Pete settled into his leather chair. “I want to fill you in on some developments with the Jordano action. Close the door.”
Nick sat in the closest chair. “What’s up?”
“This investigation has gotten the director’s attention. That means we need to be extra careful with our analysis and recommendations.” Nick knew that his boss’s relationship with SEC Director Hiram Shapiro had soured during the past year. Mitchell didn’t want his final year before retirement to be spoiled by frequent oversight from Washington.
“I reviewed the summary you left for me. This is a good start. I’m hoping to hear from the informant soon, either today or tomorrow. When I do, I’ll try to set up a meeting. I’d like you to attend.”
Nick was pleased. He hadn’t been invited to meetings like this before. He felt it was Mitchell’s way of growing his responsibility.
“I’d be happy to come. Do you want me to prepare some questions?”
“That’d be a good idea. We’ll let the informant take the lead in this first discussion, but have some questions ready in case he doesn’t provide information that we can take action on. Can you have a list prepared by end of day?”
“That won’t be a problem. Do you mind if I involve Sam?”
“Do what you think is best. Just remind him to keep it confidential.”
Nick returned to his desk, mulling over some ideas that he’d been thinking about even before Mitchell had spoken to him. He noticed the red light on his phone was lit, meaning he had a message waiting. He picked up the receiver and dialed voicemail.
“Hi Nick, sorry to bother you at work.” Nick recognized the voice of his tenant, Kelly O’Malley. “We have a problem here at the house.” Nick could tell she sounded a little panicky. “The pipe underneath the kitchen sink is leaking pretty badly. I’m keeping a pot under it right now, but it’s getting worse. I don’t want it to leak downstairs into your apartment. Can you call me as soon as possible?”
“Damn,” Nick said out loud. The downside to owning an older house was that things broke or needed upkeep with some frequency. Pipes, wiring, roof, shingles, cracks in the driveway. The list was endless.
He quickly dialed Kelly’s number and she picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi Kelly, it’s Nick. I got your message.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you might be out of the office on one of your cases. The leak is really getting bad, Nick.”
“Okay. I can probably be home in half an hour. Can you continue to bail out the pan until I get there?”
“I can as long as you’re here by 3pm. That’s when I get Amy from the bus.” Nick looked at his watch. Forty minutes to get home.
“I should make it there by three if there isn’t traffic. If you have to leave, just do it. I understand.”
“Thanks, Nick. Hurry.”
Nick hung up and thought about his earlier meeting with Mitchell. He grabbed his coat and headed to his boss’s office. Bad timing, he knew. Hopefully Mitchell would understand.
Chapter 10
Wednesday, October 22
Since he had taken the long lunch with Nora, Harry brought some work home to catch up. He had a report from Kevin Jacobs on the Sierra Health fiasco. The identification of sixteen-hundred accounts that were needed for the “adjustment” was going to take longer than Harry had hoped. So far, Jacobs had located just over six-hundred accounts that met the criteria. Harry realized the company would need to make larger adjustments to each account if they couldn’t find the full sixteen hundred. That would raise the risk of being caught; the higher the adjustment, the more likely a shareholder might realize the transaction date was processed on October 17th—the day the market had surged. But Harry couldn’t see any other solution. They had to finish the adjustments before shareholder statements were processed at month end.
Harry’s mind drifted back to the lunch with Nora. He could feel himself getting hard as he recalled the kiss in the elevator.
She was willing to kiss me back, Harry thought.
During their lunch Harry had found out that Nora had been married briefly in her early twenties to a guy she had dated in college. The marriage was troubled almost from the start. Nora had learned early on that her husband liked whiskey a little too much. When she tried to talk about it, her husband told her to stop being his mother. Things deteriorated quickly during the first year. The final straw occurred when her husband came home late one night in a drunken rage and cold-cocked her, breaking her right cheekbone, when she refused to sleep with him. She left him that night and filed for divorce, and had been single ever since.
His thoughts were disrupted when he heard loud voices coming from upstairs. Jeremy was yelling at his mother, and Sandy was giving it right back to him. This discord had become a daily occurrence.
His son’s twelfth birthday was just over a week away. Harry wasn’t sure if it was puberty and hormones or something more sinister, but Jeremy’s behavior had gotten worse during the past several months. He was moody and insolent. When Harry tried to find out how things were at school, Jeremy refused to provide any details. Harry worried that Jeremy didn’t have many friends, and he wasn’t involved in many school activities. His one love, since he was a little boy, was baseball. Jeremy was a huge Red Sox fan. Banners and team photos covered the walls of his bedroom. His most prized possession, though, was the autographed baseball that had been signed by all of the players on the 2004 Red Sox championship team. Harry had purchased the ball at a charity event silent auction. Although it had cost him a small fortune, it was worth every penny when he watched Jeremy’s mouth open in astonishment as he tore the wrapping from the gift last Christmas.
So Jeremy’s recent reluctance to play baseball was now disturbing. He wasn’t the best ballplayer, but he played hard and seemed to enjoy it. This past fall, however, Jeremy had refused to play in the league that he’d been in for the past three years. He just didn’t seem himself.
