3 Sin City Hunter Page 9

  Gregory led me down a long hallway to the south end of the building. There were four open offices for guests to use, and I was ushered into a corner office with windows offering a view of a lovely rock garden with a waterfall and cold-hardy palm trees.

  “You can leave your briefcase and sweater here,” he said. “There’s a key in the desk, so you can lock your purse in a drawer. Where would you like to start?

  “Can we start in distribution?” I asked as I locked my purse in the desk and slipped the small key into the pocket of my dress. “I’d like to meet some of the people I talk with on the telephone every week.”

  “Sure. Distribution’s at the back of the building,” he said as we headed back down the hallway.

  “Gregory, what did Betsy Ann mean when she told you not to tell me everything that you know?” I asked.

  “As B.A’s assistant, I get around the building to all of the departments several times a day.” His grin turned mischievous. “I see and hear a lot. I’m earning a degree in gossip working here.”

  I laughed and asked, “Do you ever get into trouble?”

  “Nothing serious,” he said. “I try to keep B.A. in the loop if there’s something I think she should know, but otherwise, I keep the trivial, personal stuff to myself, or share it with my girlfriend who absolutely loves all the gossip from here.” He was chuckling as though he remembered something fun or juicy.

  I didn’t want to ask anything too personal, so I ignored the girlfriend comment and changed the subject by saying, “You’re wearing Ektelons. Do you play racquetball, or do you just like the shoe?”

  “Both,” he said. “The company has a corporate membership to a health club, and we’re all encouraged to use it for fitness. Most of the employees use it for working out or swimming, but there’s about a dozen people here who play racquetball, and eight of us are in a league on Wednesday nights. Betsy Ann said you played. Are you any good?”

  I laughed a little and said, “I do ok.”

  “Well, Wednesday night is a free night this week, so she said she was bringing you to the club so we could all play. I want the first game,” he said with a big grin.

  “I don’t know if I can play against you, Gregory,” I said with a laugh. “You’re so tall, and your arms and legs are so long, I won’t be able to get any shots past you.”

  He laughed. “I think that’s why I’m leading the league right now. I don’t have to move around the court much at all. Here we are,” he said as he opened a door into the large warehouse.

  As we walked across the expansive floor, he pointed out the areas where all of the food products were kept as well as all of the paper supplies to include all of the diet plans, menus, and forms we were required to fill out on a regular basis. We walked by the large loading bays bustling with activity. Someone yelled out, “Hey, Susan!” but I only glanced in their direction and kept walking with Gregory. I knew it had to be someone who recognized me from the newspaper or the sports newscast.

  On the far side of the warehouse was a large room with a dozen cubicles in the main area and three offices along the wall. We spent at least an hour here talking with all of the distribution employees and managers. For some of them, it was like meeting old friends, and it was nice to be able to put faces to the voices I heard so often. Most of my mental images were way off, but everyone said I looked like I sounded. I thoroughly enjoyed the time spent here, and it helped tremendously to know how much work was going on behind the scenes. I was already making mental notes of what we, as managers, could do to make things easier for the distribution workers when we called in our orders.

  Gregory led me out of distribution through a side door which opened outdoors to a large cement pad lined with dumpsters heaped high with cardboard. Across the pad from the dumpsters were three picnic tables. Two warehouse workers walked out of another side door and sat down. Both of them lit cigarettes.

  “Do you smoke, Susan?” he asked me.

  “No,” I said softly. I was staring at the workers at the picnic table.

  “Well, if you did, this is the only place on company property where you can light up. I only come out here when I want to take a shortcut from distribution to the main offices without having to walk back through the entire facility. Come on,” he said as he started to walk toward the door leading into the offices.

  “Are they with the janitorial staff?” I asked while nodding in the direction of the workers.

  “Yeah, everyone who works in sanitation wears one of those blue uniforms. A few people work during the day, but most of the staff comes in at 3:00 and then works through the evening.”

  “Gregory, there hasn’t been anything said today about Gilbert Torres. I thought everyone here would be terribly upset.”

  “Oh, wasn’t that horrible? Not only was he beaten, but to be put on the railroad tracks and mangled like that.” He shook his head in disbelief and, I presumed, sadness. He lightly grasped my arm and guided me to the side of the pad to be sure we were out of earshot of the two smokers. “But, Susan, nobody is crying over the man. I don’t know anyone who liked him, not even a little bit. I don’t think anyone was surprised he was murdered, and they might even think he deserved it.”

  I was shocked to hear his words, and I know my mouth hung open. “Why?” I asked incredulously. I was obviously being drawn into Gregory’s gossip vortex, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know what he knew about Gilbert Torres. “What could a janitor do to make so many people dislike him?”

  “Part of it was his personality,” he said. “He was rude and not friendly like the rest of the staff. B.A. would have let him go a long time ago, but he was with the company from the beginning, so he was kind of grandfathered in. He always did a good job, but from what I heard floating around, he was snoopy and getting into things he shouldn’t have, but nobody ever caught him at anything. Then he was causing problems with the rest of the janitors. He started bragging, and said Mr. Waltham promised him a promotion and a large bonus at the end of the year. It was something completely unreasonable, like $20,000.” He shook his head again, and said, “Something was going on with Gilbert, but I never did figure it out. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear much about him today. I already heard one of the cleaning girls say it was much nicer without him here.”

