1 Executive Lunch

by Maria E. Schneider

  She didn't answer for a minute. I went to the doorway to find her dusting the kitchen bar.

  She didn't look up, but said, "County tax record."

  That was interesting. And of all the people that Huntington was trying to fool when he "sold" me the condo, Ms. Harrison wasn't even in the running. "How did you know to look there?"

  "Used to work in the courthouse."

  "Oh. Guess your husband didn't like you working there." She didn't answer. I shook my head and went back to sorting my bills. How did one go from having a job to letting some freak run your life? Since I didn't expect her to say anything else, I almost missed what she said next.

  "I was only sixteen. Wasn't supposed to be working there when I met him. My mom lied so I could get the job."

  I was twenty-six. She looked older than me. Just how long had she been putting up with the beatings? I went back to the doorway. "Your husband made you quit?"

  "He said I didn't have to work. He would take care of me." She glanced up. "I didn't want to go back home. Mom had enough problems."

  I didn't want to know what they were. "Did he hit--did he always treat you like he does now?"

  "Nah. He didn't hit me until a couple of years ago." She moved around to the kitchen table and checked it for dust and then began sweeping. "Only a little and not like now. Hardly at all, you know?"

  No, I didn't know. Just an occasional slap here and there that had over the years turned into a life-threatening situation. I was saved from an answer when the doorbell rang. It wasn't the buzzer from downstairs, so it had to be Huntington. Michael or one of his cohorts always announced all the other visitors. Huntington just popped up of his own accord.

  Trying to act nonchalant, I answered the door. "Huntington." I didn't get out of his way.

  He waved Chinese food at me. "I brought dinner. We need to discuss our lack of progress."

  It wasn't my fault I looked so wholesome no one had crawled out of the woodwork and offered me illegal deals. "Oh. Well. Now isn't a good time." There was probably no real harm in Huntington meeting my cleaning lady, but we couldn't sit and chat business with her around.

  He moved forward. I had no choice but to make a scene or back up.

  "Did you bring enough for three?" I asked. "Marilyn is here today. Remember, uh, we talked about cleaning."

  He paused in the living room. "I think Michael mentioned you had a visitor. There's plenty."

  Marilyn stood in the dining area, looking like a trapped animal. I gave a mental sigh. "Can you set three plates?" I asked her. "Grab whatever you want to drink. I'll get a diet soda. Huntington likes that mineral water stuff that's under the bar."

  Huntington put the takeout on the table. It was from the same place as before. It was good stuff, and they weren't shy with the portions. I wasn't certain that Marilyn would eat a thing, but that wasn't going to stop me from offering. She was skinny enough to be classified as anorexic.

  She set the table, all the while stealing looks in my direction, begging me to let her out of this. No way. I smiled at her and took my seat. "Do you like Chinese?"

  She shook her head in instant denial.

  "Oh," I stood up, "then I'll make you a sandwich."

  For a moment, she stood in indecision. I thought she might run for the door, but then she sat with a whoosh. "No, no, I like it."

  "You sure?"

  She almost got up enough nerve to glare at me, but dropped her eyes to the plate instead.

  Huntington ignored us both and served generous portions of steamed rice and stir-fried vegetables with beef. There was also a container of hot pepper shrimp that was delicious enough to put any woman off her diet. "Where do you get this?" It was hard to talk around my mouth full of food.

  "Happy Family Chinese. It's two blocks over on Tinnet."

  I grinned at Marilyn, and then had to nudge her under the table to get her to look at me. She jumped. I thought she might go for the door again. "Make a note of it. I might add it to the grocery list."

  She stared at me without answering. I doubt she had heard Huntington at all. Maybe she was worried about dropping rice on her lap. Maybe she just lived in fear all the time.

  Dinner was less than entertaining. Marilyn sat hunched over waiting for disaster. When I was finally more than full, I dragged Huntington towards the study. I shooed him into the other room and bounced back into the kitchen. "If you need to stay here, just hang out until he leaves," I whispered.

