Death By Advertising 01
Starting a new series - the saga of a family of writers and marketers. In our opening story, a female advertising executive meets a sudden end. But her obituary exposed a mystery beneath it...
THE DAY SHE DIED, AN ad was run.
And you saw it, everyone did.
Because it was a perfectly composed ad, with a perfectly chosen photo. Perfect clickbait headline. Not a word out of place. And it had a 30% click-through rate. For the mortuary.
That service was the most highly-attended event the mortuary had ever held. And pre-sales of burial plots and cremations spiked. All bought by impulse.
Yet the mortuary didn’t run that ad.
The deceased did.
It has come from her ad account, placed the day her ashes were delivered.
No one knew that.
Until the I showed up in the agency’s office a day after the funeral service...
I
WEDNESDAY. ANOTHER grimy, gritty, overcast day in the Big Apple.
Tessa, her partner, inherited the rest of the ad agency. That had been set up when they formed the company. Judy was the creative end, while Tessa kept it running along.
Tessa thought it odd when when Judy didn’t show up on Monday and didn’t call over the weekend. But it was a real shock to find out she had died on Friday, been cremated over the weekend and was buried on Tuesday.
All thoughts to distract her from the Pine Sol scented elevator with the faux wood paneling as she rode the it once again to their 23rd floor office suite. And again she missed her Midwest college town with the Victorian-styled two-story they used to rent for cheap. Clean air, parked out back. No constant street noise. No closed elevators with Muzak and filtered air pumped in.
She could see from her desk through the glass walls into Judy’s office. The work had arrived as usual, piles of ad copy, printouts of the newsprint runs and magazine inserts. All making a small pile on her desk. Like every work day. Just as Tessa expected Judy to walk in with some wild story of bedding some young college stud and completely losing track of time,
Those days were over now. Tessa sighed and felt some real grief rising. But shook it off with a shrug. Then sat down to make sense of all their projects.
Since Judy’s phone was ringing constantly and unanswered, the calls started getting routed to Tessa. As the details were in her partner’s computer, Tessa had to go into Judy’s office to get the data.
It was then she saw the ad. A full page newspaper treatment, centered on the blotter.
Her funeral services ad.
As usual, a beautiful ad that touched the heartstrings and made credit cards fly out of wallets and purses. One you could sign up to attend by one-click on your mobile phone or device. You only had to show up for the limited-time offer. Seating was limited to first-come visitors and family.
Done in a style that was tongue in cheek, but a classy send-off to a formerly up-and-coming advertising executive.
Their agency had advertised many things before. Tessa didn’t recognize the mortuary as one of their regular clients. But as big as the agency had grown in the last couple of years, she didn’t know all the companies they served with advertising, only the large ones with regular budgets. Anyone else could buy a run, especially if they provided the copy and graphics and knew specifics of print run numbers and as long as it fit into the specs that that paper required.
The funeral was the next day after the ad ran. Tessa attended, of course. There was no viewing, since the body had already been cremated. Instead, a beautiful video was played of the ashes being scattered over the New York harbor by white-gloved attendants in tailored dark suits. Theatrical music, somber at first and rising to a crescendo at the end which denoted hope of a better life in the hereafter. Doves were released at the proper moment as the camera swung up to follow them and faded to white, just before the credits rolled.
Not a dry eye in the house.
Tessa recognized the stock cottage and could name the typefaces, as well as the wipes and fades they used. Still, she dabbed the tears away to keep from going into full blubber mode.
Afterward people lined up to sign for the services of the mortuary, even though they weren’t running any special offer. In fact, they had to bring all their help out to take the names and numbers of the applicants. Even though there was a 15% deposit for any of their multi-thousand dollar packages, the staff was pressed to take all the applications. All their fliers were taken, causing one of the office help to bring out a whole box more. Everyone wanted one of the coupons inside the flier for additional savings on their full installment when paid in full.
Tessa had noted all this, with her eye for details. That’s what made she and Judy work well together. Judy was the idea gal, and Tessa was the get-er-done half. Judy was a whiz with words and pictures. Tessa knew how to get them onto pages, into print, radio, TV, and web. It was Tessa who chose the markets, and saw the follow-through. Tessa crunched the numbers, and later would hire the firms to track all the variables for them.
Judy created the ads, Tessa made them happen - at a hefty profit.
