Chapter 21: The Phone Call from Desert Palms
Elena Vargas got in early, the way she always did, and the floor traffic log stopped her cold.
"Eleven forty," she said, tapping the line with her pen. "Man in a windbreaker, asked about a fleet purchase. Six sedans. Who logged this?"
She walked straight out to the reception desk. Denise Park looked up from her monitor, her smile already fading as she read Elena's face.
"That windbreaker man," Elena said. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Denise set down her coffee. "He came in around eleven forty. Quiet fellow, maybe fifty. He asked who handled fleet sales, and Chad was closest, so I sent him over."
"And?"
"He asked about six sedans for a hotel," Denise said. "Said they were replacing their guest cars and wanted to see what we could do on pricing."
Elena's stomach tightened. "And Chad?"
Denise glanced toward the showroom and lowered her voice. "Chad told him the fleet desk was by appointment only and walked him to the door. Said to come back with a purchase order and a deposit, and then maybe they'd talk."
"Those were his words?"
"Close enough," Denise said. "The man didn't argue. He just nodded and left. Polite as could be."
Elena closed her eyes for exactly two seconds. "Did he leave a name? A card?"
"He said he was with a hotel chain, but he never got that far." Denise hesitated. "I didn't think much of it at the time. He just looked like..."
"Like nobody," Elena finished. "Find me the name of every hotel chain in this valley with more than two properties. Start with the big ones."
Eleven minutes later Denise returned with a sticky note reading Desert Palms, circled twice.
"Four properties," Denise said. "Two in Scottsdale."
In her office, door shut, she dialed Desert Palms' corporate number. A receptionist answered.
"Good morning, Desert Palms."
"Good morning. Elena Vargas, general manager at Sterling Motors in Scottsdale. Could I speak with whoever handles your vehicle purchasing?"
"Of course. One moment."
After a short hold jingle, a man's voice, low and unhurried.
"Tom Beckett."
Elena sat up straighter. "Mr. Beckett, this is Elena Vargas from Sterling Motors. I believe you visited our showroom yesterday morning, and I want to make sure we took care of you properly."
A pause. Then a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. "Well, that's a kind way to put it."
"Did you visit us, sir?"
"I did. Around noon. I spoke with one of your salesmen about six sedans."
"And how did that go?"
"He told me the fleet desk was by appointment only and walked me to the door," Tom said evenly. "So I made an appointment somewhere else."
Elena's hand tightened around the pen. "May I ask where?"
"Meridian Luxury Motors. We signed yesterday afternoon. Six sedans, full maintenance package. Eight hundred and ninety thousand, before tax."
"Mr. Beckett," she said carefully, "that is not how Sterling Motors does business. What happened to you was wrong, and I will make sure it's addressed."
"I appreciate the call," Tom said. "No hard feelings at all, truly. A man learns how a store runs in the first thirty seconds. Your competitor's man ran to get me coffee before I'd finished my first sentence."
"Would you ever consider us again?"
"Honestly?" Tom said. "Not now. The papers are signed. But if that salesman ever costs you another one, you might ask him what he was doing with his thirty seconds."
The line went dead.
Elena sat very still. Then she stood at her office window and looked out at the showroom floor, where Chad Merrick leaned against the center turntable, laughing at his phone, forty feet from the midnight-blue Sovereign.
Eight hundred and ninety thousand dollars.
She dialed Walter Sterling's number from memory. He answered on the second ring, soft as ever.
"Morning, Elena."
"Walter, it's me. I'm calling about Chad Merrick."
A silence. "Go on."
"Yesterday morning a man named Tom Beckett walked into this store. He's the fleet buyer for the Desert Palms hotel chain. He wanted six sedans. Chad looked at his windbreaker, walked him to the door, and told him to come back with a purchase order."
"And the order?"
"Went to Meridian," Elena said. "Signed yesterday afternoon. Eight hundred and ninety thousand dollars."
A longer silence. She could hear him breathing.
"Elena," Walter said at last. "Chad is on a written improvement plan. Final warning."
"I know."
"Edith Larson. Then me. Now this man."
"I know, Walter."
"Don't do anything yet," he said quietly. "I'll be there this morning, and we'll handle it together."
She hung up, set the phone down, and looked at Chad one more time through the glass.
This time, she thought, there would be no second chances left for her to write down.