  She shook her head. "No, no. I'm going now. Soon." Her face hadn't looked that great when she showed up. Now it looked a little green and quite panicked.

  "Marilyn." I waited until she looked up. "It isn't a big deal. Just hang out if you need to."

  Her unease kept her still. She didn't have any nervous habits, at least not visible ones. "I don't really need to stay here tonight." Her eyes darted to the study door, but it was still securely closed. "Is your boyfriend going to stay?"

  I nearly choked. Granted, I had been friendlier with Huntington than ever before, but I was trying to make everyone feel at home. "No!" More quietly, I repeated, "No. We just have some work stuff to go over."

  She nodded with her eyes back on the floor. "I don't need a place. I'm almost done."

  I hoped she meant with the cleaning, not her life. "Take the leftover Chinese food if you want it."

  She didn't bother to answer.

  Instead of putting her through the agony of making an excuse, I scurried back to the study before Huntington could get too suspicious. He ignored me when I entered. He had taken the only chair, the big leather one at the desk. "We're going to need more furniture if we're going to be working in here," he said.

  Cool. I had been wondering how to broach the subject. He had walked right into it. "Yeah, I was thinking it could use a bed." If Marilyn ever did decide to trust me enough to stay, she needed a better place to sleep than the couch.

  He obviously wasn't pleased with the trap because his mouth worked a few times before he managed, "A bed?"

  "Sure!" I flourished my arm in my best Vanna White imitation. "A bed over in this corner and maybe an easy chair to sit in." I bounced over to the spot for the chair. "And I hate that chair you're in. Something a little less ostentatious and practical would look better. Then the recliner and bed will fit into the room and be comfortable and cozy."

  He blinked and opened his mouth again. His face got red, a total over-reaction to a relatively inexpensive shopping request. "If you just buy a double bed, there will probably be room for a dresser too. A twin would work though if you want to save money."

  "Were…you planning on us discussing business in the cozy bed or the comfortable chair?"

  My mouth fell open. I reviewed the conversation. Maybe it hadn't been such a great time to bring up my plans after all. "Uh…" My face flamed, almost matching his reaction.

  He swiveled around in the chair, his blue eyes studying me and then the room. "Then again, I can see where it might improve things."

  The room was suddenly way too warm. "Uh--"

  From the kitchen, Marilyn turned on the dishwasher.

  "I could be persuaded to your way of thinking." There was a definitely happy sparkle in his eyes. I wasn't sure if he was teasing me or just laughing at the situation.

  "I was actually planning a sort of guest room look," I squeaked out.

  He stroked his chin, focused on me completely now. His eyes were very blue. "Really."

  "Really," I said. "To, you know, perk…" I stopped breathing because I was just making things worse.

  For a moment I think he was holding his breath, but then he spun the chair back to the desk.

  From the kitchen, the pantry door closed.

  I was very quiet. Speechless in fact. He looked up at me after a moment. "Maybe a queen bed." He smiled, a cat thinking about a mouse. "Maybe all this shopping of yours will take my mind off the fact that we just lost another load of equipment."

  I sucked in much needed air. "Equipment?"
I was at a distinct disadvantage, not sure about the strange tingling in my fingertips that was probably due to lack of oxygen. I stayed in my spot way at the other end of the room.

  "Of course a bed isn't likely to get stolen. We could keep a close eye on it." He glanced over at me and laughed out loud. "I'll see about the bed. Never hurts to be prepared."

  I rolled my eyes heavenward and prayed for deliverance.

  He dug papers out of his briefcase. "I came over to let you know that more equipment went missing after the conference. Equipment that was supposedly ordered for demonstrations that wasn't needed. Turbo happened to notice there was enough stuff to give about five extra demonstrations."

  It took me a minute to change my train of thought, but it didn't take me long to figure out the equipment he was referring to. "It can't be missing! I saw all that stuff..." I thought hard. "It was still there on Wednesday...no Thursday." I had gone back to check. There had been lots of boxes back there.

