A Taste of Tragedy (12 page)

Morgan spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to come up with a plan on how to acquire a sample of MFHG3 without being seen. Even if she could manage to get liquid out of a five-gallon plastic jug with a relatively small pour spout without Wiley or any of the workers noticing, she wasn’t sure what kind of security cameras might be hidden in the plant.

Despite the seemingly impossible task, she knew she’d have to come up with something in order to put her mind at ease once and for all. In the meantime, she had a meeting with the marketing staff, not to mention a complex and detailed report to finish by the end of the day.

The conference room buzzed with excitement. She had no doubt every member of the four-person marketing team loved their job. Morgan tried to focus as they presented three new promotional campaign ideas they had come up with, but her mind kept wandering down to the plant.

“Could you run through the presentation again on the second campaign you outlined?” Morgan asked as she struggled to focus.

She watched closer this time, not wanting to be disrespectful of all the time and effort they had clearly gone through for this meeting.

“I think the first one isn’t different enough from what we’ve tried in the past. We need something new and innovative. For the third idea, we need to come up with the new entrees and desserts to unveil before we can put it in place. I sent the suggestions we conceptualized during our last meeting down to Research and Development to see if they can come up with some new tasty seasonal combos. I haven’t heard back yet, so let’s put that one on the back burner for the moment. The second campaign you presented definitely has potential in the short-term, but I think we have a bit more tweaking to do before we run it by Mr. Hoyle.”

Morgan walked up to the giant white-board at the front of the room and drew a few rough pictures, adding to the concepts just presented by the marketing team on their second presentation. She wasn’t a great artist, but clearly the images were enough to get them bouncing new strategies off of each other. As they shouted out ways to incorporate her ideas, she jotted notes on the board. Two hours later, she left the excited group behind and made her way to the plant.

“So, what are we running today?” she asked as she approached Wiley.

“Just finished a run of strawberry shortcake. As soon as all the equipment is cleaned, we’ll finish out the day with our chicken entrees.”

“I came straight from a marketing meeting and we have some great ideas. The most important one involves the introduction of a new seasonal line along with a few new standard items. If we want consumers to stay with us, we need to offer more variety. The seasonal line will be Thanksgiving and Christmas items that we would only sell from mid-October through early January. Hopefully, the meals and desserts will be so amazing that even if we lose a few customers here and there, we’ll get them back during the holidays.”

“I’m sure glad that’s your plan, rather than the usual corporate solution of layoffs,” Wiley stated.

“I think it’s worth a shot. I’m as bad as anyone. I get bored easy. We need to keep the selection options fresh. I also had an idea that might build some morale. What do you think if we give everyone in production the opportunity to submit ideas for the seasonal line, and if their concept is selected, we could give some kind of bonus or award? I thought maybe it would be fun to give those who produce the meals the chance to offer their input into the types we roll out.”

“Sounds like a great idea. In fact, occasionally, someone comes to me and says that some entrée would be tastier if we paired it with some other side dish. Since the R & D folks are kind of control freaks, I just keep the ideas to myself and produce what they tell me to, exactly how they tell me to do it.”

Giant Cactus Foods wasn’t the first manufacturing company she had worked for, but it was the most unusual. Even though her pay had increased substantially with this position, her decision-making authority had decreased. In the other companies, the research and development division was at her disposal. They were there to help and appreciated ideas for new products. She had certainly never walked on pins and needles around them.

Unfortunately, she probably wasn’t
Preston
’s favorite vice president at the moment. For the time being, she’d do things as R & D dictated and try not to make any more waves.

“Come on, I’ll show you the change-over process. Knowing exactly how we sanitize the equipment between product runs to avoid cross-contamination might come in handy if the inspectors try to bully you. The FSIS folks are sticklers, but so am I.”

Morgan chuckled. People like Wiley were few and far between. Yes, he was paid well, but she could tell he was diligent because he took pride in his work. She listened closely while he explained the process as they made their way up the line.

When they reached the beginning of the production line, she spotted the jugs of MFHG3 sitting next to small vats of salt, pepper, and other spices. She noted shining stainless-steel measuring vessels and several large glass pipette-type devices that she assumed were used to pull liquid quantities out of the containers.

Her fingers caressed the small glass vial she had sterilized and stowed in her pocket. The workers had clearly started on this end and were moving away from her, but Wiley stood within arm’s reach. She scanned the area around and above the equipment and noticed a camera discretely placed with a view of the spice area and the MFHG3.

“Hmm.”

“What is it?” Wiley asked.

“I’ve noticed a few cameras around the plant. Is that after-hours security, for you to keep an eye on things, or for someone else?”

“Not for me. I don’t believe in spying on my people. I imagine it’s a combination of the first and last of your inquiry.”

“From what I’ve learned, they’re probably watching their precious container of MFHG3,” she spoke in a low tone, barely above a whisper.

“I get the impression you’re not as in love with it.”

“I just hate secrecy. I’d like to at least look at it, touch it, and put a tiny drop on my tongue. I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

Wiley stared at her for a moment, making her uncomfortable. His eyes narrowed, indicating he was clearly deep in thought.

“I’m going to walk over there and get you the Material Safety Data Sheet on our cleaners. My body will be blocking the camera for several moments, in case you’re wondering.”

She smiled and waited until Wiley was positioned between her and the camera. She selected the smallest pipette, quickly unscrewed the top of the jug, retrieved a small amount, and transferred it into the vial she plucked from her pocket. Wiping the liquid from the glass with her index finger, she touched her tongue. The liquid was so sweet it made her lips pucker as if it were sour.

Wiley returned with the sheet and handed it to Morgan. He chuckled at the expression on her face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Like I said, it’s 300 times sweeter than sugar.”

