Mind Switch (29 page)

When Jim returned from Gainesville, he reported to Fred that he had inspected the car with a fine tooth comb and found nothing. In addition, the Gainesville police had sent in their forensic team. “They were still investigating when I left,” Jim added, “but I don’t believe they will come up with anything. Why do you think he deserted his car?”

“Perhaps,” Fred replied, “because we were getting too close. If I had to bet, I would guess he stole another car and is well out of Florida by now.”

* * *

Fred called Schultz the next morning. Schultz’s wife answered the call.

Hell, Fred thought, she’s the perfect security guard, I can never get past her. Fred explained to her that he would only need to talk to her husband for a couple of minutes. He asked how he was doing. “Not well,” she tacitly responded. “I’ll put him on, but you have to be quick.”

When Schultz picked up, Fred could hear his wife in the background saying, “I told him he had only two minutes.”

Fred laughed, “I guess your wife takes good care of you.”

Schultz shared in the humor of the moment. “You’re damn right; she’ll make sure you feel the full force of her wrath if you don’t handle me gently.”

“Well,” Fred said, “Since I’m on the clock, let me ask you right off, how do you make the determination of who will be promoted in your organization?”

Schultz said, “Basically I seek the most talented people; but they are not necessarily my most senior people. My organization on paper has a vertical structure but it really operates more like a matrix. I often bypass the division heads and deal with their subordinates directly; those subordinates frequently interact directly with their counterparts in other divisions without going through their respective division heads. The division heads execute some minimal administrative duties for me; but essentially I picked them because they displayed the greatest strengths in their respective fields as well as a curiosity and capability to learn other skills. In effect, I offer a reward for past services rendered and future potential anticipated.”

“You mean that people functioning as acting division heads will not necessarily be your choice for permanent promotion to those positions?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Fred said, “I never asked you this before, but do you believe any one of your people could have been responsible for the mass murders?”

“I don’t see how they could be. You have your killers, don’t you?”

Fred ignored the question. “Did anyone in the organization hold a grudge against any of the division heads?”

“I told you about the grievances. As you might recall, one was Flynn and the other person from the Projection Division wanted an astronomical pay increase. He knew by the rules of the game that a promotion was not possible unless a division head left. He insisted, based on his extraordinary skills, that he deserved more money than his peers. But to be honest, he’s not a person that I believe would be capable of murder.”

“Did he possess extraordinary skills?”

“Yes, beyond anything I have experienced. However, Mr. Long, the murdered division head, sent him in to see me about a month ago. I told him in no uncertain terms he was not going to get any more money from me.”

“What happened?”

“In a nutshell, he didn’t quit, he’s still in the same division. I certainly felt like firing him; but with his level of talent, I just couldn’t do it. At the same time I wouldn’t let him walk all over me.”

“Is he now a promotional candidate for the division head position?”

“Probably not, his emotional outbreaks continue to cause problems.”

“Does he know that he is not currently a candidate for promotion?”

“No, I guess not, I never really discussed that with him.”

“Mr. Schultz, please help me. I can understand why subordinates might be motivated to do away with their division heads to earn a promotion. Would division heads have any motivation to eliminate their peers?”

“I don’t accept your primary hypothesis that my workers would be engaged in murder. But even if I accepted that premise, there would be no reason on earth for my division heads to kill another division head, none whatsoever.”

Fred was not sure he accepted this explanation. “Would you do me a favor and schedule an interview for me with the gentleman that submitted the grievance?”

“Sure, but I’ve already told my division heads and my acting division heads to give you whatever cooperation you need. My secretary, Donna Lang, will coordinate whatever you need.”

“Ok, we’ll make it tomorrow at 10 a.m.. By the way, what is this guy’s name?”

“ It’s Marvin Atwell.”

Chapter 51

Fred arrived an hour early the next morning at the company. The peculiarity of Marvin Atwell’s name had not gone unnoticed by Fred. He thought, either this guy is so egoistic that he enjoys pointing the finger at himself with the belief that he is too smart to be caught; or someone else is continuing to play mind games and using him as the fall guy.

He asked Miss Lang if Mr. Atwell was available, but if not, could she arrange for an interview with someone else. She said, “Miss Moore just came in, I’ll schedule her. She’s from the Reading Division.”

Fred went through his standard interrogation and learned nothing of interest. She didn’t recognize any version of Ford.

Fred asked, “What do you do in the Reading Division?”

“I have the ability to read thoughts; and in all modesty I must admit that I am quite accurate at it.”

Fred said, “Wait a minute. I’m familiar with cold reading where a supposed psychic asks some general questions, and from there works down to greater specificity based on reading the emotional reactions of the subject. Is that the way you do it?”

She seemed quite upset at Fred’s suggestion. “Sir, would you like me to read you?” she responded curtly.

Fred started to turn her down, since an alleged psychic reading his mind would go nowhere as far as the murder investigation was concerned.

But his curiosity overwhelmed his objectivity, so he said, “Go ahead and try.”

“OK, try to focus on just one thing,”

Already starting to regret that he agreed to cooperate, and wanting it over with, he said, “I’ve got it; now please proceed.”

She took a second to concentrate. “You are thinking of a police officer… wait a minute… he committed some type of crime and he is in jail.” She paused. “He’s a police officer who has been arrested for shooting at you.”

Fred was stunned. This was no phony cold reading; he had been careful to insure that he hadn’t aided in the prompting of correct or incorrect guesses by any subtle reactions. His extensive poker playing days helped him with that. In fact, she had asked him no question at all, she just told him directly what he was thinking and pulled out his precise thoughts.
 

