It’s almost like the public relations team was trying to flood the site with inconsequential information in order to hide some real news they hoped might get missed.
All of a sudden, Jessie felt a renewed sense of energy. She started printing out all the releases from that period. By the time Ryan and Jamil returned, she’d placed ten releases on each of their desks, along with highlighters.
“What’s all this?’ Ryan asked dourly.
“Welcome back, boys,” she announced happily. “We’re about to do a deep dive.”
“Into what?” Jamil asked with more enthusiasm than Ryan had expressed.
“I’m not sure yet. But this company is desperately trying to hide something and we’re going to find out what.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
It was Jamil who found it.
Jessie had given them a few more instructions before they started: they were looking for a press release that included actual news, not just puffery. It would probably be bad news hidden among positive updates and made to look like it was just business as usual. It was likely personnel related, referencing a promotion, lateral move, retirement, or resignation. The press release Jamil identified had almost all of that.
“It’s dated January twenty-second and titled ‘New Design Addition Expected to Spur Growth in International Markets,’” he began. “The release runs three pages, the bulk of which touts the latest hire in the Creative Design team, Massimo Torini, formerly of the Italian women’s wear company, Max Ultra.”
Jamil skimmed the page before continuing.
“There’s a long description of his accomplishments, as well those of two other designers he’s bringing with him. It mentions several additional promotions and department shifts, foremost among them the promotion of Greg Petrie to head of the design unit. Lastly, it notes that the now-former Head of Design Pierce Cunningham will move to an advisory role. The rest of the press release mentions several adjustments to the marketing and finance teams, none of which seem to be more than title alterations without actual changes in job description.”
Jessie smiled broadly.
“Why did you pick that one, Jamil?” she asked expectantly.
“Well, it sure looks like they were trying to hide one piece of bad news in a long announcement about good news.”
“I bet Pierce Cunningham would agree with you,” Jessie said.
Ryan, who had been poring over a document of his own, poked his head up with an energy that Jessie knew meant something big.
“If you think he was bummed about that news, he must have really hated this.”
“What?” Jessie asked excitedly.
“It’s from January twenty-eighth. So we’re talking just six days after he got dumped as head of the design unit. The title of the release is about as dry as they get—‘Torrance Facility Upgrades Increase Productivity.’ They go on for a page and a half about things like a nicer break room and revised production line standards. Then there’s this one: ‘Design Advisor Pierce Cunningham has chosen to take advantage of the company’s early retirement program.” After that, the announcement goes on for another paragraph about the solar panels in the parking lot.”
“That’s it?” Jessie asked. “No ‘we thank him for his service’ or ‘OTB wishes him success in his future endeavors’?”
“Nothing like that,” Ryan replied.
Jessie did a quick term search through all the press releases and found that other than those two references, Pierce Cunningham’s name, which was mentioned repeatedly prior to January 17, never came up again.
“Gentlemen,” she said, after relaying that information, “does it seem possible that almost all thirty-one of these press releases were specifically designed to hide one piece of information— that OTB fired Pierce Cunningham quickly and unceremoniously and didn’t want anyone to notice?”
Both men nodded in agreement. Jessie continued.
“I think it’s time we get to know Mr. Cunningham a little better, don’t you?”
After another half hour, they had a pretty good picture of the man. His biography was impressive, if pretty straightforward. He grew up in rural West Virginia, where he excelled as a student and got a scholarship to the University of Virginia. Success there led to acceptance at the Parsons School of Design, where he got a graduate degree in Fashion Studies. From there, he worked at several New York fashion houses until moving west to become the head designer for Joben Couture.
Nothing overtly suspicious so far.
Somewhere in that stretch, he met Irina Letsch, an up-and-coming runway model, who would subsequently become his wife. A few years later, he co-launched Only the Best, a lingerie company, where he was responsible for multiple designs.
In several profile pieces, he was described as having a reputation for being “eccentric” and “mildly obsessive,” with a “strong workaholic streak,” but nothing else was shockingly out of the ordinary. He and Irina moved into a huge house on the Strand and had been there ever since, which meant for well over a decade.
Seems like a man who would know when his neighbors were in town or away on vacation.
Everything appeared fairly conventional. He was forty-eight. He and Irina, nine years his junior, had no children. Photos of Cunningham showed him to be a pleasantly bland-looking man, slightly paunchy, with blond hair that was just starting to recede.
For a fashion marvel, he’s not particularly memorable to look at, the kind of guy who could move around largely unnoticed.
While Jessie reviewed his biography, Ryan was checking the legal databases and hit, if not gold, at least, bronze.
“Cunningham was involved in a legal proceeding on January fourteenth,” he said. “It concerned a financial settlement with an undisclosed individual for an undisclosed amount. He is not specifically named, but his LLC, PC Perspectives, is. Cunningham is the only person affiliated with the company. The settlement language is extremely vague, with only a passing reference to restitution for emotional injury.”
“That’s interesting,” Jessie mused.
“There’s more,” Ryan added. “I find his name associated with a complaint that was filed on January ninth and withdrawn on the tenth. The complainant was an anonymous female and the specifics of the complaint are unknown. Since it was withdrawn, all of that information was expunged from the system.”
Jamil waved his hand enthusiastically.
“I think I might have an idea about the nature of the complaint.”
“Do tell,” Jessie said.
“I’ve been going through the social media accounts of OTB employees from the beginning of the year, trying to see if I could get their unofficial take on Cunningham. There was nothing, which I found more suspicious than if there was some bad-mouthing. So I accessed some web archive sites to see if there were any deleted tweets or posts of interest.”
“How did you do that?” Jessie asked.
“There are several sites that archive tweets, posts, and Instagram stories. A few take periodic screenshots. It gets a little complicated and I can give you a primer later. But here’s the point. I found one I think you’ll be interested in. It’s from a design associate at OTB named Annie Cole, dated ten twenty-one a.m. on January first.”