Pulse Points

Tanner waved his hand, cutting him off. “It’s your job to bother me when there’s so much at stake.”

The project that was underway was one of his biggest ever. Amidst fierce competition, Hart Development Corporation had landed its most lucrative and challenging job to date—building a high-rise office complex and parking garage on the west side of Rushmore.

Construction had started several months back, and for the most part, things had gone smoothly, which had been in his favor since his mind and loyalty were now divided. However, he’d been expecting a setback, knew it was inevitable.

“It’s the material,” Paul said. “Or the lack of it, rather.”

“Have you contacted the manufacturer?”

“Several times.”

“What’s the excuse?”

“Don’t really know.” Paul scratched his head. “Can’t get a straight answer.”

“Damn.”

“Like I said, I hated to have to bother you with this, but without material, we’re at a standstill, which is something I don’t have to tell you.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But our best bet is to locate another source.”

For the next hour, they worked out the particulars of solving this latest debacle, then Paul said his goodbyes and left.

Alone again, Tanner frowned. If he won the senate seat, he’d have to promote someone from the ranks to manage the company, although that didn’t sit too well with him. Before he turned politician, he wasn’t beneath putting on a hard hat and working alongside his men.

He enjoyed the physical side of construction as much as the mental. Hard labor honed his body as well as his mind. For the time being, however, the senate race demanded he don a tie instead of a hard hat.

His mind having returned to politics, he shifted his gaze to the phone. Should he call Kasey? He was curious if she had anything to show him. Actually, he didn’t give a damn whether she did or not.

He just needed an excuse to see her.

Kasey made her way into the boardroom long after the staff had gathered.

Before she had called this meeting, she had assured herself she was up to the task. Her son’s timely phone call last evening had elevated her spirits as nothing else could have done. He hadn’t wanted anything in particular; he’d just wanted to check on her and chat—all the more reason why the call was special.

However, now that all eyes were focused on her, her courage floundered.

This morning was the employees’ first day back since Shirley’s murder. Right off, Kasey had picked up on the tone and mood in the office. It wasn’t good; everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells.

Now, as she quickly perused her audience, she noted the staff was all present and accounted for, except Monica Lee, the girl Friday who remained at her desk to man the phones.

The department heads, three in all, were sitting together at the table closest to her. Red Tullos, the art director, fit his name to a tee. He was redheaded, red-faced and red-hot tempered. Kasey suspected it was his volatile nature that fueled his creativity and made him one of the best in his field. Temper or not, she liked him.

Left of Red sat Lance Sagemont, the media director. He was a short, small-boned man with a prominent nose that didn’t fit his fine features. However, he dressed with an impeccable flare that helped buffer his odd looks.

On the right was Don Hornsby who was in charge of sales and marketing. In his mid-thirties, he was a brash, good-looking young man with a crew cut and well-preserved body. The only flaw that showed was a mole above his upper lip that he fingered constantly. Because of his charm, he was great at what he did.

The remaining staff was made up of a writer, like herself, Dwight Cavanaugh, another artist, Angie Thigpen and the bookkeeper, Nelda Parrish.

“What’s going on?” Red finally asked, his booming voice obliterating the silence.

“Yeah, are we out on our ear?” Don chimed in.

Veiled murmurs followed their outbursts.

Feeling her confidence return, Kasey raised her hand. The room hushed. “No one is out of a job here unless they have a problem working with me.”

Red spoke again. “How are you going to keep the agency afloat when Shirley couldn’t? We all know it’s in financial trouble.”

His pointed questions were making her job much easier. “We have a new client.”

For a moment, the group looked dumbfounded.

“How can one client accomplish that?” Don asked, a suspicious note in his voice.

“Must be one hellava client,” Dwight muttered.

“It is,” Kasey said, her voice gaining added strength. “We’ve been hired by the developer and Texas senatorial candidate, Tanner Hart.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lance said, speaking for the first time.

“What he’s paying us, plus the other smaller jobs we still have, will enable the agency to keep the doors open until we can prove our worth again.”

Angie raised her hand, then said, “That may be a while, what with all the unfavorable publicity.”

“And there will be more to come,” Kasey said. “Detective Richard Gallain will be here any time to question all of us about Shirley. They are looking for anything that will help them find her killer. I know each of you will do your part to help in the investigation.”

Her words met with another silence. Kasey broke it. “Meanwhile, I’ll be briefing you on Hart’s campaign and asking each of you for your input into the layout. Put your thinking caps on and don’t let me down.”

On that note of encouragement, the meeting ended. She was on her way back to her office when Monica stopped her. “It’s for you.”

“What?” she asked.

“The phone.”

She hadn’t even heard it ring. “Who is it?”

“Tanner Hart.”

She panicked. After that forbidden trip into the past, she didn’t want to talk to him or see him. “Tell him I’m busy, that I’ll get back to him soon.” She needed more time.

Nine

K asey was both frustrated and excited. She had worked all day yesterday and most of this morning on Tanner’s campaign. While her head had been swarming with ideas based on his platform, nothing had gelled, no one theme that would make the man, Tanner Hart, stand out. With the help of the staff, she had come up with numerous sketches and slogans; they were strewn about the workroom on desks and tables. The place resembled a war zone.

But again, nothing out of the ordinary had jumped out at her. At the moment, her frustration was winning over her excitement. Kasey rubbed her temples, trying to clear her dulled mind.

“Want some more coffee?” Don Hornsby asked in a cheery tone, his smile targeting her.