“So, I take it you’ve caved to temptation too?”

“Yep, but that’ll be our little secret.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you create all this mystery and put something off-limits. It just makes people more curious.”

She hoped Wiley didn’t see her fill the vial. It was one thing to look, feel, and taste, and another issue altogether to take a sample out of the plant. Apparently, Stan Jacobson did, and he was dead.

“Thanks for the overview of the sanitation process. I’m very impressed. From a corporate standpoint, I love having confidence that we will have no issues with food-borne illnesses or passing our inspections. From a consumer’s perspective, I appreciate your diligence. And thanks for satisfying my curiosity. It was driving me crazy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responded with a wink.

“I suppose I should run the contest idea by
Preston
before you mention it to the staff. At any of my other jobs I’d just do it, but I’m a little gun-shy around here. Anyway, I’ll let you know when I get the go-ahead. I think it would be a great way to let the workers know we’re moving forward and expanding, not cutting back, and that we value their opinions.”

As Morgan walked away, she hoped they would be moving forward. She really enjoyed Wiley, and many of the plant employees were now smiling at her instead of looking terrified. If all of GCF’s claims were true, she would feel good about her job and bringing healthy foods to consumers. If an independent analysis came back okay, she pledged to forget about it and enjoy the job and her move to Arizona.

She reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over the smooth glass. She had purposely worn loose slacks and a blazer to aid in her little covert mission. Slipping into the nearest restroom, she transferred the vial from her pants pocket to an inside pocket of her blazer. Clearly, she couldn’t leave it in her desk or purse, even if locked.

Only a few hours remained of the workweek, and then she would head to Sedona. Once there, she would call Nick and see if she could send him the vial to be tested. After getting rid of the sample, she vowed to put GCF out of her mind and enjoy her weekend.

Morgan needed to have the old Jeep in the garage jumped or buy a new battery. With the Jeep running, she would be free to get out in the hills and let the peace and solitude of the stunning red desert landscape soothe her soul. The scenery in Sedona always helped her relax, and she needed that more now than ever.

“Every time we answer one question, two more pop up,” Devyn stated as she and Nick pondered the information they had just learned.

“That was definitely Janice Green in the security footage, only now auburn-haired and packing around a little more padding. She flew out of
Salt
Lake
as Candace Rogers, landed in
St. Louis
, and promptly disappeared. Where did she go from there? Is Candace Rogers her real name? Is she calling the shots, or is she just a hired gun like Frank?”

“Whoa, that’s more than two questions,” Devyn said.

Nick sighed. He couldn’t imagine how frustrated Devyn must be. He had tons more patience than she did, but he was quickly running out. Something had to break soon. Worrying about Morgan didn’t help matters. He was finding it difficult to focus on work when every time he closed his eyes, he pictured her long, silky brunette hair, her enchanting green eyes, her soft skin, and her lush lips.

A sting on his chest brought Nick abruptly out of his thoughts.

“Now you’re starting to worry me,” Devyn stated as she stood up to retrieve her stress ball that had nearly winged the agent at a nearby desk after bouncing off Nick’s chest.

“Just thinking about our next step. We’ve verified all the pharmaceutical and research company incidents weren’t accidents, we’ve learned Frank’s true identity, we located where Janice—or Candace—lived while she was here, and how and when she left, but that puts us no closer to the truth. We still don’t know if whoever is behind this will strike again. I feel like we’re dead in the water until something else horrible happens. I hate feeling helpless.”

“I agree, but what do we do next?”

“I’ll get Janice’s new name and photo out there and see if we can find out where she went from
St. Louis
. Then I’ll see if we’ve had any luck on tracing the source of Frank’s deposits. When I’m done, I’ll help you with the cold calls to the list of
U.S.
and
Puerto Rico
pharmaceutical companies you came up with.”

“I might as well get started right now,” Devyn stated as she picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number.

“What gives?” By the grin on her face, Nick knew she was up to something. Looking around, he spotted Gordo making a beeline for their desks.

“Do you think Devyn will be on the phone long?”

Nick looked over at Devyn and tried to catch her eye. He doubted she was even on an actual call, but she jotted notes furiously as if she couldn’t be interrupted.

“Could be a while, can I give her a message?”

“My mom made brownies last night, and since Devyn likes her cinnamon rolls, I thought she might like these too.”

Gordo was blushing so bad Nick couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man. He had to hand it to the kid. Devyn terrified most men, especially the young ones, but Gordo just kept coming around.

“I’ll make sure she gets them. By the way, good work last night. How are the audio transmissions coming along?”

“We’ve cleaned up the feed, and we’re listening in shifts to every word to ensure we don’t miss anything. Special Agent Gardener doesn’t think it’ll be much longer now. And he said the guy you and Devyn brought in just keeps talking.”

“Good to hear.”

“Well, better go before Fitz starts thinking I bailed. It’s probably my turn to take over listening. So far, it’s just been a lot of seemingly legitimate flower sales.”

Nick nodded and watched the young man walk away, shoulders slumped and clearly disappointed he didn’t get to talk to Devyn.

She hung up the phone and snatched a brownie off Nick’s desk. “I owe you one. Yum, Gordo’s mom sure can bake.”

“You got to quit leading that kid on. He seems to think he has a chance.”

“Seriously, Nick? I pretended to be on the phone. How’s that leading someone on?”

“You haven’t made him cry yet.”

“You’re right. Guess I’m getting soft in my old age.”

“Love can do that to you.”

This time, Nick was waiting and snatched the ball out of the air before it made contact. “Hit a nerve, have I?” Nick smiled.

“Keep it up and I’ll hit more than your nerve,” Devyn stated.