“Just one,” asked Devon.
“Shoot.” Nick had an idea what the question would be.
“The informant that Mitchell mentioned. Will he get to walk even if he’s as guilty as the rest?” Devon was intolerant of bad guys. She hated it when they only got a slap on the wrist, as if talking to the authorities absolved them of their crimes.
Nick shook his head. “It’s too early to know. You understand how this works – we often need someone on the inside to get dirt on others. You just hope the person you’re dealing with isn’t a party to the crimes. It sucks to let them get off scot-free, but that’s the price we have to pay.”
Devon crossed her arms, not pleased with Nick’s answer. “That’s what I figured.”
“Anyone else?” Nick paused for a moment before continuing. “Let’s get to work. If you had any deadlines on other stuff, consider them pushed until Tuesday.”
A couple of grateful looks passed between the staff as they filed from the conference room.
“Devon, stay a minute?” Nick asked.
He waited until the door closed behind the last person before speaking again. “I realize my answer wasn’t very satisfying. But you need to keep personal beliefs and opinions out of your work.”
Devon bit her lip, and looked down at her hands. “Sorry, Nick. This crap really burns me. You know, with my mother and all.” Devon’s mother had lost most of her life’s savings to a trusted ‘financial advisor’, a long-time friend who used her money to improve his own lifestyle with an expensive car and Caribbean vacations. When the fraud was uncovered, the advisor turned state’s evidence and implicated his firm. His punishment was five years of probation, but no jail time. Although the firm was required to pay restitution, Devon’s mother had never recovered emotionally from the loss.
“I understand, Devon. But you’ll face this situation with each investigation. You need to keep your personal feelings under control. We hate the assholes that do this. They’re scum, and deserve much worse than they often get. But our job is to find the evidence, and stop the fraud. It’s up to the courts to hand out justice.”
Devon looked at Nick, her voice hoarse and her eyes brimming. “I get it, Nick. But you don’t see how this hurt my mom. She feels so betrayed. It’s like a light has gone out of her soul.”
Nick spoke softly. “Devon, we can’t fix what’s past. But let’s try to nail these bastards so it doesn’t happen to more good people like your mother. Okay?”
Devon nodded, and took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you, Nick. You have enough on your own plate.”
It was Nick’s turn to be reflective. “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing okay.” He knew he wasn’t but that was buried deep. Instead he smiled briefly. “Can we get back to work?”
Devon smiled wanly. “Sure. Back to work. Thanks for listening to me whine.”
“No problem. That’s one of the job requirements. Besides, listening is easy.” He held the door open for her. “Anytime you need to talk, just let me know.” Nick watched Devon walk down the hall. He knew he’d rather listen than express his own feelings. He wasn’t so good at that.
Chapter 4
Friday, October 17
“Harry, over here!” He saw Jack wave from the far side of the bar. Crossing the crowded space slowly, he stepped carefully to avoid the most inebriated patrons as he worked his way toward Jack.
Harry nodded to the bartender. “Looks like you have your hands full tonight, Maggie,” he called.
The bartender rolled her eyes. “If every night were like this, Harry, I’d have enough to retire by now.” Faint traces of an Irish brogue lilted in Maggie’s voice.
Jack put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hey, Maggie, how ‘bout a cold Guinness for my buddy?” She waved her acknowledgement. “You look about as happy as a gravedigger at his own funeral. How was the meeting with Finance?”
Harry grimaced. “It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.” He took a long gulp from the beer that Maggie placed on the counter in front of him. “Stern said the financial ‘adjustment’ that’ll be needed will require some creative budgeting. This time, size does matter. It sucks that the market surged today. The shortfall comes to just under $3.4 million. I didn’t think we’d have to take such severe steps to correct this. Kaspar isn’t going to be pleased.”
“Screw him,” Jack retorted. “He sits in his office like a king on his throne. He dispenses favors or punishment as he sees fit. We run around like jackasses trying to guess what he wants. I feel like a fucking court jester. Maybe it’s time someone knocked him from his gilded seat.” He drained his beer and waved to Maggie for another.
