The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

by B R Snow

  “And you’re Wendell Powers?” I said, smiling as I reached into my bag and pulled out two copies of the business plan and set them down in front of me.

  “I am,” he said, fiddling with his pen again.

  “Vice President of Commercial Lending?”

  “Senior Vice President,” he said, flashing a quick smile at my mistake. “I understand you’d like to borrow some money.”

  “Yes, I would,” I said, sitting back in my chair.

  We sized each other up. It wasn’t hard to do. He was already figuring out a way to give me a polite but firm no in the shortest amount of time possible, while I was determined to confirm the reasons for his refusal, no matter how long it took. Fortunately, I’d come prepared for a lengthy battle. I reached into my bag and pulled out a fresh bag of Snickers.

  “Bite-sized?” I said, holding out the bag to him.

  “No, thanks,” he said, tight-lipped as he glanced down at the loan application I’d filled out online. “Let’s see, you’d like to borrow three million dollars.”

  I slid a copy of the business plan across the desk, and he stared down at it like it was cursed with a communicable disease.

  “Actually, I only need two-point-nine-five, but if you want to round up, that would be fine with me.”

  “Of course,” he said, then his tongue flickered like a lizard snatching a fly out of mid-air. “Let’s see what we have here. Hmmm. Wags. A dog toy business, correct?”

  “That’s the one,” I said, beaming at him as I popped one of the bite-sized and chewed.

  “This is strange,” he said, casually flipping through the document. “I just saw this exact business plan a few months ago.”

  “Really?” I said. “I did not know that.”

  “How is this possible?” he said, frowning at me.

  “You know, I’m not really sure, Wendell,” I said, getting a flinch out of him. Apparently, loan applicants didn’t often have the temerity to call him by his first name. “I assume it’s already made the rounds with various lending institutions. But I recently acquired the rights to the idea.”

  “I see. Good for you,” he said, still frowning as he tried to wrap his head around why a loan application he’d already killed off had resurfaced.

  “And I have a controlling interest in the company,” I said, popping another bite-sized. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of these?”

  “No, I’m fine,” he said, waving my offer off. “I’m afraid our bank has already turned this opportunity down. It was an interesting idea, but we decided to pass.”

  “You did?” It was my turn to frown. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  He stared at me like I had questioned the identity of his birth mother.

  “We had our reasons,” he said, miffed at my having the audacity to ask the question.

  “Yes, I’m sure you did. What were they?”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s really none of your concern,” he said, emitting a sound that reminded me of gurgling water. “But you can rest assured, they were very good reasons.”

  “I see,” I said, sliding the package of bite-sized back into my bag. “And none of the circumstances associated with those reasons have changed since you made your original decision?”

  “No,” he said softly. Then he gave me a puzzled look. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Oh, I just sort of put two and two together,” I said, draping a leg over my knee. “I thought I got four, but maybe I was wrong.”

  “I’m really not following the thread of this conversation,” he said, drawing indecipherable squiggles on his writing pad. “And if you’ll excuse me for cutting our meeting short, I have another appointment to get to.”

  “I just thought that the recent vacancy on your board of directors might be enough to make you reconsider the original decision.”

  He gave me a wide-eyed stare then tossed his pen aside.

  “What?”

  “The vacancy on your board.”

  “Who are you?” he whispered.

  “I’m Suzy. Suzy Chandler.”

  “Chandler?” he said, frowning. “Chandler. Where do I know that name from?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, knowing my lineage was about to be revealed.

  “Don’t tell me she’s your mother?” he said, still staring at me.

  “Yeah, she certainly is,” I said, shrugging. “But she’s not involved in this deal.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because it has nothing to do with her,” I said. “This is all about why you turned down an opportunity like the one in front of you.”

  “I told you,” he said, starting to backpedal. “We had our reasons.”

  “Well, now that Joshua Middleton is dead, I have to assume that those reasons have pretty much evaporated, right?”

  He flinched and sat back in his chair. I’d blown the fastball right by him. It felt good, and I wondered what to throw next. I decided to lob one in so he could get a bit of his confidence back.

  “Middleton was on your board, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” he eventually managed to get out.

  “Wow, that took a while,” I said, grinning. “It sounded like a pretty easy question.”

  “Who sent you?”

  “What?”

  “Who put you up to this?”

  “Put me up to what?” I said, feigning innocence. “I’m just a woman trying to secure a bank loan.”

  “Yeah, and I’m the Princess of Monaco.” He sat back in his chair, draped a leg over his knee, and steepled his fingers against his chin. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why you and the rest of the people who run this place agreed to Middleton’s demand.”

  “His demand?”

  “Yes, his demand that you not fund this project,” I said, pointing at the business plan. “It wouldn’t be because he was going to steal the idea, wasn’t he?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, shaking his head.

