Texas Gal
by C. Sprite

 

Chapter Forty-Six         Murder most foul!

I stared at Sgt. Howland as a queasy feeling began to develop in my stomach. I hadn't seen it, but I could picture a body bent over double and stuffed into the barrel. That is, assuming it hadn't been cut up to fit it in.

"Uh— is it intact?" I asked.

"It appears to be. We can only see his head and feet right now. We have to leave it alone until a murder investigation team arrives so we don't further disturb the evidence. You say that this is only the second time you've been here?"

"Yes, we just received the paperwork back this morning that allows us to take possession of the property."

"Do you have that with you?"

"I have a photocopy," I said as I opened my purse and removed a copy of the Letter of Intent.

After he had looked at it, he said, "So you don't actually own the property yet?"

"That document transfers full control to us, and obligates us to pay according to the stipulated terms, but the deed is still recorded in the name of WVMG, and will remain so until the formal paperwork is completed and the payment amount is wire-transferred to their bank. I think that you'll have to consult an attorney to determine a more precise answer to your question."

He grimaced slightly. "The crime didn't occur today, so for the purposes of our investigation, this WVMG will be considered the property owner. I'll record the fact that the property is in the process of being transferred and that you now have administrative control. Since this document was only finalized yesterday, and the late Mr. Porter obviously departed some time ago, I doubt that you or your people will be involved in our investigation."

"Thank you, sergeant. Naturally we'll cooperate fully. You have only to ask."

"Thank you, Miss Drake. I'd like to talk with that woman in the office now."

Fortunately, the folded body of Lucas Porter was found in the rear building, so the Rangers didn't feel obligated to seal off any part of the printing plant building. My people were allowed to continue their work unabated. Susan and I temporarily took over a large office on the second floor. It was passably clean and we wiped down the chairs and desks before we sat. I made arrangements for several rental cars and nearby lodgings for my guys before informing the pilots that I would be returning to the plane shortly.

Our plans called for John and the other engineers to remain at the plant until all the equipment was inventoried and evaluated. Bill would stay until all the company records had been boxed up and shipped to the CPA firm handling the books for Lunamatic Printing. Bob would establish his own schedule. He had overall responsibility for the plant, and as it would become part of the Piermont Business Forms sub-division, he would continue to administer direct control.

Since it was Friday, and we were already in Texas, Susan and I decided to return to the ranch for the weekend. On Sunday we would return to the Northeast, I to Brandon, and Susan to continue her inspection tour for the Ameri-Moore Forestry Products division.

"A body?" Mother said when we told the story over our late dinner.

"It appears to be the missing Lucas Porter, according to the Rangers," I said.

"Where's this other man? Biscum?"

"The Rangers haven't found him yet, as far as I know. According to Cynthia, he only showed up whenever the holding company called to say that prospective buyers were coming through. Then he would appear with twenty-five to thirty men and make the place appear to be an operating plant. Cynthia doesn't know who was actually printing the few jobs they got. The work would be completed and ready for shipping when she arrived in the morning."

"It certainly wasn't elves," Susan said.

"Probably not. Perhaps it was Biscum. He claimed to be a printer. As it was, there was very little work. I suppose that the holding company was only keeping it operating so that it would appear as a going concern. I don't even know if they're aware how few people actually worked there. There are a lot of unanswered questions at this point. My confusion about the situation led me to alter our usual procedures. Normally, I buy the entire business as a business. This time I only purchased the plant assets, consisting of the real property, equipment, and on-hand supplies. The company's records are being boxed up and shipped to the CPA retained by the holding company to handle the books. The fates of the employees will become their responsibility. I won't have to lay anyone off."

"But you lose the name of the printing company," Susan said. "You've always said how valuable that can be."

"Not in this case, Suz. Their business was almost non-existent. They owned only the equipment, and I received that. Their A/R is miniscule, and offset by their A/P. There was nothing to be gained, and a lot to possibly lose by taking responsibility for their company. Anyone with a grievance against Lunamatic could come after us. If any of the boats or trailers have been damaged while stored on the property, even if they're there illegally, their owners would try to sue us. No, we're better off distancing ourselves from Lunamatic. The only asset of theirs which I'm keeping, so far, is Cynthia. I've offered her a job with Piermont. As long as she's not involved in the death of Lucas Porter, she'll have a job with us in some capacity. All A/R and A/P functions will be handled at Brandon, but there's a lot of paperwork performed at a printing print, such as job scheduling, employee timekeeping, and invoicing. She said that she'd be willing to change her office duties."

"Did you get the plant at your price, dear?" Mother asked.