As they grew, more and more ads were outsourced. Just as Tessa had to get firms to take over the analytics when their firm grew too big, Judy had to hire creatives to set up the ads. She even was working with some post-grads building an artificial intelligence program, just to take up some of the traffic. All Tessa knew was that it wasn’t costing them anything, as it was all grant funded.
Judy then could keep focused on the big ads, the big accounts, the full page newspaper placements, the long runs of web and radio spots, getting clients interviewed on TV. When there was a one-off, it would often run without her approval, except when it was a big one-off. Like the full page ad for her funeral service.
That’s why she got the proof. On her desk. Center blotter.
The day of her funeral.
II
TESSA WAS SITTING AT Judy’s desk, in Judy’s place. And still dressed in form-fitting black. It was Wednesday. The service had been on Tuesday, and Tessa had given the office staff the day off to attend or mourn as they wished. But for Tessa, today was another workday with deadlines. Of course, anyone else could take the day off. Tessa knew she had to be there. Just to answer client questions. Because she knew they would ask. And they knew she would be there. And would get constant calls at home if she wasn’t. Madison Avenue isn’t known to be one ounce more polite than they needed to be. Another sigh for the old times. Politer, more considerate times. Flyover country courtesies discarded in frantic-paced bicoastal cities.
Tessa had pulled the keyboard across the ad-covered blotter to answer a certain client’s question. The one that Judy would have answered. While most ads were on the server, Judy often got big clients emailing her specific details. In this case, the email had gone unanswered.
A knock on the frame of the open door to Judy’s office startled her. The aluminum frame rattled the Plexiglas, a holdover com the earlier occupants. Judy and Tessa had the only two “real” offices there, the rest of the staff worked in the open floor in desks lined up like the old news agencies. Back in times when news was “real”.
A tall man stood there, in a rumpled light gray trench coat, opened in front. Hanging off his broad shoulders straightened a few of the creases. “I’m Detective Johnson with the NYPD. I’m sorry for your loss and hate to intrude. There are some questions I need to ask.” The typical fast clip and run-together sentences from living in a city that never slept.
Tessa mused for a second that police detectives probably slept less than most. A glance at his rumpled gray trench coat seemed to confirm that. More like Columbo than Sam Spade.
“Come in Detective.” Tessa rose to shake his hand, and motioned to a chair that wasn’t covered in either print samples, design layouts, or bouquets from well-wishers. “Sorry about the mess, we haven’t had time to tidy up since the funeral.”
“I completely understand. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, her death raised some questions. And those brought me here.”
Tessa sat. Like punctuation. So did the detective. While she sat in a high-backed, ergonomic, swiveling, rolling, modern chair, Johnson sank down into a tufted, red-leather period piece.
Detective Johnson felt uneasy at this, since the deep cushion and padded arms kept him from writing on his notepad. So he scooted forward to sit on the seat edge. In this way, he was able to use some of the clear space of the large faux-teak desk to write on, however precarious.
“The first question was why did you sent the death certificate to the Coroner’s office?”
Tessa jaw dropped. “I never...” And silence ruled for a minute.
The antique wall clocked ticked along, regardless.
Finally Detective Johnson cleared his throat and began again. “It was from your email, with a scan of a death certificate with your partner’s name on it. She was your partner, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, we started this business when we were still in Journalism school and it’s been a 50/50 split in income and decisions the entire time. We couldn’t have done it individually.”
“Have you had any arguments recently?”
“No. Absolutely not. She is - er, was the creative side of it and I took care of the ad placement and budgets.”
“And she was satisfied with those arrangements?”
“She never asked about anything. Except how to make our ads more profitable.”
“And were they?”
“Definitely. Our ads get a higher return rate and response than any. Our last quarter was way above expectations, and we keep getting advised to go public. But an IPO would cost more than it would generate. We keep getting buy-out offers. Frankly, we are still socking away more than we need to spend. By a wide margin. Or, at least until today...
Tessa sat back against the molded chair back. “Is there some problem here, Detective? Am I suspected of some foul play?”
“Frankly, no.” The Johnson frowned, “There’s no real evidence of anything. And that’s the curious part. My captain says it’s not a case at all. No body. No major laws broken, and we’ve got plenty real crimes to solve.”
“But you’re saying that the death certificate came from my email, and it broke some sort of law...”
Detective Johnson pulled out a small bound notebook from an inside pocket. “Not that the Coroner is going to mind, much. It has a doctor’s signature from upstate. But the number was out of sequence, and only the Coroner’s Office can assign numbers by statute for New York citizens in this jurisdiction. Not to worry. He’s so swamped that it just means his office help will have to reissue it. And that’s the problem.”
