Chapter Thirteen “Places, Everyone!” #5
Kathryn pulled up to the security gate at Sunnydale. “Hi. I’m Kathryn Lucas here to see Janet Turner. I am reporting for work.”
The security guard looked at her curiously, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. “Hello. I have a Kathryn Lucas here. Says she is reporting for work.” He nodded a few times. “Will do.” He turned to Kathryn. “She said to come back tomorrow morning. Seven sharp.”
Kathryn looked a little confused. “I was told to be here today. Four o’clock.” She looked at the clock on her dashboard. “It’s four o’clock, right?” she asked, as if she wasn’t sure she had made a mistake.
“Yes, but Ms. Turner said for you to come back tomorrow. You can call her if you want.”
“Nah. That’s okay. I’ll be back in the morning. See ya.” Kathryn made a U-turn and headed to the apartment Annie had rented for her. That was odd, she thought to herself. But considering what we already know, it seems to fit. Kathryn would surely bring it up at their video call.
Annie’s jet arrived in Tempe around four in the afternoon. Just enough time to grab her rental, check into her hotel, order room service, and then get on the video call scheduled for six her time, nine on the East Coast.
Maggie had met up with her at the hangar. “Ships passing in the night. Will catch up later.”
Annie pulled into the Royal Palms and was greeted by a young fellow wearing white shorts, a white cap, and red shirt. “Good evening, Ms. Dresden.”
“Good evening to you. How did you know it was me?”
“When you did your early check-in, you included the car you would be driving. It’s a beauty.” The young man was referring to the white Porsche Cayenne Coupe.
“Thanks.” She handed him a tip. “Don’t go joyriding.” She looked at his name tag and smiled. “Scott.”
“Oh, no, miss. I wouldn’t think of it.”
She handed him another five-dollar bill. “That’s for calling me ‘miss.’” She winked.
Annie unfolded herself from the sleek, highly polished car.
She looked like a movie star. And that was the point.
They wanted Sunnydale to think they’d hooked a wealthy, influential, childless, sibling-less, no immediate family, pocketbook.
She might bring some equally wealthy, influential, childless, sibling-less patrons into the fold.
Or perhaps investors. Annie understood all too well that many people at that level didn’t care about what or where the investment was going.
As long as it made a profit, or allowed for a huge tax deduction, it didn’t matter.
Most didn’t dig deep enough to find out if their money was doing something nefarious or something good.
Putting more money in their pockets was the fundamental goal. It was the ’80s all over again.
Annie’s income bracket was to be awed, admired, envied, and coveted.
She knew it, but she never flaunted it. She used it, but never boasted about it.
She was one of the unusual ones. She used her money for good, lived modestly, and occasionally treated herself and her Sisters to a good time somewhere. A very good time.
The concierge greeted her with a warm welcome. “Good afternoon, Ms. Dresden. Welcome to the Palms. My name is Evan. Gerald will be taking your luggage to your room.” He handed her the key card. “In the meantime, is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Thank you. I shall be ordering something from room service. Do you have any personal recommendations?”
“If you like beef, our sliced steak sandwich is absolutely delicious.”
“With some melted cheese?” She raised her eyebrows.
“As far as I’m concerned, there is no other way to eat it.”
“Sounds delish.”
“If you’d like, I can place the order for you. How quickly do you want it brought to your room?”
Annie checked her watch. “Half hour?”
“Done!” The man smiled. “If there is anything else, please do not hesitate.”
“Thank you, Evan. I appreciate your assistance.”
The bellhop was waiting with his cart. “Good evening, Ms. Dresden.”
“Hello, William.” If someone wore a name tag, Annie would always refer to them by name. It made people feel less anonymous.
“You are in the Montavista Villa.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She followed him outside, then down a winding sidewalk to her private villa. Once inside, he rested her suitcase on the ottoman. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you.” She handed him a tip.
The first thing she did was remove the wig, pull out the Styrofoam holder from her suitcase, and neatly place the locks on top. She then changed into a jogging suit, not that she planned on jogging anywhere. Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Room service.”
As she passed herself in the mirror, she remembered she had taken off her wig. Realizing it would be too much of a hassle to put it on correctly without it looking like a wig, she grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around her head.
“Good evening, Ms. Dresden. Where shall I place your dinner?”
“How about outside?” She walked toward the sliding doors of the patio where the server placed the tray.