I need to talk with Sandy about this soon, Harry thought.
Harry decided to ignore the yelling and returned his attention to work matters. He had to update Kaspar in the morning on the Sierra Health issue, but wanted to review the account adjustments being made by the operations staff first. Harry prayed that Jacobs had identified some additional accounts. He didn’t want to have to increase the size of the adjustment. Jordano Funds had thousands of wealthy, retired shareholders with nothing better to do than review their statements with a magnifying glass. The firm could handle a few inquiries if the adjustments were questioned; however, if hundreds of shareholders caught the change, it could get very public very fast. Harry rubbed the stubble on his chin.
That wouldn’t be good, he thought. I have to get to Jacobs first thing in the morning. We have to find those accounts.
Chapter 11
Thursday, October 23
“There is nothing more I can do,” Stern moaned. “There are only eight-hundred accounts that made large enough purchases into the International Equity Fund.”
Stern and Kevin Jacobs had joined Harry in his office just after 8am. The stress of the past week was etched in the deepened furrows on the foreheads of both men.
“I don’t know what else to do, Harry,” Stern said dejectedly.
Harry could see the gray-blue waters of the harbor from his eighth floor office window. He watched several brightly painted tug boats guide a huge natural gas tanker toward open water. Boston Harbor, once thought to be irreparably harmed by years of industrial pollution and sewage, had rebounded in the past decade to become one of the city’s jewels and a prized tourist attraction. The state had invested millions in the harbor cleanup and restoration of the harbor islands to a pristine condition not seen for over fifty years. The resulting influx of tourists visiting the harbor venues, eating at newly-opened restaurants, and staying in expensive hotels with water views had helped to rejuvenate a part of the city that had long been in a state of decline.
Harry fe
lt the tension growing, but he tried not to show it. “With eight-hundred accounts, we can still cover the $1.6 million adjustment. It will mean that each account is impacted about $2,000. On the other hand, it means fewer accounts in total will be adjusted, so fewer shareholders will be impacted. That’s a plus.” He tried to put a positive spin on a bad situation.
“I guess,” Jacobs replied morosely. “What will you tell Kaspar?”
“I’ll tell him the truth.” Harry said it more bravely than he felt. “We can only adjust these accounts. Are you sure there’re no more accounting tricks up your sleeves?”
Stern shook his head wistfully. “Afraid not. I’m already stretching the budget to cover what I can. We better hope there are no more major processing errors until next year. We have no money left for any more mistakes.” Stern gathered his folders in preparation to leave the office.
There was a sharp rap on the office door, and it opened quickly. Harry’s admin, Nancy, stuck her head into the office. Her face was drawn.
“Nancy, what’s wrong?”
She looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Did you hear, Harry?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“No, what?” he asked impatiently.
“The police found Julie’s car. It was spotted in the harbor near one of the piers in East Boston. Nancy looked like she was about to be sick. “Julie’s body was in the trunk.”
*****
All hell broke loose when the news about Julie was announced to the office staff. There was no way to focus on the Sierra Health issue after that. Many of the operations staff were crying, too upset to work effectively. Marcy Phillips, Julie’s closest friend in the office, fainted when she was told. Harry dismissed many of them early, and kept a bare-bones staff on hand to handle the most critical work.
Harry’s meeting with Kaspar was cancelled. Instead, Kaspar spoke kind words to the staff about Julie that left many in tears. He then remained in his office with his door closed for the rest of the day. Although he had a reputation as a tough guy, Kaspar had a knack for always finding the right words at the right moment.
Harry was drained and exhausted, like he had just run the Boston marathon. Julie’s death hit him hard. She had been a special person, and a real asset to the firm. Harry was going to miss her.
The police arrived at 2pm for another round of interviews. The lead detective, Mike Scanlon, sat on the edge of the couch in Harry’s office. He crossed his long legs, his foot jiggling. His plaid sport coat seemed a size too large. The top button of his rumpled shirt was undone, and his polyester tie hung loosely below the collar. He chomped on a stick of gum with such force that Harry thought he’d break a tooth. One glance at the detective’s nicotine stained fingernails confirmed his suspicion: the gum was a recent substitute for a cigarette habit.
“There’s nothing else I can tell you, Detective,” Harry started. “As I told you earlier in the week, Julie was a great employee. She was well liked by everyone here at the firm.”
“I understand that,” Scanlon replied gruffly. “But good people get murdered just as often as bad people. The reason isn’t obvious to their friends or families. Our investigation will dig into Julie’s life, get under the covers. We’ll find out what was happening, and who might have put her in danger.”
“Okay,” Harry replied. “Ask me whatever you want. I want to be helpful.”
“What were Ms. Monroe’s responsibilities at Jordano?” Scanlon opened a small notebook and clicked his mechanical pencil, ready to record notes. He looked at Harry expectantly.
“Julie was a senior portfolio administrator. She managed the accounts for our international equity funds.” Harry paused, reflective for a moment. “She’d done well here. She’d recently been promoted to operations supervisor. She had a staff of ten working for her.” Harry leaned forward to grab the stress ball from his desk. He squeezed it hard, eight times in each hand. It got a lot of use, usually after a meeting with Kaspar.
