CHAPTER 2 – THURSDAY 10:33 AM
Kelly dialed 911 on his cell as he ushered everyone out of the barracks.
"We just had a meeting about this," said Jessica.
"About killing the COO?"
"Oh, gag. You're awful. No. We met about crisis management."
As Kelly spoke to the 911 dispatcher, Jessica picked up the phone on the hallway desk by the bathroom and reported the death to her HR supervisor.
Between questions from the 911 dispatcher, Kelly put his hand over the phone and got the attention of Angie, the team leader, telling her to call Barb at the front desk and have her hold off on sending in more test subjects. By the time he finally hung up with 911, the rest of the unit's staff and a number of the test subjects had gathered near.
"Everyone," he announced, "please stay out of the barracks. It has nothing to do with this study, but one of our employees has passed away. I suspect we'll move the study to another unit, but please remain out here for the time being."
"The police will undoubtedly want to talk to each of you," added Jessica.
At the mention of the police, one test subject ran out. Two others made prompt, but more dignified exits.
Kelly looked at Jessica in dismay.
"Oh." She bit her lip. "Sorry."
"C-M Team to the boardroom," came an overhead page. "All members of the C-M Team report to the boardroom."
"Gotta go," said Jessica. As she backed away, she pointed into the barracks. "He was the crisis management team leader." She grimaced, then headed off to the meeting.
Kelly picked up the desk phone and dialed Potts' extension, but Potts came rushing into the unit just as the phone began ringing. With him was Bryce Dilman, the chief financial officer.
Kelly hung up. "I was just calling."
"About time," steamed Potts. "Why are we hearing about this from the H-R director?"
Dilman gestured for Potts to keep his voice down.
"I was on the phone with 911," explained Kelly.
"Great. The place will be crawling with cops." Potts' volume was unabated, and three more subjects, having overheard, headed for the door.
"Jesus Christ, Eddie," said Dilman. "Keep it down."
"Shit," said Potts, more quietly, realizing he scared off the subjects.
"So, what happened?" asked Dilman, a no-nonsense former marine, who unlike Potts, still looked in fighting shape.
Kelly gestured for them to follow into the barracks. "His mouth is duct-taped." Kelly stopped several feet from the body. "Better keep back; don't touch anything."
Both men seemed quite happy to go no closer.
"How?" asked Dilman.
"I don't know. But he's dead. And he's been dead for a while."
Having seen enough, they returned to the bathroom hallway.
"Christ," said Potts. "Who'd kill Ron?"
Probably any number of people, thought Kelly.
"Kelly," said Dilman. "You did the right thing of course ... calling 911 ... but calling us first would have given us some time for damage control. If they make this whole wing a crime scene, we're going to have real problems."
"They probably won't," said Kelly. "But they'll want to canvas everybody, asking if they saw anything and establish everybody's identity."
Dilman gave Kelly a questioning look.
"He's a criminal justice major," explained Potts.
Kelly felt no need to mention that it was more a matter of watching reality cop shows.
"Crime scene or not," said Dilman, "cops asking questions will scare people off. I better get over to Unit 1 to prevent a stampede."
Unit 1 was home to a large study that was 45 days into a 52-day trial. Since it represented a significant investment, Kelly could understand Dilman's concern. "Let me talk to them," said Kelly. "Upper management coming in is more likely to freak them out. They know me. I think I have a good chance at reassuring them."
Dilman didn't have time to think it over – they could now hear an approaching siren. "Okay, it's all yours. I'll run flack with the police while you convince the subjects in 146 that there’s no danger. Make sure they know it wasn’t our testing that killed him, and that it's not some random killer on the loose."
I hope that’s true, thought Kelly.
In Unit 1, Kelly kept things low-key. Instead of calling a big meeting, he explained the situation to small groups, starting with the staff. He then wandered through the unit talking to handfuls of people at a time. He avoided the word "murder," saying only that an employee had died and the cause of death was unknown, which was technically true. He also told them to expect being canvassed by the police, adding that there was no reason the police would check for outstanding warrants, unless a person were to draw attention to themselves by leaving. He had just finished up when a patrol officer came looking for him.
They went to the hallway, where Kelly explained the circumstances of the body's discovery, and no, he hadn't seen or heard anything unusual, and had no idea why Kupmeier might have been in the building the night before. The officer instructed him to remain available, that detectives would want to talk to him.