  “It’s okay, Wendell,” I said, nodding. “I’m sure your bank wasn’t unique. I imagine Middleton made the same demand to several other banks. He was on a lot of boards. Although it does appear that you and he had a very close working relationship.”

  “Mr. Middleton was a valued board member who will be sorely missed,” he said, staring off into the distance at a photo of himself with Middleton on a golf course. They had their arms around each other’s shoulder and were grinning at the camera like they owned the world. Which, I’m sure, was something on both of their bucket lists.

  “Yeah, I saw that exact comment on the press release you guys put out after he got killed,” I said, working my head back and forth until my neck popped. “Ah, that’s better. Long car rides just kill me.”

  He stared at me, unsure where to take the conversation next. I decided to help him out.

  “How much did Middleton plan on borrowing to get the dog toy business up and running?”

  “What?” he said, dazed.

  “I think three million is plenty, but I’m not a mogul like him. His vision was probably on a grander scale than mine. How big a loan did he want?” I said, hearing the irritation creeping into my voice. I couldn’t tell if his reaction was a total act, or if this was, in fact, his normal behavior. Either way, he was really starting to annoy me.

  Wendell tried to reclaim the higher ground, and he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “That’s a very interesting theory, Ms. Chandler, but one that’s highly offensive. And quite impossible to prove.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Wendell,” I said, grinning at him as I pointed at the numerous photos of them on the wall. “The two of you were very good buddies and undoubtedly had a long track record of working together. He was on your board, and, as I was very surprised to learn, you were on his.”

  “To coin a phrase, Ms. Chandler, what does that have to do with the price of fish?”

  “I d
on’t know. I don’t eat fish. But Middleton Enterprises is going through a rough patch, and he was dealing with a lot of anxious investors and shareholders. And then a world-class business idea gets laid on your desk. Just the sort of idea that Middleton had been asking you to keep an eye out for. We could spend all day debating it back and forth, but I imagine it would be easier just to find somebody with oversight responsibilities to do a little digging into your loan files. I’m pretty sure any investigator worth her salts could come up with all sorts of relevant information about your prior…transgressions.” I paused to take a breath and flash him my best smile. “The people I’ve been talking to are saying I’m thinking way too far out of the box on this one. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re out of your mind.”

  “Tomato, tomahto,” I said with a shrug.

  “It’s a ridiculous suggestion,” he said, deciding to try pouting.

  “But the dog toy line is an amazing idea that fits perfectly into Middleton’s business model. And it certainly has a lot more potential for growth than pet massage salons, wouldn’t you say?”

  He stared at me like Chef Claire had just tattooed him between the eyes with her bat.

  “Pet massage?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, I believe the name of the woman who came up with that idea is Wilma Firestone. Let me ask you a question, did you and Middleton only try to steal business ideas from female entrepreneurs, or were you guys gender-neutral?”

  “I’m going to ignore that comment,” he said, going for wounded pride, but coming up short.

  “You know, I’m still not sure if you were the one who brought the pet massage idea to Middleton, or if he just happened to stumble onto it when Wilma was doing the laying of hands thing on him. But it shouldn’t be hard to confirm it with her. Or with Victor Rollins for that matter.”

  “Victor Rollins?” Wendell said, raising an eyebrow at me. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “From what I saw the other day, I think he and Wilma are getting pretty tight,” I said, then decided to go with another white lie I was sure my mother would approve of. “And Victor and I go way back.”

  Wendell had apparently run out of ways to fend me off because he spread his arms wide and stared across the desk.

  “Okay, what do you want, Ms. Chandler?”

  “I want a business loan for three million bucks,” I said, shrugging. “And I also want to find out who killed Middleton.”

  “I’m sure we can take another look at the loan,” he said softly. “But I have no idea who killed Joshua.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” I said, shrugging at him as I stood up. “I’ll be going now, Wendell. Thanks for your time. Can I assume I’ll be hearing from you soon?”

  “Yes, you will,” Wendell said, getting up and extending his hand. “Our loan committee is meeting tomorrow. I will personally give you a call as soon as I get a decision.”

  “And that decision will be a yes, right?” I said, returning the handshake.

  “I’d be very surprised if it wasn’t, Ms. Chandler.”

  “Oh, call me, Suzy. Thank you, Wendell,” I said, beaming at him. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I tell you that I’m less than thrilled about that prospect at the moment,” he said flatly.

  “Don’t worry, Wendell,” I said, waving as I headed toward the door. “I’m sure I’ll grow on you.”

  “Yeah, like a fungus,” I heard him whisper on my way out of the office.

  But I was too keyed up to worry about the cheap shot at the moment. My neurons were firing on all cylinders, and I headed for my car through the torrential pounding of rain and snow that was turning the pavement into a pile of cold slush. Satisfied that it still wasn’t officially freezing rain, I climbed into the driver seat and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  “Fungus, huh?” I said as I waited for the call to connect. “Well played, Wendell.”

