Otter Under Fire

by Dakota Rose Royce

  “That’s what I meant by not compatible.”

  “So what is the catch?”

  “He’s from the coroner’s office. He works with the dead.”

  “Oh,” Tempest said and thought about it a minute. “You’ll probably like that.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means you’re the kind of person that goes to exhibits that have plasticized cadavers and body parts. It means you’ll probably have a lot to talk about.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, but I think it would be great if you met a man who had the same intellectual capacity as you do.”

  “Well we’ll see if he calls me.”

  “And then this very strange funeral you went to.”

  “The minister was very kind in speaking about people who kill themselves, but you could see that it was an extremely taboo thing.”

  “It is in most places.”

  “You know what is really bugging me? Nobody at the shop who knew him seriously thinks he killed himself. That means that he could have been murdered. That also means that if someone actually killed him, they took more than his life.”

  “How so?” Tempest put her empty carton down for the cats to clean up.

  “Clark was born and lived his life in his church. He was a Bishop and he had many connections and friends. If his good name and fellowship have been taken away…” Otter stopped and stared off into space.

  “They killed his humanity,” Tempest said.

  Otter made sure the chocolate syrup was gone and then put the empty ice cream container on the floor for Spooky to clean out.

  “No,” she said, “I think it’s more like they stole his soul.”

  Michael Redfield strode down the hallway to the conference room on a Friday afternoon. He was tall, athletically built and radiated an immense personal energy—which made him appear larger than life. He could have been an absentee owner and president of Arizona Techno-Thermal, but instead he was very much a part of its day to day operation. He prided himself on running an efficient organization and being a thoughtful and benevolent boss and he believed he knew his people well.

  Clark’s suicide had thrown him an unexpected curveball.

  He had felt guilty—that maybe he had put too much pressure on a man who had just recovered from a grave illness. Maybe he should have eased him into the position instead of dropping him into the deep end of the pool. He said as much to his wife the night before. She had pointed out that instead he had gifted a helpless man with the means to take care of his family. His confidence in Clark had made Clark bloom in new ways and gave him the ability to recover his pride in himself. She was as stunned as everyone else over Clark’s death since she knew him too, but it wasn’t Michael’s fault and he needed to stop blaming himself.

  Of course she was right. She usually was. He had married later than many of his contemporaries, but he had certainly chosen the right woman to be his life partner and the mother of his children. So this morning there was more life in his step as he made his way to this meeting that Clark had pushed for.

  Michael was under no illusions as to why Clark had wanted this meeting. He wanted Ron Defray’s sphere of influence limited. It was also no secret that he wanted someone on the floor that not only wasn’t afraid to stand up to Defray, but was capable of running all the aspects of the shop as well. Fortunately, he had planned these moves months ago and it had conveniently fit into Clark’s request.

  He opened the door to the conference room where his general manager, Mitch Balan was waiting with Mackenzie. Ah yes, Mackenzie. He was aware that most people called her Otter, but he liked calling her Mackenzie, first of all because it was his wife’s name[6] too and secondly because he was her boss and her superior.

  But she did make him laugh. She usually made a point of telling him some funny story first thing in the morning when he got in. Of all his managers, she had the most efficient department. When she took over his furnaces and machining operations, the production soared. Customers liked her, vendors liked her and nearly everyone on the floor liked her.

  Except for Defray that is, Defray was his problem child. He was going to have to deal with Defray sometime soon, but not right now. His immediate concern was restructuring his shop, as he had many times since Mackenzie had talked him into hiring her. Every move he had made had made it a better company and a better place to work.

  “Good morning Mackenzie,” Michael said pleasantly, “sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No problem. Mitch and I were able to take some time to talk about some ideas I had for one of the furnaces.” Otter said.

  “They’re interesting,” Mitch said to Michael. “I think it falls into some of your plans for the shop.” Mitch spoke in heavily accented English and was built short and powerfully much like the people he came from in central Europe.

  “Well we’ll have to put them on the itinerary for our next shop meeting.” Michael said, “Right now we have other things to discuss.”

  “Mackenzie,” Mitch said, “we would like to promote you to our shop coordinator.”

  Correctly interpreting her expression Michael said: “Defray is no longer the production manager. He won’t be your boss.”

  “I see,” Otter said, “So, who will be the production manager?”

  “Right now, that will be Mitch and me,” Michael said. “You will answer to us.”

  “Well I already do,” Otter said with a smile, “and I’ve been pretty happy with that arrangement.”

  “So have we,” Mitch said. “I don’t think you will have too much trouble making the transition. You already work with all the department heads, the only difference is that you would be in charge.”

  That sounded pretty nifty to Otter. She thought for a moment.

  “Who would be taking my place?”

  “We’d have Gonzo fill in as much as he can, but you will still be the primary in your department, “Mitch said. “We’re working on hiring you an assistant, but it may be some time before we find the right person.”