Kelly put much of his regular work on hold as he dealt with the fallout from the murder. He started with visits to the other units, repeating the reassurances. During those rounds, he was intercepted by Barb, the receptionist, in the hallway.
"Why would Mr. Kupmeier be in the barracks?"
Kelly shrugged. "I have no idea. He's rarely back here."
"Heart attack?"
Kelly slowly shook his head, a bit surprised Barb didn't know. "I'm afraid not. It looks like murder."
Barb gasped and put a hand over her mouth. She stared at Kelly, ascertaining his truthfulness, a caution born of their joking history. "How? Who?"
"Don't know."
"Good God." Barb stared off toward Unit 5 as she regained her composure. She took a deep breath. "Shutting down that study has some of the subjects unhappy."
"I suppose. They're all packed up for the weekend, go through screening, and then get sent home."
"They're wondering if we can move them into another study."
"We can probably place a few. Let's put them on the waiting list and make sure the other studies are at the maximum."
Barb nodded, gave Kelly's forearm a squeeze, and then turned away, her eyes misting.
"How's 146?" said Dilman, approaching Kelly from behind.
"No defections, so far."
146 was the study in unit 1. Dilman exhaled in a stress-relieving sigh. "Good. Keep an eye on it." He headed off to the administration wing.
It was almost noon when a page summoned Kelly back to Unit 5, the scene of the murder. He was greeted by a Sergeant Haugen, who guided him to a chair in the lounge area. Two other officers, also in plain clothes, were also conducting interviews, one at a table in the testing area, the other at the desk by the bathrooms.
Haugen looked more like an accountant or a school teacher than an investigator, but he projected confidence and had an impressive professional demeanor.
"I understand you were here last night?"
"I came in for a couple hours to cover for one of the study monitors."
Haugen took notes, but also watched Kelly closely, a scrutiny Kelly, as a prospective cop, found interesting.
"What time did you arrive?"
"A little after eleven. Left sometime after 1am."
"Didn't see the victim?"
"No."
"Did you happen to come in here, to this unit?"
"No."
"See anyone else go in?"
"No."
"Anybody have any reason to be in there last night?"
"Not that I know of. We haven't used Unit 5 for several days."
"Who would have had access to the unit last night?"
"Anybody on any study team. The phlebotomists. Upper management. Custodial, housekeeping, maintenance. Could be that the pharmacy staff has clearance, but I don't recall any of them having occasion to access
the study units. I'm not sure about them. But only study team members and phlebotomists would typically be around at night, except maybe one custodian."
"And access is by swiping ID cards."
"Right."
"Are those swipes registered on a computer?"
"I suppose it's possible, but kinda doubt it. I think I would have heard about that. They didn't spring for security cameras, so I doubt they went high-end on the key-card system."
Haugen nodded, but Kelly got the feeling the sergeant already knew about the security system – had asked anyway.
"How about keys?"
"I suppose somebody would have keys as a backup to the card readers. Likely the maintenance guy. He’s new. Don’t recall the name. He's probably got keys."
"Any business problems you’ve heard about? Changes in the works? Rumors?"
"No, I wouldn't likely hear about that, unless it directly affected the study wing. Nothing I'm aware of."
"Anybody angry with management, or the victim in particular?"
"No, just the usual little things … vacation schedule, overtime, part-timers unhappy about low hours in the summer, last minute schedule changes, that kind of junk. Nothing big. Certainly nothing Kupmeier would be involved with."
Haugen thanked Kelly, gave him his card. "Call if anything comes to mind."
After the interview, Kelly retreated to his desk in the study wing office, hoping to get some work done, but first he checked his cell, finding a number of new messages and texts, sparked by breaking news about the murder. The only call he returned was from his mom.
Tanya Kelly had reverted to her maiden name after the divorce, a switch that prompted some neighbor kids to refer to young Adam Kelly by his new last name. Over time it became a fixture, something Kelly came to regard as appropriate. He was happy to abandon Adam, the name he shared with the abusive man who left them. His mom dated from time-to-time, but she was cautious, and only a time or two had edged toward a commitment. She was certainly attractive enough, still in her 50s, just a tad overweight, and with an easy way about her. As office manager for a small auto body shop, she met plenty of guys, but her usual response to overtures was "No thanks, not today." To Kelly, it was pretty clear his mom was comfortable alone, though it seemed she dated more often once Kelly had opted for dorm life his first year at college.