  "You saw it? What about Friday?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know. The break down was scheduled for Friday. I left Friday morning, but I didn't go back to the ballroom before leaving." I raised empty palms. "I saw no need to. I only went back there the second time--"

  He waited. I stared at him, wondering if it mattered. There was no reason not to tell him. "I was back there the first time on Monday." I told him about Kathy's accident. "I went back because I couldn't figure out how she hit her head, but there was nothing suspicious back there. I heard someone else back there on Monday, but it could have been anyone looking for replacements. I thought at the time that it was Turbo, but it couldn't have been because he had already been sent back. The boxes were still there on Thursday."

  Huntington tapped a pen against the desk. "Those stacks definitely disappeared. There was enough extra stuff for five or six demos."

  "Are you sure it's those specific boxes? Maybe it was other stuff that went missing, things from the actual demonstrations."

  "I gave Turbo a copy of everything that was ordered for the demonstrations. Since he and Bruce were setting things up, I figured they could keep track. Most of the missing stuff was the stuff that was unused, and there was a lot of it."

  Turbo was good with details. He probably counted the screws. "So where did the stuff go? How did someone get to Allen?"

  Huntington pulled more documents out of his briefcase. "I don't know. My guess is that Allen isn't the one still stealing from the ballot box."

  "It could be Allen," I said, thinking of him sending Turbo and Bruce back. Then, I shook my head. "Or anyone, dammit." The extra equipment had been stacked behind Dan's partition. He'd been wheeling and dealing, but in all fairness, I couldn't see him hand-selling heavy boxes of hard drives to someone willing to slip him some cash. He certainly could have told someone where the equipment was waiting--but for that matter, even Kathy could have supplied that information. Anyone that walked behind the partitions could have seen it. But how did they get the stuff out of the conference without anyone seeing?

  Huntington handed me a sheet that listed equipment.

  I found my own demo equipment on the list easily enough. Two servers were circled and fifty disk drives. I hadn't needed that many disk drives. I never would have known there were extras at all if one hadn't died. I scanned the other demos while Huntington explained the bad news.

  "Looks like the folks behind this scheme have already found another contact, and it isn't you. They managed to pad the equipment order without any trouble. Maybe they were working on finding a replacement for Allen before we got wind of the scheme."

  "But Allen or Gary or someone still has to sign off on this stuff!"

  Huntington shrugged. "Allen is in this thing up to his neck. He was getting a cut from the charity thing already and even more money once he started cashing checks on his own. His signature or lack thereof doesn't mean a thing unless we can prove he is pocketing the money."

  In disgust, I looked through the expense report, adding up numbers in my head. I didn't know exact prices, but there were thousands of dollars worth of equipment marked as missing. The end of the list contained line items for other conference expenses. The conference itself was an enormous cost with the hotel fees, food, travel expenses and extras. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw that a big decorated cake with Strandfrost's name, logo and miniature candy computers had cost seven hundred dollars. The missing equipment money was simply swallowed inside the sheer number of items.

  I almost skipped over the miscellaneous section, but one of the items caught my attention. "Who is Debra Honel of Signs Inc?" I asked. All of the signs had to be done long before the conference--not at the conference like the charge implied. That fact probably wasn't obvious to Huntington, but I recalled the banners. Most of them were heavy-duty plastic and large enough to stretch several feet. Those things didn't get done overnight.

  He pulled the papers back from me. "Her?" he found the listing. "I have no idea, why do you ask?"

  I answered slowly. "No big deal." I didn't want to sound paranoid, and I'd already looked like an idiot quite enough. Still, I was curious. I got a pen and paper from my backpack and wrote her name and business down along with the cake company, "Catering for You." There was another one called, "Superior Presentations" that looked funny to me. As far as I knew, every one of us did our own presentations, so I couldn't imagine why Strandfrost might be billed by an outside company.

  Luckily, I knew just the person that could tell me about these services and probably in more detail than I actually needed.