  “I’m afraid we won’t be taking a lot from you, and giving you a lot more responsibility,” Michael said. “But I think you would be up to it.”

  “Well, all the department heads are really good people,” Otter said, “most of them anyway.”

  “And with your leadership they will be better.” Michael said.

  “That’s putting a lot of faith in me.”

  “Not unfounded,” Michael said, “You run your department very well. I’d like to see them all run in a coordinated effort. I believe you can do that. And of course if you need anything, you know you can always come to one of us.”

  “What about Defray?” Otter asked.

  “You leave him to us,” Mitch said. “We have a project that will keep him busy for a while. If he gives you any trouble, more than you can handle, you just let us know.”

  “We will meet again in a week,” Michael said, “to go over the long range planning for the shop. You will see where I want us to go and we can discuss how you will help get us there.”

  “And we are going to give you a bigger, faster computer and give you all of Clark’s files. He knew a lot of the plans we had and he was outlining a strategy.”

  “OK.”

  “Now that you’ve been told, we’ll start everything fresh on Monday. Give you the weekend to recover. Defray will be pulled out of production and you will step into your new position.”

  “Ok,”

  “And this was what we were thinking for your pay scale.” Michael said.

  Otter was pulled between the shock of an unexpected promotion and the really good news of a substantial raise. She knew she had some serious work cut out for her. The boss and the GM made it sound like it was going to be a piece of cake and Defray was going to be easily pulled away from his current responsibilities. She wasn’t fooled for a minute. Her job was about to get really hard.

  One of the many reasons t
hat Tempest and Otter bought a duplex together and joined it as one dwelling was it made an ideal party house. Neither of them could have afforded a big house with a huge kitchen, living room and patio for entertaining on their own. About once every six weeks or so Tempest would have a large, casual business party and Otter was encouraged to invite her friends.

  All three cats loved it when there was a party. Spooky liked them because people would feed him great party food. He would fall asleep on his back under a table and have extremely noxious farts for three or four days afterward. Mouse, the grey smoky girl kitty loved parties because Otter would put little pink fairy wings on her back and she would pole dance for all the guests. She didn’t want to be petted and she didn’t want food, she just wanted an appreciative audience. Stella loved parties because she liked to play with Duke, Susan’s dog. They would chase each other around the party goers and wrestle in the corners.

  Once Tempest heard about Otter’s promotion, she started her party planning right away.

  “We have to celebrate this.” She said broking no argument, “It’s extremely important.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “What does a shop coordinator do?”

  “It’s scheduling mostly,” Otter admitted, “And making sure that the departments work together toward a common goal.”

  “You would think that was the production manager’s job.”

  “You would think, but most of our production managers have known little about cooperation.”

  “So you’re coordinating, but you’re not the production manager.”

  “Correct.”

  “Is this a management position?”

  “It’s assistant managerial.”

  “So you’d be the only woman manager.”

  “First and only, as far as I know.”

  “Cool, you should be proud.”

  “I am, a little. I’m also a little overwhelmed. I’ll just have to take it slowly and see how it goes.”

  “You’ll be great. You had the same thoughts a few years ago when they gave you your department.”

  “True, but I didn’t have to deal with Defray so much then.”

  “They said Defray would be taken care of, didn’t they?”

  “I’m just allowing myself the luxury of dreading our first encounter since this all happened,” Otter said. “It’s not going to be fun.”

  “You might get bruised some,” Tempest admitted, “but you wouldn’t be the Otter I know and love if you didn’t have a way to twist it to your advantage in a big way.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “I think that this time I’m going to have El Toreador cater the party again. They did such a great job last time.”

  “Their food had people fighting over it before they made it big. Are you sure you can get them to schedule us in on such short notice?”

  “They wouldn’t be so big if it wasn’t for me,” Tempest said modestly, “besides they are really lovely people who were some of my first clients. I don’t think we’ll have any problem.”

  “If you say so,” Otter shrugged. Not dealing with making party food was OK by her.

  “I’m thinking a week from today. It will be far enough from Labor Day and not close enough to Halloween.”

  “Ok. Sounds good,”

  “And I’ll tell Susan to invite that guy that works with dead people to the party. Then you get to meet him casually. If you don’t like him, then you won’t be stuck trying to escape out of a bad date.”

  “Ok, that sounds like a great idea, what do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing, this is your party. I’ll invite the same folks and some new clients, but it will be a celebration for you. Of course, you invite whomever you want.”

  “Thank you. This is really nice of you.”

  “You’d do the same for me, and have. Besides we haven’t had a party in weeks.”

  Marvin Jones was having a party of his own. He didn’t know how it had started, but he was feeling fantastic. He stood on the roof of the building across from the Hotel. He could see the Forest Township Library next door and the sub shop that was kitty corner across the street. He felt like he was flying.