"Pretty much. My last offer was $6.5 million, and we settled for $6.65 million. The property alone is worth that, and we expect the equipment to be worth as much as $12 million once it's completely overhauled. That effort could take as much as $2 million for parts and labor, but it leaves us a yield of $10 million. I'll know the situation better next week, but it seems safe to say that Lucas Porter or Billy Biscum gave us quite a gift by frightening off prospective buyers for two years. The mining group was so anxious to get rid of what they believed to be a white elephant, they let it go for a song."

I arrived at company headquarters at my usual time on Monday, anxious to know what was happening in Houston, but knowing that I wouldn't call down there. Bob would contact me as soon as he had something to report. I trusted him implicitly.

I spent the morning reading trade magazines and thinking about the Houston plant. Knowing now that there had been a dead body in one of the buildings, I wondered about Greg's willingness to drop the price to a point that would rekindle my interest. Had a representative from South-Core visited the plant and discovered the body. Is that why they dropped out of the effort to acquire the property and disappeared? So many questions, and so few answers, was vexing.

I was reading on my sofa Tuesday morning when Bob Warren called.

"Hi, boss. Got a few minutes?"

"Good morning, Bob. Sure, I do. How's everything going?"

"I'll come over and fill you in."

"You're here?"

"I came back last night with Bill. John and the others are still down there."

"Come on over. Bring your coffee; I don't have any made."

A few seconds latter both Bob and Bill entered my office and joined me in my casual area.

"Good morning, Bill," I said.

"Good morning, DD."

"I didn't expect you gentlemen back so soon," I said.

"There wasn't all that much to do," Bob said as they took their seats. "A van picked up all the Lunamatic records yesterday morning, and a cleaning company I hired came in and cleaned the offices from top to bottom. It looks like a different place. Did you know that the carpet in the reception area was medium blue?"

"I thought it was dark grey," I said.

"So did I, but it isn't any more. I had a locksmith come out and re-key all outside doors to a new master. Candy is going to function as the receptionist until we get things rolling and hire someone for that role. She'll answer the phone and forward all callers looking for forms, to our 800 numbers. All other callers for Lunamatic will be given the WVMG number in West Virginia. Since you didn't buy Lunamatic as a company, we couldn't have the order entry number taken from Billy Biscum's wife and forwarded to our offices."

"We'll survive," I said, grimacing. "I'd just as soon not be associated with the Lunamatic name at all. We're not losing much from what I could see of the small jobs they were printing when we visited, and the murder investigation will probably include that name in every newspaper article and television report."

"True. I spoke to the owner of the CPA outfit handling Lunamatic's payroll. He told me that they currently pay wages to thirty-eight people at the plant. I told him that we only knew of two, the two clerks, one of whom I hadn't even met yet as she was out both times I was there. He's going to investigate and report my statement to WVMG."

"It sounds like Lucas Porter has been taking WVMG for a real sleigh ride for some time. I wonder if the situation was the same with the previous senior partner companies, or if it only came about since WVMG assumed 100% ownership? Bob, we should get this deal wrapped up quickly, before any of the previous partners get wind of the situation and attempt to block the transfer while they determine liability for operational losses due to fraud."

"Right, boss. It should be fairly straightforward since we're not buying the company and there are no liens, at present, on the land. What do you want to do about the recreational vehicles in Building Two?"

"I suppose we should find out how much Mr. Porter was collecting in rents before we decide. Until we get some tenant interest, it might provide enough income to pay the property taxes."

"Good idea. We'll have to buy insurance to cover us for that function though."

"The rent should be enough to cover that as well," I said. "Perhaps we should see what rates other storage locations around Houston are getting for the same protection from the elements. Porter might have been leasing space ridiculously cheap since he had no overhead."

"I'll get somebody on that," Bill said.

"The cost of getting the machines operational won't be a tenth of what we had estimated," Bob said. "John found an entire storage room filled with working, used parts. He speculates that they'd been removed from the non-functioning machines. Every box was marked with the serial number of a machine that was down, and was missing that particular part."

"So Porter purposely sabotaged most of the equipment so it wouldn't work," I hypothesized, "and then allowed people to think that the machines had been cannibalized to keep the others working."

"He seems to have been working scams from every angle."

"Sgt. Howland told me that they'd tentatively identified him from previous arrest reports. I guess he hadn't reformed."

"Somebody's reformed him now," Bob said, "permanently."

"I wonder if it was Biscum, or someone else." After a few moments of silence I asked, "What next? How do we get Houston paying its keep?"

"We should start looking for tenants, unless you foresee a need for the other buildings," Bill said. "Then we'll need to begin staffing the plant."

