Page 28 of Just a Plot Twist
Thomas’s mouth forms a hard line. “I wish we could take care of this immediately, but we can’t be too hasty. If I start asking him questions, things could go south quickly.” He scratches the top of his head. “If I just fire him,I’min breach of contract if I don’t have enough proof, right?”
“I would consult with your legal counsel on this before you say anything to Peter.”
“Right. I agree. But…are you sure about all this?” He leans forward, his palms splayed on the desk, his shoulders rounded.
“No,” I admit. “Maybe he’s simply helping his daughter and he has no intention of leaving Foundations. But it’s suspicious. And I’d hate for it to go on longer than necessary. It wouldn’t be unheard of for him to try to poach from your clientele lists. You know, casually under the table.”
Thomas frowns. “He’s…more of a people person than I am.” He glances at me before returning his gaze to his desk. “Some of our clients will want to move over with him. He can be persuasive.”
“Nobody’s more persuasive than you.” I mean it as a compliment, and I say it with a smile, but he looks at me with pain in his countenance.
“I don’t know what I am anymore,” he mutters. He lets out a slow breath, studying the maze of streets out the window. “It’s probably a good thing I’m retiring.” He rubs his eyes, one swift movement, before he straightens his back. “I can’t stomach the idea of getting involved in trying to wheedle it out of him. No, I’ll keep my distance.” His eyes narrow and he twists his lips to one side. “I need you to keep an eye on this, Benson. Please.”
“Of course.” I care about him and the success of Foundations. A sudden, unexpected protectiveness and loyalty come over me. If his friend is readying to leave without warning, taking client lists with him, I’ll go to battle.
He stands but continues talking. “It’s against the non-compete clause he signed. He’s in breach of contract if he’s doing this.” Thomas looks as though he’s trying to convince himself, trying to justify his actions.
“If your instincts are telling you it isn’t right…”
“Exactly. No use getting all upset by it. I just have to act. I have to figure out who I can trust around here.”
“That’s…important, for sure.”
“The closer I get to full retirement, the more convinced I am that I need to pass this along to someone I trust, not someone I’m trying to trust.”
I nod and shoot out a breath. Whether it was his fault or not, he’s about to leave his company without a rock-solid leader in place. I don’t blame him for being anxious about it.
“I’ll talk to chief legal,” he says. He walks slowly to the door and rests his hand on the doorknob. “For now, I need you to go to Longdale and getsome county records. I need to know exactly whose name is on them as the purchaser.”
“I could call and have them sent digitally? That might be faster.”
His mouth turns down. “I don’t want a digital trail quite yet. Besides, Longdale doesn’t send out lists like that. You’ll need all the land purchases in the last year. It’s something you’ll have to search their database for. It’s public record, but it might take a while to sift through. And please don’t mention this to anyone else at Foundations, or your brothers.”
Alright then, looks like I’m making a trip to Longdale today.
I nod.
“But you should stop in at Tate International.”
“Will do. I can’t stay long, though. I’m dog sitting right now, so I have to run home and let her out around midday.”
Thomas’s lips twitch. “Dog sitting?”
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“I bet Indie and Dax like that, though, right?”
A sort of grandfatherly pride crosses Thomas’s features at the mention of my kids. It surprises me and makes me miss my dad, Joe, even more because it was on his face all the time before he died.
But the pride on Thomas’s face now?
Wonders never cease.
Chapter 9
Benson
The brilliant spring sunshine hits the bright green leaves that are a canopy over the road as I drive into Longdale. This place. It’s Mayberry reincarnated. It’s small and quaint, but when I first came here to Sebastian’s resort, I had the sensation of suffocating.
