Chapter 5

Cliff excused himself, went down the hall and came back to the room a few minutes later. As he expected, Sandy was talking to Jane Miller. When he came in, Sandy waited until he was almost upon them before she left to take a seat next to Bill Stevens.

"Jane, we've never formally met, but I've heard a lot about you. May I join you?" Cliff asked.

"Of course, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Please do. Sandy has told me so much about you."

Cliff shook hands with the other people sitting around the table. The meal was a cold buffet served with soup. He had found that it was the ideal meal for these occasions, although the hotel banquet departments always tried to load up the menu with more elaborate dishes.

He addressed himself to Jane speaking in a low tone of voice. "Why is it I get the feeling that you're not John Flood's favorite salesperson? I could be wrong, of course, but I do get that impression."

Jane Miller was a very attractive dark-haired girl who appeared to be about the same age as Sandy. He noticed she was very well built. "I'm not John's favorite person," she said quietly. "Least favorite, perhaps, but certainly not most favorite."

"Why are you still here then? Jane, on behalf of Murphy Manufacturing, I would like to offer you an apology. Flood's behavior was uncalled for and unnecessary. There's no need for you ever to take such abuse. And you shouldn't. Why do you?"

"Because of Sandy. She said it would get better. She was one of my best friends in graduate school and..." Jane's eyes suddenly flared and she said, "Forget I said that Mr. Fitzpatrick. Please?"

Cliff looked the girl right in the eyes. She could feel his blue eyes boring right through her lovely brown ones. "Jane," he said softly, "you were talking about graduate school. What graduate school?"

The poor girl looked flustered and, Cliff noted, very pretty. "Please, Mr. Fitzpatrick, I can't. I promised."

"Jane, it's Cliff, not Mr. Fitzpatrick. Young lady, we are very much of the same generation. And John Flood is really much too crude. I don't yell and scream, but I was thinking how beautiful that picture of you wearing the wet T-shirt would look in our company magazine. You know ... as part of a story on the dedication of our hardworking sales force?"

Jane turned bright red. "You wouldn't! Cliff, it shows everything. My God, I would be mortified. You couldn't be so cruel... ! Could you?"

"Jane Miller, I have given you a perfect out for Sandy. You were blackmailed with that picture. You do have a beautiful figure, by the way! No wonder the buyer wanted to see you with a wet T-shirt! And you got the order."

"Okay, I know when I'm licked. What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Sandy."

"Well, she and I roomed together at Michigan. I was majoring in marketing, and she had a combined major in finance and manufacturing. Cliff, why in hell is the girl who graduated number one from University of Michigan Graduate School of Business working as a secretary ... in a company she owns, for chrissakes?"

Cliff was dumbstruck at the revelation but his consulting experience stood him in good stead: He was able to keep his face impassive as he absorbed the stunning news. Jane continued. "Anyway, she said there would be opportunities here at Murphy. She said there was a lot of dead wood. All we needed was a guy to take charge — that's you — to get the place going again. It's a funny deal that I think relates to her age. I think she officially takes control of all of the stock on October 1, or something like that."

Cliff appeared to ignore the revelation about Sandy's ownership of the company. Instead he asked, "Jane, what happened between you and Flood? What did he think of the wet T-shirt idea? Incidentally, I think it's great, even though I wouldn't ever think to ask, and I would expect to get my head handed to me if I ever did. Thanks for the dedication. But what did Flood say?"

She looked at him speculatively, as if considering something. It was obvious that she gave herself an affirmative answer to her unspoken question, and then answered Cliff's. "He was appalled," she answered in a very flat tone of voice.

"Flood was appalled? I find that hard to believe," he said.

She gave him a wry smile. "Not for the reasons you're thinking. He said I should have taken him to a motel somewhere and fucked him. The T-shirt was bad for the company image, but working between the sheets is not only fine, he said he expects it.

"I guess one of the reasons I never got a raise is because he keeps wanting to try out the merchandise, and I keep telling him where to head in. He's tried to fire me a couple of times, but Sandy has always managed to get him overruled by somebody."

