Shell Game

by Bill Flaherty

  He arrived at the Sugar Bowl moments later, but still no internal conversation with his dead wife. The silence was strange, almost eerie. Memories of Ellie had always been a welcome companion during his morning runs, like a security blanket that shielded him from his daily problems. His conversations with her felt so real at times. But today those thoughts were absent.

  Nick wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

  Instead, his mind was full of new thoughts. Devon and the Jordano investigation vied for supremacy. Nick crossed the concrete bridge that spanned the locks and headed towards Castle Island. The water churned beneath him as he ran over the metal grates that allowed the bridge to expand and contract during extreme weather.

  Nick was happy about his growing relationship with Devon. Since the death of his wife and daughter, his daily life had become an endless grind, a deep rut from which he’d felt incapable of escaping. All work and no play had made life dull and boring. He’d become afraid to take any risks. Nothing gave him joy or happiness. He’d discussed these thoughts in recent sessions with Jeff Stone, his psychologist. The doctor explained that when a person loses a loved one, the psychological impact is devastating, and lasts much longer than the initial grief. The person often becomes stuck, rooted to the past, unable to put the loss behind him.

  Nick reached the parking lot in front of Sullivan’s, the halfway point of his run. A solitary runner approached but passed silently with a brief smile.

  As Nick approached his home, he understood. Ellie had always been there when he needed her, in his mind, to keep him company, to still share his life. She’d been his first love, his soul mate, his best friend. But he knew why Ellie didn’t run with him this morning. He didn’t need to talk to her today.

  Boy, he thought, Ellie was smart. Once he found someone new to share his life, she could leave him without worry.

  Nick believed that Devon was that person. The realization made him both sad and happy. He hadn’t lost Ellie. She’d always be in his heart, and in his memories. But it was time to move forward.

  Nick reached his front door and turned around to look at the empty street. “Goodbye, Ellie. I love you.”

  Chapter 48

  Monday, November 17

  Harry stared at the door that Jack Walsh had slammed shut. The last remnant of hope that he held previously had disappeared with his former friend’s haughty exit.

  He walked over to the window where Jack had stood moments earlier. Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He stared at the hollow reflection that stared back at him.

  Unbelievable. Inconceivable. Horrific.

  He didn’t know which word best matched the news he had just received.

  Harry watched the cars moving down Franklin Street eight stories below. People on the sidewalk were scurrying to appointments, meetings, points unknown. Harry wished he could be one of them: anonymous, uninformed, irrelevant. A person who was not impacted by the tumultuous events that had caused his own life to be tossed about like Dorothy’s house caught in a tornado crossing the Kansas plains. He felt like a soldier on a suicide mission from which there was no hope of return.

  He knew his professional life was ruined. He was likely going to prison.

  His marriage was probably over too.

  Once Nora exposed their relationship to Sandy, he expected divorce papers to follow shortly after.

  Harry’s mind drifted to Jeremy.

  My son is the only good thing remaining in my life, he thought. When I find Elizabeth Caldwell, I’ll convince her that Jeremy deserves a chance to live.

  Harry’s phone rang and he walked slowly towards his desk. “Hello?”

  “Wainright! What the hell is going on?”

  “Kaspar.” Harry was too worn out to give a shit about his boss right now. “What do you want to know?”

  “What do I want to know?” Kaspar’s voice was a harsh whisper. “What do I want to know, Wainright? Are you serious?”

  Harry was sure that if he could see Kaspar now, his boss’s face would be beet red. The jowls in his neck would be shaking like a turkey’s. He wished that he could reach through the phone and wring it.

  “Look Kaspar, I’ve got a lot going on this morning. I know the headlines are bad. We’ll figure out how to limit the damage.”

  “Really, Harry? Can you make the paper retract the story? Can you make the shareholders stop calling with complaints? Can you make the SEC drop their investigation?” Kaspar’s voice grew more hysterical with each question.

