My next meeting with the research and development team and their leader Nat Scott reminded me of a bad trip to the dentist.
The sounds of chatter emanating from the room had immediately ceased when I arrived and the icy atmosphere chilled me to the bone. I was tempted to take everyone’s pulse, they were so withdrawn and quiet. And to top it off, there was an undercurrent of hostility. The group obviously expected me to run the meeting and although I wasn’t prepared I threw myself into it.
“Well,” I started off, stupidly, “I’m glad you could all make it.” Six pairs of eyes stared back at me. “As you probably know, I’m Kathleen Monahan, and I’ll be…” I paused. “I’m the, uhm, new Chairman and CEO.” The eyes continued to stare at me, blankly.
Someone at the other end of the table wrote something on their pad of paper. Another person coughed lightly. The woman sitting next to me lifted her coffee cup to her lips and peered at me over the rim. The silence was deafening.
“Perhaps we could go around the table and introduce ourselves. Help me put faces to names.” Help me, I silently prayed. Ever had a dream where you’re naked in front a crowd? That’s exactly how I felt. Nervous and naked. I gave myself a mental shake and listened to the introductions.
I looked at the person next to me. This one was your textbook research and development type. He was small and bookish looking. His eyes were huge behind his thick glasses and he was nervously picking at a hangnail on his thumb. He was wearing a short-sleeved, white dress shirt, buttoned at the neck with no tie. The shirt pocket held a plastic pocket protector with three pens carefully and precisely clipped to it. I’m not kidding. And to top it off, he looked younger than Natalie.
“Rick Williams,” he said softly, without looking at me. I looked down at the list Carrie had given me of the attendees and quickly found his name. He was listed as the team leader for the Gila River project.
Sitting next to him was an older man. Older than Rick and Nat but probably about my age.
“Derek. Derek Hutton. I’m the project team leader for the Papago project.”
Across the table from Derek was another woman, who looked like Rick William’s sister. The only difference to me was the obviously missing pocket protector. She was mousy looking and her blond hair needed a wash. Her resemblance to Rick ended when she opened her mouth. Rick had sounded timid and shy. This one was far from it.
“Belinda Moffat,” she barked. Her voice was deep for a woman and very loud, and when she spoke, the sound vibrated around the room. I jumped slightly in my seat. My list told me she was team leader for the Fort Apache project.
Seated on Belinda’s left was Dan Thornton who actually stood up from his chair and reached across the table to shake my hand.
“Dan Thornton,” he said. When he stood I could tell that he was short. His body language exuded energy although he was working hard like the rest of them trying to make my life miserable. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his tie was loosened and he looked like a man with a mission.
“I’m heading up the Navajo project,” he told me. “Glad to have you aboard.” For his friendliness, I gave him a smile.
The last person was sitting directly across from me and introduced himself as Ben Tucker. Ben was so handsome, it almost took your breath away. He had curly, thick, blond hair and a square face. Ben’s face was made more perfect by his straight nose, full lips and intense eyes. Individually, facial features are pretty much the same, but the way Ben’s collection was put together, it was magical. He had the face of Michaelangelo’s David, and Casey Kasem’s voice. Deep and resonant, but without Casey’s singsong way of speaking. I detected a slight, southern drawl, especially when he called me ma’am.
“Ben Tucker, ma’am,” he introduced himself and held his hand out in front of him. “I’d get up,” he explained, with a shrug, “but…” Ben was in a wheelchair.
I quickly stood and reached across the table. His warm hand engulfed mine and his handshake was firm.
“San Carlos,” he said, nodding his head at the list in front of me. There it was. San Carlos project team leader. The project names all sounded familiar and I turned to Nat on my left.
“Are the project names code names?” I asked her.
“Yes. They’re all names of Indian reservations in Arizona. Your ex-husband had an affinity for anything related to Arizona,” she said knowingly.
It was news to me, but made sense. Tommy had lived in Phoenix all his life.
“Oh,” I said uselessly. Once again the room was silent and the air had become thick with tension as soon as Nat made reference to Tommy. Time to take control.
“So.” I lined up the papers in front of me. “The purpose of these meetings would be what? Are we here specifically to update the CEO? Or is it an exchange of information type of meeting?”
Incredibly, all six of them stared blankly at me. There wasn’t one helpful face in the pack.
“Then I can assume all projects are on target?”
Silence.
Now I was pissed off.
I glared at them around the table. The look I gave them was reminiscent of my stare-down with Steve Holliday.
“In that case, consider this meeting over.” I stood up and gathered my things and headed for the door. Someone snickered behind me. Actually snickered. You remember the noise that would come out of someone’s nose when the teacher’s back was turned to the class and he had a “kick me” sign on his back. That kind of noise. I whipped back around at them and took a deep breath.
“If this is the type of cooperation I can expect from the team members around here, I’m disgusted,” I told them through clenched teeth. “I expect a certain level of professionalism from the officers of this company, Ms. Scott. And I haven’t seen it exhibited here. This meeting will start again in thirty minutes. And all project team leaders will provide me with a briefing on their respective projects.”