“Why are you so torqued at Kaspar? He’s always been like this. Different day, same shit.”
Jack grimaced. “Oh, it’s this thing between Kaspar and my father. Kaspar’s ability to be a prick has taken on new meaning.” He looked off into the crowded bar, seemingly lost in thought.
Harry hadn’t heard about a conflict between Kaspar and Jack’s father, but it didn’t surprise him. “Kaspar pays the bills around here, so he can be a prick when the mood hits him. When you open your own company, I’ll come to work for you, Jack. But I bet you’d be a prick sometimes too.”
“I suppose.” Jack took a drink from the fresh mug of Guinness that Maggie had just delivered, and wiped the foam from his lip with the back of his hand. “But it sucks to always be on the receiving end.”
Harry looked around the bar to see if anyone from the firm might be within listening distance, but it was tough to tell. There were so many bodies packed into the small space, making it hard to recognize anyone. He leaned towards Jack and kept his voice low. “Stern told me it might take several months to clean this up. He’s worried about being able to keep this under wraps. He’s never tried to do something like this. Usually he deals with penny ante stuff, minor accounting problems. He’s concerned that the size of this error will draw the attention of the compliance department and external auditors.”
Jack groaned. Being under the compliance microscope in the mutual fund world was analogous to a cop being investigated by Internal Affairs. The mutual fund industry is one of the most highly regulated industries in the country. Market timing and insider trading excesses from recent years were still being wrung from the system by over-zealous regulators intent on not allowing those events to happen again. Even if a firm was eventually found to be without fault, the company still retained a black mark in the eyes of the investing public. Reputation was everything in this business.
“Did you tell Kaspar?”
Harry shook his head. “Not yet. He’d already left the office by the time I finished with Stern. He has a charity dinner tonight.” Kaspar was on the board of directors of the Museum of Science. He was also head of their contributions committee, and he chaired dinner meetings once a month to discuss the museum’s progress towards its annual contribution goals. Since assuming responsibility for this effort, Kaspar had been like a man possessed, dredging up old contacts from his twenty years in the mutual fund business. He had no qualms asking everyone for hefty contributions. He certainly wasn’t going to fail as head of the contribution committee.
“You have the weekend to figure out how to deliver the bad news. In the meantime, let’s try to enjoy our evening. Hey Maggie,” he called, “how about another round?”
“Coming right up.”
“How’s Sandy?” Jack asked.
“She’s fine.” Harry didn’t want to talk about his wife.
“What is she doing tonight?” Jack wasn’t getting the hint.
“She went to her sister’s to help with dinner.” Harry was intentionally brief. Sometimes Jack pried too much, and even though they were best friends, Harry wasn’t in any frame of mind tonight to indulge his inquiries.
“How’s Grace doing?” Jack asked, still being dense.
Harry gave up. “About as well as can be expected. She just finished a second round of chemo this wee
k, so she’s pretty wiped out. Sandy went over to cook dinner and help with the kids.” Grace had been diagnosed with breast cancer three months earlier. The news had devastated the whole family. Sandy and Grace had been diligent in having annual exams. Their mother had died from the disease when she was just forty-nine. Grace was only forty-two.
“That’s tough. Tell Sandy I’m hoping for the best for Grace.”
“I will.” Harry checked his cellphone: 7:15pm. “Listen, I’ve got to hit the road. I probably should call Kasper tonight with the latest developments.”
“Okay.” Jack seemed resigned to drinking alone. “I remember the old days when we would be here for last call. I’ll have to keep the tradition alive all by myself.”
Harry patted him on the back. “That’s the glory of being a bachelor, Jack. You aren’t responsible for anyone else, so you get to make your own rules.”
He waved to Maggie on his way out. Harry was surprised that he still saw no one from the firm. Maybe drinks after work weren’t as big of a hit with the corporate crowd anymore. Everyone was too busy trying to get ahead.