"Let's start at the top," I said, standing up. I went to the file room off my outer office and retrieved the employment forms of the management employees in Bloomington and Danbury. Returning to my office, I laid them on my desk as I asked, "Any suggestions for plant manager?"

"Both of our chief assistant plant managers, Harry Trotter at Bloomington, and Joseph Sladden at Danbury, are good men," Bob said. "Their employee evaluations are always excellent. I don't know if either would be interested in moving, but if they ever hope to move up to plant manager, they might have to. Harry Trotter is the senior man. He was assistant plant manager when we bought the plant from Tassett. We wanted our own person in the top slot so we moved Kiel Petersmith to Bloomington. Ralph Sorontos replaced him at Danbury and Joe got Ralph's old job. I think that Harry deserves a chance to show us what he can do, if he wants the job.

"Only one way to find out," I said, "But let's put together a prioritized list that we can work from until we find someone. I don't want to fill such a key position from outside if we have someone on board already."

Over the next half-hour we evaluated every management person at the two printing plants. If none of the six possible candidates wanted the job, we'd begin looking at management people at other plants, but it made more sense to have someone with a printing background if possible.

"Ben should query all our people at Danbury and Bloomington," Bob said, after we had compiled the manager list, "to see if anyone is interested in moving to Texas. It would be nice, although certainly not necessary to have a small core of people already familiar with how we operate. Every person moving from Danbury decreases our responsibility to maintain full employment there, even though that hasn't been a problem. That reminds me. I got a call from a realtor on Thursday. The property adjoining ours in Danbury has come on the market."

"The machine shop?"

"Yes. The building is only ten-thousand two-hundred square feet, but it comes with eight acres of land. Parking is tight during a shift, and during a shift change it's impossible. We've had to stagger working hours since we went to a second shift, just to have a chance of having the second shift people find a parking place when they arrive."

"Is it just the property, or are they attempting to sell the business to us?" I asked.

"Just the property. The building was being leased, and the company's moved to smaller quarters."

"What are they asking?"

"The realtor quoted $350,000."

"That's a lot of money for just 10,200 sq. feet of industrial space," I said.

"It's Danbury, not Brandon. Land is going for about $15,000 an acre in that area."

"Do you feel we need the building?"

"It could be useful, but we don't have a specific need. We could convert it to offices to house the small office staff and the job layout artists, and then open up the office space in the present building to expand the print operations. Or we could lease it. We might even be able to subdivide the property, keep the land we need and sell the building."

"Okay, get me the contact info when you have a chance. I'll go have a look."

"Okay, boss," Bob said, standing. "I'll get started on the transfer paperwork for Houston. I have the equipment inventory lists all set."

"Thank you, Bob."

While Bob and Bill returned to their important duties, I returned to my very important task of reading trade magazines. I had completed my work in acquiring the property. Now it fell to others to staff it, get it operating, and make it profitable.

On Thursday I took the Cessna out for a spin. Bob had no plans to use it so I took an early morning trip to Danbury where I met the realtor, Mrs. Leland, that had contacted Bob. She picked me up at the airport and drove me to the property. As we toured the former machine shop, I asked how long the building had been vacant. I was told that the machine shop had moved out a year ago. Failing to lease the building, the owner had decided to advertise it for sale or lease.

The building wasn't in very good shape from what I could see. I suspected that the former tenant had moved out because of its condition. At one place along the inside of the building, the roof was entirely separated from the concrete blocks along a twenty foot span. You could see the sky plainly through the gap. I imagine that in the winter, snow fell through, and during a rainstorm, water had to be pouring in. If Danbury suffered a major snowfall next winter, the roof would almost assuredly cave in at that point. The concrete floor was as almost as bad. Cracked seriously in several places, jagged and uneven edges presented a serious danger of tripping. The poured concrete may not have been thick enough, or had adequate steel reinforcing rod, and so was unable to support the heavy equipment in the machine shop. From what I could see, the entire floor had to be torn up and replaced.

"Does the owner intend to rectify any of these serious problems," I asked.

"No, that will be the responsibility of the new owner or tenant," Mrs. Leland replied.

"The tenant?" I echoed. "Tenants are never required to perform building construction maintenance. That's the responsibility of the owner."

"It's a lease point. Responsibility can be assigned to either party."

"This building is dangerously close to being condemned," I said. "If a building inspector sees that roof, it will be condemned."

"I'm sure that we can make some provision for having it fixed before you move in," Mrs. Leland said. "We can stipulate that in the contract. Do you wish to make an offer?"

"No, just a suggestion. Tear it down and put up a new building. And in the future take care of the small problems before they become so serious the building deteriorates to a point of being worthless."

