make a scan list. You want to go all the way back to the
accountants-Smothers and whatever?”
“If you’ve got the TIME”
“Got more time than I’m used to. Hold on just one second.”
I waited, listening to keyboard clicks.
All right,” he said, “now let’s scroll up the exchanges and run a
search.. . here we go.” Beep. “Nothing on the New York.”
Beep. “No Amex listings on any of them, either. Let’s see about the
Nasdaq..
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“No listings, Alex. Let me check the list of private holdings.”
Beep.
“Doesn’t look like it, Alex.” A slight edge in his voice.
“Meaning none of them are in business?”
“Looks like.”
“Do you find that unusual?”
“Well,” he said, “businesses do fail or close down at a pretty high
rate, but this Plumb guy does seem to be the kiss of death.”
“Chuck Jones hired him to run the hospital, Lou. Care to revise your
thinking about his intentions?”
“Think he’s a spoiler, huh?”
“What happened to the other companies Plumb was associated with?”
“That would be hard to find out-they were all small, and if they were
privately held, there’d be no stock ramifications, little or no
coverage in the business press.”
“What about the local press?”
“If it was a company town with lots of people being thrown out of work,
maybe. But good luck tracking that down.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Is this really important, Alex?”
“I don’t know.”
“It would be a hell of a lot easier for me to track,” he said, “knowing
the ropes. Let me play Tarzan and climb a few.”
After he hung up, I called Virginia Information and got the number of
the Ferris Dixon Institute for Chemical Research. A pleasant female
voice answered, “Ferris Dixon, good afternoon, how may I help you?”
“This is Dr. Schweitzer from Western Pediatric Medical Center in Los
Angeles. I’m an associate of Dr. Laurence Ashmore.”
“Just one second, please.”
Long pause. Music. The Hollywood Strings doing The Police’s Every
Breath You Take.
The voice returned: “Yes, Dr. Schweitzer, how may I help you?”
“Your institute funds Dr. Ashmore’s research.”
“Yes?”
“I was just wondering if you knew he was deceased.”
“Oh, how horrible,” she said, but she didn’t sound surprised.
“But I’m afraid the person who can help you with that isn’t in.”
I hadn’t asked for help, but I let that pass. “Who might that be?”
“I’m not exactly sure, Doctor. I’d have to check that.”
“Could you, please?”
“Certainly, but it may take a while, Doctor. Why don’t you give me
your number and I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll be moving around. How about if I get back to you?”
“Certainly, Doctor. Have a nice-” “Excuse me,” I said. As long as
we’re talking, could you give me some information on the institute?
For purposes of my own research?”
“What would you like to know, Dr. Schweitzer?”
“What kinds of projects do you prefer to fund?”
“That would be a technical question, sir,” she said. “I’m afraid I
can’t help you with that, either.”
“Is there some kind of brochure you could send me? A list of previous
studies you’ve funded?”
“I’m afraid not-we’re a fairly young agency.”
“Really? How young?”
“One moment, please.”
Another long break. More Muzak, then she was back.
“Sorry for taking so long, Doctor, and I’m afraid I can’t stay with
you-I’ve got several other incoming calls. Why don’t you get back to
us with all your questions. I’m sure the right person will be able to
help you.”
“The right person,” I said.
“Exactly,” she said with sudden cheer. “Have a nice day, Doctor.”
Click.
I called back. The line was busy. I asked the operator to put through
an emergency interruption, and waited until she came back on the
line.
“I’m sorry, sir, that number’s out of order.”
I sat there, still hearing the pleasant voice.
Smooth . . . well rehearsed.
One word she’d used jumped out at me.
“We’re a fairly young agency.”
Odd way to describe a private foundation.
Virginia . . . anything down there always spells government to me.
I tried the number again. Still off the hook. Checked my notes for