That caught their attention and now all eyes were on me.
“Thirty minutes,” I repeated. “Your report will include the status of the project, costs incurred to date, expected costs for the next month, a headcount report on all staff reporting to you, including their resumes, and anything else relevant that the CEO should know. Those of you not choosing to participate in the meeting will have their resignations on my desk in twenty-five minutes.”
Now the silence was golden.
chapter fifteen
Not surprisingly, all five project team leaders and their Vice President were present at the meeting thirty minutes later. And every one of them was beautifully prepared. Dan Thornton, who I’d pegged as a keener, even had PowerPoint slides. The tension in the room was still unbearable, but I did my best to ignore it.
Nat Scott’s presentation was last and was basically a wrap-up of the ongoing projects. She was abrupt in her presentation. There was no eye contact between the two of us and the chill factor made the room feel like we were in the Yukon on a January day. We were obviously not going to become best friends and share beauty secrets. I thanked everyone and asked her to stay at the end of the meeting.
We were sitting across the table from each other and I waited a few moments before speaking. Tension mounted and I didn’t care.
“Care to explain what happened here earlier?” I asked her.
She shook her head sharply and her long curls surrounded her face.
“Then can you explain to me how it is that you became a Vice President in this organization? Your behaviour is appalling. Tommy was a team player. I’m sure he encouraged that here at Phoenix Technologies. Did you act like that when he was around?”
“How I acted when Tommy was around is none of your business,” she snarled at me. Perfectly round, red spots appeared on her cheeks, highlighting her freckles.
Unbelievable. Maybe she had a career death wish.
“Fine. But your attitude here today has me concerned. You have until the end of the day to decide if Phoenix Technologies is the place you want
to be. In the meantime, I’ll speak to some of the other Vice Presidents and see if they can convince me to keep you on.”
“You do that,” she told me. “But don’t forget that research and development is a large part of this company. And the shareholders of this company are counting on research and development.”
“Be that as it may, Ms. Scott, if you and I can’t work together…” I left the rest of the thought to her imagination.
“I can work with anyone.” She lowered her voice and the rest came out in a hissing whisper. “But I’ll be damned if I have to take orders from a secretary.”
In hindsight, it was funny how she said that word “secretary”. But at the time, there was so much menace and disgust in her use of the word, it gave me a shiver. I pictured two people out for a walk in the park and one steps in a massive pile of dog shit. The stuff oozes up the sides of their shoe, and they say, in a panic, “Oh my God, I’ve got secretary all over me.” She clearly thought of me as a pile of shit.
“Natalie, I wouldn’t expect you to take orders from a secretary,” I said soothingly. “Last Thursday, I was a secretary. Today’s Monday. And today, I’m the chief executive officer. I’m sure a nerd,” and I put as much disgust in my voice when I said nerd as she had used when spitting out the word secretary, “can figure it out.”
I gathered up my things and left her with one parting shot. “I expect to hear from you by the end of the day.”
The stalker was fuming. Angry. How dare she come in here and question our work? Furious. That little bitch. The stalker could taste bile rising from a roiling stomach. She knows nothing. Nothing about Phoenix. Enraged. Nothing about the lives we have saved. Incensed. Through clenched teeth the stalker pictured her dead. Lying on the ground in the orange light.
I motioned for Carrie to follow me as I stormed through her office area into my office.
“So what’s up with Natalie Scott?” I asked her. Secretaries, the good ones anyway, always had a pulse on the personalities.
Carrie shrugged her shoulders. “Is she doing her ice queen routine?”
“Yeah. And I definitely don’t like it. Is she always like this?”
“Most of the time. Not when she was around Mr. Connaught though.”
“Well, that’s to be expected. Most employees are usually on their best behaviour around the boss. Although she didn’t show it today.”
“Maybe she’s having a little trouble with you being boss,” Carrie offered insightfully.
“That I figured out. But I caught other undercurrents. Like I’d pissed in her Corn Flakes or something.”
Carrie blushed a little at my profanity but gave me a blank look.
“Carrie, it’d be really helpful if you knew something and shared it with me. I don’t encourage gossip…” Which was a bold-faced lie, because as a secretary I used to thrive on it. Not the malicious type of gossip, but the threads of information that good secretaries would sew together so they could have the complete picture. I was a student of human behaviour, because how people treated me and acted around me dictated how we worked together.
Carrie continued to give me a dumb blonde look. Wide eyes and innocence. A wall had definitely gone up.
“Come on Carrie. Spill. Share. If I’m going to have a chance, I’ll need input from you. I’m a big girl and can handle it. You never gossiped with Tommy did you?”
She shook her head.
“You probably would’ve eventually, when you’d been together longer. We’ve only been at this a day. But considering the circumstances, a little help here would be appreciated. Whatever information you give me will stay between the two of us.”
“They had a relationship. Mr. Connaught and Nat.”