She grinned, "Anyway, I'm still here ... and I like what you were doing this morning. It's the first time since business school that I have ever actually seen these concepts applied. Thanks, Cliff."

"Jane, I have a favor to ask: Will you please come over to the office and be there ahead of my one-thirty meeting with Flood? I have an idea I want to work out with Sandy. Are you willing?"

She gave him a very warm smile. "Of course! But will you do me a favor, Cliff? Will you promise to put some ointment on my body after Sandy skins me alive? I can handle Flood, but I can't handle her. Promise?"

He looked up at the ceiling, and then back at her eyes. He looked very serious as he said, "Well, okay. I guess I can do that, but on one condition." The serious look gave way to a quick grin. "I get to watch!"

"Clifford Fitzpatrick, you're terrible! But if you insist, it's a deal!" She grinned, stuck out her hand, and he gripped it.

Sandy approached their table. Most of the people had finished and had left to return to the office after the truncated meeting. Jane looked very sheepish as Sandy sat down on a now-vacant chair.

Sandy looked at Jane closely and demanded, "Jane Miller, what have you been telling Cliff?"

"All of it," the dark-haired girl responded in a very low voice. "But I had to, Sandy. He blackmailed me!"

"He did what?" Sandy exclaimed. "How?"

"He threatened to publish that picture of me wearing the wet T-shirt! And it shows everything!" she wailed.

Cliff found a very interesting pattern in the wallpaper to study. Sandy glared at him and then back at her ex-roommate. "What picture? There is no picture!"

The two girls turned on Cliff who was still studying the wallpaper design. In unison they said, "Clifford Fitzpatrick!"

Cliff grinned at the two girls. "It would have been a great picture for the company magazine, don't you think? Our dedicated sales force and all that stuff? Jane certainly thought so."

He turned and glared at Sandy, "And as for you Miss Donnell, no wonder the Board so quickly approved you as treasurer. Two-thirds of the money is yours! What am I doing here, anyway? Coaching you to take over my job?"

Cliff had gotten over the initial shock and was waiting for an explanation. He was glad he had heard it first from Jane: It had given him the opportunity to get used to the idea before confronting Sandy.

"No, Cliff," she answered quietly. "I never lied to you, but I certainly didn't tell you the whole truth. I'm sorry if you feel deceived. I was instrumental in getting you in at Murphy. I was certain you were the guy I was looking for. Over the last week, I became 99 percent certain, and after this morning I'm 110 percent sure.

"Cliff, I have a great favor to ask: Please, can I continue to work as your assistant? I had to lean on Stiles to get you in. He controls the stock as trustee until October 1, my birthday. Then I turn twenty-six and take over the stock. You see, a little more than 65 percent of the stock is owned by the Murphy family. In spite of the more usual situation among the Irish — large families, I mean — the Murphy family is now just me.

"The company was founded by my grandfather. When he died, his stock was divided between my mother and Uncle John. Then my parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was twelve. I guess the arrangement with me is similar to the one my parents had. If grandfather had died earlier, they would have been unable to vote the stock until they reached the age of twenty-six.

"Anyway, Uncle John, who was a bachelor, adopted me as his daughter but I didn't change my name. When he died, I was left all of his stock, too.

"Cliff, only a handful of people in the company know who I am, and I would like to keep it that way. I would understand if you just told me to go to hell, jump in Lake Michigan, or do something even more extreme, but I hope you won't. In return, I'll do anything you ask, including telling you anything else about me and my background. No more secrets. Fair?"

He studied the young girl and realized she had beautiful emerald-green eyes. They were looking into his intently. When he suddenly smiled at her, he saw her relax.

He put out his hand and she took it in her firm grip. "It's a deal, Sandra Donnell. I always like to be in a position where I can keep a close eye on the controlling shareholder.

"Now, Sandy, your 'little list' is about to get shorter. We're never going to get through even the first planning session at this rate. Flood will be numbered among the missing this afternoon. Unlike Purcell, he's not nearly close to retirement. I'm firing him for cause: sex discrimination and sexual abuse. Did you know about it?"