“Problem?”
“The doctor who signed it died last year, after retiring several years before.” Detective Johnston sat back into the deep upholstery and rubbed his temple like the whole thing was giving him a headache.
“Can I get you something? An aspirin?”
“No, thanks. I mean, thanks, really. I don’t mean to take much of your time. I was in the neighborhood. Thought to come up, just to maybe wrap up some curious loose ends.”
Tessa crossed her arms on the edge of the desk, leaning on her elbows. “This does seem an unusual scene. I’ve been to some funerals in my time, just not like this. So sudden.” Tessa looked at the photo frame on the desk, with her and Judy in graduation gowns, with big smiles.
“And that’s why I had to come up here. Captain would have a snit if he knew...”
Tessa interrupted, “Now, the trick is that I didn’t send that file. Someone else must have had access to it. Only Judy knew my email passwords, as I do hers.”
“But you say you didn’t send it.”
“I didn’t even know she was dead until I saw it in the paper. That ad. Hey wait a minute...” Tessa pulled the proof out from under the keyboard and looked it over carefully. “This wasn’t approved by Judy. She has to approve all big spreads and leaves her initial in the artwork - lower left corner. But it’s not there.”
“So now we have the Coroner’s document and this ad that neither you or she ever saw.”
“I doubt that she would approve one for her own death.”
“But we also have only your word against the actual printed documents. If you didn’t do this, then who?”
“Well, we’ve got some searching to do. You say it’s a closed case, and I’m the only suspect. So I’d better dig into this, if only for my own curiosity.” Tessa looked at the ticking clock on the wall.
“Say, are you hungry? You mentioned lunch and I skipped breakfast myself. What would you like?”
The detective sat deep into the chair again, and scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t have to get me anything, I can run down for a sandwich...”
“How about a hoagie? Sub sandwich, chips. Tea or coffee?”
“Please, miss...”
“No, let’s do this. You aren’t going fool your captain for very long and I’ve got all the access you need.”
Detective Johnson nodded and almost spoke when a squat little cubish robot rolled into the office and made a sound like clearing its “throat”.
“May I be of some assistance?” British accent, from some movie shown years ago.
Tessa placed their order. “Thanks Jeeves, two subs with chips from Harvey’s. And a couple of tall coffees, cream on the side.”
“Very well, ma’am.” The robot wheeled around, then left to place the order.
Johnson closed his mouth as his eyes came back from the robot to Tessa.
“That’s the benefits of Judy’s work with that AI crew at the university. One of them also has a dual major in robotics, so loaned one of their ‘toasters’ to us.”
“Toaster?”
“Oh that’s an old pulp fiction term for robots, particularly those with AI.”
“Guess it has its uses.”
“It does more than just fetch food. I’ll show you when it gets back.”
She turned back to the keyboard and monitor. “Judy had some upgrades done to this since I last got into her computer - months ago. I know because I pay the bills.
“New drives for storage, she’s got multi-terabytes now to store all the graphics. And some programs from those grad students for the ‘toaster’.
“They were working with her on analyzing marketing lingo to see if they could figure out a way to generate marketing from a computer. You’ve seen what they’ve done with Twitter and Facebook, or maybe not. Most think those are real people responding. The trick is that they’re more bots than people. Has been for years. Layers of echo chambers.”
Tessa continued to scan through the files and folders as she talked. Her quick fingers almost a blur on the keyboard.
“Wait, here’s something.”
Johnson waited, patiently, knowing that he would hear about it sooner if he didn’t interrupt.
III
THE OFFICES OUTSIDE had become quiet. The few staff present earlier were now gone. For lunch or gone for the day. Even the receptionist had left her empty desk in front silent elevators. The big mahogany and glass doors were closed, shutting off the lobby noise from the elevators. Sealed windows and buffered AC soundproofed the room from outside street noise stories far below.
The ticking clock on the wall seemed louder now in the quiet. Tessa’s keyboarding had stopped.
“Oh, sorry.” Tessa spoke at last.”Didn’t mean to drop you out of the loop. There are subscriptions to what looks like all the digital versions of newspapers and magazines in New York. Judy had to keep up on these, and it looks like this data is sent directly to the AI boys for their project.
“I see several folders of test layouts and text they’ve sent over to her. Looks like she would grade and correct them. It’s been going on for years. Longer than I knew about.
