Employee of the Year

Chapter 8 - Alpha Male

Monday, June 20. Six days after the murder.

The Monday following Roland’s killing I called in sick. I’d finally confronted the fact that I had no reason to go in, no reason to pretend that anything about my job was normal any more. The whole experience had been hard enough already, seeing his body in the parking lot, dealing with the police, and trying to plot out the way to prove my innocence in the aftermath. On top of all that, I just realized I had no motivation to go in and make my calls. I could find no reason to maintain my routine and keep up some appearance of normalcy.

After all, the announcement regarding the Employee of the Year Award was postponed indefinitely. The mood in the call center was a combination of fear, suspicion, and chaos. Many of my co-workers were also being called in to talk to the police. Passion’s Legal and Human Resources Departments were scrambling to define a policy for employees to cooperate in the investigation without revealing company secrets. Passion and the other banks were already under siege, facing shareholder lawsuits and government oversight. Of course the company was wary about letting staff talk to police about the inner workings of debt collection. As for the employees, I am sure that everyone in the call center felt they weren’t paid enough to deal with all this drama. Most of them didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel to make this worthwhile; they had no chance at the Employee of the Year Award, which could give them the spark to pull through this.

The negotiations between our company and the police seemed to kick into high gear after I refused to spill the beans on Ned Santini. After all, I was the one who told Martinez that I couldn’t talk with her about Ned’s dismissal; that was my excuse not to go on the record about our whole good cop-bad cop routine. Martinez and Kowalski probably phoned our Human Resource team after that. They were a frightened herd of bleating sheep, most of whom spent the better part of their adult life never leaving their own cubicle. After the first call from the police, HR probably punted to legal. I’m sure our legal team was as clueless as anyone, totally blindsided by Roland’s murder and unsure how to handle the aftermath. Charlie Park told me this was the first time in Passion’s history that an employee had been murdered—on company property no less.

So I was sitting at home in my apartment enjoying my Monday morning when Martinez called me back for another follow-up.

Once again I arrived at the police station. She walked me down a long corridor to a conference room in the back.

“I just wanted you to know that the police department is pretty close to reaching an agreement with Passion’s counsel. Once we have that worked out, you’ll have permission to answer our questions about your co-workers.”

“My co-workers?”

“You know, like Ned Santini and some of the others.”

“How many of my co-workers are considered suspects?”

Martinez smirked and raised an index finger as if to scold me.

 “You know I can’t tell you that, Temo.”

“This isn’t fair. You and Kowalski have been in my face from day one, picking my brain, trying to get whatever you can out of me. And I’ve been playing along. I’ve done my best to help. I answered everything you asked about the Cultural Outreach Program. What do I get in return? Nothing. You ask me to trust you and stay positive. But you don’t reciprocate. I don’t feel like I am getting any trust or good will from you guys.”

Martinez exhaled patiently. She was completely relaxed and satisfied with the situation.

“Temo, I know how you feel, but this is the best I can do. We have our own guidelines to follow in police work. We have to be discreet. I can’t tell you which of your co-workers we’re talking to. That wouldn’t be fair to them.”