"That's not my role. I only attempt to sell what an owner places on the market."

"Who did the appraisal for this property?"

"I did," she said, but then as if defending herself she added, "but that was last year. The roof has gotten much worse since then. Our last winter here was very severe."

"I see. Well, perhaps you should reevaluate it. I estimate that it's worth no more than a $120,000, less the cost of ripping down this building before it falls down on someone."

As I turned to leave, Mrs. Leland asked, 'Would you like to make that an official offer?"

I stopped and faced her again. "Would the principal consider an offer so far removed from his expectations?"

"He might, considering the deterioration that's occurred since last year."

"Okay. Let's see. The cost of razing this place and hauling away the material would probably be about $20,000. "I'll offer $100,000 for the property."

"Okay, I'll write it up."

We returned to her car and she prepared a contract. When she was finished, I read it over and signed my name.

"Excuse me Miss Drake. I have to ask. You're at least eighteen, aren't you?"

"No, I'm sixteen."

"Oh, that's a problem."

"Why?"

"The law requires you to be eighteen to sign a legally binding contract, or we'll need a parent or guardian."

"Mrs. Leland, I'm a Vice-President of Ameri-Moore, and the President of Piermont Paper, a division that I founded by purchasing my first paper plant when I was thirteen, with just my signature. My division owns 45 plants and more than seven-hundred thousand acres of forestland across the eastern half of the U.S. I've personally purchased all our properties with just my signature and no parent or guardian co-signature. Those properties are currently valued at almost $600 million dollars. Last week I purchased an industrial complex in Houston that contains 4.5 million square feet on 380 acres of land with just my signature. The offer I'm making today is the lowest I've ever made for any property. If you feel that my signature isn't sufficient, then you may tear up that document and we'll forget the offer."

Her jaw was hanging down slightly by the time I was done. "Well, perhaps it will be alright. Yes, it'll be fine, Miss Drake. I'm sure that the precedents that exist in your case would have you confirmed as legally responsible for your actions. Please forget I mentioned it."

"If we're done here, can you take me back to the airport now?"

"I have a few other properties you might be interested in if you're looking for industrial space," she said. "I just listed one with a hundred-fifty-two thousand square feet on twenty-six acres in a prime industrial area."

"Thank you, Mrs. Leland, but I'm not in the market for additional industrial space in Danbury right now. Should that change, I promise I will call you first."

"Thank you, Miss Drake," she said as she started the car.

It was still early as I climbed out of the valley where the airport at Danbury is located. I turned west, passing over the Hudson River at Newburgh after a short flight. To avoid any conflict with planes landing or taking off from Stewart International, I climbed a bit higher through that area, then descended again as I enjoyed the wonderful scenery of the Hudson Valley. Shortly I was over the lush Catskill mountain range. The thermals bounced me around a little, but I was loving every minute of it and I dropped a little lower to fully enjoy the spectacular views.

Two leisurely hours later I was over our plant at Franklin. I circled the plant twice, then headed for the airport. After making arrangements to have the airport's fuel truck top off my tanks with av-gas, I called Peter Emos.

"Hi, Pete," I said as soon as he answered. "I'm at the airport. Can you send someone to pick me up?"

"Sure thing, DD. Be about five minutes."

"Thanks, Pete."

Five minutes later, Pete drove onto the airport grounds where we always parked the jet.

"Hi, Pete," I said when he arrived. "You didn't have to come yourself."

"Hi, DD. It's my pleasure. Did the plane have to go somewhere?"

"No, I have the small plane today," I said, pointing to the 206.

"Isn't that the one that Bob flies?"

"Yes, it's Piermont's Cessna 206."

"Where's Bob?"

"He's busy in Brandon today. I had to visit Danbury, so I swung by for a visit."

"You have a pilot's license?" Pete asked.

"Yes. I can't drive a car yet, but I can fly a plane. Isn't that wild."

"You don't have a driver's license, but you have a pilot's license?"

"I've spent the whole summer outside Texas, so I haven't taken my driving test yet. I have a learner's permit though. I'll take the driving test once I get back to school. I've driven up and down the runway at home, and practiced parking on the ramp, and signaling, and everything else."

"Can you fly the company jet also?" he asked.

"No. At least not yet. Perhaps some day. Right now I can only fly single engine, land airplanes. Seaplanes, multi-engined planes, and jets require more training."

"Was that you at the plant a little while ago? The guard at the front gate said a small plane flew over the plant and circled a couple of times before heading towards the airport."

"Yes, that was me. I was just looking the plant over from the air."

"How's it look?"

"Wonderful," I said. "Compared to those pictures that appeared in the trade mags when we bought it, it looks like a showplace."

