Fred decided to stop by Slivers’ insurance office, in the hope that someone would still be there, despite the lateness of the hour. If nothing else, perhaps they could shed some light on his activities prior to the shooting.
* * *
Slivers’ Insurance Agency was housed in a non-pretentious stucco building recently painted bright orange. The building fit the theme of numerous Florida establishments which portray to the public a bright, cheerful and airy image. The bold tangerine letters on the front window advertised insurance of all types.
As Fred looked through the plate glass window, he noted that a secretary and at least one other employee were busily working at their desks. He walked in, displayed his badge and introduced himself to the office secretary. When he explained why he was there, she acknowledged that she had already heard about the bank robbery on the radio. She said, “I don’t know who you think you captured, but it couldn’t have been Mr. Slivers; he would never do anything like that.”
Fred told her that he would like to talk to her, as well as any other employees still at work. He asked that the interviews be conducted in an available office to insure maximum privacy.
“No problem,” she said, “but there’s only one other person still here. I’ll tell her you want to talk to her. In the meantime, you can wait in Mr. Slivers’ office.”
Entering the office, Fred observed a large desk, with four chairs arranged directly in front of it. Each was spaced an exact equal distance from the other. Fred sat in the desk chair so that he could directly face the secretary as he spoke to her.
Fred found it best to interview people on an individual basis. He had found from life’s experiences that, like animals, people tend to either follow or lead. So, when two or more people are present, this can cause communication distortions since subordinates often take strong clues from their perceived superiors.
To the side of Slivers’ desk was a small tiger wood oak table. On it were pictures of an attractive middle-aged woman with two teenaged children by her side.
As the secretary came into the office, Fred asked, “Is this a picture of Mr. Slivers’ wife and kids?”
“Yes,” the secretary replied, “He thinks the absolute world of them.”
Slivers’ desk contained on one end what appeared to be neatly organized work papers. Inconsistently, in the middle of the desk, papers were scattered in every direction. Lying directly on the top of one of the papers was a gold fountain pen. Turning the top paper around to gain a better view, Fred noted that Slivers had apparently been drafting some type of agreement concerning auto insurance for a new Buick sedan. Slivers had stopped his writing in the middle of a word.
Fred said, “That’s strange!”
“What is?”
“Well for starters let me ask, is the writing on this sheet of paper that of Mr. Slivers?”
“Yes, I recognize it, and anyway it has to be!”
“I don’t understand; why does it have to be?”
“Because no one else is allowed to use or move whatever is on his desk—not even me. He’s a nice man but he’s a fanatic about maintaining a clean and organized work area that only he controls. I don’t even empty his coffee cup, and I’m never to adjust his window blinds. ”
“But”, said Fred, “As I look at his desk he doesn’t seem that well organized. I also notice that he seems to have stopped writing this contract in mid sentence.”
“I have to admit, that is strange. Mr. Slivers always puts his papers in a neat stack when he’s done working. He hates to be interrupted, he always tries to complete whatever he is doing; and once he is done with something he puts it into the stack that you see on the left. If he can’t complete the work, and that’s really rare, he puts it in a neat stack on the right.”
“But there’s no stack on the right and there seems to be unorganized papers in the
* * *
Slivers’ Insurance Agency was housed in a non-pretentious stucco building recently painted bright orange. The building fit the theme of numerous Florida establishments which portray to the public a bright, cheerful and airy image. The bold tangerine letters on the front window advertised insurance of all types.
As Fred looked through the plate glass window, he noted that a secretary and at least one other employee were busily working at their desks. He walked in, displayed his badge and introduced himself to the office secretary. When he explained why he was there, she acknowledged that she had already heard about the bank robbery on the radio. She said, “I don’t know who you think you captured, but it couldn’t have been Mr. Slivers; he would never do anything like that.”
Fred told her that he would like to talk to her, as well as any other employees still at work. He asked that the interviews be conducted in an available office to insure maximum privacy.
“No problem,” she said, “but there’s only one other person still here. I’ll tell her you want to talk to her. In the meantime, you can wait in Mr. Slivers’ office.”
Entering the office, Fred observed a large desk, with four chairs arranged directly in front of it. Each was spaced an exact equal distance from the other. Fred sat in the desk chair so that he could directly face the secretary as he spoke to her.
Fred found it best to interview people on an individual basis. He had found from life’s experiences that, like animals, people tend to either follow or lead. So, when two or more people are present, this can cause communication distortions since subordinates often take strong clues from their perceived superiors.
To the side of Slivers’ desk was a small tiger wood oak table. On it were pictures of an attractive middle-aged woman with two teenaged children by her side.
As the secretary came into the office, Fred asked, “Is this a picture of Mr. Slivers’ wife and kids?”
“Yes,” the secretary replied, “He thinks the absolute world of them.”
Slivers’ desk contained on one end what appeared to be neatly organized work papers. Inconsistently, in the middle of the desk, papers were scattered in every direction. Lying directly on the top of one of the papers was a gold fountain pen. Turning the top paper around to gain a better view, Fred noted that Slivers had apparently been drafting some type of agreement concerning auto insurance for a new Buick sedan. Slivers had stopped his writing in the middle of a word.
Fred said, “That’s strange!”
“What is?”
“Well for starters let me ask, is the writing on this sheet of paper that of Mr. Slivers?”
“Yes, I recognize it, and anyway it has to be!”
“I don’t understand; why does it have to be?”
“Because no one else is allowed to use or move whatever is on his desk—not even me. He’s a nice man but he’s a fanatic about maintaining a clean and organized work area that only he controls. I don’t even empty his coffee cup, and I’m never to adjust his window blinds. ”
“But”, said Fred, “As I look at his desk he doesn’t seem that well organized. I also notice that he seems to have stopped writing this contract in mid sentence.”
“I have to admit, that is strange. Mr. Slivers always puts his papers in a neat stack when he’s done working. He hates to be interrupted, he always tries to complete whatever he is doing; and once he is done with something he puts it into the stack that you see on the left. If he can’t complete the work, and that’s really rare, he puts it in a neat stack on the right.”
“But there’s no stack on the right and there seems to be unorganized papers in the
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