A Taste of Tragedy by Kim McMahill Page B

raw product you keep on hand. Obviously fresh fruit and produce can’t be stockpiled to any degree, but what about non-perishables?”
    “You have access to all the orders, so I’m assuming you’re more interested in a visual, like how much is sitting in the warehouse and in the refrigeration units at any given time.”
    “Exactly. I just want to see how we’re utilizing our space and if there is any room for upgrades to improve efficiencies. I don’t want to propose any equipment upgrades that don’t make sense with the current infrastructure.”
    “Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” Wiley said as he handed her a hard hat.
    They walked past dozens of machines which Morgan didn’t pay much attention to. They passed a forklift carrying a pallet of containers toward the production area. When they reached the warehouse, she listened as Wiley explained how all the packaging and raw products were stored on this end of the linear production facility, and the final packaged meals and desserts were held in the ultra-cold freezers at the other. Loading docks were located at both ends to facilitate unloading fresh goods at the beginning of the production line and shipping out the finished product on the other side.
    “This quantity is standard stock in the perishables, since the products have a pretty short shelf life. Right after the holidays, when we have an uptake in sales, there may be less in here, but seldom more unless we get a real good buy on something, but then we’ll have to increase production to get it out of here faster.”
    “Looks like the area is pretty efficiently used. I don’t see much empty space. Though it doesn’t seem like things are overcrowded either, which makes it easy to identify items and keep tabs on the rotation of products.”
    Next, they went through the nonperishables. Morgan noticed that the stock was well organized and Wiley had an efficient system in place to make sure items were rotated to ensure nothing sat around too long.
    “I didn’t notice where the MFHG3 is stored.”
    “We don’t store it in the manufacturing area. Each day, the R & D folks deliver the estimated quantity for the day’s production based on what we’re running. Desserts require more than entrees—in fact, some entrees contain no added sweetener,” he stated, pointing toward several sealed five-gallon jugs sitting on a shelf labeled SUPERVISORS ONLY—QUANTITY CONTROLLED.
    “That doesn’t seem like a lot of product compared to the quantities of all the other ingredients on hand.”
    “Don’t need much. MFHG3 is 300 times sweeter than sugar.”
    “Amazing, but doling it out like this doesn’t seem very efficient.”
    “It’s a little unusual, so I asked about it once. I was told that since it’s the most expensive and difficult to produce ingredient, they wanted to make sure every bit is accounted for. If we have a breakdown which causes a short run, they’re waiting to collect the excess.”
    “That’s ridiculous. What are they afraid of? The employees aren’t going to stuff their pockets with a sugar substitute on their way out each night.”
    Wiley chuckled. “Not likely since it’s in liquid form.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “No, leave it be. It’s an odd system, but it works. Besides, Stan tried to change the process.”
    Morgan stared at Wiley for a moment, waiting for him to finish, but he didn’t. “And?” she asked in frustration.
    “And he’s gone,” Wiley stated as he turned and headed out of the storage area.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
     
    Nick shrugged out of his jacket and sat down at his desk. He’d had a productive day. Reaching out to the CIA, as much as he hated to, had paid off. They now had a positive ID on Frank. He was surprised that Frank was his real name, and now they knew his last—Soto.
    According to the sheet he got on Frank, he was born in Puerto Rico to a single mother, Silvia Soto. The woman worked two jobs to send her son to the University of