Crimes of Strategic Passion, Part 2

 

When we last left our hero … wait. If you didn’t read Part I, just scroll down to catch up.

“Do tell” Piem began, icily, “how you define strategic alignment, and intend to find the killer.”

“Alright” I began, “but first, I need to talk to one person, and that person’s identity is whoever administers the database that keeps track of this company’s proposals.”

Piem O’Dagger and Tut Tutworth stared incredulously, as did most of the others assembled in the Stratmon Mansion’s library.

“What’s Anna Goodall got to do with this?” asked Tutworth.

A smallish, ordinary-looking woman stood up from the couch, and shyly asked “How can I help?”

“Anna, do you enter the data into and issue reports from the proposal tracking system?”

“Yes.”

At this point Piem had had quite enough.

“Ivan, why on Earth did you bring in this idiot?” she stormed. “Part of my PMO duties includes operating the real portfolio management software – the vendor told us it’s the most widely-used one throughout industry – which means I should be the one answering these questions!”

“Yeah, well…” I began, “just ‘cuz my cat has kittens in the oven doesn’t make them biscuits.”

“What?!” asked everyone in the room, simultaneously.

Ivan interjected. “Piem, Stanly Raspberry is the preeminent consulting detective in matters managerial. I urge you to cooperate with him and this investigation.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Piem replied. “It’s just that there’s some lazy project manager from the UK who’s trying to take my name, and it’s got me stressed.”

“Anna” I continued, “does your system have the capability of sorting the existing proposal backlog by customer and by type of industry?”

“Of course” she answered, as she flipped open her laptop.

“Did Mr. Stratmon recently propose work in an area where this company hadn’t had a presence previously?”

“Yes, here it is” Anna replied. “He prepared five new proposals in the past two weeks, in the artificial intelligence industry.”

“We don’t do AI here” Tutworth sniffed. “Ask her how much money the proposals were worth.”

“One point five million, all together.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Raspberry” Tutworth continued. “That’s a pittance, compared to the rest of the proposal backlog, not to mention the contract backlog.”

“Companies that reflexively respond to large dollar figure Requests for Proposal in new markets aren’t serious. The serious strategic manager will seek out the smaller, easier contracts in order to have a better chance of performing well, and then use those successful projects as a springboard to the larger efforts. In other words, Stratmon was willing to sacrifice some shareholder wealth in order to take a patient approach to advancing his strategy.”

Tutworth became furious. “As everybody knows, the point of all management is to maximize shareholder wealth! Mr. Stratmon would never abandon that principle!”

“Yeah, whatever. Anna, have all five proposals gone out?”

“No, there’s one left to send. Mr. Stratmon was putting the finishing touches on it, when …”

“When is it due?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ivan, I saw some reporters outside the main gate when we pulled in. Would you let one of them in?”

“Okay. Why?”

“Trust me.”

Minutes later a rather disheveled fellow was shown into the library. Despite his substandard attire and grooming, he had an arrogance about him, as if he was the smartest person in any room he entered.

“Journalism major?”

“Risk manager.”

“I have a statement about the incident that occurred here this evening. Mr. Stratmon was discovered near death, but managed to leave the room before collapsing. He was found, is recovering, and hopes to finish a bit of important work tomorrow before convalescing abroad.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“When will that run?”

“Tomorrow morning” the reporter replied, as he left the room.

The library erupted in angry accusations. Ivan finally settled them down, and asked “Raspberry, what do you hope to accomplish? Stratmon is dead, and it’s only a matter of time before everybody knows it.”

“Everybody except the killer, and I only need one day to keep him in the dark. I suggest everybody finish your brandies, and go to bed. Come to work tomorrow as if everything’s normal. Ivan, I need a word with you.”

As Stratmon’s family, friends, and business associates filed out, I cornered Ivan.

“You’re setting a trap, aren’t you?” Ivan asked.

“Yeah, I am” I replied. “I have a hunch that, by close of business tomorrow, coming back to finish the job will be…”

Wow! Look at that! Out of space again! Tune in to this channel next week, for the Conclusion of Crimes of Strategic Passion.