2 Executive Retention Read online

  In dismay, I stared through the wrought-iron fence at the parking spot where the Lexus had been parked. "Well, rats." Now how was I supposed to get home?

  The beefier of the two guys started over my way. There I stood with my cleaver. I waved it. "He didn't happen to throw any money your way for my dinner, did he?" I was pretty sure that if I ran, like a cat, Mister Beefy would decide I was prey.

  Mister Beefy paused when I asked the question. One hand was deep inside his leather jacket pocket. He looked back at his barely smaller white cousin. The white guy had doubt and confusion written across his face. From the etched wrinkles, it looked like his face spent a lot of time in that expression.

  Finding no answer from his buddy, Mr. Beefy turned back my way. His nostrils flared as though scenting a mouse. "Youz knows where he might could be goin'?"

  "No. Man told me he'd take me for a nice dinner." I shook the cleaver at the empty road. "If you catch him, tell him he owes me, would you?" The cold and my fear made me shiver hard.

  I wasn't sure if they believed me, but I didn't wait to find out. With determination, I marched right up to the front door and peeled it apart. Apparently if you came up to the restaurant with cleaver in hand, the doors didn't magically open.

  The cook, or at least the guy with the tallest white hat, was upfront now. He didn't look too keen about letting me in. Too bad, I was in, and I locked the doors behind me. Some customers this place could do without.

  From the way Cook eyeballed me, it was pretty obvious he agreed, even though he had the wrong customer in mind.

  "He got away," I told Cook, handing him the cleaver.

  "Your date?" Cook had an accent of some sort, probably Italian.

  "Yeah. Thanks for the, uh, knife." The host didn't look like he was going to escort me back to the table.

  "I presume it was not a problem with the food," Cook said stiffly. He was a lot older than a running glance had shown; bushy dark eyebrows were laced with gray and his face had more than a few worn creases.

  "Goodness no! The food was wonderful. The salad was anyway."

  He nodded regally. My waiter hovered nervously. He actually looked relieved to see me.

  "Don't worry. I would never leave without paying. My wallet is still in the booth." I was not sure when I had been this embarrassed before. The waiter obviously thought I had run out the back door rather than pay the bill. The cook believed I had chased my date with a cleaver, either because he wouldn't pay or because I was such a loser, I couldn't attract better dates. "I'm really sorry about the confusion."

  "Those other peoples." Cook hesitated. "I think they were not friends of your date?"

  "I kind of doubt it. Huntington didn't seem anxious to talk to them, did he?" I guessed that next time Huntington came to this establishment, he might not have a table waiting. He had a lot more to lose than I did. After all, I didn't come to these places very often.

  As I paid the bill, I decided it was good I didn't visit frequently. It wouldn't break my account to pay fifty bucks for a meal, but I wouldn't want to do it often. The good news was I not only had the untouched chicken, which, miracle of miracle Fleetfoot actually offered to package for me, I also had Huntington's steak. If I couldn't eat them both I could always give the leftovers to my brother, Sean, when he next came foraging for food.

  Speaking of Sean, he might be good for a ride home. Otherwise I would be forced to call a taxi. I pondered my choices, tapping my foot and staring at the phone. No, it was too humiliating to admit to my brother that my date had left me stranded. I couldn't even call Derrick Sawyer, Sean's cop friend, because Derrick couldn't keep a secret. He'd tell Sean for sure.

  Before calling the taxi, I called Suzy Daniels, my best friend, but she had just put the kids down for bed. Her husband, Robert, hadn't come home yet. "Do you think he could pick me up on his way home from work and drop me off?" I begged.

  "Hang on! I'll call him at the office on the cell."

  Suzy was a dear. We had known each other since college, so we had swapped rescues a time or two. The worst incident was when some creep drove her to Estes Park outside Denver and then "ran out of gas." Turned out there was a little hotel nearby at which he suggested they stay. She would have stolen his car, but the guy had been clever enough to actually run out of gas. I drove two hours to the rescue.

