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After that, Monty had reviewed the drill with his kids. They were sworn to secrecy. If anyone asked, they had no idea where Sally was. If pressed, they’d parrot the story Monty had given the Warren County Sheriff’s Office. As for talking to Sally, they’d do that only at designated times, and only on the Bat Phone.
But thank God she was all right.
Devon had promised Sally she’d take care of Scamp and make periodic drives up to the house to check on the horses, who were being fed and exercised by one of the Piersons’ grooms. That promise was hardly a sacrifice. Not only did it put Sally’s mind at ease, but Devon was crazy about Scamp and the house she’d spent her teens in. This gave her an excuse to enjoy both.
Having spoken to her mother, Devon had felt lighthearted enough to cook—a desire that didn’t come along too often. Monty stayed for dinner, after which he made a slew of phone calls, which resulted in streams of incoming pages on Devon’s fax machine, all of which he was now poring over. Lane took the opportunity to drag Meredith to a movie—a chick flick, no less—to help her relax. He looked pained at the prospect, but his concern for his baby sister won out. He did ask Devon to join them, but she refused—not because she didn’t want to go, but because something told her she should stay here with Monty.
Tossing down the dish towel, she wandered into the living room, sinking down on the sofa next to her father and tucking her legs beneath her. “What did you find out?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.
“That the Pierson empire is a golden octopus with tentacles all over the place.” Monty pointed at the page he was reading. “Look at this rundown on their history. Edward Pierson started the company fifty years ago as a small paper-goods distributor to the food industry. It grew like crazy, expanding into food services and catering. Evidently, Pierson pulled the right strings, because all of a sudden, his little company dominated the food-services business at major sporting arenas all across the country.”
Pulled the right strings. Devon had heard her father use that expression often enough to know what it meant. “You think he bribed politicians, threatened competitors—that kind of thing?”
“Big-time. The man is smart, unscrupulous, and a corporate bulldozer. He wasn’t happy standing still, even after locking up the sports venues. He wanted more than just a food-services division—something more refined. So he launched a fine dining division—those swanky Grand Prix restaurants he owns. The first one opened in Palm Beach twenty-five years ago. It’s still thriving. Only now it has nineteen siblings, all located near the major equestrian competition sites: Lexington, Peapack-Gladstone, Bridgehampton, Fair Oaks, Napa Valley—you get the drift.”
“Wow. That’s quite an empire. Edward Pierson must be in his glory, especially since overseeing the fine-dining division means he can indulge his passion for showing horses.” Devon leaned closer, reading the corporate summary. “What’s this about a family-dining division?”
“That’s his newest restaurant venture: Chomping at the Bit.”
Devon grinned. “Cute name.”
“Yeah, and another gold mine in the making. It’s going to have the same horse theme as the Grand Prix restaurants, but aimed at a whole different crowd.”
“Families.”
“Yup. Lower prices, casual decor, kid-friendly atmosphere. The flagship restaurant is set to open this spring a block away from Yonkers Raceway.”
“Yonkers Raceway—that’s a far cry from Palm Beach. Then again, it’s a shrewd choice. Busy area, lots of horse lovers, adjacent to a big shopping center. It’ll bring in families by the droves.” A pensive frown formed between Devon’s brows. “Edward Pierson’s almost eighty years old. Vital or not, he can only do so much. And with Frederick gone, who else is running all this?”
“Which Pierson isn’t? Edward’s got the whole family managing the company. Frederick ran the food services division. Niles, Edward’s second son, heads up the fine dining division. And Edward’s grandson, Blake, is in charge of the family dining division. It looks like Chomping at the Bit was his baby. Blake’s father, Gregory, is Edward’s youngest son. He’s the VP of marketing. There’s another grandson, James—he’s Niles’s kid. He’s VP of sales and a champion show jumper….” Monty shoved the paper aside. “I’m getting a headache.”
“And I’m getting the idea.” Devon leaned back against the sofa cushion. “So Edward Pierson’s combined all his passions into one—family, horses, money, and notoriety. Pretty impressive.” A questioning look. “All the company execs are family?”
“Looks that way. All except their attorney, Louise Chambers, and their senior VP of sales, Philip Rhodes. Oh, and their CFO, Roger Wallace, but he doesn’t count as nonfamily. He’s a grandson-in-law, married to Niles’s daughter, Tiffany. She’s VP of business development, by the way. And Blake’s sister, Cassidy, is VP of human resources. Gee, I wonder how many more Piersons are out there who never made it into this report.”
“Interesting.” Devon ran a hand through her hair, sorting out her thoughts. “What you just described leaves lots of room for resentment. Family members resenting other family members for having more power. Nonfamily members resenting family members for having all the power to begin with. Employees who feel they’ll never get ahead, that nepotism rules the day. I wonder what kind of boss Frederick Pierson was?”
“Good question.”
“What about Edward’s grandchildren? Don’t any of them belong to Frederick?”
“Nope. Frederick was a childless widower. His wife, Emily, died of a heart attack two years ago.”
“Hmm.” Devon pursed her lips. “I’d love to see Edward’s will. I wonder who’s next in line to inherit and/or run the Pierson empire. And how the family fortune is allocated.”
“More good questions. As a matter of fact, you’re following my train of thought to a T.” Monty shot his daughter a look. “I told you you have the mind of a cop. Cut back on your animal hours and go into business with me.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this a thousand times, Monty. I’m not cut out to be a cop. I don’t have a tough enough skin. Besides, I love what I do.”
“My buddies at the ASPCA’s Humane Law Enforcement Department—the ones who ran those off-site training classes you took—said you were the sharpest one in the bunch. A chip off the old block. And, no, they weren’t blowing sunshine up my ass. They meant it. No one believed you were in vet school going for a DVM. They thought you were in the Police Academy, joining the force.”
“It was one of the best summers of my life. But that’s because of the animals. And because I was spending so much time with you.”
“What time? I was working a case.”
“Maybe. But you showed up anyway. A couple of times each day. Kind of like you were checking up on me to make sure I was performing up to snuff. Remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