  “No, I can’t control any of those things. But I have worse news, Kaspar. Jack Walsh just left my office. He told me that he’s the person who has been speaking to the SEC. He’s the insider reported by the newspaper. He’s given confidential information about our internal communications and the steps we took to cover up the Sierra Health mess. He’s being deposed by the Attorney General this morning at the federal courthouse.”

  “What the fuck! That goddamn prick! After all I’ve done for him. Bringing him along, giving him more and more responsibility. That prick. Wait until I talk to his father.”

  Harry felt exhausted. “Really, Kaspar? Do you think Jack’s father will support you after what you did to him and his company? Are you really that vain?” Harry laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t think Jack cares if you talk to his father. He’s held a grudge for a long time. We’re screwed.”

  Kaspar was silent for a moment. “Wainright, you led the effort on Sierra. You came up with the plan and executed it.” Kaspar’s intent was clear. He was distancing himself from the whole fiasco.

  It was Harry’s turn to be quiet. He thought about all that had happened in the past month: Sierra Health, Julie Monroe’s murder, Jerry Haskins’ death, his relationship with Nora, and most importantly, Jeremy’s diagnosis. It made Kaspar’s comments farcical.

  “Feel free to hang this around my neck. Be assured that when the SEC and the AG’s office are done with this firm, we’ll probably be cellmates at Cedar Junction. And I’ll be happy to bang my metal cup on the prison bars to wake you up each morning. I want you to hate every fucking moment that you’re there.” Harry slammed the phone down.

  Fuck Kaspar.

  Harry tried to refocus his thoughts. He turned on his laptop to do a Google search of private investigators. He jotted down a couple of names to call. That’s when he heard shouts coming from down the hall. Now what? He jumped up to find out what was going on. Kevin Jacobs strode out of his own office, looking left and right. He spotted Harry.

  “Harry! Have you heard what’s happening? The phones are going crazy! Shareholders are selling their shares in most of our equity funds! The staff can’t even keep up. Our call backlog is reaching a critical state – people are being put on hold for almost fifteen minutes. This is awful!”

  Harry knew the redemptions were a result of the newspaper headline on the Jordano investigation. He had hoped the firm might get a couple of days before this sort of reaction so they could perform damage control.

  But shareholders were not complacent bystanders. They were unforgiving and acted quickly. Companies like Jordano succeeded on trust and performance. Lose one or the other, and shareholders would stampede to the exit. That’s what was happening now.

  “Do the best you can, Kevin. Maybe the volume will subside during the day. I just spoke with Kaspar about the situation. We’ll figure out the next steps. Just keep your cool.”

  Harry stepped back inside his office and closed the door. He needed time to think.

  Chapter 49

  Monday, November 17

  Nick arrived at the courthouse at 9:15. Traffic had been a bitch. He stopped at the information desk in the lobby to ask where the Francis Sargeant conference room was located, and was directed to the third floor. Nick grabbed the next elevator and rode up alone. He saw the sign for the conference room pointing to his left.

  As Nick entered the room, others were just sitting down.

  Good, he thought, they haven’t st
arted yet.

  Nick nodded to Pete Mitchell. Jack Walsh sat across the table.

  Sarah Monetti nodded to the stenographer and turned to Jack Walsh. She was ready to officially begin the deposition.

  “Today is Monday, November 17th. Present in the room is Jack Walsh, Senior Vice President at Jordano Funds, and his attorney, Michael Amirault. Also present are Peter Mitchell, Director of the SEC Regional Office in Boston, and Nick Doyle, Lead Investigator, from the SEC’s Boston office. I am Sarah Monetti, Assistant Attorney General from the AG’s office. We are here today to depose Mr. Walsh concerning the matter of Sierra Health, a client of the firm. Mr. Walsh, are you ready to begin?”

  “Yes, I am, Ms. Monetti.”

  “I must first advise you of your rights.”

