls for damage control.”

  “Robert, we did nothing wrong.”

  “It doesn’t take much to create a media frenzy. I’m having Caruthers from our legal department fly out later this morning. Before we prepare a statement, the phrase is: no comment at this time.”

  “Can I say a statement will be forthcoming later today? It might give us the space to continue the conference.”

  After a long pause he added, “All right, that much. Don’t let them trick you into answering any questions.”

  “Is this going to create problems in Washington, sir?”

  “I hope not. When is your presentation scheduled to start?”

  “In forty-five minutes. I had hoped to go over last minute changes with Matthew over breakfast.”

  “Is he up to this?” he asked.

  “He says he is.”

  “I’ll slide in the back when I get there. After the keynote, you, Mr. Farrell, and I will meet with our PR people and Mr. Caruthers in my suite. Don’t talk to anyone before that.”

  “Pam Lawson from finance knows, sir. She’s working on the presentation with us.”

  “Can we trust her to keep her mouth shut?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “It might be good to add her to the group, then. I’ll have Jack Stone join us, as well. A united front will help and I’ll talk with Jonathon by phone.”

  “Robert, is Elaina with you?”

  “She’s in Charleston on family matters.”

  “I’ll see you soon, sir. And again, I’m very sorry for all this commotion.”

  Sara tucked her phone back into its case. “God, I hope I didn’t just get myself fired.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s going to be all right.”

  “What about that Nazi connection Pam mentioned? Could we have been set up? It’s almost as if the kid went intentionally out of his way to be seen by us, but to what purpose?”

  “I saw a swastika tattooed on his arm last night. I didn’t want to upset you so I kept it to myself. We’ll see how this unfolds.”

  ***

  Forty minutes later, Pam approached the podium with a nervous smile on her face. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Pamela Lawson, comptroller for the Chicago division of Starr Shine Communications International. We are privileged to have with us today two notable experts in the field. The first part of this morning’s session is presented by the sharpest financial mind I’ve ever met.”

  She continued to ad lib as Sara leaned over to Matthew, “That isn’t the intro we wrote out.”

  “I believe she’s trying to build up the credits for both of us.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my honor and privilege to present Sara Stafford, corporate comptroller of Starr Shine Communications and Matthew Farrell, federal communications expert from the U.S. Department of Justice.”

  After the gauntlet they’d walked through to get to the conference room, a standing ovation from an overflow crowd was a bit of a shock. Sara’s first thought was that they didn’t make enough copies.

  “Matthew, what’s going on?”

  He placed a hand in the middle of her back and leaned into the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you, thank you very much. We are both overwhelmed with your support, however it is customary to save this much enthusiasm for after the presentation, if you’re not all sound asleep by that time.”

  Laughter filled the room. Then the crowd began to settle down as he added, “Ms. Stafford will present the corporate side of accountability for a fed
eral project; then I’ll follow up with government requirements. Please be seated.”

  He backed up to take his seat beside Pam and Sara began. Within the first ten minutes, most of the overflow crowd disappeared from the back. They were probably the morbidly curious or the media trying to pry out information about last night’s fiasco. Halfway through their presentation, Robert slipped into the back of the room and took a seat. Immediately, with a nod and wink in Sara’s direction, he handed a folded note to his aide. The note was passed to Pam as Sara explained the next slide on the screen behind her. Matthew slipped the white piece of paper onto the podium. The black heavy scrawl stated: No Q and A.

  ***

  For an hour and a half they’d managed to hold the attention of most of the attendees. Matthew wound up the morning session with, “The moral of the story, ladies and gentlemen, is to know your objective and make damn sure you follow the rules documenting every part of the process. Thank you for your attentiveness this morning. We appreciate your ability to hold down the snoring.” He smiled and nodded to the audience at their laughter and applause. Robert was beside them within moments of a second standing ovation. “Nice job Matthew, Sara,” he added with his handshake.