“Will there be anything else?” he asked politely.
“No. This should do it.” She handed him a tip. She preferred giving people cash rather than putting it on the check. They got the money right away, and it wasn’t taxed.
She removed the stainless-steel cover from her plate.
It sure looked yummy. She dove right into the juicy, cheesy sandwich.
What was it about melted cheese? It was a party in her mouth.
Between bites, she sent off a text to Fergus to let him know she’d arrived and was in the middle of a sandwich orgy.
Don’t tell Charles. :) See you in a few.
She had just enough time to wash her hands and remove evidence of her feast from her chin.
At the appointed time, everyone involved logged in: Myra; Izzie and Yoko from Florida; Kathryn and Annie from Arizona; Charles and Fergus at Pinewood; Nikki in Virginia; and Maggie, airborne, en route back to Florida.
Myra began, “Since Izzie and Yoko have had the most exposure to the site, let’s start with them.”
Izzie described the inordinate amount of security cameras installed everywhere, including the bathroom.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Maggie asked. “Sounds like an invasion of privacy.’
“It is illegal,” Nikki responded.
“Then why are they allowed to do it?” Maggie asked.
“Most people wouldn’t know. They usually hide them in a vent,” Charles said.
“That’s where I spotted it,” Yoko responded.
“One must ask, why? They are either hiding something or protecting something,” Fergus added.
“I can’t imagine what they would be protecting in a bathroom,” Annie said.
“Toilet-paper thieves?” Maggie quipped.
“If we were still in lock-down for COVID, I could understand. But happily, we are not,” Myra said.
“The restaurant was rife with cameras. It was as if they were watching everyone’s every move.”
“There were a number of them in the warehouse, but that’s understandable. Seriously, though, bathrooms? Maybe they think someone is going to try to steal something and shove it in their pants?”
“I’d like to see the pants that could hide a toilet.” Charles chuckled.
“I think I did,” Yoko chimed in. “The jumpsuits we wear are enormous.”
“And you are not,” Annie reminded her.
“Correct. I guess they grow them big in Pensacola,” Yoko joked, which drew a laugh from the crowd.
“Izzie, let’s go over your day.” Myra steered the conversation back.
“There is a lot to tell. My new BFF, Regina, was an unwitting fountain of information. There are a few things we need to check out. She said she heard a rumor that Edith Clayton was related to someone in upper management.”
“Good. We can check her family tree,” Charles noted.
“Then she told me about Jeremy being let go. The reason they gave him was that they are automating, but Regina knew nothing about it, and she said if anyone were to process an invoice for more tech, it would be her. She also told me about the morphine found in his car.”
“Nikki, any word on a lawyer for him?” Myra asked.
“Yes, I have two names. Just holding off until we find out if they are going to press charges.”
“Good.”
Maggie chimed in, “When I saw him the second time, he told me that there had been boxes of drugs missing in the past few shipments. He spoke to the sales rep, who blamed it on someone else. He finally brought it up to his boss, and a week later, he was shown the door.”
“Seems like our Jeremy was about to uncover something unseemly,” Fergus noted.
“Yoko? Any chance you got close to the dump trucks?”
“Not today, but I know where they’re parked. I’ll try to get a better look tomorrow without drawing any suspicion from my workmate. His name is Danny. Seems like a normal sort. My impression is that the facilities department isn’t as nefarious as the main operation.”
“But where did the dump trucks come from?” Maggie asked.
“Good point, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Danny and his coworkers are in cahoots with the rest of the organization,” Yoko added. “I might also add that they are breaking ground for a new section and want landscaping done before some prospective investors show up.”
“Investors? They’re bringing outside money in?” Annie asked.
“Maybe they’re not as flush as they appear in spite of the government funds that have been flowing in,” Fergus said.
Charles added, “With something this widespread, I would think whoever is running it is keeping things very close to the vest and involving the fewest amount of people.”
“We suspect Clayton is connected. Perhaps she is their point person in Florida.”
“Then there’s Nurse Ratched,” Annie said.
“Uh, uh. Janet Turner, please,” Myra reminded everyone.
“And she would be the point person for Arizona,” Izzie added.
“Makes sense. As long as people do what they think is typical or ordinary work, there is no reason to involve more people in the scheme,” Charles noted.
“Very true. They show up for work, get paid. End of story,” Myra said.