  In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t supposed to drink and do drugs anymore. He hadn’t been involved in them for a long time. His faith had pulled him through those years of addiction and helped him make a new life for himself. Right now he was fuzzy on how he got the booze and drugs and how he got up on this roof. He was in his shirtsleeves and the weather in Michigan was getting downright cold. He shivered a little. He spotted his friend and brightened a little. He hadn’t seen her in years.

  “Guy was here looking for you last week,” he told her. “I hope he found you ok.”

  “Yes, he found me. I wanted to see you and thank you for your help.”

  “Glad to do it.” Marvin preened. “I showed him our old yearbook and all your pictures from back then. He seemed surprised. I am too, kind of, you don’t look any diff…diff…different than you did back in 1983.”

  “Thank you. I worked hard on my looks.”

  It didn’t stop her from being homely, Marvin thought in his drug induced haze, but that was an un-Christian way to think.

  “So what are we doing up on the roof? Just like old times, eh?” He giggled a little. “We used to sneak up on the roof of a lot of the old buildings downtown when we were kids.”

  “Yes, that’s where we would party,” she said. “I wanted it to be like old times.”

  “I don…don…don’t drink nomore. Ish no good for me.” Marvin felt himself getting more buzzed by the minute. He was swaying now and could only stagger. He headed for the ladder to climb down and stop his head from spinning.

  “Oh no, don’t go yet. I want you to see something.”

  Marvin stood at the edge of the roof obediently and tried to focus at where she was pointing. He barely felt the push that sent him to the concrete below.

  She sped south on M15 toward Davison to pick up her things and then on to Bishop Airport and back to where it was warm. She would come back another day and check out Columbiaville and maybe see the place where she used to live. Columbiaville was where she burned down the family home with her parents in it. Lucky for them they were already dead at the time.

  She had been young then, but she already knew she had to get rid of the people who knew her secret. But that trip down memory lane would have to be when it was warmer. She didn’t miss the Michigan winters one iota. No matter how hot it got in Phoenix, it wasn’t anywhere as bad as a blizzard in Michigan.

  Besides she had someone else on her list. That bitch didn’t warrant killing just yet, but she was too smart for her own good. She had a tendency to figure things out and she surely didn’t need that smart ass poking her nose into places where it didn’t belong.

  But from now on, she was going to be on Otter Watch.

  Annie was smug when she got in the car on Monday morning. No Monday morning blahs this morning, Otter thought. Annie was downright sparkly. She handed Otter a small package.

  “A little something to congratulate you on your promotion, “she said. Otter opened the gift to find a small homemade carrot cake. Annie’s baking was so good, it was lethal and carrot cake was Otter’s favorites.

  “Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you.”

  “I had to make three before I could get this away from the mob,” Annie said cheerfully. “Everyone in my family seems to have a sixth sense when I’m thinking about baking something special. Suddenly I had a house full of kids and grandkids. You’re lucky I could beat them off long enough to get this one frosted.”

  Otter laughed. “Well thank you for going through all the trouble,” she said. I’ll save this for when I go home.”

  “There’s enough for you and Tempest to have a few pieces each,” Annie said “enjoy. And now I can say, I told you so.”

  “Told me so about what?”

  “That they would make you produc
tion manager,”

  “Well, they haven’t.”

  “Technicalities,” Annie said dismissively. “You have the extra work and responsibilities but not the title.”

  “No, actually, I have the authority and the responsibility, but I don’t have the headaches. There is still someone over me that makes all the big hairy decisions. I just have to get product out the door. It’s pretty much like I’ve been doing all along.”

  “You just hold onto that dream, kiddo.” Annie said with a grin.

  “Hey Mee ha, big shot jefe.” Gonzo sang as she walked in the door. “I told you. I said you gonna make big shot jefe.”

  “I’m not a big shot. I’m the coordinating big shot. That makes me not much more than I was before.”

  Gonzo rolled his eyes expressively. “You wait, you see. I’ll help you. That’s why you keep me around because I help you.”

  “I keep you around because your wife makes the best Christmas tamales on the planet,” Otter said, “Otherwise I’d kick you to the curb.”

  Gonzo let out a big belly laugh and headed toward his department. She could hear him yelling at the guys at their machines. “Hey everyone, big shot jefe says everyone get to work. She wants us to make her look good.” There were hoots, whistles and catcalls from the guys and she just shook her head. They weren’t going to stop teasing her about this for a long time.

  “Congratulations, Mackenzie,” a voice behind her said. She turned to see Ron Defray. To her never ending shock, he put out his hand. “If someone had to take over the floor, I’m glad it was you,” he said.

  Otter shook his hand, not sure what to say.

  “Thank you,” she managed.

  “I’m going to have some big projects and I hope you will work with me to get them through the machines when I need them.”

  “Of course,”

  “I’m getting Clark’s office. When the boss gets here, I will get the keys. So if you need any help, you’ll know where to find me.” Defray rolled his bullet casing around in his fingers, Otter noticed that he had polished it.

  “Thank you for letting me know,” she said. As she watched him limp away—his gout must be acting up again--she felt like she had just escaped some horrible fate.