We agreed it shouldn’t be obvious that the three of us spent Thursday night together, so around 10:00 the next morning, I dropped Kate and Cameron off at the Westin Hotel and continued to my office. The slick Pacific Place shopping mall is walking distance from the hotel, so they could eat breakfast and shop to their heart’s delight until check-in time. Matt arranged for a coach service to take our sales staff from the Westin to the mansion around 4:00 that afternoon.
I’d gotten settled at my desk with a fresh mug of coffee when Matt popped his head in. “Hi, gorgeous. Well this is the big day. Excited?”
“I don’t know, Matt. I still have some serious doubts about this. What if the Inspector General digs into some of the costs and discovers how government money was spent? A big party? At a mansion? I know Bruce and Julia feel this is the key to adding more product lines, and in turn more business. And I get the part about building better relations with our manufacturing partners as well as some of the main contracting officers, but it still feels a bit weird to me. After all, I’m the one on the line for our finances.”
“Chill, Sweetie. Don’t be so uptight. Like Julia said, the costs are pretty well buried in the sales meeting budget. No one is going to question it and it’s a good chance for you to meet quite a few of the important names that just exist on paper for you right now.”
Ah, here was the opening. I pretended to be thinking about it before I said, “You might have a point there. When I ran the statements, I noticed that we have a new manufacturing partner, or at least it’s a name I hadn’t noticed before. You’re the one who worked with the guest list. Will someone from Alaric Fabricators be there?”
Matt’s eye twitched. He seemed nervous, which was an unusual thing for him. “Um, Alaric? Oh yeah, that’s the company we sometimes use for pass-throughs.”
“Pass-throughs?”
“I don’t think we’ve had many since you’ve been working here, so maybe you hadn’t noticed them before. Alaric has been a supplier of ours for awhile. When we get a rush order for something we wouldn’t be able to deliver on time by making it in a prison factory, sometimes we actually order it from Alaric instead. You see, under certain circumstances the mandate that established the FACR program way back in the late thirties allows us to basically pass it through directly to a manufacturing partner and they drop ship to the customer. The cartons are still marked with the FACR logo, so we meet the schedule and don’t lose the customer. It’s very subjective. We can’t do many of those, because then it wouldn’t be an inmate rehab program, would it?”
I didn’t answer and waited for him to go on. I’d heard somewhere that if you want to be the one who wins, let the other guy fill the silence. I kept my mouth shut even though I was itching to say something.
After a minute or so with neither of us saying anything, he cleared his throat and said, “That isn’t really something I deal with, but Alaric is sort of an indirect supplier. I think they sell components to one of the manufacturing partners who then supplies them to us. The way I understand it, if we get into a bind, they can also manufacture furniture to custom specifications, so it’s no problem for them to copy the styles on the order and ship the finished product right to the customer. It’s all legit. Don’t worry.”
My trust in Matt was giving way to darkness, not unlike the last remnants of a brilliant sunset. My gut feeling was right. I’d really have to be careful about what I said and did around him in the future. Why was he so nervous? Had I hit on something?
Trying to look casual, I took a sip of my coffee. Yuk. It had turned cold and left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I fixed Matt with a questioning expression. He mumbled something unintelligible, much like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar making excuses, then went back to his own office.
Matt and I left early in the afternoon so we could arrive on the scene around 3:00, each in our own cars. I had to admit, he’d done a fantastic job of working with the caterers. Shaded by a large red umbrella, a valet service had set up a station in front of the gates. A few fellows in red jackets, white shirts and black pants were ready to whisk cars away as quickly as they arrived. Glittery letters on the back of the jackets advertised they were the Valerio Valet Service. As we walked up the drive, Matt said, “We didn’t want people to have to walk very far. These guys are bonded and insured.” As if he needed to explain to me.
Three catering trucks stood in front of the entry to the mansion. Each was wrapped in one of those photographic skins that almost look real, showing images of elegant tables laden with mouth-watering dishes. Lettering strung across the back doors of the van closest to me read MONTOYA’S MOVEABLE FEAST, with a phone number and website address in bold black letters below. The uniformed catering staff rushed around putting finishing touches on everything.
Confident and glib, Matt was back to himself. He put his arm around my shoulder. “So, my skeptical friend, what do you think?”
The home looked beautiful from the outside, but the inside was even more impressive. A huge foyer featured inlaid marble floors and a sweeping circular staircase leading to the second floor. A massive chandelier dripping with crystals cascaded from the high ceiling above. Beyond the entry was an enormous living room with at least 20 feet of French doors that revealed the tented grounds and pool area. Multiple tables surrounded by chairs with festive slipcovers dotted the expansive lawn, catering stations ringed the patio, and there was even a little stage and portable dance floor where a band was finishing the setup of their instruments.
This was ridiculous. Government money being spent on a party of this scope? It looked more like a society affair or one of those Hollywood parties you see in magazines.
Not realizing I was there, Julia swept down the stairs, calling “Matt? Is that you?”
I’ll hand it to her. She recovered quickly. Her eyes sparked with surprise when she saw me, but she said without a moment’s hesitation, “Kimberly, good—I’m glad you came early. I was just making sure that the doors to the upstairs rooms were closed. When we negotiated the contract for this place, it was on the condition that guests wouldn’t be wandering through the rooms on the second floor. With all the people that will be here, I certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible if something valuable were to disappear.”
She gave Matt a hug and asked him to go into the kitchen with her, mumbling something about the caterers. Turning to me she said, “Bruce came in this morning. He’s really been looking forward to this, and now the day is finally here. He’s out in the back. Why don’t you go say hello to him?”
Julia’s face glowed with an inner light. It never ceased to amaze me how sexy she could be for a big woman. I wondered if she and Bruce spent the night in the mansion.