  Chapter 26

  First thing in the morning I went to visit Sally. I had to wait until she got off the phone, but when it was my turn, I asked, "Do you know a Debra Honel that does signs for Strandfrost?"

  "Signs? I don't know about that, but she sits down on six, I think."

  "Marketing?"

  Sally laughed. "No, silly. She's an admin, like me. Why?"

  An administrative assistant. What was she doing charging for signs? Maybe there was a mistake. Maybe she had ordered the signs and her name was down for the business. "I dunno. Do you ever use "Catering for You" or "Superior Presentations?"

  Again she nodded, but this time she leaned forward. "I think Debra uses that caterer." She wrinkled her nose. "And I'm pretty sure Superior Presentations is run by a buddy of Dan's. You know those good old grabby boys hang together."

  "The guy from Superior Presentations grabbed you?" I was aghast. Just how many pigs were running through these hallways anyway?

  "Oh no. I've never met him. I just know he works with Dan. I get requests from Dan for their work all the time. They do some sort of setup for the conferences."

  "What about the catering place? Have you ever used them?"

  "I can look it up." She pulled up the expense reports. "I've heard the name before…I think I did get it from Debra…Here it is." She smiled. "Yup, looks like I set something up for the Tamarron conference."

  "Do you remember what you ordered?"

  "Frankly I don't remember ordering this stuff at all, but I did a lot of stuff for different people." She thought about it. "The hotel could have called it in. Or they could have needed something and just tacked it on the end. Allen signed it. Maybe they had him sign it at the conference."

  Yeah maybe. Maybe not.

  I wandered down to the sixth floor and scanned offices until I found Debra.

  "Hi, I'm Sedona O'Hala. I was wondering if you could help me order some signs."

  "Sedona? The one that beat up those intruders? Cool!" She was younger than me by several years, probably just out of high school. She was shorter and rounder also.

  "Well, uh, I guess."

  "Signs? What kind of signs?"

  "Oh well, I saw that you did some ordering for the Tamarron conference. I thought maybe you could give me the contact name." The paperwork actually said she was owner of the business that got paid, but I didn't think telling her that was a good idea.<
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  She shrugged. "Sure. But you have to order at least six to eight weeks ahead. These people are not fast." She pulled out a folder and extracted a sheet. "Let me run a copy. These are all in town, and the first two will expedite."

  She walked to the copier with me and gave me a copy. "Do you want me to look up the Tamarron stuff? See who did the stuff?"

  I scanned the list she gave me. There wasn't anyone close to a Debra Honel on there. "No, that's okay. For some reason, I thought there was a sign company that we used that had your name on it. Thought maybe you were related or something."

  She grinned. "Nah, not that I know of. That first guy is the best one as far as I'm concerned. If any of my relatives go into the business, I'll let you know!"

  I hurried out before she could ask me any more questions.

  Back at my office, I left Huntington a page. He called me back, but since talking over the phone wasn't a good idea, he said he would stop by the condo again. I could have complained about the intrusion, but in all honesty I didn't have plans. That kind of annoyed me. I needed to beef up my private life. As in, get one.

  This time he didn't bring dinner, but Marilyn had gotten groceries, so I started browning hamburger for a casserole. I was going to miss her when this was over. Having her around to do the shopping was a fabulous perk.

  Since Huntington was getting impatient, I explained while I cooked. "That sign company on the list you showed me looked out of place so I asked around. I actually found a Debra Honel, but she doesn't do signs. She's an admin at Strandfrost. A couple of other businesses on there don't make much sense either." I set the table. "Do you have that list you brought with you last time?"

  He got up and grabbed it out of his briefcase.

  I showed him the names of the companies. "Superior Presentations might be legitimate. Dan could be using them to do his presentations. I didn't want to dig too deep there because Dan wouldn't tell me if the building were on fire." I pointed to the next one. "Sally didn't actually order any catering. Even if she had there is no reason for the resort to have sent a separate catering bill. If they hired an outside caterer, they would add their own slice to it and bill it so it would be a charge going to the hotel expense, not to an outside caterer."