“Her emails go way back with these guys. Mainly with the project head. That must be the one she’s been taking long lunches with. And why her weekends were quiet and why she showed up with a smile on her face most Monday’s.”
The detective was back on his perch at the edge of the upholstered chair and desk. His scribbling could be heard between Tessa’s staccato keyboard strokes. He paused.
“So she had a lover. How did they get along?”
“She didn’t talk much about him. Oh, here’s a photo of them together, taken in this office. Funny I never noticed this, but you can see her desk gets piled up. Today is a slow day, as you can imagine.” She handed the frame over to his hands.
He took out his smartphone and took a picture of the photo, then stood it back up on its stand., near the piles of papers, facing toward Tessa.
“The last email to her between them was for a meeting. That was last Thursday.”
Johnson looked up from his notes. “But her death certificate said she died on Friday, at midnight.”
“Well, she was here on Friday. Had to work late, actually. I left her working when I went home.”
“So she was here alone.”
“Pretty much. Anyone else working here wouldn’t bother her. The receptionist was gone by then. Only people with a pass card could get in.”
“And you share passwords to each other’s computers.”
“Sure, we’ve always done that. Our work is tight.”
“Anyone else have access?”
“No. Not that I know of. But these programs that Judy has running will scrape her magazine feeds. Unless she gave this grad student her passwords without telling me.”
“Does that grad student have a name?”
“She called him Chuck, I think. Didn’t say much about him. Just some smiles when she talked about their project work.”
At that point, the “toaster” robot rolled back in. Sandwiches, chip bags, and tall drinks on its top. “Excuse me ma’am. Your lunch is ready.”
Tessa rose to pick up the packages. Detective Johnston rose in courtesy, accepting his sandwich bag and cup.
Tessa said, “I hope there’s enough room on that corner for you. Just shove anything out of your way.
The detective placed the bag and cup on the desk corner, shrugged out of his trench coat, and draped it over the red chair. He then sat again, regardless of the coat, to unwrap his sandwich at one end.
Tessa crossed back to her side of the big black desk to set her own meal down. Moving the keyboard away, and pushing the whole blotter forward a few inches gave her room to eat. Unwrapping the entire sandwich on top of the flattened bag protected any spills. She sipped her coffee through the opening in the lid.
Raising it up to examine the cup, she said, “Love these things. I always study the packaging evolution. It’s part of the marketing for sandwiches and the restaurants. They’ve evolved to fit the mobile lifestyle we have now. At least in cities. I haven’t been back to compare the local eateries in the Midwest for years.”
“You don’t seem city born and raised.”
“And that phrase means you weren’t, either.”
“No, I was from upstate, a smaller town squeezed among all the cities that have grown up there. You?”
“Iowa. Then a graphic arts college in Kansas. That’s where Judy and I shared classes. We got a big contract here, and used that to leverage into some big connections and steady work. To speed our turnaround, we moved everything to New York.”
“Hey, you want to see something interesting?” She sat the cup down on the sandwich wrapper, then clicked on the keyboard. By the side of the desk, where the toaster-robot had stayed, a hologram of Tessa appeared on top of it. She was, dressed in a simple peasant outfit, gingham dress with a ruffled white apron, and her long hair coiled in braids around her head.
“I posed for that one day as a test. The outfit is comfortable. Just not for meeting clients and crunching spreadsheets. The pace is too hectic here. That dress was designed from what east-coasters think rural women used to dress like. Maybe for a dance. Not for work.
“Looks good on you, though.”
“Thanks. It gets a lot of compliments.”
The eyes on the hologram followed the conversation, and almost twinkled to match the smile.
“Go ahead, ask it something. It’s programmed with some of that AI Chuck and those guys have been working on.”
“What do I call it?”
“Tessie. Just so we keep them separate.”
“Tessie, how do you like the weather?”
Tessie turned her head toward him. “It’s fine for a New York climate. Though farther south usually gets it worse than we do.”
“Do you keep track of the weather?”
“Yes, I find that when the weather changes for the worse, we have to change our ads to match their moods.”
Surprised at this insight, the detective pursued the point. “And how should your ads look when the weather is bitter cold.”
“Warm and uplifting. And they need a bit more copy than usual, as people will read them more closely. Your headlines need to be inviting, and not just clickbait. Also, your weekend ads will be even longer, more text and smaller graphics. Full page is a good choice to keep them reading and coming back. Would you like us to work with you on an ad for your department, Detective? We can fit any budget your precinct allows.”