  She came back on. "Robert's on his way. Actually he had already left, but he will swing by there. What happened anyway?" Now that the emergency was over, she moved on to the important things.

  "Oh, you know how it is." I watched the host watch me. He had unlocked the door now that Beef and Buns were gone. While I was using the phone, he had seated a normal looking couple. I think he would have made the couple run to the table if possible so that he could get back to his post and guard against me, the infidel. "Thought I had a nice date, but he ran out on me. I went after him with a cleaver from the kitchen, but he was too fast. Guess I shouldn't have tried to eat that last bite before chasing him."

  Suzy digested that piece of information. "Uh, you chased him? Gee, Sedona, he might not ask you out again."

  Now there was a rub. "Yeah, I'm pretty concerned."

  Her loyalty came through. "Of course if he didn't pay, then what do you want with that scum anyway? You can do better. Who was it?"

  I really didn't want to admit I'd been out with Huntington. She had met him when I worked with him at Strandfrost, and I had promised her I wasn't interested. I wasn't. And even if I was, I had chased him with a cleaver, which wasn't going to endear me to him.

  "It was Steve, wasn't it?" she squealed.

  "It's not what you think."

  She giggled. "You're making up the part about the cleaver, aren't you? But why did he run away? Did you get the cleaver out before he ran away? What were you fighting about?"

  "Uh, I think your husband is here. How about I call you tomorrow?"

  "No way! I'm coming over first thing tomorrow morning." Lucky for me first thing to her was near noon. "You are going to tell me every single detail."

  "Yah, yah." I hung up, smiled my best smile for the host, and clomped outside. I had to wait another five minutes for her husband, but I preferred the freezing weather to the frosty stares inside.

  Chapter 3

  My little house in suburbia was a wonderful haven for me. It was only a one-story, two bedroom patio home in a small neighborhood occupied mostly by retirees, but I loved it. My next door neighbor, a gruff older man, mowed my yard occasionally. More importantly, he had a mini-plow on his SUV so he cleared my driveway when it snowed. I took him cookies and various dishes to keep up my side of the relationship.

  Now, you would think that my older brother, who lives in town, might do the same sorts of things for me as the neighbor does. In fact, you would think that he might do more.

  But he doesn't. What Sean does is show up on my doorstep and pester me. That was precisely where I found him Saturday morning when I got back from my weekly grocery trip.

  "What took you so long?" he demanded.

  "I had an appointment with an oil baron so that held me up." I tried without success to hide the grocery bags.

  He helped me bring them in, set them on the kitchen table and began sorting. This was not to say he put groceries away; rather, he was looking for anything edible.

  "Stop that!" I smacked his hand as he snagged an apple. "That's for the chicken salad."

  "Good, are we having sandwiches?"

  I withered him with a glance. "We?" He ignored me.

  Hungry, I started making the sandwiches. "Where's Brenda?" Since he was acting half-starved, one of his wife's cooking attempts had probably gone awry, and he had been driven out in search of food.

  "At home."

  I cut up apples and pulled the leftover baked chicken out of the fridge. Since I was going to be feeding him, I decided to at least get some manual labor out of him. "Here, crack these pecans, would you?"

  He wanted to eat, so he didn't argue.
Within ten minutes we had our sandwiches.

  "I came by to remind you that you promised to teach Brenda to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year."

  "What? I don't think so."

  He nodded. "Yes, you did."

  "No way. Not even in my weakest moment."

  He reiterated a conversation of which I had zero recollection. Then he finished his case by pleading. My brother was a lawyer. He represented battered wives, rape victims and children. Pleading was something he did particularly well, only in this case, I knew he wouldn't starve to death. "Why can't you come over here for Thanksgiving dinner?"

  "Because she wants to have children." He looked extremely nervous. "I think…" He licked his lips and swallowed hard. He then swept all the crumbs off his pants, one at a time, several frantic little brushes. "I think she's pregnant."

  This last came out like a cross between a prayer and a curse. I stared at my big brother in disbelief. I knew he wanted children. It was bound to happen someday. "Really?" I breathed, not quite sure how to handle a pregnant brother.