*****
Harry pulled into his sub-division an hour later. The winding road into the Wayland neighborhood was lined with majestic oak trees on both sides. The builder had done a terrific job leaving mature trees in place as new homes were being built. It was one of the reasons that Harry and Sandy had bought their home here ten years ago.
He saw that the house was dark as he pulled up to the garage. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Sandy wasn’t home yet. Things had been so tense between them in the last six months that he didn’t look forward to coming home any more.
Harry threw his keys on the kitchen counter, walked into his home office and pulled the bottle of Glenlivet from the liquor cabinet. He poured two fingers into his glass—the single malt Scotch was his favorite. Harry usually saved it for special occasions, but after the day he’d just had, he felt it would help him relax. The liquor burned as it coursed down his throat. He waited for his toes to tingle—he knew that was coming.
“God, that’s good,” he said out loud. He heard the garage door open and walked into the kitchen. He and Sandy hadn’t spoken all day, and he steeled himself for her entrance.
The door opened and Jeremy bounded through it. “Hi Dad.” He passed Harry in a flash, heading towards the family room and the big screen TV.
“Hey buddy,” Harry called, “almost time for bed.”
“No it’s not!”
Harry was too tired to fight the battle tonight. Jeremy had been diagnosed with ADHD at the age of seven—during second grade. The syndrome was fairly common in adopted children, especially boys, even when adopted as a baby as Jeremy had been. Jeremy struggled in school. He couldn’t stay focused long enough to follow the teacher’s instructions. He acted out and was disturbing the other students. He knew he wasn’t learning as well as the other kids, which made him feel stupid. Jeremy realized there was something wrong, so he stopped trying.
Jeremy’s teacher and the school guidance counselor suggested medication. Harry was resistant at first, because he felt that Jeremy just needed some additional direction and support. But after several disturbing episodes when Jeremy shut down completely at school, it became clear that they had to take some action. With misgivings, Harry and Sandy decided to put Jeremy on the standard drugs for the disorder. First it was just a stimulant, but he needed more than that. His doctor added an anti-depressant with a sleep aid, and another pill that helped Jeremy control his angry outbursts. Harry felt like they were running a damn pharmacy, and he didn’t like it.
Sandy came through the door with her arms full of groceries. She dropped the bags on the kitchen counter with a thud.
“Jeremy,” she yelled. “Get up to bed.”
“In five minutes, Mom.” It was always just five more minutes.
“God, I can’t take this,” irritation was etched in her voice. “Can you deal with him?”
Harry sighed quietly. No greeting, no hello, or how was your day? Same as always. He walked into the family room. “C’mon buddy, let’s get upstairs.”
“Oh come on Dad, tomorrow’s Saturday. Can’t I stay up a little later tonight?” Jeremy whined.
“Listen.” Harry lowered his voice, making them co-conspirators, “You can watch TV up in your room for a while, okay? But only if you go up quietly, right now.”
“Alright,” Jeremy said. He was rubbing his eyes, so Harry knew that Jeremy had taken his meds earlier. It usually took about an hour for the pills to start having an effect.
Harry pulled his son close and rubbed his back for a few seconds. “Go on, and I’ll be up in a few minutes.” This was a ploy Harry had perfected over the years. He knew that once Jeremy’s head hit his pillow, he would be out for the night. Harry never had to keep his promise. He used to feel bad about it, but not any longer. There were bigger reasons to feel guilty these days.
Jeremy headed to the stairs and Harry turned towards the kitchen. Time to face Sandy.
*****
The jarring ring of the telephone next to the bed roused Harry from a restless sleep. He glanced at the alarm clock and groaned. It was only 7:45am.
Who would be calling this early on a Saturday?
His mind briefly drifted back to the unpleasant discussion with Sandy the night before. They were unable to find middle ground on most subjects these days. He wondered how they had gotten to this point in their lives. The early days of the marriage had been full of laughter. Harry believed that Jeremy was the primary cause of their discord—their parenting styles were completely different. Sandy reacted harshly to Jeremy’s oppositional behavior and Harry believed it was better to maneuver around the obstacles that Jeremy created, rather than go through them. He was tired of trying to convince Sandy that her approach with Jeremy wasn’t effective, and may actually be harming her relationship with their son. She remained unmoved by Harry’s arguments.