  Nick listened closely as the deposition got underway. The specific details that Jack Walsh provided, if true, clearly showed that the fraud reached the highest levels of the firm. Walsh saved his harshest comments for Kaspar Jordano. In addition to being a direct participant in the fraud, Walsh said that Jordano fostered a culture that was predatory and harmful towards shareholders. He described the actions taken by the management team to hide the transaction error from the client. Walsh’s description of the firm’s botched attempt to disperse the impact across hundreds of individual shareholders was confirmation of the evidence that Nick’s team had uncovered. All of it had been done in the name of profit.

  The morning passed quickly and Nick was surprised when Ms. Monetti said, “Now is a good time to break for lunch.” She motioned to the stenographer to stop typing. “Let’s resume at 1:30. Everyone okay with that?”

  Nods around the table indicated agreement. Jack Walsh and his attorney strode from the room. Nick and the others looked at each other.

  “Wow,” said Pete. “Quite a story, if it’s true.”

  “Do you doubt him?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t,” Sarah said sharply. “He may be embellishing a bit, and he is certainly downplaying his role in the crime, but I believe it’s largely true. And if it is, some of these assholes are going to see jail time. I’ll make sure of that.” She turned to Nick. “But we won’t convict on Walsh’s testimony alone. We need hard proof. How is your team doing with the material you got from the firm? Is it ready to present?”

  Nick nodded. “Just about. We’ll have it by the end of the day.”

  “Good. Now, let’s eat. I’m famished.”

  *****

  Nick returned to the office after a quick lunch with the others at Jimmy’s, a popular seafood restaurant just down the street from the courthouse. His grouper had been excellent, especially since it was on the government’s dime.

  At lunch, Nick told the others what he had learned from Detective Scanlon. Sarah Monetti promised to call the detective to learn more about the police investigation. She agreed this was getting more and more complicated.

  Nick called Sam from the road to ask him to get the team ready to review their findings when he got back. He found everyone was already assembled in the conference room. He smiled briefly at Devon, saw Sam roll his eyes at that, and said, “Everyone, listen up. We need to package the evidence by 4pm today so that the AG can pick it up and have her team review the details. How’s it coming along?”

  “We’re close to being done, boss,” Sam replied, his eyes dancing with laughter at Nick’s discomfort. Sam’s repeated glances at Devon had made her face turn red. Nick wanted to move this along.

  “Okay, Sam, give me the highlights.”

  “We have documented several hundred transactions that were adjusted so that the fund purchases took place on October 17th instead of October 16th. These transactions resulted in fewer shares being bought because of the market rise on that day. That means the shareholder paid a higher price than they should have. Jordano could have posted the transactions on October 16th, when the price was lower, but they didn’t. Across hundreds of accounts, this became the mechanism by which Jordano saved themselves several million dollars. It’s the way they resolved the screw up on the Sierra Health purchase.”

  “Excellent. And this is spelled out in the binder in front of you?”

  Sam smacked the folder hard, making Devon jump. “Absolutely. It’s crystal clear. Even a fifth grader could follow the logic. Right, Devon?”

  Devon nodded. She looked miserable to Nick, and clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

  “Okay. The AG requested five copies. Sam, can you get one of the admins to make those before 5pm?”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “Before you go, I just want to thank everyone for the extra effort you’ve put in over the last several weeks. It’s really appreciated. I made sure that Pete was aware of the team’s contributions.”

  The group murmured thanks as they gathered their notepads, pens, and calculators. They filed out of the office. Devon lingered.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Devon was standing on the opposite side of the table, twirling the bracelet on her wrist.

  “Nick, I had a great time last night. I really did. But things moved kind of fast. I really hadn’t planned to…” Her voice faltered. “To, you know…”

  “Sleep together?”

  Devon sighed. “I didn’t plan to sleep with you. But after the excitement of the day, the balloon ride and the rescue, and the two bottles of wine that we finished at dinner…”

  “That was good wine.” Nick was smiling.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I hadn’t planned on sleeping with you either, Devon. I didn’t expect it. But I’m glad I did.” Nick moved across the room to stand next to her.

