Chapter 5: The Meeting

Four hundred twelve thousand dollars had gone to a bank I had never heard of, and Dean had not answered one call since Joyce found it.

So I went to find him where he could not hang up.

Wednesday at nine, the Harlow Home Supply regional sales meeting began without its guest of honor.

Dean was supposed to be presenting. He was on slide four, in his good gray suit, with his lanyard straight and his smile on.

I knew because I was standing in the doorway at the back of the glass conference room, and nobody had noticed me yet.

Twenty people sat around the long table, with coffee and printed decks.

At the head sat Harlow's chief executive, a woman in her sixties with white hair cut blunt at the chin.

She had said yes to my call at seven that morning and had not said anything else.

"Our Q4 numbers show a six percent lift," Dean was saying. "The Charlotte team has really bought in. People ask me how I do it."

"Mr. Ellery," the chief executive said.

"Yes, ma'am, hold on, I'll get to the margins."

"Mr. Ellery. Please stop."

He stopped.

She looked down the table at me.

"Mrs. Slade," she said. "Come in."

Twenty heads turned.

Dean's smile stayed on his face a second too long, and then it dropped.

"Mer?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

I walked in and set a manila envelope on the polished wood in front of him.

"I came to see how you do it," I said.

"This is my work meeting."

"It was."

The chief executive folded her hands.

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