Her next comment sent chills down his spine. “‘Oh, yes, you’re right. I have penetrated your mind!”

Not knowing where to go with the interview, Fred said, “I need to take a break.” She got up from her chair, smiled and left the conference room.

Miss Lang had already placed a pot of hot water and an assortment of tea flavors on a table just outside of the conference room. As Fred prepared his tea, he noticed that on the other side of the conference room door, Miss Lang had placed three chairs. A small man was sitting in one of them.

Fred still hadn’t fully recovered from his interrogation of Miss Moore when the man walked up to him and introduced himself as Mr. Atwell. He said, “Donna asked me to wait outside for you. Make this quick; I have a lot of work to do.”

Fred’s impulse was to say, I will determine how long it take, shut up and take your seat. Instead he said, “Miss Moore left for a break. I’m Lieutenant Harris, and I want to ask you a few questions. Let’s both hope it doesn’t take long.”

As Fred shook Atwell’s hand, he noticed that he stood almost a full two inches above Atwell. Fred thought it was rare when he could look down on any other male beyond a young teenager. Fred told him, “I am investigating the theater and bank murders, and I need some information.”

Atwell said, “Of course you are, why else would you be here?”

“Mr. Atwell, I was told you had some problem with your division head; what was that all about?”

“Nothing, really. I deserved more money, management said I didn’t. Power won, I lost.”

“Why did you think you deserved more money?”

“Simple, because I am superior to all of those around me. I bring in the contractual deliverables that this firm seeks. They are just too uninformed to realize that. But they will.”

“So did you continue to hold a resentment of your division head until the time he was gunned down in the theater?”

“If I held any resentment, sir, that would reveal a lack of emotional control. I do not regress to emotional levels; that’s simply a waste of time and energy. Emotion is a weakness that I am not capable of.”

Fred thought, this guy really has a chip on his shoulder; he was surprised that Schultz hadn’t fired him long ago.
 

Again observing that Atwell was quite small, Fred estimated his weight at no more than 140 pounds. But his strong, deep voice resonated with a force which transcended his physical limitations. Fred wished he could borrow that voice.

“What is your specific role in this company, Mr. Atwell?”

“Lieutenant Harris, I’m sure you have already obtained background information on me. But to placate you, I will tell you I have taken all of the basic remote viewing tests, and in each case I received the highest score ever recorded.”

“What are the basic tests?”

“Simple. We are asked to describe a picture whose identity and detail are hidden from us; the more details about the picture that we can describe, the higher the score we receive. Many people have this capacity but they can’t control conflicting images that are continuously being emitted from different parts of the brain. In addition, emotion tends to distort or destroy the image that subjects attempt to focus on. I have none of those problems. My score is consistently between 97 and 100%.”

“So your claim to fame is that you can identify the contents of a picture from a different location?”

Atwell smiled, not a warm, friendly type of smile but rather one that exuded superiority.

“Let me tell you something about yourself and I will use none of my special talents in the process. First of all, you are either married or living with someone, and that person has been gone for a period. I know you are a lieutenant but you haven’t been one for long. You own a dog, I would guess a Yorkie; and every morning before you leave for work you pick her up and cuddle her. Should I go on?”

“No,” Fred said, “but how did you know that?”

“Yorkshire terriers are one of the few small breeds that have multi-color hairs consisting of various shades of brown as well as silver and black. You have no hair on your pants but you have residual multi-colored dog hair strands on your jacket and it’s concentrated in your chest area. So that also means the dog you own must be small enough to be picked up. Therefore, I discounted any large dog that might possess various hair colors. Your tailored suit, your highly shined shoes and your cuff-linked shirt indicate that you attempt to dress meticulously. That reveals to me that you have not had the luxury of time to comb off the dog hair, therefore your encounter with your dog would most likely have been at the time you left for work. Both your tie and the handkerchief in your jacket pocket are askew which reveals an inconsistency with the rest of your attire and your obvious concern to be neat and tidy. I therefore assume from that, your female partner helped you on a daily basis with those objects and since they are so askew, she must be missing in your life at least for the moment. Most of your clothes are virtually brand new. Your shoes, however, are standard for a cop on a beat, and although they have been shined to a mirror finish, I can detect even from this position that their heels reveal significant wear. Their color is also incompatible with the rest of your clothes. So, I assume that until recently you dressed in a traditional police uniform, but now you wear civilian attire and you bought the new clothes when you got your promotion.

Atwell continued, “Cops are like military officers, they become conditioned and comfortable in wearing those highly shined black shoes even when they depart from the military and become civilians. So, you see nothing that I told you links to my remote viewing specialty, it’s just the simple power of observation.”

Fred said, “OK, let me tell you something. You are not married and you have an extreme difficulty keeping a relationship; you used to have a mustache; you removed it less than five days ago. You have a complex about your height. You play tennis frequently. Wait a minute—no, not tennis—it’s racquetball! You claim you can control your emotions; but you have a hot temper and at times you have to let it out to the extent you actually physically hurt yourself. Oh, and you are left handed. Shall I go on?”

“Very good, Lieutenant; and how did you determine all of that?”

“Well, you have a slight tan on your face but the area above your lip is disproportionately lighter. You have a slight scab in that area which has not yet healed. You cut it while you were shaving off your mustache. Small shaving cuts heal within less than a week; therefore, you removed your mustache less than a week ago and the sun has not had time to even out the tan around your face. In our semi-tropical climate the tanning process doesn’t take long.”