Death of a Sales Rep Read online

  DEATH

  OF

  A

  SALES REP

  by

  Jamie Lee Scott

  A

  Gotcha Detective Agency

  Mystery

  Text copyright © 2012 Jamie Lee Scott

  All Rights Reserved

  DEATH OF A SALES REP

  Copyright © 2012 by Jamie Lee Scott

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, LBB Company, 1106 Hwy 69 N, Forest City, IA 50436.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Scott, Jamie Lee, 10-10-12. Death of a Sales Rep. LBB Company. Kindle Edition.

  CHAPTER 1

  Sometimes the best parts of life are the times you get to screw with another person’s head. It’s not so great when someone is fucking with yours, but whoever said life was fair? So cliché, but then I spy on cheating spouses--and cheats in general--for a living. My life is a cliché.

  I start most every day by heading to work at the detective agency I own. I started Gotcha Detective Agency a few years back, when my life fell apart and I needed something to keep me focused on living. If you believe the hype, I’m living the American dream. I own my own business, my own house, and I have a dog. And according to the insurance company, I also have a husband. Dominic, my husband, died a few years ago, but since the body was never recovered from the wreckage of the plane, the insurance company still considers me to be married. I don’t wear my wedding ring anymore, mostly because it leaves a tan line, and I don’t want my target on a decoy job to know I’m married.

  As I eased into my parking space, I looked up to see one of my business partners waiting. Lola, my Doberman, saw him too, and leapt out of the car in record speed.

  “You ready to go?” Charles asked, as he opened my door and petted Lola simultaneously.

  I’m Mimi Capurro, and Charles Parks is my right hand man. And to be honest, he’s my left hand, and many times he’s my feet too. That is, when he’s not tripping me up like this morning.

  “Baby, I was born ready.” Actually, I had no idea what the hell Charles was talking about. “But can you remind me exactly what I was born ready for?”

  I followed Charles up the back stairs and into the kitchen, Lola between us. Gotcha’s offices are in an old Victorian house that used to be the offices of Dominic’s produce brokerage business. Most of the rooms have been converted to offices, but we kept the kitchen and the two luxurious bathrooms too.

  I knew he wasn’t planning a day at the agency, as he wore burnt umber pants rolled at the ankles, and an untucked cream V-neck tee. Not his normal “fop” work attire. His tan sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor as he straightened and cleaned the room. I knew he was mad. Just as Lola grabbed a mouthful of food when she was scolded, Charles cleaned when pissed off.

  “I’ll ask again, ready for what?” I snatched the coffee cup from Charles’ hand.

  “San Francisco,” he snapped.

  San Francisco? Then the light bulb went on. San Francisco! I cleaned and rinsed the coffee cup while facing the sink, so Charles couldn’t see the panic on my face. “Well, crap, you’d think with as much as you’ve babbled on about it, I’d have remembered. Are you sure it’s this weekend?”

  I had promised to go to San Francisco to support Charles’ friend, Anthony DeLuca, at his first trade show. Anthony made a highly sought after line of voodoo dolls. I know, right? It’s amazing how many people bought his high-end voodoo toy.

  Anthony had recently fired his sales rep and was now selling the dolls himself. In the six years he’d been manufacturing the dolls, he’d never had to design a booth and sell for himself. He’d always had sales reps, but after one greedy rep filed a suit against him for firing her, he decided he’d be in charge of his own fate. Funny enough, his business soared. Turned out, Anthony wasn’t the only person who didn’t care for the sales rep’s pushy ways.

  “So your bag is packed?” Before I could answer, Charles added, “I’ll just go out and get it for you.”

  “I have my overnight bag in my car. Besides, I probably won’t be staying the night. I don’t have a sitter for Lola.”

  I always kept an overnight bag handy, for stakeouts, and whatever else might come up. Not that anything else ever did come up. The bag held a couple of changes of clothes, that little black dress for every occasion, a week’s worth of underwear, flats, athletic shoes, and pumps, and all of the toiletries and makeup a girl might need in any situation. You never know…

  “Jackie will be here to get her,” he looked at his watch, “in about an hour.”

  Jackie Bacarrin was one of my detectives, and my best friend. One of the last cases I’d worked on involved her daughter, Catey. It was a true lesson in paying attention to who your children were interacting with online.

  “What?” Charles had once again taken over my life. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated it when I wanted him there, but this was all about him now. “Okay, San Francisco aside, we have an important conference call this morning,” I said, as I wiped out the coffee cup and poured coffee into it.

  Charles whipped out his phone and looked at the calendar. “Oh, shit, the Hewes Chemical Management account. That conference call is today?” He headed to the front of the building.

  If we could land the Hewes Chemical account, we could put a huge notch in our belt. Hewes was one of the largest corporate accounts we’d ever had the chance to land. Usually, with corporations, it’s a case of workman’s comp or disability fraud, but this one was about much more. Not that we could go around bragging about the case, confidentiality and all, but we’d be able to refer to it without names. It’d look good on a business resume.

  “Nine o’clock, dear,” I said, as I trailed him.