"Those guys didn't know what they were talking about. The minute I saw this place I knew it would be a great plant. The only pundit who thought it was a good deal was that guy from the Paper Press."

"That's thanks in great part to you, Pete. You've done a wonderful job here."

"Thanks, DD." he said as he pulled into his reserved parking place.

As we toured the plant, I saw that the MoPac operation was still moving at full throttle. We had met all the orders calling for mid-August delivery, and were now working on the orders that had been promised for mid-September.

"I was pretty worried a couple of months ago," I said to Pete. "I thought that we'd be disappointing a lot of customers who'd ordered the MoPacs."

"It's been an incredible time," Pete said. "This part of the plant has been working 24/7 since the machines were installed. We're so far ahead now that we can probably cut back a little."

"Have we filled all the orders?"

"Not yet, but we're producing notebooks much faster than new orders are coming in."

"I'd like to keep going at full speed until we're a million notebooks ahead of the orders. With an inventory position of a hundred thousand MoPacs, we should be able to respond to all orders with immediate shipment."

"Okay, DD. You're the boss."

"How are things going with the boxing operation and paper machine overhauls?"

Two hours and twenty minutes later I was back in the plane and lifting off the runway. It had turned out to be a fun day. I felt so good that I had almost forgotten the resentment I'd felt with Mrs. Leland. I had inked contracts for tens of millions of dollars, and then had my signature questioned for a hundred thousand. As I flew northeast, I made a conscious effort to forget about work and enjoy the scenery of western Pennsylvania, and by the time I passed over the Finger Lakes south of Syracuse, I was only thinking about my flying and the beautiful country below me.

"Thank you for coming," I said to my management team as I opened our regular Friday meeting. "It's so nice outside that I was tempted to convene this meeting at the picnic benches down by the river, but we might not get as much accomplished."

After everyone had politely chuckled, Bob began with his report.

"We're ready to close on the Houston plant. I've made arrangements to fly down to West Virginia Tuesday with Bill and Jeff Goldblum. We'll go in the company Cessna since it's less than three hours. It's not much further than Franklin, distance wise, and that's just under two and a half hours. DD flew out there yesterday. How was the trip?"

"Wonderful," I said. "A little bumpy over the mountains, but thoroughly enjoyable. The Cessna handles like a dream."

"You flew by yourself?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I had to go to Danbury, so I made a day of it."

"I've considered getting a pilot's license ever since Bob got his. I'll have to start working on it."

"The company will pay for your flight lessons and purchase a plane like the Northeast's 206 for your region once you complete your training," I said. "It makes traveling to our plants a pleasure."

"If you like to fly, you'll never regret it," Bob said, "but getting back to old business, we're about to close on Houston. We've met all our Mo Paper product orders, despite a lot of sleepless nights worrying about MoPacs, and things are in fine shape there. The parties are all set in every region and we're hoping for nice weather tomorrow. That's all I have for old business."

"Thank you, Bob. Bill?"

"Everything is fine. The Data Processing department is making our lives easier and easier. The statements are never late going out, the reporting is incredible. I'm managing, instead of responding."

"That's great. Thanks, Bill. Ben?"

"We placed notices on all the bulletin boards in the two plants at Danbury and Bloomington, offering transfers to anyone interested in moving. We've said that we have to completely staff a new facility and that a lot of new supervisory and management positions are open. Eight people from Danbury, and seven from Bloomington, have expressed interest in moving. That would give us a small, but solid, core of people to begin operations down there. Bob tells me that Harry Trotter jumped at the opportunity to be the plant manager. The guards on the property are now our own people, rather than rent-a-cops. They're not permanent, but rather volunteers from several plants, on temporary assignment. We've paid for their travel, are paying for their hotel accommodations, and are giving them a meal allowance. Once the formal transfer is completed, I'll go down there and work with Harry Trotter to begin hiring locals for all positions we can't fill from people desiring to transfer there permanently. The job announcements have already been placed in the papers, and I expect to be down there for several weeks."

"Good job, Ben. Tom?"

"We didn't have any irate creditors to worry about with this one, so everything is fine. We picked up a lot of supplies with this plant, so paper and ink needs are minimal. All needs will be handled promptly once things start rolling."

"Good, thanks Tom. John?"

"I just arrived back here last night, with all our people. The receptionist is the only one on site right now, except for security. We cleaned up the place and then started working on the equipment. We've overhauled six machines and gotten them working like new. We still have a lot more to do, but my guys and I needed a little break. The six overhauled machines mean that we're ready to start operations whenever we have operators and jobs."

"Great job. Thanks John. Ron?"