  “Robert, have you met Pamela Lawson, our regional comptroller?” Sara asked.

  “Mrs. Lawson,” he shook her hand, “I understand we have you to thank for the efficiency of this morning’s speech and for the security at the door. I’m sorry I missed your introductions. Shall we adjourn to the ball room? I understand we have a reserved table for lunch. Caruthers and Brown are waiting for us there.”

  Robert and Sara were the first two seated at the circular table reserved for the Starr Shine crew. “You’ve been busy here in Chicago, Sara. Was there a plan to your actions or did you just jump into the deep end of the pool without thinking?” Robert began in a caustic voice as he smoothed the linen across his lap. Although Sara would have said the same thing in his shoes, she was not prepared for his reprimand.

  “A number of things have happened in the last few months, sir. Before this, I believed in coincidence. Now, I don’t. People were stalked, attacked, and worse. The same strangers began showing up in more than one or two situations and I became suspicious. That’s what happened at the pool two nights in a row. Matthew was with me Monday for a late night swim. When I voiced my concern that the same employee of the hotel seemed to be everywhere we were, on all three shifts, I suppose his professional curiosity kicked in. We set a trap last night and the kid walked right into it.”

  “Other people are trained for that kind of operation. I do not believe you are. Are you, Sara?”

  “Matthew is.”

  “Yes, well, I am not sure he was doing the job he was assigned either; but I’m shocked he would allow you to become involved. I also do not like the idea that an executive representative of my company was caught in a compromising position.”

  “Sir, the compromising position was a fabrication by the kid and his legal counsel. We were staking out the pool room and the men’s locker room. And before you ask, we reported the kid’s suspicious actions to hotel security prior to last night’s arrest. Other than confirm he was not a member of the staff, they disregarded our concern. Their supposition was he must be a hotel guest. The support we received from them was miniscule at best.”

  “I do not believe Mr. Farrell is doing what he is being paid to do,” he said.

  Sara and Robert watched Matthew weave his way through his well wishers on the way to their table. He seemed to have a gift for sidestepping questions.

  “And what specifically is Matthew being paid to do, sir?”

  Robert stared at Sara for a long moment without answering.

  “Sir, why don’t I make this easy for you? I know Matthew’s primary job. As part of that task, he’s being paid to watch and protect me from a danger he won’t discuss. His cover is liaison for our new communications chip; that much I figured out. Although he’s a communications expert, it’s not his primary duty at this time.”

  Robert nodded without a hint of surprise. He already knew this, she was sure of it.

  “Sir, by that definition of his duties, he was doing his job.”

  “Was he? Or was he putting you in harm’s way?”

  “He was keeping me from going to the pool alone, and in the process nabbed a punk who thinks he has carte blanche to do anything illegal because of who his father is.”

  Robert looked over her head. “Mr. Farrell, nice job this morning. Are you up to the keynote as well?”

  Matthew took the seat on Sara’s right. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Are we meeting in your room after my speech?”

  “That’s the plan, young man.”

  “I haven’t been called a young man in many years, sir.”

  “It all has to do with perspective, son.”

  Lorna walked up to the table and snaked her arm across Matthew’s shoulders. “Is this seat taken?”

  Before an objection could be made she sat on Matthew’s right and reached for a water glass.

  “Robert, have you met Lorna, our regional sales director?”

  “Yes I have, Sara, several months ago in Boston. How are you doing, my dear?”

  “I’m doing fine, Robert. And Elaina, is she well?”

  “She is. Thank you for asking.”

  “I thought maybe she would be here for your speech?”

  “She was detained on family business. I expect she’ll arrive tomorrow. She wants to do some holiday shopping and catch the new exhibit at the Art Institute.”

  Jack Stone pulled out a seat on Robert’s left. He leaned back as a bowl of salad greens was placed before him, and asked, “Have you been to the Shedd Aquarium, Mr. Farrell? I understand there are some very rare species of shark in the salt water tank? Their tactics are something you may be familiar with.”