  “Just one more thing about San Francisco, then I’ll drop it until after the meeting.” Charles looked over his shoulder at me.

  I resigned myself. “What?”

  “I invited Nick to come help out.”

  Now that stopped me in my tracks. In a million years I’d never have guessed.

  Not once, in all the chatter about the trip to San Francisco, did Charles mention he’d invited him. It pissed me off that the sound of Nick’s name had my heart nearly pounding through my chest. Part of me was excited as hell that he’d be there, but it’d been weeks since we’d talked, and the other part of me dreaded seeing him.

  Nick Christianson and I had been taking it one day at a time since the last case we’d been thrown together on. I knew down to my core that I wanted it to be more, but I wasn’t going to wear my heart on my sleeve just to have it ripped to shreds again. I didn’t think I could handle that. It seemed that one day at a time kept turning into two days, then two weeks to the point where we didn’t have time for each other.

  “Charles, can I talk to you for a minute?” I called after him.

  The pompous ass completely ignored me. I wanted to know why on earth he’d ask Nick to come along. It wasn’t like Charles and Nick were friends. Sure, they’d done business together. Nick was a cop and Charles did freelance work for the police, so their paths crossed. Charles’ skills as a computer forensics tech were renowned, and the Salinas Police Department seemed to be using his services more often. Even the dr
ug dealers and gangs had gotten into the digital age, and Charles was there to thwart them whenever possible.

  What miffed me the most was that Charles hadn’t told me he’d been in touch with Nick. He usually loved to rub that stuff in my face.

  Nick’s one of the Salinas Police Department’s homicide detectives. He also happened to be my old college fling. Until earlier this year, when we were reunited on a murder case, I hadn’t seen him in--um--a couple of years. (Whew, I almost dated myself.)

  My thoughts turned from Nick to Lola, as she stopped at the reception desk. The hairs on her back stood on end, as if attracted to a magnet, and her growl was low and menacing.

  Charles snapped his fingers and Lola dropped to the ground, but still on high alert. When I caught up to him, I looked across the reception desk to see a vaguely familiar face. It was Cortnie Criss, my new employee.

  Cortnie had been an associate of Charles’ when they worked together at the Naval Postgraduate School, and he had recommended her when a position became available with our agency. She stood there, all five foot four of her, not the least bit intimidated by Lola. I guess with her black pumps, she actually stood about five seven, and she looked fit in her black pencil skirt, bare legs, and a fitted black T-shirt. She had classic good looks that required only a bit of blush and possibly some mascara to look beautiful.

  She’d been training for a few days, but this was the first time our agency mascot was being introduced.

  “Lola, meet Cortnie.” He gestured to Lola, who rose to a sitting position and lifted her paw as if to shake. “Cortnie, Lola. I’m sure you two will become fast friends, because Lola loves everyone I love, and darling, I just love you.”

  Cortnie wasn’t stupid enough to approach Lola and shake her paw. She looked down at the Doberman and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Lola. I hope we will be friends.” She looked at Charles, “She’s not going to rip me to shreds, is she?”

  Charles handed Cortnie a liver treat. “Step out here.” Cortnie did as instructed. “Now put the treat in the palm of your hand and hold it there with your thumb.”

  Cortnie did as Charles said, and Lola’s growl turned to a whimper.

  “Okay, turn your hand palm down and raise it to shoulder level.”

  Cortnie complied, not at all hesitant.

  “Meet Lola, your new best friend. Just say, ‘Lola, touch.’”

  Cortnie said, “Lola, touch.”

  Lola leapt from her sitting position and snagged the treat from Cortnie’s palm. It was a swift, yet gentle movement, and I had to give her credit for not flinching. She obviously trusted Charles implicitly.

  Charles turned and looked at me. “See, I told you Cortnie was a gem.”

  The phone rang just then, and Cortnie answered it. Lola trotted over to her and rested her chin on Cortnie’s lap. All was good in the Gotcha Detective Agency world.

  “One moment, please.” Cortnie put the call on hold. “It’s Richard Clinton from HCM.”

  “I’ve got it.” I rushed to my office, grabbing Charles by the arm.

  “I don't need to be there. I've briefed Cortnie on everything she needs to know. She'll be fine.” He stood his ground.

  “Charles, you are sitting in on this call. It won’t last that long and you’re the expert with the technology we’ll be using.”

  Charles grabbed Cortnie’s hand. “You need to join us. This is the case you've been reading about. We'll probably be using your surveillance equipment.”

  Cortnie grabbed her iPad ® and joined us in my office.

  I pressed the speaker button on my phone. Mr. Clinton got right to the point.

  “I wanted to let you know that I’ve talked to our board, and we’ve decided to listen to your plan of attack.” He sounded much younger than his sixty-five years.

  Clinton was the president of Hewes Chemical Management, or HCM Incorporated, a national chemical company. He suspected that chemicals were missing from his local warehouses and was considering using our agency for surveillance.

  I looked at Charles, who knew the details of the equipment we planned to use, but he just looked back at me. He really wasn’t going to participate in this call.