  He nodded tightly. "It's not completely…verified yet. Just the home test. Those can be wrong."

  Ever logical, I wrinkled my brow in thought. "What does this have to do with Thanksgiving?"

  His eyes widened in disbelief. "But Sedona…she has to be able to cook a turkey before the kids are born!"

  I wasn't sure of his logic. In fact, I was pretty sure the two things weren't connected. What I did know was that Brenda couldn't make coffee without getting grounds in the water. I also knew my brother wasn't leaving until I promised to try and teach Brenda the finer points of turkey roasting. "You'll do all the shopping. Every single bit of it." He nodded vigorously. "And the dishes. I am not staying to do the dishes!" More agreement. "If dinner fails, you aren't going to blame me. You aren't going to invite Mom and Dad unless they invite themselves. I don't need any more pressure than necessary and Mom and Dad already said they are going to Dean's." Dean, our younger brother, was currently residing in Texas so it was unlikely my parents could fit Colorado in their Thanksgiving schedule.

  "Okay." He got up and flew into the kitchen. "Can I take Brenda a sandwich?"

  I glared at him, a look he somehow interpreted as a yes. He made three more sandwiches, finishing off the salad. Taking the rest of the bread, he ran off, leaving me, as always, with dirty dishes.

  It wasn't until he was gone that I discovered he had also snagged Huntington's leftover steak, the pig.

  * * *

  Suzy didn't actually make it over to visit me until Sunday afternoon. We baked cookies. Her five-year-old, Jimmy, rolled dough into balls. Rolling them wasn't really necessary for chocolate chip cookies, but it kept him busy. Maureen, the baby, slept through the entire event in her little carrier. At two months old, she didn't know about cookies yet, and the noise didn't seem to bother her either.

  Suzy nagged and harassed me about Huntington. "I think he is dead," I finally told her.

  "What?"

  I explained how we had parted on Friday. "Since he didn't call, I assume the bad guys caught him, and he is dead. We'll have to find someone else for me to date."

  She rolled her eyes. "You don't know that he is dead."

  Of course I didn't, but we argued about it for another hour over the milk and cookies. By the time she left, I had even convinced myself he was dead. I considered trying to locate Mark, Huntington's brother, and give him the bad news.

  I decided to sleep on it. After all, if Huntington was already dead, what was one more day?

  Chapter 4

  Monday morning, after a fretful weekend, I made my way into Strandfrost despite Huntington's job offer. After all, the man had ignored me for months. Then when he reappeared, he wanted to take up right where we left off--with me working for him. Before I could tell him no, he up and disappeared after being chased by goons.

  Huntington probably thought I should jump at his job offer, but based on past experience, he didn't hand out dream jobs. Sure, the initial packaging looked good, but the dirt underneath could kill a person.

  As soon as I arrived at Strandfrost, I went in search of Turbo. "Hi." I plopped down in the office chair across the desk from him.

  Turbo continued to type furiously. The door had been ajar when I arrived. If it had been completely closed, I would have had to come back later. When Turbo wrote code behind closed doors, I could barge in, turn into a bunny rabbit and be completely overlooked by my mentor and friend. Half closed meant that if I sat here for fifteen minutes, he might notice me.

  I played with one of the various toys on his desk while I waited. Turbo kept an odd collection of plastic cartoon characters even though he was well into his forties and didn't actually watch cartoons anymore. Well, not that I knew of.

  "Watch Minnie there. I think her hand is about to break off," he protested suddenly.

  Startled, I dropped Minnie. I had been trying to get Minnie to hold Mickey's hand and "walk" across the desk. "I wonder how it got that way," I murmured, removing Minnie from the odd angle required to attach her hand to Mickey's.

  "No telling," he replied smoothly, ever polite. He pushed his chair back and propped his feet on the desk. "What's up?" He didn't sound terribly interested in the answer, but then, he was obviously busy.

  I played with a miniature space monster. "You ever think about quitting?"

  "Other than today, you mean?"