Sandy shook her head, looking puzzled. They both looked at Jane who looked down at the table. Sandy said, "Jane Miller! What haven't you told me!? I am about to skin you alive!"

Jane looked at Cliff. "I told you she would skin me alive. Don't forget your promise!" She then quickly told Sandy what she had earlier told Cliff.

"That snake!" Sandy exclaimed. "Now I see ... I think ... Cliff, I'm almost certain he's been bedding his secretary! And I'll lay money he has made it a condition of her employment." She looked up at Cliff and Jane, "Now, what's this promise you extorted from Cliff, Jane Miller? Out with it!"

Jane looked and sounded very innocent as she spoke. "It's very simple: I asked Cliff to put some ointment on my body after you skinned me alive. I told him you would. He promised, too!" she said, making a face. "But only on the condition he could watch you do it. I think you're both sadists! That's what I think."

"No, Jane. I'm sorry. You're a masochist. You would enjoy it too much, so I won't."

Cliff was delighted to see the extent to which the threesome had now relaxed.

He continued, "Sandy, here's what I want to do: Can you call Kevin, fast? There is a squawk-box-type intercom on the desk. It looks like an antique. Does it work, and is there one on your desk? I would like you to have Kevin wire it to the next office ... No! To Purcell's old office that you're using, Sandy. I want the two of you there. I'll leave the intercom on. If it works like all the ones I've seen, you'll be able to hear every word. Okay?

"Oh, one more thing: I think I know what I'll see, but I want to look at Jane's personnel file and the relevant sales performance reports. And I need the material fast!"

At one-thirty, John Flood entered Cliff's office. All the arrangements had been made: It turned out that the intercom was in working order, and changing the location took only a few minutes.

Although Flood had cooled down from the morning, he was still in a belligerent mood. "What's this all about, Fitzpatrick? Why did you break off the meeting this morning?"

Cliff ignored Flood's tone. "I called a halt because of two things: First, your attitude was poisoning the session. Second, your ignorance of our market is appalling. I didn't want you to continue to make a fool of yourself. There's more, but it came up later. Why hasn't Jane Miller received a raise?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it? She doesn't perform!"

"Perform what?" Cliff asked quietly. If Flood had known him better, he would have been concerned at Cliff's mild tone of voice. "According to the sales results of the last two years, she's the top-performing salesperson in the company! Just what is it she doesn't perform?"

"Grow up, Cliff! You know damn well what she doesn't perform. Can you believe a girl having the nerve to show off her boobs — great ones, too — to a purchasing agent? But she won't put out for me so she doesn't get a raise."

"I see," Cliff said in the same quiet tone. "What about the men on your staff? Do you go both ways?"

"What in hell are you saying? Are you saying I'm gay!"

"No, John. I'm saying you're fired! Now! It is a termination for cause: sexual harassment and sex discrimination. If word of this got out, we would be through.

"However, before you get any more bright ideas, it can easily be shown that you were terminated in a matter of hours after your activities came to the attention of top management. Flood, you are the most despicable man it has ever been my misfortune to be associated with.

"Should I ask your secretary, Betty Ames, to join us? I understand you made her sexual favors a condition of her continued employment. She is a widow trying to raise two small children. John, I think that could get you a felony prosecution. Should I ask our lawyers? You will be paid through today. Miss Donnell has your final check ready. I suggest you take it and get out."

Flood's face had been running a gamut of emotions starting at belligerence then changing to disbelief, to rage, to shock and finally to utter defeat. He turned and left the office.

"You can come in, now." Cliff said. Jane came right in followed a few minutes later by Sandy. Sandy had a small deck of cards in her hand. "What are those?" he asked.

She smiled brightly and said, "Someone has to think of the company. I have his company charge cards, the keys to his company car, his ID ... all the stuff on the termination checkout sheet that us overworked secretaries have to take care of for our irresponsible bosses."