  “Mr. Clinton, I have Charles Parks, and another detective, Cortnie Criss, in here with me.”

  “Hello, Mr. Clinton, I’m Cortnie Criss.” She sounded classy and sure of herself, and I liked that.

  Cortnie had been hired to replace Gemma, who was a junior detective with our agency. Gemma had found true love and moved across the country, all in a matter of days. Cortnie’s expertise was in video surveillance, so this case was right up her alley.

  I was pretty sure Charles hadn’t had time to get her up to speed on this account, as he hadn’t even remembered the call.

  “Charles updated me on the situation this morning. So you think your local vice-president is padding his yearly bonus with chemicals from your company?” she said.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Clinton said. “The inventory numbers seem to be fine, but the barrels in the warehouse don’t seem to match the numbers on the page. Then, when I mentioned it, the barrels were suddenly there again. So I dropped the inquiry, hoping that with enough time I’d see another discrepancy. Last week, something was off again.”

  “From what I have here,” Cortnie looked at her iPad®, tapped and slid her fingers across the screen, then looked up. “It’s been six months since the first inquiry.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “So, the chemical in question is methylamine chloride? Mr. Clinton, you know what this chemical is used for, right?”

  I sucked in my breath. Did she really just ask the president of an international chemical company if he knew what his product was used for?

  “Ms. Criss, I know exactly what it’s used for.” He didn’t sound miffed, or insulted. “I also know what it’s used for illegally.”

  “I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page. I understand that you know its use in pesticides, pharmaceuticals, and such. Now I know you know it’s used to make methamphetamine, too.”

  “I just don’t know who would be stealing it from my warehouses. My employees are very well compensated. I don’t see why any of them would have a need to supplement their income with illegal activities.”

  We all looked at each other and rolled our eyes. People in high places could be so naïve. It’s human nature to be greedy; enough is never enough. And the person the world sees may not be the real deal. I’m constantly amazed at what people do behind closed doors.

  “One can never be sure of another’s motives, sir.” Cortnie typed on her iPad ®.

  “We can’t let anyone in the facility know that we are investigating, correct?” I asked.

  “I’m just not sure who I can trust, so no.” Clinton sounded tense.

  “That's not a problem. We can go to the facility late at night and set up our equipment. No one needs to know we were there,” Cortnie offered.

  “And how do you expect to get in?” Clinton inquired.

  Cortnie was nonplussed. “We can break in, or you can provide us with entry. There is always a way to bypass the security system and not let anyone know the perimeter has been breached.”

  “You sound like someone I wouldn’t want to cross.” Mr. Clinton’s voice was a bit less strained.

  “Who, me?” Cortnie laughed. “All in a day’s work. I’d never use my skills for personal gain.”

  “When would you like us to start?” I asked.

  "The sooner, the better. I just have to figure a way to get you past our security. We have doormen, and video twenty-four seven." The edge in Mr. Clinton's voice bothered me.

  “No problem. I’ll go in late tonight or early in the morning. I just need a copy of the building’s floor plan. Can you email them to me in an attachment?” Cortnie knew her stuff.

  “I’ll have my assistant do that right away.”

  "Can your assistant be trusted?" I inquired.

  "Abso
lutely. I’m going to tell her it’s for a possible expansion. Do you have a personal email, not the agency one, that I can give her?"

  Cortnie gave him her personal email address, and said, “Perfect. I’ll look over the plans, and I’ll need the information about the security in the building, so I can figure out how to bypass it. The sooner you get this to me, the better prepared I’ll be.” Cortnie looked at me and smiled.

  “We’ll also need personnel files. We’ll need to look into the background of your employees at that location. Are the files digital?” I said.

  “I don’t know how I’ll get that to you. If I have my assistant do it, she’ll be suspicious. I trust her, but she doesn’t have access to the human resources files.”

  Cortnie said, “Human resources can be told that we are doing a labor audit. I can send a formal letter, but usually, there is a long period of time between the notification and the audit.”

  “We can call HR and tell them we are inquiring as to why we haven’t received the files yet, claiming we sent the request more than a month ago.” I was thinking aloud.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Clinton said. “If you can dummy up some paperwork, I’ll run it to HR and tell them my assistant brought it to my attention. I’ll ask that the files be sent to me, and I’ll forward them.”

  “It’s not normal protocol, but we can try to make it work,” Cortnie said. “Of course, all of this will take some time.”

  “Mr. Clinton, this is Charles Parks. Cortnie is one of the developers of the equipment we’ll be using to investigate, which is state of the art. Most P.I. agencies couldn’t afford this quality, but we are lucky to have the equipment and the developer. You’re in good hands.”

  "Thank you so much, Mr. Parks."

  "Mr. Clinton, may I ask, what made you decide to choose Gotcha Detective Agency? There are plenty of agencies closer to San Francisco." Something about this case bothered me.

  "Oh, believe me, Ms. Capurro, I've spent the last six months doing my homework, and you come very highly recommended."

  Charles glared at me as if to say, “Are you trying to ruin this?”