  I was shocked, but nodded in understanding of what he said. The man obviously had a lot people who didn’t like him, and probably some enemies, but why would he have ended up at the hotel, and why would Carl have been there?

  Gregory was moving toward the side door and said, “Come on, let me show you where the lunch room is, and then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the office workers and the financial guys.”

  We walked through the doorway, and he said in hushed tones, “When you meet Carla, don’t say anything to her about her hair even if you like it. The bright red was supposed to be some kind of brown, and if you mention her hair at all, she’ll break down crying. Ginger isn’t pregnant, so don’t ask her when her baby is due. She has a 12-pound tumor in her abdomen and is going to have surgery next week to remove it, but she looks like she’s ready to give birth any minute. And it’s ok to call Bucky “Bucky,” but don’t ask him if he got the nickname from his buck teeth; he didn’t.” He gave me a big grin and said, “I think you’ll be ok with anything else you might say.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Flow chart

  Flip chart

  Printing error on daily form

  Curry

  Look into weight loss benefits of curcumin

  Susan Raines

  It was 3:45. Gregory and I had eaten lunch together in the lunchroom and then finished our tour. I returned to the guest office assigned to me and saw my name had been temporarily placed on the door. I grabbed my purse and made a quick trip to the restroom to freshen my makeup and brush my hair. I noticed several men in the building looking my way a little longer than was appropriate, but, so far, everyone had been professional and friendly.


  I was right on time when I arrived at the reception area at the same time as Betsy Ann. We rode the elevator to the second floor and went directly to the large conference room where several people were already seated. Betsy Ann had already suggested I take a seat at the end of the table, as everyone seemed to have their favorite seat, and I wouldn’t want to step on any toes.

  This was the weekly meeting for all of the department heads. New business and ideas were discussed here as well as the financial health of the centers. As the meeting progressed, it was quite an eye-opener to be on this side of the discussion rather than from the center looking back at corporate.

  I looked at the short list on my notepad again. These were the items I hoped to have the opportunity to bring up while I was here. Janice, from accounting, was going over one of the center’s financial difficulties with a senior accountant, and I had made the list while waiting for the meeting to continue. I couldn’t help but to write Susan Raines at the bottom. I never tired of seeing it in writing, and it looked pretty with my handwriting of loops and flourishes.

  I was brought back to reality by a stirring at the table. Janice had stopped talking and another man was introducing the moderator for the brainstorming session this week, Mr. Carlton Waltham, the new Operations Manager. The glass door to the conference room opened, and everyone broke into applause as Carl entered the room.

  Chapter Nine

  My eyes popped open wide, and I felt the color drain from my face. Carl! That horrible Carl worked here at Slimmers! Oh my gosh! Was Carl my boss? I shrank back in my seat to hide myself from view by the person seated next to me.

  Thoughts started pouring into my head. Gilbert Torres was at the hotel because Carl lives in a condo on the property. They obviously had a confrontation of some kind. Carl could no longer hide the fact he was involved in the murder, and the story of a seizure was no longer going to hold up. This was bad. Really bad. When he saw me, he would know with certainty that I knew what he had done. I looked around to see if there was a door where I could slip out.

  “I understand we have a guest from Ohio with us today,” Carl was saying. Everyone at the table turned to look at me, and they were all smiling. I willed myself to disappear, but it didn’t happen. I sat up in my chair. Carl was looking down at his notes and saying, “Susan Hunter. You have some impressive numbers coming out of your center in Carbide City.” He looked up and his eyes locked mine.

  It wasn’t obvious to anyone who wouldn’t be looking for it, but his eyes slightly squinted, and I saw his jaw line clench. This was not going to be good.

  He held his composure and said with aloofness, “What a pleasant surprise. Susan and I have actually met already at the hotel, and we didn’t realize who the other was.”

  I smiled but didn’t respond. I couldn’t trust my voice to hold steady. A sudden tension developed in the room, but Carl was quick to disperse it with the abrasive personality I had come to know.

  “Susan, you seem to be a hot shot when it comes to running a center, so why don’t you start our brainstorming session off today with a new idea to revolutionize our business.”

  I knew he was trying to put me on the spot and humiliate me, but I was no slouch when it came to creative. I stood up and said, “Thank you, Mr. Waltham. I don’t know about revolutionize, but I actually do have an idea.”

  I looked at my little list and simply went with the first item. “I find many of the counselors aren’t able to handle turning a potential member away when they aren’t medically qualified to join the program. The potential member has taken the time to fill out the initial questionnaire, and then they’re summarily dismissed with little interaction or information. This usually puts the potential member on the defensive, and she may even leave angry.”