  Chapter 19

  “Ms. Chandler,” an irritated Victor Rollins said into the phone. “My assistant said you needed to speak to me about an urgent matter. What can I do for you?”

  “Hey, Victor,” I said cheerfully as I gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Can you hear me all right?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Rollins said.

  “Oh, don’t be like that, Victor. You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s raining in Ottawa,” I said, inching around a stalled truck that was parked on the side of the road. “I think Mother Nature woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  “Actually, I’m looking out the window at the moment. It’s not freezing yet, right?”

  “No, it’s not,” I said, then frowned. “You’re still in Ottawa?”

  “Yes, the police requested that I stick around for a while, remember?” he said, sounding tentative.

  “Yeah, but they removed that restriction several days ago,” I said, remembering the conversation I’d had with Bill and Shirley at lunch. Then a neuron fired and I smiled. “I hope Wilma is doing well.”

  “What?”

  “Wilma. How’s she doing?”

  “Uh, I’m sure she’s doing fine. Again, how can I help you?”

  “I have a couple of questions I was hoping you’d be able to answer,” I said, giving up my battle with the rain and pulling into a grocery store parking lot. I left the engine running but turned the wipers off to give them a much-needed rest. “I just came from a meeting with Wendell Powers.”

  “You have my deepest sympathies,” he said, sounding sincere.

  “So, you do know Wendell?”

  “Of course. He’s a member of our board of directors.”

  “And a close personal friend of Middleton, right?”

  “Well, he was.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Can I ask why you were meeting with him?”

  “I needed a business loan,” I said.

  “You should know that the man’s a total shark,” Rollins said, then chatted briefly with someone on his end of the phone.

  “Is that Wilma?” I said, grinning.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “If you must know, as a matter of fact, it is.”

  “Tell her I said hi. Yeah, I figured out that Wendell is definitely someone to keep an eye on. But I think I’ll be able to keep him under control.”

  “You’ll have to share your secret with me. Look, I’m right in the middle of a most enjoyable afternoon. Is there a point to this conversation?”

  “Actually, there is,” I said, grimacing as the rain pounded down even harder. “Have the police talked to you lately?”

  “Just yesterday,” he said. “Although they have absolutely no proof, apparently, I’m still suspect number one.”

  “Not for much longer, Victor. You’re about to be completely cleared.”

  “Is that right?” he said, finding my comment very funny for some reason.

  I waited out the laughter then continued.

  “Yes, I think I can help you with that. But I need you to answer a question first.”

  “Your willingness to help me get off the list of suspects is dependent on how I answer a question?”

  “Oh, no,” I said, frowning. “You’re going to get off that list regardless of how you answer. You didn’t kill him. What is dependent on how you answer the question is whether or not I’m going to do whatever I can to help you get the CEO slot at Middleton Enterprises.”

  I could tell that he hadn’t been expecting the curveball I’d just thrown, and I was forced to wait out a lengthy silence.

  “So, in addition to being a dog devotee, now you’re adding people to the mix?”

  “Funny, Victor.”

  “You must be quite the miracle worker. You really believe you can help me get the job?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, studying the torrent of water streaming off my windshield. Still, no signs of freezing. “But I think I can do a few things that mi
ght help.”

  “Like what?”

  I heard the sound of ice cubes rattling.

  “You know, Victor. That’s an annoying habit.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Rattling your ice cubes,” I said. “And isn’t it a bit early in the day to be getting into the scotch?”

  “Who are you, my mother?” he snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m on vacation, and I’m certainly not going anywhere in this weather. Only idiots are out on the road today.”

  Fastball right down the middle I never saw coming.

  “Fair point,” I said, nodding. “Okay, here comes my question.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “What do you know about Middleton’s plans to get into the dog toy business?”

  I stared at my phone as I waited out another long silence.

  “Dog toys? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

  I decided to believe him for the moment.

  “He never said anything about stealing the idea from someone else and then setting it up as part of Middleton Enterprises?”

  “No, he didn’t,” Rollins said, rattling his ice cubes. “But that’s not surprising. Ever since I first confronted him about stealing other people’s ideas, Joshua stopped confiding in me about that particularly offensive business strategy. His term, not mine.”

  “So, you were aware he wasn’t above doing that?”

  “Above doing it?” Rollins said, laughing. “Middleton had an active outreach effort in place. He and Wendell were always on the lookout for the next great idea to steal.”

  “And you confronted him about it?”

  “For a while,” he said softly. “That was the reason why he was doing everything he could to shove me to the side. I’d stopped trying to talk to him about it, but it turns out that I’d asked a few more times than he was comfortable with.”

  “I thought you were being hung out to dry because some of the regions you’re responsible for were tanking,” I said, trying to remember the details of what Chief Abram’s buddy had conveyed to him.