  “You are?”

  “Of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t know that you have a cute little mole under your right arm, or that your feet are ticklish but you try really hard not to laugh, or that your mouth makes a perfect circle when you’re about to….”

  Devon giggled, and placed her fingers on Nick’s lips. “Stop. You’re being terrible.”

  “No, just trying to get you to relax. It seems to have worked.” Nick reached out and took Devon’s hand. “We can go as slow as you want, okay? No pressure.”

  Devon nodded. “Thanks. And what’s with Sam, making goo-goo eyes at me? I am so embarrassed!”

  “I know. I’ll speak to him. He’s really just busting my balls, but you’re paying the price.”

  “Thanks.” Devon learned forward and gave Nick a quick kiss.

  Nick pulled her close and kissed her more deeply. Devon responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him.

  “Hey Nick…whoops.” Sam was at the door, the Jordano report in his hands “Sorry, I had a quick question, but it can wait until you’re done with….whatever you’re doing.”

  “Sam.” Nick’s voice was cold, a tone he rarely used in the office. “Do you need your job?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then knock it off, okay? Unless you want to get transferred to the Poughkeepsie office. Are we clear?”

  Sam could tell Nick wasn’t kidding this time. “I get the message, boss. Loud and clear.”

  “Good. I’ll answer your question in a minute. At your desk.” Nick pointed across the office. Sam nodded and moved down the hallway.

  Devon looked grateful. “The SEC has an office in Poughkeepsie?”

  “I doubt it. But Sam doesn’t need to know that.”

  Devon giggled again.

  Chapter 50

  Monday, November 17

  Harry finally made it home after 8pm. It had been a frustrating and chaotic day.

  The shareholder redemptions hadn’t slowed at all until late in the afternoon. Kevin Jacobs estimated that shares worth roughly two billion dollars had been sold, mostly by customers who had closed their accounts.

  That was the worst scenario. Harry knew that money would never come back.

  He held a meeting with the trustees at 5pm to review the situation, but he felt as if he was adrift in the ocean and no
one would throw him a life preserver. Kaspar had been strangely silent all day—and he hadn’t heard from him after their morning blowup. He didn’t even attend the trustee call. Worst of all, Harry hadn’t heard back from the private investigators he had called about Elizabeth Caldwell. Overall, it had been a very frustrating day.

  Harry dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and walked into the great room. A Winston Marsalis CD was playing softly. Sandy sat in one of the wingback chairs next to the hearth, a dying fire smoldering. She held a glass in her left hand that was filled with a creamy liquid and some ice cubes. She looked at Harry through bloodshot eyes.

  “Hi Harry,” she slurred. “Care to join me for a drink or two or three?”

  Harry walked over and took the glass from her hand. Sandy didn’t protest. “I think you’ve had enough. This won’t solve anything.”

  “You’re right. But it does lessen the pain, if just for a while.”

  “How was Jeremy’s treatment today?”

  “Fine, fine, just fine. Everything went just fine. The doctors were great, the nurses were great, the orderlies, they were great too. Everyone was fine except our little boy who is going to die if we can’t find his goddamn mother. How can this be, Harry? What has happened to our lives? Everything was going so well. It just isn’t fair.”

  “I know, Sandy. The last month has been tough. But most of all, it’s been hard on Jeremy. But we need to stay strong. We need to have hope. A positive attitude will make a difference. We need to be Jeremy’s advocates whenever possible.”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. Harry got up.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

  Sandy shook her head. He walked to the door and opened it.

  Nora stood on the porch. “Hi Harry!” Nora’s eyes were bloodshot too, just like Sandy’s.

  “Nora!” he hissed. “What are you doing here?” He glanced back towards the family room, hoping that Sandy wasn’t in sight.