They talked for about ten minutes as he recapped the day's events. After that, he found it tough to think about anything but the murder and the problems arising from it. He managed to clear some e-mails from the in-box, but accomplished little else. Around mid-afternoon, he learned of two defections from 146 that coincided with the police canvas. That left only three subjects above the minimum.
Bennie came in, pushing his dustbin to empty the wastebaskets, a distraction Kelly welcomed. "Hey, Bennie. Heck of a day."
Bennie slowly nodded, with just a glance at Kelly.
"You hear any buzz about it?" asked Kelly.
Bennie shrugged. "Not really. Nobody seems to have any idea why someone would kill Mr. Kupmeier." He emptied a basket then turned to Kelly. He seemed about to say something, but hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Maybe somebody killed Mr. Kupmeier to keep him quiet."
"Like Kupmeier saw a murder or something?"
"Maybe. Or maybe he knew about something illegal going on."
"You know something I don't?"
"No. Just thinking." Bennie shrugged. "How about ol’ Doc Naughton? He’d be pissed at Kupmeier."
Kelly nodded. "I hadn’t thought of him. Booted from his own company. Sure. But he seems a little old to be sneaking around knocking people off."
An overhead page interrupted their conversation. It announced an immediate all-staff meeting in the auditorium. Normally, Kelly would dread an all-staff meeting, but not today. He and Bennie joined a growing throng in the auditorium at the far end of the administration wing.
Three large screens showed pictures from San Francisco, Atlanta and Houston, where staff in those offices were gathering. Kelly spotted Jessica, standing along the side wall near the front of the room next to her boss, Diane Lundeman, the human resources director.
The lights soon came down a notch, leaving only the podium fully lit. CEO Raymond Lorch shared kind words about Ronald Kupmeier and expressed his sorrow. Diane Lundeman followed, explaining that her door was open, and counseling services were being arranged. Next came Barry Heckathorn, vice president of communications and public relations, who reminded everyone that all questions from the media should be referred to his office. He also had some general comments about ways to talk to outsiders about the death. He reported on an earlier meeting with the sales managers where they discussed how the sales staff should talk to clients about the murder, and he promised similar meetings for the staff members in clinical research, and for the employees in the call center, who had the task of recruiting former test subjects for new studies.
"You can expect plenty of questions," he continued. "This situation will get considerable news coverage." He consulted his watch. "In fact, I’m meeting the media shortly."
After the meeting, Kelly encountered Jessica at the auditorium exit.
"How’d it go back there in the study wing?" she asked.
They stepped to the side, letting others pass as Kelly recapped his hectic day, including the interview with Sergeant Haugen.
"It was pretty crazy up in the administration wing, too," she said. "Mr. Kupmeier’s office is being treated as a crime scene. And Barry had to take over for Kupmeier as leader of the crisis management team."
"Hell of a way to start your new job."
Jessica nodded. "Less than two weeks in. I could use a drink."
"And I could use something to eat," said Kelly, happy to seize the opportunity to spend time with Jessica. "Roger’s Pub? I’ll drive." To his delight, Jessica agreed, and a short time later they met outside.
"There's Barry," said Kelly. Heckathorn was being interviewed beside a TV van with an extended microwave mast. Three other news vehicles were parked nearby, and two roving camera crews recorded the scene as the day-shift employees departed.
"Any news from the police?" Kelly asked as they walked toward his truck.
"Not really," said Jessica. "Barry offered to let them address the meeting, but I guess they weren’t interested." She suddenly brightened. "Oh … there is one thing. Just before the meeting they asked about a Michael Bartz."
"Mickey," said Kelly, remembering. "Worked in the call center. Got fired a while back after getting arrested for his relationship with his 17-year-old girlfriend. Class A misdemeanor."
"Was he angry about getting fired?"
"Sure was. Felt it was double punishment … losing his job on top of jail time. In a way, I can sympathize. They were legal in Minnesota where he lived, but she lived on this side of the river. The age of consent is higher in North Dakota. If he’d been more likeable, I might have felt bad for him."
"Well, he’s apparently a person of interest."
"That’s two people I should have thought of. I didn’t mention either one to the police. Last I heard, Mickey moved out to the oil patch. Found a job that pays way more than the call center."