Now it was my time to snort. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope.” She held up a two finger salute. “Girl Scout’s promise. I swear.”
“Who knew?”
“Only a few people. Although Mr. Connaught never actually came out and told me. Not that it was any of my business.”
I lit a cigarette and walked over to the window. Tommy and Natalie. Somehow I couldn’t picture it. She was so mealy-mouthed and tight. What did he see in her? I felt Carrie’s hand on my shoulder.
“But it was over, Kate.” She said this to make me feel better, as if I was hurt, just because Tommy was in a relationship with someone.
“It’s okay Carrie. Tommy and I were divorced. Many years ago. He was free to do what he wanted. I’m just having trouble picturing the two of them together. When did he break it off?”
“He didn’t. Natalie ended the relationship. About a month and a half ago.”
Somehow that made me feel a little better. When Tommy had left me the message on my machine in Toronto last week, asking me to come to New York, his voice was inviting. He wouldn’t have teased me like that if he’d been involved with someone. My thoughts were interrupted by something Carrie had said.
“Pardon?”
“I said, she ended the relationship when Mr. Connaught cut off the funding to her pet project. She was livid.”
Bingo. I’d just tripped over suspect number one with a motive.
chapter sixteen
While I was thinking malicious thoughts of how well the moniker murderess fit Natalie Scott, Rudolph Valentino the undertaker called. He wanted to know if I had thought any more about a memorial service for Mr. Connaught. I hadn’t and I was ashamed to admit it. Tommy deserved better than a quick cremation with yours truly as the only mourner. So I lied and told him I was still calling people and he’d hear from me within the next couple of hours.
Steve Holliday was surprised and a little embarrassed when I showed up at his office door.
“Katie, come in.”
The sound of his voice coupled with him calling me Katie gave me a shiver reminiscent of someone dragging their fingernails over a chalkboard.
“Kate,” I told him. “Or Kathleen. Please.”
“Sure.” He motioned at a chair in front of his desk. I ignored the offer.
“I need your help. Arrangements have to be made for a memorial service for Tommy. I don’t know any of his friends, co-workers or business acquaintances. You seemed like the best place to start.”
“Let me look after it,” he offered. When and where were the only two things he asked and I felt relieved to leave the whole thing in his hands.
“Tomorrow. Late in the day.” And I gave him the name of the funeral parlor. “Call Mr. Theodore Bradley. He’s dying to hear from us.” I chuckled at my little pun but Steve didn’t get it.
My next task was to get through a two-hour sales meeting pretending I understood what was being talked about. I was pleasantly surprised that the language was English and I that did understand. Status reports were given on current bids and RFPs, and the status of contract negotiations on bids we had won. The Vice President of Sales, Mark Hall, assured me that everything was on track and there were no surprises coming up. I listened closely for sounds of condescension in his voice but there were none. I decided I liked him. He wasn’t flashy and didn’t speak out of the side his mouth as you would expect from a sales type.
“Is there anything else you need to know at this point, Miss Monahan?” he asked me. “Any questions for any of the staff here at the meeting or anything we can get back to you on?” Mark sounded sincere.
“No. Thank you,” I said gratefully. This was such a change from the marble gargoyles I’d met from research and development.
I found two memos on my desk when I returned from the sales meeting. The first one was a very short note from Natalie Scott, stating that she intended to stay on at Phoenix (as if that were her choice, I thought) and continue to lead the R and D team. No apology and no indication that she had any remorse for the way she behaved. I had no idea how to deal with Nat Scott and frankly didn’t have the stomach for the stress of having to fire someone this early in the game.
The second memo was from Steve Holliday outlining the arrangement
s for the memorial service. It was scheduled for 3:00 p.m. the next day (Steve said in his memo we wouldn’t get as big a turn-out if we held it after 5:00 p.m.), he had pulled some strings and managed to get a small notice put in the New York Times for the next day’s publication, he had put all of the ‘girls’ (I sucked air through my teeth at the nerve of him putting that on paper) in the office on the phone calling all the business associates, and he had sent out an all-points-memorandum by e-mail to Phoenix employees. And I was to kindly let him know if there were any of our personal acquaintances I wished to invite.
The day was taking its toll and a low grade headache was starting to throb at the back of my head. Time to end this workday and go home. Which was a good idea until Carrie knocked on my door and announced that the police were here and needed to speak to me.
Detectives Bartlett and Shipley helped themselves to the chairs in front of my desk. If it was possible, Shipley looked even more rumpled and frumpy than the last time she was here, and not for the first time I wondered if her persona was a little bit faked. Like Columbo’s. I remembered her as being sharp and abrasive in her questioning. Today though, Bartlett started off.
“Ms. Monahan, we’d like you to tell us about the last time you spoke with Mr. Connaught.”
“I think I told you this already. The first time you were here to talk to me?”
They both stared back at me, not saying word, waiting.
Fuck it. “The last time I spoke with Mr. Connaught was about six months ago. He was in Toronto on business and we had dinner.” I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest.
Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions Page 9