  I glanced up quickly, realizing his distraction might not be due to coding. "Did he call you too?" I couldn't believe it. Huntington wouldn't dare put Turbo back in danger, would he? Last time, Turbo had nearly been killed. He had a family to support for God's sake!

  "Of course no one consulted me. Do they ever? I guess since you're a manager, they asked you, huh? No luck convincing them it was a bad idea?"

  "Because I'm a manager? I don't think he cares that I'm a manager. He asked me if I wanted my old job back as a technician."

  Turbo sat straight up and pulled on his bowl hair-cut. Since he didn't get it trimmed on a regular basis, the minute he stopped yanking on it, it fell over his eyes. "Argh! They are demoting you on top of hiring Gary back? That's it! We can't just sit here and let this happen. It's bad enough that those losers are getting Gary back in here as a "consultant" and paying him twice what he was making before. They can't demote you like that!"

  I let the explosion fester while I tried to digest the conversation. "What?"

  "I'll march right in there--"

  "Uh, Turbo. Turbo!" I shouted over his ranting. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing!"

  He didn't hear me. I had to hold Minnie over the trashcan as hostage to get his attention. He blinked and pulled his arms back down. "What are you doing to Minnie?"

  I shook my head. "I don't think we're talking about the same event. I was talking about Huntington calling and offering me a job at Acetel as a technician." In disgust, I added, "I had no idea Strandfrost was hiring Gary Marcus back. You've gotta be kidding me."

  "Huntington? Technician?" He kept a careful eye on Minnie until I set her safely on the desk.

  "Why would Strandfrost bother with Gary the Slacker?" I asked.

  Turbo returned to looking glum. "I don't have all the details yet. I think that maybe John Arlton, the new VP that was hired to take Gary's place, actually knew Gary. Gary helped John get the job at Strandfrost. Now John is paying him back by rehiring him."

  "Didn't anyone tell the board about this?" While Gary hadn't actually done anything illegal, he certainly hadn't been paying enough attention to the fact that a manager under his command was skimming charity checks.

  "I doubt it. If John tried to hire Gary into an executive position, I'm sure the board would care. But if he's just a mucky-muck consultant why would they pay any attention?"

  "Maybe because it was the board that asked Gary to move along a couple of months ago?"

  Turbo shook his head. "Come on, Sedona. You know how it works. For all we know, they know about
him coming back."

  I doubted it. The board had spent a lot of money cleaning house. I only knew about the money that had floated my way through Huntington, but I knew his services didn't come cheap. "I guess it doesn't matter if the board knows or not."

  Turbo didn't look like he agreed. "Maybe there's some checking I could do to determine what is really going on."

  "Uh Turbo..." Turbo's idea of checking was similar to a bulldozer gone madly out of control. His style was precisely why he had gotten into so much trouble the last time we investigated something. That and he tended to assume certain things, such as the board knowing, when in fact, reality was usually a lot more complex. If the board knew, someone on the board, in my opinion, wasn't on the up and up. That didn't bode well for Turbo "checking" anything. "Checking things probably isn't a good idea."

  "I'll call you tonight. After I see what I can find out."

  Now, why didn't that reassure me?

  Chapter 5

  When I arrived home, there was a Lexus parked in my driveway. I let out a sigh of relief. It was good to know Huntington was safe, although since the car was unoccupied, I assumed that he had broken in and made himself at home.

  A bit disgruntled, I unlocked the front door and called out, "Huntington?" I always called him by his last name, but since he didn't answer, I tried his first name. "Steve?"

  When that didn't work, I decided maybe his brother had left the car. "Mark?"

  The place was disturbingly empty. I even checked under the bed in my room and scanned the guest room. The only place I didn't look for Huntington was the trunk of the car. I was too afraid of what I might find there. Besides, I didn't have the keys.

  As I was coming down from the attic, the phone rang. Assuming it was Huntington calling to apologize or explain, I shouted into the phone, "Are you crazy?" He deserved to be torn into tiny little pieces for leading a life that drove me insane.