“Any conflicts between Julie and her staff?”
“No. Everyone enjoyed working with her. Julie was demanding, but fair. She remembered everyone’s birthday, got each of them a Christmas gift. They were devoted to her, and worked hard to make the team successful.”
Scanlon wrote some notes. “How was Ms. Monroe’s relationship with management? Any issues there?”
Harry thought about Jerry Haskins, Julie’s boss. The problems he had learned about Jerry’s behavior didn’t involve Julie. But maybe Julie had issues with Jerry too? He quickly decided to handle this internally before he’d mention anything to the police. He didn’t want to increase their interest right now. Besides, he didn’t believe Jerry was involved in Julie’s disappearance.
“No,” he replied firmly. “Julie was very good at managing up. She provided frequent updates and excellent status reports on a weekly basis. I had been considering more responsibility for her when this happened.”
Scanlon jotted down some more notes. Harry glanced at the small clock that he kept on his desk: 3:15. This was taking longer than he expected.
“I understand Ms. Monroe was responsible for many of your biggest mutual funds. Has anything unusual happened that would warrant closer attention?”
Harry paused. There was no way he could discuss the Sierra Health problem with Scanlon. That would open a can of worms that the firm simply couldn’t afford right now. Besides, Harry didn’t believe the Sierra Health situation was connected to Julie’s death.
Harry tried to act casual, as if he was trying to think of something that would be helpful to the detective. Then he shook his head slowly.
“Nothing comes to mind,” Harry replied. He could feel a bead of sweat rolling slowly down his back. He kneaded the stress ball some more.
Scanlon was watching him closely, his pencil poised. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, certain.” Harry looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, Detective. I have another meeting to run to. We’re trying to come up with a package for Julie’s husband that will be equitable. I hope you understand.”
Scanlon looked annoyed. But he closed his notebook and stood. He handed Harry his business card. “Please call me if anything else comes to mind.”
“I will.” He watched Scanlon head to the elevator. Harry shook his head.
What a week, he thought.
Chapter 12
Thursday, October 23
Nick skipped his morning run and arrived at the office early to make up for the time lost on Wednesday due to his plumbing issue. The plumber had shown up at 7pm and in less than an hour had fixed the leaky pipe. It cost him a $125, but it was worth it. He didn’t mind painting and wallpapering, but he usually left the plumbing and electrical work to the experts.
He inserted his thumb drive into his desktop and accessed the list of questions that he had written up the prior night at home. He had started with a simple premise: a senior person at Jordano Funds was going to provide the SEC with specific information about unethical, and possibly, illegal activities at the mutual fund company.
Nick knew his team would be closely involved in vetting the information that was provided. He had to ensure that there was a legal basis for the government’s involvement. Nick decided it would be critical to first gain an understanding about the informant’s reason for providing this information.
That would go a long way in validating his comments, he thought.
Nick quickly reviewed the list, made some minor changes, and saved the new version. He opened up his email and drafted a quick note to Sam, and attached the questions. Nick wanted Sam’s input before sending the list to his boss.
He moved onto some paperwork that was piling up. It was getting close to month end when time charts and status reports were due. He reviewed the report that Devon had submitted on an audit finding of a smaller fund firm. Nick agreed with most of her conclusions; he had to admit that Devon’s work had impressed him during the past year.
She may be ready for additional respon
sibilities, Nick thought.
Devon had been an unusual addition to the team. A history major from Bowdoin College, she didn’t have the standard business or economics background that Nick usually looked for in a job candidate. Nevertheless, he had been impressed with her resume when he first met her at a college job fair in New Hampshire. Fluent in French and Spanish, Devon had demonstrated poise and maturity that Nick found absent from most of the college graduates he interviewed. She was intelligent and well-spoken, and had answered his questions thoughtfully. Nick had decided to take a chance on her and was pleased with the results thus far.
He wrote a quick email to Devon, first congratulating her on the fine summary she had provided on the audit. He suggested one small change and added a question to his response. Nick believed it was his job to challenge the work provided by his staff, with the hope that they’d build the skills needed to go beyond superficial questions and dig deep during their investigations. He knew his approach sometimes annoyed them, but he believed it was important to the team’s success.
Besides, he thought wryly, I’m the boss.
Nick’s phone rang—it was his boss. “Hi, Pete.”
“Nick, listen up. I got a call from the Jordano informant last night. He’s refusing to give us his name or meet with us until he has been given immunity from prosecution. I told him that I can’t make promises until we get more details and perform our investigation. He said he would call me tonight at 6pm. Can you stay late and come to my office for the call?”
“Sure, no problem. I have plenty to keep me busy until then.”
“Good. Send me the list of questions by five o’clock so that I have a chance to review them.”
“Will do.” Nick hung up and thought about the questions that he had sent earlier to Sam. He was surprised that he hadn’t heard from him yet and decided to hunt him down.
No time like the present, Nick thought.
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