"Who’s the other person?"
"Doctor Naughton. Bennie thought of him. Had some other theories, too."
"Why Naughton?"
"Kupmeier had a hand in the purge when the great doctor was pushed out. But Naughton’s got to be at least in his mid-seventies, and he went away quietly enough. I can’t imagine he’d actually be involved, but you could certainly argue that he had a motive."
Kelly pointed out his aging truck and they climbed in. Kelly had a theory about women and old pickup trucks – that he could tell a lot about a gal by how she reacted to riding in one. He believed some gals, like those who went for BMW-types, would recoil at the thought. At least that’s the way he liked to imagine it. It gave him a smile that Jessica seemed right at home as she buckled up.
> Despite the hectic day, the idea of asking Jessica out had been on Kelly’s mind. Ultimately, he had decided against it, at least on the short-term, figuring a request for a date might not be welcome. It was a thought based in part on something simple – her black-rimmed, business-like glasses. Not that he didn’t like them; the glasses looked cool and added a certain charm, but he suspected the fashion choice also held a message: Jessica Gulsvig expected to be taken seriously, and her good looks were not to be a distraction. And while there was no rule about employees dating, he also imagined a person trained in H-R might be reluctant to agree to a date, but as fortune would have it, the opportunity to be with her had presented itself, and he found it pretty exciting.
Jessica removed a leather barrette and shook out her hair. "So, Dr. Naughton … he's still in town?"
"Has his own one-man lab. I hear he’s still tinkering."
Kelly steered a path through the news vehicles as they left the parking lot. "So, how’d it go on the crisis team?" Jessica took a deep breath and exhaled through her teeth. "Kinda stressed. It seemed hard on the people who knew Kupmeier well. I got the feeling they didn’t like him all that much, but it’s still pretty shocking when someone you work with shows up dead. First order of business was a news release saying all the right things … ‘sorrowful regrets over the loss of a dear employee,’ but making it clear the death had nothing to do with the studies; ‘studies are known for their safety’ … yada yada. Barry had the job of whipping that up after we brainstormed what to include. Then he sent around a draft, we all commented, and I suppose we had the final version out by 11:30 or so. I didn’t like that he called the murder an ‘unattended death,’ which makes it sound like an accident or suicide."
"And then I suppose the phones started ringing."
"That happened way before the release was ready. Hard to keep it quiet with all the study subjects armed with cell phones. After the press release, there was internal communications … making sure the staff knew how to handle things. You heard some of that in the meeting. Tonight we’re monitoring the media in case there’s anything we need to respond to. Barry's assistant Emily is taking the prime-time shift; then Barry will help her monitor all the late newscasts, and I get the early morning shift … checking the newspaper websites. Fortunately, there are no early TV newscasts on Saturday."
They pulled up to Roger’s Pub, a shack of a place on two floors – bar/restaurant on top with a game room on the garden level. Inside, it was decked out in a lot of dark wood. Mugs hung along the rafters and peanut shells routinely accumulated on the floor. The Friday after-work crowd was decent sized, but not crazy like some of the more trendy establishments. They took a booth, which, typical of the place, featured a tabletop decorated with carvings of names, initials, a few hearts, and class of this or that year.
"So, if Kelly's your last name, what’s your first name?"
"Even my mom doesn’t use my first name."
Jessica gave him the eye, a playful expression that protested the non-answer.
"Adam. Adam Langford Kelly."
"Adam’s a nice name. Why don’t you use it?"
"It was my Dad’s name. He left us when I was six."
Jessica nodded sympathetically as the waitress arrived. They decided to split an order of nachos, with water for Kelly, a beer for Jessica.
"Not drinking today?"
"I don’t drink," said Kelly. "I used to. Not a lot, but enough to know I’m at my worst if I drink, and one good screw-up could wash out my chance at working in law enforcement."
"Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered a beer?"
"No, that’s fine. It’s not like liquor’s a problem; I just decided to stay away from it. And dad was a drunk. That plays into it."
Their drinks came, along with the complementary peanuts.
"So, what other theories did Bennie have?"
"Well, one was that Kupmeier could have been killed to keep him quiet."
"About?"
"Who knows? Probably nothing. It's just Bennie's imagination that there could be some kind of cover-up or something."