"Aside from the phone calls asking when we're going to reopen the two closed paper plants, everything is fine. Do we have any plans to reopen those plants?"

"Not at this time," I said. "We still have a lot more chemically processed paper capacity than we need. You'll be the first to know if or when we start discussions about opening the two closed plants in your region. For now just tell people that we're very sorry but the paper orders aren't sufficient to start up the lines."

"Okay, DD."

"Thanks, Ron. Gerard?"

"Everything is fine in the Midwest. Like the Southeast Region, we continue to get calls about our two closed plants. We simply tell them that we'll reopen the plants as soon as we can, but we can't do it until we need the capacity. The people at Bloomington have done a great job in getting us all the covers we needed for the MoPacs and the people in Evansville did a stupendous job of assembling their quota of notebooks."

"Yes they did, Gerard. Good work. Matt, I've saved you for last, as you requested."

"We did what I had begun to believe was impossible. We met all the orders for MoPacs. There was some confusion with our customers as we first told them that we wouldn't be able to deliver on time, then called them back within twenty-four hours to report that we could, but I don't think that it's hurt our new business relationships. We explained the situation and I think they understood that we weren't prepared for the unprecedented volume of orders that flooded in. Wherever there was confusion, we made some slight deal improvements with dating and the like. They're happy and we're looking forward to a long relationship. Of course that means we have to remain innovative. And speaking of innovative, here are some of the samples I've been promising."

Matt dumped a box of sample products on the table and everyone reached out to look through the packages.

"As you can see, we're ready to promote the Plymouth Paper fine stationary line. It's top quality all the way. At the other end of the scale we have the Appalachian Paper products, but they've turned out great also. We gave a dozen cases of product to each of the local elementary schools and were permitted to watch the reactions of the kids when they received them. They loved them. We think the line could be big. All of the designers have received the gift certificates for meals at fine restaurants, and were delighted. We've begun the competition for the new covers for next semester. I promised that anyone getting four covers in the top ten would receive a three-day getaway weekend at Cape Cod next summer."

"The products look great, Matt. Well done. And I look forward to seeing the new MoPac designs your people come up with. Okay, new business anyone?"

"With so much industrial space at our new facility in Houston," Ron said, "has any thought been given to adding additional product manufacturing there?"

"What products are you thinking of Ron?" I asked.

"Not paper manufacturing, certainly, but how about a cardboard plant? Or how about bags and boxes? Right now all our box-making capability is in the Northeast Region. We have three paper plants in Arkansas, so the paper supply is close."

"But cardboard is made from Kraft paper," Gerard said. "Those three plants only produce bleached papers."

"Paper processes can be changed easily enough. You can't keep switching around, but the basic process is the same so a one-time changeover of the pulp preparation process on any machine can easily be justified."

"There's no rail siding at the Houston plant, so paper transportation costs will be slightly higher than at other plants," Tom said.

"Box manufacturing doesn't use Kraft paper," Bob said. "It uses bleached and unbleached chemically processed paper. So no changeover would be required for that. Ron is right that we don't have any box-making capability outside of the Northeast Region. It began at Greenfield because we inherited the machines with the purchase of that plant. The same is true of Franklin. When we added four-color process, it made sense to add it at Greenfield, but it's proven so successful that we're running out of space. I've talked with Pete Emos about moving some of the single color machines to Franklin because, until now, they've had the most unused space, but the problem is that we can't afford to have the machines down long enough to ship them. It's serious enough that just taking them down for regular preventative maintenance immediately begins to affect our delivery schedules."

"It sounds like we really do need some more equipment," I said. "I remember Peter mentioning the problem this past spring."

"We've been walking a tight-rope the past few months," Bill said, "because we've been spending a lot of money to start up the shuttered plants and manufacture the new Mo Paper products. Now that those products have shipped, we can expect to be in an excellent cash position in another month."

"I didn't know cash was so tight," I said.

"We have numerous resources," Bill said, "but I didn't want to tap them if I didn't have to. Above all we must always make all Payroll and A/P payments when due. Purchasing the South-Core stock was a bit unanticipated, so the interest expense on the money we borrowed has further depleted our cash-on-hand. I'm glad that the drought period is almost over. As I was saying, when the A/R money starts rolling in, we'll be in excellent financial shape again. But we still have to pay interest expense on the South-Core stock, and it doesn't return anything."

"It will, Bill," I said. "Trust me."

"I always trust you, DD. If you say it's so, it's as good as gospel."

I smiled. "Back to Ron's suggestion. If box making is so tight that we dread shutting the equipment down to perform preventative maintenance, it's time to increase that capability. The questions are, Franklin or Houston, single color or four color. Any thoughts?"

