Kim nodded. The formulating machine was in a separate room, closed off from the rest of the production area. They walked down the glass corridor until they were directly over it.
“An impressive machine, wouldn’t you say?” Jack said.
“How come it’s in its own room?” Kim asked.
“To keep it extra-clean and protect it,” Jack said. “It’s the most expensive piece of equipment on the floor and the workhorse of the plant. That baby puts out either regular tenth-of-a-pound patties or quarter-pound jumbos.”
“What happens to the patties when they come out of the formulating machine?” Kim asked.
“A conveyor takes them directly into the nitrogen freeze tunnel,” Jack said. “Then they are hand-packed into boxes, and the boxes into cartons.”
“Can you trace the origin of meat?” Kim asked. “I mean if you know the lot number, the batch numbers, and the production date.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “That’s all recorded in the patty-room log.”
Kim reached into his pocket and withdrew the piece of paper on which he’d written the information from the labels in the Onion Ring walk-in freezer. He unfolded it and showed it to Jack.
“I’d like to find out where the meat came from for these two dates and lots,” Kim said.
Jack glanced at the paper but then shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t give you that kind of information.”
“Why the hell not?” Kim demanded.
“I just can’t,” Jack said. “It’s confidential. It’s not for public consumption.”
“What’s the secret?” Kim asked.
“There’s no secret,” Jack said. “It’s just company policy.”
“Then why keep the logs?” Kim asked.
“They are required by the USDA,” Jack said.
“Sounds suspicious to me,” Kim said, thinking about some of Kathleen’s comments earlier that morning. “A public agency requires logs whose information is not available to the public.”
“I don’t make the rules,” Jack said lamely.
Kim let his eyes roam around the patty room. It was impressive with its polished stainless-steel equipment and lustrous tiled floor. There were three men and one woman tending to the machines.
Kim noticed that the woman was carrying a clipboard on which she scribbled intermittently. In contrast to the men, she did not touch the machinery.
“Who’s that woman?” Kim asked.
“That’s Marsha Baldwin,” Jack said. “She’s a looker, isn’t she?”
“What’s she doing?” Kim asked.
“Inspecting,” Jack said. “She’s the USDA inspector assigned to us. She stops in here three, four, sometimes five times a week. She’s a real hard-ass. She sticks her nose into everything.”
“I suppose she could trace the meat,” Kim said.
“Sure,” Jack said. “She checks the patty-room log every time she’s here.”
“What’s she doing now?” Kim asked. Marsha was bending over, looking into the yawning mouth of the patty-formulating machine.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Jack said. “Probably making sure it was cleaned the way it was supposed to be, which it undoubtedly was. She’s a stickler for details, that’s all I know. At least she keeps us on our toes.”
“Three to five times a week,” Kim repeated. “That’s impressive.”
“Come on,” Jack said, motioning with his hand for Kim to follow him. “The only thing you haven’t seen yet is the boxes being packed into the cartons, and the cartons being put into cold storage prior to shipping.”
Kim knew he’d seen as much as he was likely to see. He was convinced that he would not get to talk with Everett Sorenson.
“If you have any further questions,” Jack said back at the reception area, “just give a holler.” He gave Kim a business card and flashed a winning smile. Then he pumped Kim’s hand, slapped him on the back, and thanked him for his visit.
Kim walked out of the Mercer Meats building and got into his car. Instead of starting the engine, he turned on the radio. After making sure his cellular phone was on. he leaned back and tried to relax. After a few minutes, he rolled the window partly down. He didn’t want to fall asleep.
Time moved very slowly. Several times he almost gave up and left. He was feeling progressively guilty about having abandoned Tracy in the ICU waiting room. But a little over an hour later, Kim’s patience paid off: Marsha Baldwin walked out of Mercer Meats. She was dressed in a khaki coat and carried what looked like a government-issue briefcase.