"I have heard stories about pharmaceutical companies – like hiding information about harmful drugs. Maybe Kupmeier learned about something shady and was about to blow the whistle."
"Except Kupmeier would be on the other end of that deal; he’d be one getting ratted out. I never got the feeling that ethics were high on his list.
Jessica shook her head. "I worried about that when I took the job, but H-R is what I went to school for. I was waiting tables before this. I was really hoping it would be a nice company."
"It’s not a bad place to work. They treat employees okay."
"But the ethics aren’t great?"
"Oh, I don’t know how bad it is. You hear about some big pharma companies being involved with kickbacks, illegal drug promotions, bribery … and some of them rank high when it comes to criminal behavior by corporations. But I don't think it's that bad at Naughton."
"That business with the statistics in the Competitive Intelligence Committee seemed pretty dishonest to me."
"Well, it’s technically accurate. They’re not actually lying."
"Seemed pretty phony."
"That's the funny thing with stats like that. They can be true, but still create a false impression. A 70% improvement of almost nothing is still almost nothing."
"So people start taking drugs expecting some big advantage, when there isn't one."
"I suppose so. In some cases, anyway."
"Ugh. I wonder if they need any waitresses here."
Kelly laughed. "Oh, you might like working at Naughton just fine. After all, they’ll find somebody to do the job; might as well be you."
"But I won't be happy working for a company I can’t respect."
"Once you get some experience, you’ll have a nice resume item, some references, and if you decide you don't like Naughton, you can move on, stay in the H-R field."
"Pinch my nose in the meantime."
"I guess. Look at it this way; you’re not likely to hear about any of the dicey stuff working in H-R."
"That doesn’t help! Just how much ‘dicey stuff’ is there?" Her expression of dismay almost had Kelly laughing again.
"You really want to know?"
"I suppose." Her lack of enthusiasm was apparent. She signaled the waitress for another beer.
"Here's one thing … some of the marketing isn't that different from selling pizza. For pizza, they come up with a new topping, a new crust, a new side dish – something to advertise. A customer might not give a rip about the new thing, but they’re still more likely to order a pizza. With drugs, it’s giving the sales rep something new to talk about. The actual comparative benefit, or whatever the hook is, might be insignificant, maybe even misleading, like you saw, and it likely won’t play into a doctor’s decision, but it allows the reps to create a positive vibe for the product and gives them a chance to schmooze, make a favorable impression, and maybe even do the doctor a favor."
"Like gifts and trips?"
"That used to be common. There are rules against some of that now, but there are ways around it. The doctors who move the most drugs are paid to consult, appear on a panel, present at a conference – that sort of thing."
"What else?"
"One thing that surprised me is how much of the research is done on new drugs – almost none."
Jessica expression contorted humorously as she found the thought absurd.
Kelly chuckled. "The companies claim they need high profits to fund research on new life-saving drugs, but a lot of the time they're doing comparisons with a competitor, or they're looking for other conditions a drug can be used for. Finding new customers is more profitable than investing in a new product."
"But I see new drugs being advertized all the time. Seems they come up with something almost weekly."
"Sometimes it's an old drug with a new name. A popular drug marketed for depression, for example, they b
ring it back with a new color, a new name and market it for pre-menstrual symptoms, and the patients have no idea they're taking an anti-depression drug."
"Gag. That's messed up."
"Bringing a truly new drug to market is really expensive, and it can take 10 years. And 90% of new drugs fail in trials. Naughton got its start by working up a new drug, but I don't think they're doing that any more. That's typical. It's universities and probably some start-up companies that plow the new ground. A lot of it's on the taxpayers' nickel. The big boys mostly buy up the patents, maybe hire the key researcher."
"Seriously. Give me a job application. Where's the manager?"
Kelly raised his glass. "Here’s to commercialized medicine."
The nachos arrived, along with Jessica’s second beer, just as the 5:30 newscast started on the TV above the bar. In a smallish media market like Fargo, the murder was big news, topping the broadcast. They couldn’t follow the audio above the din of conversation, but the video showed the reporter live in front of the building followed by footage of police cars, an ambulance pulling away, and employees leaving. A police spokesperson made an appearance, soon followed by Heckathorn, no doubt sharing the company line from the press release.
"It is pretty scary," said Jessica, for the first time seeming rattled by events.
"Yeah, I hope they figure it out soon. It’s hard to imagine who’d kill him, or why."