"Houston," Ron said. "It fits in well with the printing operation."

"Houston," Gerard said. "For the same reason and because it's halfway across the U.S, from Greenfield. Shipments to the West coast will take less time.

"Houston," Matt said. "For the same reasons."

"Let's make this easier," I said, "Does anyone favor Franklin?" When no one raised their hands or said anything, I said, "All in favor of Houston." Everyone raised their hands. "Houston it is. Now, four-color or single color?"

We spent an hour discussing that issue. Single color boxes could be made on four-color machines, but it was more expensive to run that equipment. While four-color was all the rage, the slightly lower cost of single color boxes would mean that there would always be a market for them.

"Okay," I said, "we'll buy new four-color machines for the Houston operation, and we'll start looking around for used single-color equipment to install there as well. With the demand for four-color driving the industry to upgrade to four-color, we might find some good deals."

The receptionist covering the front desk for Nancy called to say that the B&B delivery man was there.

"The food is here," I said. Let's break for lunch."

Saturday was almost perfect for the annual picnic in most of the regions, but it drizzled in Greenfield. Still we had a pretty good attendance, and the large circus style tent enabled everyone to relax and enjoy the food and company of their fellow workers. Maybe next year will be better. We did have two good years in a row.

I had said goodbye to my management team following the Friday meeting, and at the party I said goodbye to quite a few more folks. Following the picnic I was headed for home. Susan had arrived and had come to the party with me. My bags were all packed and in the limo.

We arrived at the ranch about seven o'clock. Everyone had naturally eaten, and neither Susan nor I were hungry. I had prepared a large dish of food at the picnic before we left, and there had been enough for us and the pilots.

Susan and I made time in the morning for a quick ride. It would have more enjoyable if everyone could have come, but there was so much to do that we had to go alone. They had been at the ranch every weekend, while we had been away, so no one faulted us for taking a couple of hours from an incredibly busy day.

Once we reached Austin, we carried our things into the house, opened the windows to air it out, then headed for the campus. Mother stayed home to unpack her clothes and allowed us to use her car instead of riding our bikes over.

Judy and I were seniors, and Susan was a junior, so we'd all experienced the first day confusion as incoming freshmen tried to find their way around, while some older students got their jollies by giving erroneous directions, sending freshmen in the opposite direction from the way they should be going. It seemed to be a never ending cycle. Today's freshmen would in future years do what had been done to them. Our reason for being there was to greet friends returning for another school year. I can't say that I had a lot of friends, but the ones I did have were dear to me. They had accepted someone who was four or five years their junior as a friend and equal when most other students looked at me with patronizing indifference; until they got to know me; at which point they treated me as a freak. I had learned to accept the attitudes and appreciate my friends that much more.

Peggy Sue Wellman and Shelly Albright spotted us before we spotted them and they ran to us. We hugged and laughed as we told each others about our summer vacations. I preferred to speak of our time on the Riviera, rather than my working time, but both girls had heard of the accusation by South-Core's CEO and Ameri-Moore's press announcement in response. I was able to switch the topic by telling them about earning my wings and the enjoyment I'd had flying the Piper and Cessna aircraft.

When Dex happened by, Judy couldn't contain herself and leapt excitedly in his arms. After a long and passionate kiss, the rest of us had a chance to greet him while Judy hung onto him like he'd run away if she didn't. There wasn't much chance of that. We were still standing there talking when Lance came along and Susan got an opportunity to show Judy that her little sister had been paying attention. I thought that Lance would faint on the spot, but he managed to remain in control and greet the rest of us.

Over the next couple of hours or so most of the friends we had made since enrolling in college passed by. Even Julia, the girl that we knew from Hillock happened by with a few friends and stopped to talk. The first day back was always the best day of the school year.

When it was time to go home, we invited our friends to join us, but they had a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow. At least we didn't have to completely move out of our rooms each year as they and our sister Mary had to do. Parting wasn't too sad as we would see them tomorrow.

I didn't call Bill on Tuesday because I knew that he would be in West Virginia. but I did call on Thursday to find out how things had gone.

"No problem, boss," he said. "Mr. Wistan was amiable and efficient. Bill, Jeff, and I were in and out in less than an hour."

"Great, Bob. Did he say anything about the situation at the plant regarding payroll?"

"All he said is that they're still investigating, but it looks like there was major fraud occurring there for some time."

"We already suspected that. What arrangements have you made for getting the deed recorded in Texas?"

"Jeff has an acquaintance in Houston who will handle it. He's an attorney friend he knows from college. We sent the papers by courier as soon as we had wrapped up the deal, and the deed should be recorded by tomorrow. He'll call me if there's a problem, and then I'll call you."