Over the years, Harry realized that Sandy’s parenting skills were learned from her mother. He had never forgotten their third date, almost eighteen years earlier. As he approached Sandy’s house and reached out to ring the front door bell, Harry could hear her mother screaming at her. The door opened quickly and Sandy bounded out.
“Hi, let’s go,” she said as she brushed by him. Harry, still standing on the porch, could now hear Sandy’s mother more clearly, but he still didn’t know what all the shouting was about.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he ran after her down the front walk.
“Nothing, come on, let’s go,” she said again.
No amount of coaxing could get her to tell Harry what had made her mother so upset. Sandy’s inability to express herself that night was a portent of the communication issues that would develop during their marriage. Harry was the verbal one in their relationship. He would try to pull Sandy out of her silences, to make her express her thoughts and feelings. Lately, though, Harry was sick of trying.
“Are you going to pick that up?” Sandy said from the other side of the bed, her head buried under the pillow. Sandy never got up before nine on the weekend.
“Yup, sorry,” Harry said quickly. He reached for the phone. “Hello?” he said.
“Harry?”
Harry could barely hear the person on the other end of the line, but he thought he recognized the voice. “Sinead? Is that you?”
Sinead Johnson was one of Harry’s peers, the youngest person on the senior management team. She was responsible for Jordano’s fixed income funds.
“Yes Harry, it’s me.”
“Why are you whispering?” he asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the office,” Sinead replied. Harry wasn’t surprised. The hours Sinead worked in the past year had put him to shame. “The police were just here.”
“The police? At the office?” Harry was confused.
Sinead took a deep breath. “They’re looking for Julie Monroe. She’s missing. The police said that her
husband Bob hasn’t heard from her since she left the office Thursday. Bob got home around eight that night, and Julie wasn’t there. Her car was gone too. After he checked all the places he thought she might be, he called the cops. That’s why they were here. This is the last place that anyone saw her.”
“That doesn’t sound like Julie, to just disappear like that,” Harry mused. She was a vibrant thirty-year-old who had been with the firm for three years. She had already been promoted twice in that time, and she was well liked by all of the portfolio managers. Her attention-to-detail, sharp mind and wit had endeared her to all of them. Harry had recently begun to think of giving her more responsibility. Julie had also just announced that she and her husband were expecting their first baby, but that she planned to keep working at the firm.
“I agree,” Sinead responded. “You don’t think it could have anything to do with the Sierra Health transaction, do you?”
“I’m sure this has nothing to do with that.” Harry tried to sound reassuring, but he didn’t feel that confident. It was unlike Julie to do something so out of the ordinary. She was a rock, solid and stable.
“What should I do?” Sinead asked nervously.
“Nothing,” Harry replied. “I need to call Kaspar about my meeting yesterday with Finance. I’ll talk to him about this as well. Like I said, I’m sure we’ll find out there was a reasonable explanation. Julie will turn up. I’m sure of it. I’ll see you on Monday.” He hung up with Sinead and put his head in his hands.
God, Harry thought, what a great start to the weekend.
*****
Harry went downstairs and made some decaf. He would’ve loved a cup of regular, but a stomach ulcer diagnosed three years ago meant no more caffeine. So he stuck with decaf in order to avoid spending his day in the bathroom. He pulled his favorite mug from the kitchen cabinet—the one from the Life is Good store that he got as a Father’s Day gift last year from Jeremy. It showed a golfer leaping as his putt sank into the hole. Harry loved golf, but he sucked at it. Especially on the greens. Hands of a blacksmith, his friends would crow. No touch at all. He didn’t care. He offered to pay for beers when he finished a round without any three-putt holes. It was a safe bet. He never had to buy.
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