Chapter Twenty-Two
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Easton flipped open the folder on his desk, scanning the contents. Trip Stanford’s original resume he’d sent in before being hired. Copies of his annual performance reviews. Salary and bonus history. Deciding he might as well start at the beginning, Easton picked up the resume for a closer look.
Stanford had attended a university on the West Coast and studied business. Easton already knew that Trip had received mediocre grades and didn’t have much in the way of extracurriculars. His one item of note on the resume was that he’d done an internship with a Wall Street firm for two summers.
Flipping over the resume, Easton read through the scrawled and cryptic notes on the backside that the interviewer had made. It was company policy to make notes on the resume if possible. Sadly, the recruiter had only done the bare minimum.
Wall Street internship.
Smiling. Friendly. Makes eye contact.
Understands marketing principles.
Good problem solving.
Eager to work.
Seems ambitious.
Easton made a mental note to talk to Leann about updating the Human Resources procedures regarding recruiting and interviewing. This wasn’t much to go on and was vague at best. All he could get from this was that Trip had smiled and made a good impression and hadn’t blown any of the situational questions that he’d been asked. Is that all it took to be hired by Anderson Industries? He needed to talk to Shane and Travis and take a look at hiring standards as well. Maybe they needed to do some sort of psychological exam.
Which reminded him that anyone that worked for Anderson had to have a criminal background check done before hiring. Where was Stanford’s? Easton already knew what it would say courtesy of Jason’s colleague Jared but it should be in the file.
“Amy,” he barked out to his assistant just outside the door. Thank goodness she was used to him and the way he worked. He’d gone through about a dozen assistants before she took the job. Sometimes he wondered whether he worked for her rather than the other way around. She was priceless and she didn’t take any of his shit. Kind of like Dizzy, only with no discernible talent for painting. “Is this the whole file?”
Amy hurried into his office, dressed in a navy blue suit and low-heeled shoes. “Stop bellowing, for heaven’s sake. They could probably hear you down in the cafeteria. Is that any way for an executive to act?”
As usual, she’d managed to put him in his place but he did so enjoy messing with her. He’d known how she was going to react before he’d called out to her.
He held up the file folder. “Where is Trip Stanford’s background check? It’s not in his file.”
Crossing her arms, she gave him her patient expression. It was one he knew well.
“Because they’re all online now with restricted access. Privacy concerns and all of that. Leann just finished a few weeks ago. Next in line are performance reviews.”
“Then there won’t be anything in the files,” he said, exasperated, tossing the folder back down on the desk. “She might as well digitize everything.”
“I think that’s the plan, boss. Do you need anything else? A coffee refill?”
His coffee had long ago gone stone cold but he’d been drinking far too much of it lately.
“No, but can you call in my lunch order? The usual.”
Grilled chicken on whole wheat with lettuce and tomato. A side of potato salad. Bottle of water. He’d been eating that same lunch for years. If Dizzy knew she’d be horrified.
“You know what? Scratch that order. Make it…I don’t know. Surprise me.”
Brows pinched together, his assistant was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Surprise you? Since when do you like surprises? You hate them. You make me tell you in advance when the department is going to sign Happy Birthday to you and bring you cake. You hate Secret Santa at Christmas. You hate doing anything that isn’t written on a list first. And now you want me to just order you a random lunch and surprise you? Have you taken up drinking during the day?”
Christ, she made him sound like a major pain in the ass. Which he probably was. He’d found Dizzy just in the nick of time.
Just thinking about her made him happy. He couldn’t remember a woman that could do that.
“Stone sober. Seriously, just order something you think I’d like. You know me pretty well after all these years.”
Amy’s chin lifted and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Fine, I will. But I’ve got my eye on you, Easton. I’m watching and if you’re hitting the bottle at breakfast or are a clone sent by the government I’ll figure it out.”
Why on earth would the government send a clone to take his place? Deciding not to open that can of worms, Easton let Amy go back to her desk while he continued his research into Trip Stanford.
After reading through all of the performance reviews, there was no denying two facts. One was that Trip Stanford was a decent employee. He showed up every day, did his job, and didn’t take excessive amounts of sick time. That word mediocre hung in the air, although at times he could do more. If he wanted to.
Which brought Easton to the second fact. When Trip had a female supervisor his performance appraisals were less stellar. Not the kind of behavior that would get him fired but he seemed less likely to volunteer for a project or to work overtime. According to his file, he had at least one tense verbal exchange with each of his female managers while there weren’t any when he was working for a man. Interesting.
Trip didn’t appear to like it when women reviewed his work or asked him to fix something. This tendency wasn’t noted anywhere on the appraisals written by the male supervisor.
Now it could mean that the male manager simply hadn’t given a shit if Trip didn’t like fixing things so they hadn’t documented it but the females did. But he could find out for sure because one of those supervisors still worked at Anderson Industries just down the hall.
If Stanford had trouble dealing with critical females it might explain how that poor woman had ended up dead. Tucking the folder under his arm, Easton headed down the hall to find Trip’s former manager. It wouldn’t prove anything but it might explain why it happened.
He didn’t make it to the other manager’s office, however, before his brother Carter exited the elevator and strode down the hall toward him. Carter was supposed to be on a construction site just outside of town.
“What are you–”
“I need to talk to you,” Carter interrupted, his expression serious. His lips were pressed together with not a hint of his usual happy go lucky demeanor. “Trip Stanford came up to Dizzy in the grocery store this morning. He hinted that he’d been watching her.”
A huge mistake by Stanford, and Easton would put a stop to it immediately. No one was going to hurt Dizzy while he still had breath in his body.