"Great. I hope not to speak to you again before Tuesday."

"No news is good news, boss. Talk to you Tuesday."

"Bye, Bob."

I wouldn't fully relax until the deed was registered and the deal was finally done, but we were a lot closer now. If Porter or Bascum had been ripping off all the printing business partners for years, they were going to be plenty upset when they learned of it. I wanted there to be no way that they could tie up the property or the equipment in a court case that could drag on for years while we had almost $7 million invested that wasn't returning a cent in income. I was pretty sure that once the deed was recorded, their ability to suspend our operations on the site decreased significantly.

The deed was recorded without a problem and I was able to relax considerably. Bob began to move ahead with our plans to turn a white elephant into our newest pot of gold. The boats and travel trailers were still in Building 2 and we didn't have the names of the owners, but the Texas Rangers promised us a list as soon as their murder investigation was finished with the premises. I learned that Billy Biscum was still missing and wondered if he had killed Porter, or if perhaps he was another victim of the killer. Bill Marshall had assigned someone to compile a list of charges for the inside storage of boats, trailers, and vehicles based on the going rates in the area, so we'd be ready when we learned what Porter had been charging. We'd either allow the owners to continue their storage and make their payments to us according to the new schedule, or we'd ask them to remove their property without further charge.

As soon as we had our school books, Susan, Judy, and I began our read-ahead efforts. I still hadn't decided whether I would continue my studies after the school year ended. I suppose I had a little time. The important thing now was to finish this school year in the same manner as my previous three years of college. Being five years younger than most other seniors meant I could even take a few years off before continuing, and when I came back I would still be younger than most other students in my classes.

Grandma arranged for me to have the company jet available for my use during the third week in September. I informed each of my instructors that I needed two days off to attend a meeting in Boston and they gave me the assignments I would miss. Only one had planned a test, and he would allow me to take a make-up when I returned.

Earl was waiting for me when I reached Boston's Logan Airport. Bob Warren and Bill Marshall were also waiting. They had come down from Brandon in the limo. As soon as I was settled in the car, Earl proceeded to the hotel where the South-Core Annual Stockholder Meeting was being held.

I had dressed very conservatively for this meeting. I was wearing a powder blue business suit with a white silk blouse. My skirt almost reached my knees, despite the fact that I normally wore mini-skirts on campus. My shoes were single strap pumps with a 2 ½ inch heel, and I wore the small gold cross Mother had given me so long ago, with pearl drop earrings. My purse was dark blue, and hung from my shoulder by two, thin, braided straps. The only thing that might have set me apart from dozens of other women entering the hotel might be the black leather attaché case I carried.

We located the room were the meeting was to be held, and found the doors closed and blocked by two large security people. When I stepped forward and identified myself, the two men exchanged glances and then told me that the meeting was limited to stockholders.

"I am a stockholder," I said.

Without even referencing the list, he said, "Your name isn't included on my list. It was prepared from a list of all stockholders at the end of the fiscal year in June."

"I purchased my stock in July. I'm sure you had to have heard about it. It's been reported in newspapers all over the world since that time. I'm entitled to attend this meeting under the bylaws of the corporation."

"I'm sorry, Miss," he said with a slightly smug smirk. "If you're not on the list, and you're not an invited member of the press, you don't get in."

There had been a number of people in the lobby area and they had collected around us. I noticed that several were writing furiously in small notebooks. They had to be reporters.

"Do you work for South-Core or this hotel?" I asked.

"South-Core," the guard who had done all the talking said.

"And do you like your job?" I asked.

"I'm satisfied," he said.

"And would you like to keep it?"

He didn't say anything, but the smirk disappeared.

"As I've told you, my name is Darla Anne Drake. I'm quite sure that you know I control 3,845,000 shares of stock in South-Core, making me the largest shareholder of record. You can assume from that that there might soon be some changes in top management. When that occurs, there might be two employment changes in your section as well."

He stared at me with nervous eyes. Perhaps they had foolishly thought that I would just meekly walk away.

"You will notice that some of the people behind me are recording this conversation. I assume that one or more represent the press; either from our industry, financial media services, or from regular media services. If you do not stand aside, the fact that I was refused entry will appear in every newspaper in the country by tomorrow morning. I will then file charges against company management and each of you, personally. I imagine that the American Stock Exchange will immediately suspend trading in South-Core and de-list the company following their own investigation. Is that really what you want to happen?"

 

(continued in part 47)

Many thanks to Bob M. for his excellent proofreading efforts on this chapter.

 

 

 

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