I’d do without you.”
Abby had laughed softly. “Just make sure I get an invitation to the wedding.”
“You and Harry will be there to dance the night away,” Erik promised. “See you when I get back.”
“Have a safe trip,” Abby said and rang off.
Erik hung up the phone and relaxed in the plush leather seat. The flight attendant stopped next to him. “We’re getting ready to take off, Mr. Whitaker. Please buckle your seat belt and turn off any electronic devices.”
In Minneapolis, a hired car was waiting to take him to the nearby town where the plant manager and key members of his staff were waiting to meet with him. He enjoyed the scenery as the car sped toward the plant. Cows grazed in pastures. It was snowing but not heavily. He supposed it was still too early for one of Minnesota’s snowstorms. But it was definitely cold outside at 28 degrees. And the wind was biting. He had checked the weather before the trip, though, so he was dressed warmly enough.
His cell phone rang and he took it out of his inside coat pocket and glanced at the display. It was his father, John. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“Just thought you should be advised that when I acquired the plant in Harris, Minnesota, the plant manager and the owner were at odds,” he said. “I had both of them vetted and decided that if the owner sold, the manager could keep his job. Olsen is a good man. Hadn’t had any trouble since then, till now. Harris is a small town and relatives of the former owner work at the plant. Maybe one of them holds a grudge.”
“That’s a possibility,” said Erik. “We’ll see.” He already had a plan in the works.
* * *
Later, at the meeting, Jim Olsen, the plant manager appeared relieved to see Erik. He was a tall, heavyset man with blond hair and brows and a somewhat florid face. He introduced the other four persons seated around the conference room table. Then he and Erik sat down. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way,” he began. “But the accountants were unable to pinpoint exactly why we’ve experienced losses in the last two quarters.”
Jim had emailed Erik files with the most recent numbers. Erik noticed a ten percent drop in profits in the past nine months. His auditors found that the amount of stock ordered by stores remained high. However stores were reporting that they were not receiving the right amount of stock they had ordered. To Erik that meant someone was intercepting outgoing stock before it could be shipped to stores. In which case he had to discover who was doing it and get proof of their guilt. To that end, a week ago he had hired a local private detective to keep the loading dock under surveillance until further notice. He told this to the five people sitting at the conference table with him now. “I’m expecting the detective any minute,” he informed them.
Erik wasn’t sure his hunch was correct, but what his father had earlier told him made him somewhat confident that he was on the right track.
Jim Olsen’s secretary stuck her head in the conference room. “Mr. Olsen, there is a Ms. Valerie Estes here to see you. She says she has important information for you.”
His color turning even more florid, Jim hastily stood. “Show her in, Ms. Bern.”
A tall brunette dressed in a dark pantsuit and a heavy coat entered the room carrying a black satchel. Erik noticed that when she set the bag on the conference table she did it with care. Jim made hasty introductions and once Erik had been identified, Ms. Estes gave him an almost imperceptible nod with a slight smile on her face. “I believe I have the information you requested, Mr. Whitaker,” she said, her tone businesslike. From her satchel she retrieved a laptop, which she set on the conference table, opened and switched on. In only a couple of minutes she clicked on a file and opened it. “Please take a look at this,” she said.
Everyone gathered around the laptop’s screen and watched as a man
Abby had laughed softly. “Just make sure I get an invitation to the wedding.”
“You and Harry will be there to dance the night away,” Erik promised. “See you when I get back.”
“Have a safe trip,” Abby said and rang off.
Erik hung up the phone and relaxed in the plush leather seat. The flight attendant stopped next to him. “We’re getting ready to take off, Mr. Whitaker. Please buckle your seat belt and turn off any electronic devices.”
In Minneapolis, a hired car was waiting to take him to the nearby town where the plant manager and key members of his staff were waiting to meet with him. He enjoyed the scenery as the car sped toward the plant. Cows grazed in pastures. It was snowing but not heavily. He supposed it was still too early for one of Minnesota’s snowstorms. But it was definitely cold outside at 28 degrees. And the wind was biting. He had checked the weather before the trip, though, so he was dressed warmly enough.
His cell phone rang and he took it out of his inside coat pocket and glanced at the display. It was his father, John. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“Just thought you should be advised that when I acquired the plant in Harris, Minnesota, the plant manager and the owner were at odds,” he said. “I had both of them vetted and decided that if the owner sold, the manager could keep his job. Olsen is a good man. Hadn’t had any trouble since then, till now. Harris is a small town and relatives of the former owner work at the plant. Maybe one of them holds a grudge.”
“That’s a possibility,” said Erik. “We’ll see.” He already had a plan in the works.
* * *
Later, at the meeting, Jim Olsen, the plant manager appeared relieved to see Erik. He was a tall, heavyset man with blond hair and brows and a somewhat florid face. He introduced the other four persons seated around the conference room table. Then he and Erik sat down. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way,” he began. “But the accountants were unable to pinpoint exactly why we’ve experienced losses in the last two quarters.”
Jim had emailed Erik files with the most recent numbers. Erik noticed a ten percent drop in profits in the past nine months. His auditors found that the amount of stock ordered by stores remained high. However stores were reporting that they were not receiving the right amount of stock they had ordered. To Erik that meant someone was intercepting outgoing stock before it could be shipped to stores. In which case he had to discover who was doing it and get proof of their guilt. To that end, a week ago he had hired a local private detective to keep the loading dock under surveillance until further notice. He told this to the five people sitting at the conference table with him now. “I’m expecting the detective any minute,” he informed them.
Erik wasn’t sure his hunch was correct, but what his father had earlier told him made him somewhat confident that he was on the right track.
Jim Olsen’s secretary stuck her head in the conference room. “Mr. Olsen, there is a Ms. Valerie Estes here to see you. She says she has important information for you.”
His color turning even more florid, Jim hastily stood. “Show her in, Ms. Bern.”
A tall brunette dressed in a dark pantsuit and a heavy coat entered the room carrying a black satchel. Erik noticed that when she set the bag on the conference table she did it with care. Jim made hasty introductions and once Erik had been identified, Ms. Estes gave him an almost imperceptible nod with a slight smile on her face. “I believe I have the information you requested, Mr. Whitaker,” she said, her tone businesslike. From her satchel she retrieved a laptop, which she set on the conference table, opened and switched on. In only a couple of minutes she clicked on a file and opened it. “Please take a look at this,” she said.
Everyone gathered around the laptop’s screen and watched as a man
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