Daniel takes in a visible breath, steeling himself. “Yes, sir,” he says again.
“When was Cardinal West Outdoors established?” I ask. It’s an easy question. Hell, it’s on their logo.
Daniel looks aside. I can see the wheels spinning in his head as he tries to recall anything about this company.
“I’m not sure,” he admits.
I nod.
“What do they sell?”
“Outdoor activities supplies,” he replies quickly.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Um, fishing gear and tents… and stuff.”
I nod again.
“Bug spray, coolers,” I add for his benefit.
Daniel nods enthusiastically. His face falls, and he lowers his head as I glower back at him.
“And their ever-growing activity guides? Was that in your research? The service offerings that expand their business into new markets. Did you include that in your research? What about the fact that Leon Vitale is not the sole owner of Cardinal West Outdoors? Do you think that would have been good information to have… that he co-owns that business with his lovely wife, Pam? Where was that in your research?” My voice is getting louder, and I have to take a moment to compose myself.
Daniel swallows roughly, keeping his eyes averted.
“This is a half-assed Google search worth of information, at best,” I say, sliding the manila envelope back to him. “And after the disaster of a call I was just on, looking like CreativEdge couldn’t be bothered to do even the slightest bit of due diligence, I doubt we’ll get the opportunity to sign them again.”
“I understand, sir,” Daniel says.
“I’m sure you do,” I say, and I mean it. Daniel isn’t a bad guy, but he runs his department far too lax if they are putting together client portfolios that look like this. “But this is shameful work.”
I wait until he looks up at me, his sad eyes expecting what’s to come.
“Are you sure you want to take the fall for this research disaster?” I’m giving him another out, hoping he’ll take it, both because I like Daniel—as much as I like any of my employees—but also because whoever did do this piss-poor job will still be on staff until I find out who it really was.
He nods, a soft “Yeah” coming out with his breath.
Damn. But that’s his call.
“This work is completely unacceptable, Daniel. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ll have your last check cut for you by end of day tomorrow. I need your key card.”
He threads the plastic magnetic card off his belt loop and drops in onto the desk.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Edgerton.”
Me, too.
I escort Daniel out of my office, stopping at our HR manager’s office. I give her the news that Daniel has been let go and to have him escorted out of the building before heading back to my office.
The gossip train has already started. The soft murmurs as employees ask Daniel what happened. I stop in my doorway and turn around. Five heads scatter to the wind.
I follow the last of them into the researchers’ office space. The building it set up as a hybrid of individual rooms and communal workspaces. Each department is in their own office, but within those offices, there are personal desks and long shared tables; some offices even have couches.
“Where is Devin?” I ask, my gaze scanning the room, clocking each employee—and the one that’s missing.
“I’m here. I’m here.” He squeezes by me and takes a seat in the front of the room, his head down, eyes averted.