The surprised look on his face made Tessa almost laugh, if her mouth weren’t already full of sandwich. She swallowed and reached for her drink again.
“Tessie has been listening to our entire conversation. She identified you when you introduced yourself, then cross-referenced it with the city database. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have your badge number.”
“Does she record these?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you could access anything she heard Friday night?”
Tessa clicked on the keyboard. A new 3D hologram appeared. This was in the image of Judy. She was dressed in a conservatively tailored dark suit, with a high lace-collared silk blouse. Her brunette hair was just beyond shoulder length and styled in natural waves, parted on one side and tucked behind an ear. As the other hologram, she was smiling. Her eyes flicked from Tessa to Detective Johnston, nodding to each as if in greeting.
“This is called Judith. Let me rewind the records to just after I left for the day. The recordings show a conversation about an hour later. Listen:”
“Chuck, this is me. Everything set?
A pause.
“Good, I’ll be over shortly. Just a few details to care for.”
Tessa stopped the recording. “Chuck’s end of the conversation isn’t recorded, since we don’t have permission. Unless it’s on speaker-phone.” She tapped and the recording resumed.
“Send me over what you have. Judith has prepared the copy. It will arrive on Monday. I think we’re set now. I’ve thought this over and over. Up one side and down the other. It’s not like we are breaking any laws, so nobody should get hurt.
Chuck’s reply was inaudible, but a long pause occurred.
“No, that’s fine. You’ve got this right. The packages are weatherproof, the certificate, too?
“Great. You’re a doll. Perfect. This all makes me nervous, but excited. I hope Tessa will understand.
“Thanks. Love you,too. See you in a few. Bye.”
Tessa clicked the keyboard again. “That was all for the night. Her last entry was about 8pm.”
Tessa sniffed, then dabbed the edges of her eyes with a napkin. “It was good to hear her again.”
The detective paused before asking his next question. “And did she send any email?”
Tessa clicked for a bit. “No.”
“How about your email?”
Another few clicks. “The only email afterwards came near midnight. The one with that attachment you have. I can’t tell from here where it originated, as anyone on this system can login from a remote location. The mail system is local, but can be logged in from anywhere.
“Oh, wait, I can get the IP address.” A few more clicks.
“That shows it was a local IP, but it was placed from the university server.”
“So this ‘Chuck’ may have been involved.”
“Yes, it wasn’t just me.” Tessa smiled at this, relieved to be finding evidence in this puzzle.
Johnson continued, “Now, I checked the coroners records and police reports. No body was reported found that would match Judy’s height and build. Nothing upstate, either. Some of these outlying districts don’t update their weekend activities until Monday and often they aren’t in the database until Tuesday.”
“So the cremation and service would have covered any foul play?”
“And that’s why it’s not a case at this point. No sign or evidence.”
“Do you think the death was staged?”
“That’s my idea right now. The examining doctor had died before the ‘body’ was delivered, no report of a body found, and the remains shipped to a mortuary in another city with a forged death certificate. Mortuaries don’t make a habit of testing ashes they receive, especially when they are just going to be spread over the harbor.”
“And why the full page ad? Why send the certificate from my account to the corner?”
“Makes it simple to explain. Just like you just did.”
“But if it had gone wrong, it would have ruined me and the company. As it is, we’ve lost the main art director and creative resource. I’m not sure how we are going to continue without Judy.” Tears welled in her eyes.
The computer beeped just as she finished.
Tessa clicked on the keyboard, looked surprised at what she saw. Then clicked some more. “These are the layouts for the next week’s ads. And they are all stunning, like Judy did them. But I’ve never seen them before. No one in the office or our stringers were assigned to do artwork on these accounts.”
Detective Johnson rose, set down his half-finished sandwich, and rounded the desk to look over her shoulder.
Tessa pointed to the screen at artwork she had opened from email attachments. “Look, these are all Judy’s style. But they were created after her death. And we only got these accounts at the end of last week. This art and copy would take days to work up. Most would need surveys and cross-checks. But the copy is all perfect. Even if Judy did these herself, it would have taken a week. That’s why we hired all these people.”
“Do you have access to her accounts?”
“Sure, it’s the company account. Her own personal bank accounts aren’t there, but we can see transfers.” Clicking away brought up the bank records.
“Looks like Judy did some major withdrawals, all on Friday evening.” The detective peered at the time stamps.
