Unexpected Outcome. Dawn Stewardson
own name. Or her own, as the case might be. But there could easily be an accomplice with no apparent link to the company.
“Our other idea,” Robert was saying, “is that a competitor’s trying to drive us out of business. And has a Four Corners employee on its payroll.”
“Do you have many competitors?”
“Only two major ones. We’re a niche company—import collectibles and sell them almost exclusively to interior design firms.”
After another brief silence, he added, “Is this the sort of job you’d take on?”
“Yes. Definitely.” White-collar crime. No risk of shoot-’em-ups. Tailor-made for Dana Morancy.
“I’d just like to ask a few more questions,” she continued. “Exactly who knows you’re hiring a private investigator?”
“Right now, nobody except Larry and me. We’ll tell my nephew, of course, but he’s out of town until tomorrow.”
She thought for a moment, then said, “How would you feel about not telling him? About not telling anyone else who I really am?”
Robert didn’t seem to like the suggestion, so she said, “If one of your employees is involved, introducing me as a P.I. would warn him off. And if he goes to ground I’ll have a harder time learning who he is.”
“Yes, of course,” he said slowly. “That makes sense. But what does it have to do with not telling Noah?”
“When you’re trying to keep a secret, the fewer people in on it the better. All it takes is one slip…”
“Hmm…I see what you mean.”
She waited, letting him debate with himself. She never pushed clients very hard on issues like this. That way, the decisions didn’t come back to bite her.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Only Larry and I will know. But if we don’t say you’re a P.I., how do we explain you?”
“Well, I’ve established an identity for undercover work—Dana Mayfield, an organizational design consultant. It’s solidly backed up, so it checks out as authentic if anyone gets curious.”
“A consultant,” he repeated.
“Uh-huh. You’ve had this run of trouble, so you bring in a consultant. Your people would see that as a reasonable move, wouldn’t they?”
“I guess most of them would. Noah, though…one of the first things he’ll ask is whether we told you we think the problems are more than simple bad luck, that we’re convinced someone’s behind them. He’ll figure that otherwise we’re just wasting money.”
“But logically, you would have told me. I mean, you’d have at least raised it as a possibility, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, you’re right. So…how would this be? We say that we mentioned it, but didn’t tell you we’re pretty well certain—because we want you starting out with an open mind.”
“Good. That sounds believable.”
Robert nodded, then said, “Okay, that’s how we’ll handle it. And so that I don’t come off looking like an idiot, I guess the next thing we need to talk about is what an organizational design consultant does. I only have a vague idea.”
She gave him a smile. “You and just about everyone else. Which makes it a great cover. I can ask practically anything without raising suspicions.
“But, basically, a real OD person would look at the various structures in your company—reporting relationships, processes and systems, then recommend ways to improve them.
“So I’d be talking to your employees about their jobs. And the business in general. Asking for their input on how to make things work better.”
“And while you’re doing that you’re hoping someone says something…incriminating?”
“I’m not normally that lucky. But if I ask enough questions, sooner or later I usually get a lead.”
“Well…”
“Is there a problem?”
“Just a minor one. Something else with Noah.”
“Uh-huh?”
“You see, Larry and I don’t think much of consultants. We’ve heard about too many cases of them causing more problems than they’ve solved. And Noah’s aware of how we feel, so he’ll figure it’s awfully strange that we’d suddenly decide to…
“But there’s no reason for you to worry about that. Larry and I will come up with an explanation. Which gets us to the question of when you can start.”
“Let’s see,” she said, glancing at her appointment book. “This is Wednesday and I’m tied up tomorrow. But I could meet with you and your partner on Friday morning.”
“Sounds fine.”
“Good. Then I’ll need a small retainer now. And on Friday the two of you can fill me in on the details of these incidents.
“Plus, if you get together an organization chart, a list of your employees and copies of the latest annual reports, I’ll review them on the weekend. And starting Monday, I’ll be able to devote most of my time to you.”
Since Robert seemed surprised, she added, “A lot of my work is for trial lawyers. But half of them spend their summers in the Hamptons, which makes July and August slow.”
“Ah.”
When he said nothing more, she began to grow anxious.
He looked worried that she might have given him the “slow summers” explanation to avoid the truth. And worried the truth was that she didn’t have enough clients to earn a decent living.
However, since New Yorkers who concerned themselves about strangers were an endangered species, he was far more likely reconsidering the wisdom of hiring her—probably wondering if whoever had done the asking around for him had goofed, maybe suspecting she was actually readily available because she wasn’t a particularly good P.I.
Uneasily, she pictured the anemic balance in her bank account. Then, to her relief, Robert Haine reached inside his suit jacket and produced a checkbook.
FOUR YEARS OF LIFE in squad cars had left Dana with absolutely no desire to ever drive in Manhattan again.
Besides, she liked walking, found that immersing herself in the constant rush of the city energized her. And when walking wasn’t feasible she happily relied on cabs and public transit. She didn’t need either, though, to get to Four Corners Imports.
Its head office was on the northern fringe of the Village, not much more than an easy stroll from her Chelsea apartment. And a pleasant one on a sunny July morning, even if the air was a bit too muggy for comfort.
After turning off Ninth onto West Thirteenth, she stopped to take her black pumps out of her briefcase and change into them from her sneakers. Then she tucked those away and started walking again—mentally reviewing the homework she’d done on the company’s key players.
She’d learned, long ago, that checking out new clients often revealed interesting details they’d “forgotten” to mention. But in this instance she hadn’t learned anything even remotely strange or startling.
Robert had begun his working career in sales. Then he’d met Larry Benzer—recently back from fighting in Vietnam and with a little money saved—and the two of them had established their own business.
Noah Haine, the nephew who’d joined the company a few years back, had initially been brought on board to orchestrate the process of taking it public.
With an MBA from Columbia and experience working for an investment banker, he’d been up on what had to be done to make Four Corners comply with all of the Securities and Exchange people’s