  Many of the people at the table were nodding their heads while Carl was glaring at me. I forged ahead and said, “I propose we eliminate the questionnaire altogether. Let’s put together a simple flow chart a counselor can fill out with a potential member. The counselor asks the medical questions directly, and the arrows on the chart will guide her to continue asking questions until she sees enrolling is the positive outcome, or to a stop sign because a medical condition prohibits enrolling. The person who came in will have had some personal attention and will likely be more understanding when we send them to their doctor for approval.”

  Heads were nodding, and I could tell the idea was a home run. Carl’s voice was snarky as he asked, “Do you have a sample of this wonderful flow chart?”

  “I do,” I told him. “I’ve already tested it on a few of our members, made a couple of revisions, and I have the final form ready to send in for approval. I’ll fax it next week when I’m back in the center.”

  There was some applause in the room, but Carl was looking like he wanted to kill someone – again. I sat down. He looked around the room and then back to me and said, “That’s it? You only have one idea?” His look was one of what’s so great about that?

  I stood up and smiled sweetly at him. I wasn’t afraid of him in this room, and I felt emboldened. “I have another idea I think will work, too,” I said. I checked my list and went with the second item. “We need a new flip chart. It’s an old fitness center trick to use flip charts to overcome objections, and most people find them offensive. When they’re trying to decide to spend their hard earned money, they don’t need someone flipping a chart at them which says losing weight is like buying a new car or some other such nonsense. It isn’t logical, and I have yet to see a counselor handle the flip chart effectively.” I looked around the table, and heads were nodding again. Carl was slightly purple. I continued, “But a flip chart is a valuable tool. Our flip chart should walk a potential member through the benefits of our program. It will help to keep a counselor on track so she isn’t making claims or saying something she shouldn’t. It will be a prop for the counselor to make the best presentation possible, but it will also tell the potential member everything she needs to know to make a positive, informed decision about enrolling.”

  Once again, heads were nodding, notes were being taken, and a few people applauded. Before Carl could ask his snarky question, I said, “Next week, I’ll overnight the already tested samples to the Creative Department.”

  I could see Betsy Ann beaming. She was proud I was making a good showing on my first visit. I knew she had talked highly about me here.

  Carl put both hands on the table, and said sharply, “Anything else?”

  I looked at my list again.

  “There are a couple of small things I wanted to bring up while I’m here. There’s a printing error on the new daily form. The plus/minus for the day is backward and needs to be corre- ”

  Carl butted in and said, “There’s nothing wrong with the form. I designed it myself, and it’s perfect. You’re the only person who doesn’t seem to know how to fill it out.”

  I held my ground and said, “I work with it every day, and the plus/minus is backward.” It was a simple thing on the form, indicating if you were over or under on your cash for the day. It usually involved pennies, but it was irritating to have to switch it every day.

  Carl snapped at one of the people closest to him to run and get the form. I continued, “Another item is the curry chicken. None of the members in our center like it. It isn’t the curry flavor, it’s something else. Maybe a taste-test could be held here, so the people who work with the supplier can give them their input.” More heads were nodded and notes were taken. I decided to stop and not push my luck any further.

  Carl looked around the room and said with sarcasm creeping into his voice, “I hear Susan is also a hot shot on the racquetball court. We’re all playing at the club tomorrow night if any of you want to come watch and/or play.” He looked at his notes and said with absolutely no expression, “I’m sure all of you have heard about what happened to Gilbert Torres. The funeral is tomorrow at 2:00, and anyone in your departments wanting to attend the services may go.”

  The
woman who ran to get the daily form came through the door and handed it to him. A man at the table stood up to stand beside Carl and started adding numbers to the form. A few minutes later, Carl’s face turned another light shade of purple. He flipped the form at the man’s chest, and said through gritted teeth, “Fix it.” He then stormed out of the room. I had to suppress a smile.

  The meeting was over. Betsy Ann came to my side and said, “Susan, you were fantastic. How did you come up with those great ideas?”

  “It really wasn’t hard,” I told her. “When you work in the center every day, you see the things that aren’t working. Rather than to be frustrated, I try to fix them. I don’t want employee turnover in my center, so I guess the ideas are born out of selfishness.”

  “Well, it went really well,” she said. “Everyone was impressed. You didn’t know it, and you couldn’t see him, but Mortimer Davis was sitting across the table from me, and he was smiling at everything you said. You obviously made a good impression.”

  Mortimer Davis was the Senior Executive Vice President. If I had known he was in the room, I probably would have been too nervous to say much of anything.

  It was after 5:00, and Betsy Ann walked with me to my office, so I could collect my things. When I had my purse and sweater in hand, and had put the small key back in the desk, Betsy Ann asked, “Susan, I don’t mean to pry, and I probably shouldn’t say anything, but what was going on between you and Carlton Waltham. I don’t know if anybody else noticed, but it seemed to me there was some tension when you two looked at each other. I’m around Carlton often, and I could tell he wasn’t happy to see you.”

  “Betsy Ann, is he my boss?” I asked her. I was concerned about saying anything at all about him if he could boot me out of the company with the snap of a finger.