  “I haven’t had a chance, Jack,” Matthew answered in a no nonsense voice.

  “It might be something to see before you leave.”

  Something in his voice, told Sara there was more to that statement than a trip to view a tank full of fish.

  Two businessmen in frameless glasses wearing identical gray suits and gray silk ties approached the table. One was tall and thin as a telephone pole and the other short and round. They pulled out a pair of chairs across from Sara, simultaneously smoothing their ties, and sat.

  “Mr. Caruthers, Mr. Brown, I’m glad you could make the trip on such short notice. I don’t believe we’ve met officially. I’m Sara Stafford with the Portland office.”

  Dan Caruthers, the tall one with thinning gray hair and a politician’s smile, stood and walked around the table to shake hands. He slid a business card into Sara’s palm with his handshake and passed another to Matthew. They both slid them into their jacket pockets.

  “Matthew,” Lorna caressed his name as she set her glass down. Water dripped from its rim as her voice dripped with suggestion, “We haven’t had much time together. Will you be going with us back to Rush Street this evening? You promised me another dance yesterday and the opportunity slipped away.”

  Lunch was turning into a fiasco of innuendo and hidden agendas. Robert was definitely not pleased; Sara would be lucky if she still had a job after this. The ‘Mutt and Jeff team’ from legal and PR were scanning the room like robots. Jack was trying to cover the tension with inane conversation and getting one word answers for his effort. Pam, who came in late, was eating like a starved camper with a mountain to climb. She looked up and blotted her lips with her linen. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but my family is having a little crisis. I have to bow out this afternoon. Mr. Starr, ladies and gentlemen, please excuse me.”

  “Is it something we can help with, Mrs. Lawson?” Robert asked as he stood at her move to leave the table.

  “My son is running a fever and being sent home from school. I need to be there.”

  “Do you have your car?”

  “I took the train in, sir.”r />
  Robert turned toward a burly man at the exit behind him and signaled him. “Paul, take Mrs. Lawson wherever she needs to go.”

  “Pamela, Paul is at your service for whatever you need this afternoon.”

  “Mr. Starr, that’s not…” she looked down at her wrist for the time and nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

  “Well, what was that all about?” Lorna asked as she blotted an imaginary spot from her lips.

  “Her son has severe allergies,” Jack said. “With all her family needs she still manages an incredible work load. Your assistance means a lot to her, Robert. Thank you.” Jack stood and excused himself to introduce the keynote speech.

  Once again, Matthew got a standing ovation. “Ladies and gentlemen, with your continued support, I keep thinking I’m some kind of celebrity. But alas, I’m just a humble government servant.”

  From the back of the room a man called out, “Any man who can put the mayor’s kid behind bars has all our support and admiration.”

  The room burst into another round of applause and Matthew bowed his head in embarrassment. He was so cute when he tried to look humble. After a moment he leaned into the mike and asked for quiet. “Thank you all, now if you’ll allow me I’m going to try not to bore you too much with my talk about the history of communications. I have a set of note cards here somewhere.” He patted his pockets sheepishly.

  “Ah yes, here we are.” He fit a pair of glasses into place and pulled out a stack of index cards. Reading from the top card, he began, “There once was a lady from London, Who stopped at a chemist for... Oh, wrong card. Sorry ‘bout that.” He shuffled the card to the back of his deck with that adorable look of confusion and the room filled with laughter. He definitely had a gift.

  “There once was a fellow from York,” he began again, “who wanted to talk to chap in Cork. He pilfered two cans and some string to give his dear friend a ring, and said, ‘meet me at Devonshire Fork’.”

  The room settled down after a modest round of chuckles. He continued, “I liked the first joke better, myself, but it has very little to do with communications. The point being made that we have come a long way from the tins and string of our youth. Communications industries are leaping forward…”