“And look where they went to. That’s a new start-up that deals in untraceable crypto-currency. Like BitCoin.”
“Meaning that her money can’t tell where it went or how it was spent.”
“Wait, here’s another entry. It looks like a that crypto-account is already sending interest back into the firm.”
The detective noted, “Might put you back on the hook. You have access to the accounts and benefit from the income.”
“Well, the business would.”
“With your partner gone, you are the business.”
Tears seeped again into Tessa’s eyes. She turned to look at the detective, his face just above her shoulder.
“It’s not the same thing at all. This business is all I have left. After all our years together. Now she’s gone. Alive or dead, I don’t care where these ads are coming from.”
She grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk, putting both hands to her eyes, working to breathe more slowly to avoid sobbing.
Detective Johnston stood back, then put a light hand on her shoulder for a moment. He returned around the desk to the trench coat cover chair. He looked out across the office, through its glassed walls to the lined up desks beyond.
“I know none of this can give you any comfort. Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Tessa looked up to where he stood, waiting for him to turn around.
Then ‘Judith’ spoke from her position on top the robot-toaster base.
The detective turned around, toward her voice.
IV
“TESS, DETECTIVE. I’M sorry to have to tell you this, but you’ve guessed most of the details. As you now know, it’s all a hoax. But it was bought and paid for outside the company. The only reason the clues pointed back to you, Tessa, was to tickle your curiosity to solve the details.
“In fact, this recording wasn’t going to trigger until you had. So, congratulations.
“I’m alive and well. On a long, well-deserved vacation right now. Somewhere out of New York’s grit and cold.
“Those ads will keep coming, as they are all AI’d. Actually, I haven’t done much designing for the last month, as the AI was that good.”
Tessa nodded. “We’ve sent less work to freelancers recently, but I never connected it, as our clients have kept us swamped with their work requests.”
Judith continued, “Yes, you were too much into your spreadsheets and billings to see it. I didn’t want to bring you into the tests we’ve been doing until they were complete.”
Tessa and the detective just looked at the hologram. It was like Judy was talking to them from wherever she was right now.
“And I know what you’re thinking right now. But I should let you get back to your lunch. I just wanted to assure you that everything is fine. I apologize for putting you through this. You know my flair for the dramatic. Sorry.
“Oh, Detective, you’ve got a spot on your shirt that you might want to daub with some cold water before it sets.”
The detective looked down at his shirt, then back to the hologram. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. We are a full service organization here. If you want some tips on your wardrobe, Tessa can give you some excellent outfitters we’ve done ads for.”
The hologram turned to Tessa.
”One last thing. I know living in the city has been eating at you. So I’ve left some hints here and there. What you can do and stuff. I’m not one to put ideas into your head. (OK, you’ve got me there. But we do tend to think alike.) Just know that I’ll be in touch again when the time is right.”
With a smile and a nod, the hologram disappeared.
The detective looked over at Tessa. Her hands still clutched the napkin below her chin. She hadn’t turned off the hologram.
The detective asked, “Let me guess, the AI is tied into the university.”
“Sure. That could have been her actually speaking. Or it could have just been AI.”
“I think the spot on the shirt gave her away, though.”
“Maybe. We’ll never know. No paper trail.”
V
I WAS BACK ON MY USUAL homicide investigations after that.
And I got a postcard from Tessa a couple of months later. She had moved the company back to Iowa and was running it from there. It seems you can do everything online these days. So the postcard was a nice touch.
I checked into “Chuck” and found there was no grad student with that name working in AI studies or robotics. There was a program that had nearly mastered ad design, but had been shut down when the last research paper was published and the students moved on. The professor told me it still looked promising, but would take a lot of work.
No other “bodies” turned up cremated at mortuaries since. At least none that couldn’t be traced to an actual accident or death.
Then one day, I got a job offer from a private investigation firm in the same Iowa city Tessa’s postcard came from. It arrived inside a large manila envelope, along with a prepaid airline ticket. That envelope had a return address from social media consulting firm operating out of the Caribbean.
This anthology contains 470 pages and these original fiction stories:
Death by Advertising by J. R. Kruze
The Caretaker by C. C. Brower
Triangle - A Memoir by J. R. Kruze
Last Chance by J. R. Kruze
Death by Sales Pitch by J. R. Kruze
Death by Marketing by J. R. Kruze
The Chrysalis Cure by J. R. Kruze
Available currently as beta-reader edition.
While copies last - soon to be released on all major distributors…