“I understand,” Katherine said in a much lighter tone. Seeing Marcia regain her composure, Katherine decided to probe a bit further. “When we had dinner and were discussing Joe Hart’s friends, you mentioned something that stuck in my mind. May I ask you about it?”
“Sure, go ahead. You seem trustworthy, Katherine. That’s a nice quality to have.”
“Thank you. You said Preston’s relationship with the Collectibles was evolving. What did you mean?”
Marcia appeared to be in thought for a couple of beats and then said, “He started out quite taken by Joe—apart from being appreciative for all Joe did for him, for us—by the concept of reaching out to help Joe’s friends. We—Pres and I—were having some troubles back then and meeting these people seemed to help him. He changed the way he looked at them, at life. Then he got busy with work and his interest—I say commitment—seemed to fade. By evolving I was trying to be polite, but it irks me.”
Katherine was busy taking notes on her paper napkin.
“Why are you so passionate about this subject?” Marcia asked.
“The same reason you helped Preston help Johnny. I met him a few days ago, along with Alice. Corey, too.”
“You went . . . you are some young lady, young lady.” At that, they both shared their first laugh of the lunch.
“Maybe, but if I don’t get back to work I may be out of a job.”
“I’ve enjoyed this immensely,” Marcia said. “I’ll let you know the next time I come out. And feel free to drop over. Bring your dog. Take a walk on the beach. It’s not that far.”
“I’ve enjoyed it, too.”
“By the way, can we keep this conversation between us girls?” Marcia asked.
“You bet. We’re not the bitchy kind.” And they laughed again, this time even harder.
* * *
Back at her desk, Katherine rewrote her draft of the human-interest story centering on Constance, her husband, and three others, polished it, and e-mailed the finished copy to Sol. She debated with herself whether to send Chuck a copy, but rationalized that Sol wanted her to pursue this. Take it to another level. She knew Thursday started a new week, and that Chuck would be assigning her more stories. If Sol liked the bank story, maybe that would be included.
She had no way of knowing the sandstorm she had created.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Katherine was at her desk as usual bright and early that rainy Thursday morning when her phone buzzed. It was Chuck; she picked up.
“Come into my office.” The line went silent.
She told Hailey to stay and walked to the editor’s office. Chuck was sitting behind his desk, leaning his considerable frame so far back in his chair, it appeared to Katherine he might fall over backwards. Without looking at her, he motioned to her to sit. She did.
“I was about to call you in to give you an assignment when Sol sent me a copy of your . . . unemployment tear-jerker.” Once again, the air conditioner blew cold. The last thing Katherine wanted was a problem with her editor. She willed herself to be calm, feeling the heat in the back of her neck.
“Here’s the way it works,” Chuck continued. “I’m the editor. Harold’s my assistant. He edits the copy. If we’re pressed for time, our assistant copy editor will give us a hand. Let’s work backwards. Paper published Wednesday 2:00 p.m. Noon’s the cutoff for production so the stories have to be edited and approved well before that. Thursday starts the new week—I make the next round of assignments. In between, we have to plug the holes, feed the Web with whatever we can. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“It’s a little more nuanced than that. Number one: You didn’t ask me or tell me you were writing this story. Two: I didn’t assign you this story. Three: It hasn’t been edited. Four: You decided it should be written under your byline—Luke, our senior writer, assisted Sol when this FDIC bank story broke, and he wrote the CCB takeover follow-up under his name—all of which I approved,” Chuck said. “I know it’s your first few days, but we do have a process around here. I’d like you to follow it.”
“Completely understood,” Katherine said.
“By the way, who gave you the lead?”
“I’ll tell you that if you tell me something first,” Katherine said. She saw a thin, twisted smile on Chuck’s face, with no trace in his eyes.
“Are we negotiating?”
“No.”
“What?” Chuck asked.
“How did you like the piece?”
“It was too long for our paper. It did catch the human interest side. Your lead?”
“Went to CCB and got the lead myself. A young teller there happened to know Mrs. Shipman.”
“And how did you happen to know she would know that?”
“Because I’m an investigative reporter, and it’s my job to know how to get them to talk.”
“I suggest you talk with Luke and tell him that you liked the work he did on the prior stories and that you’re hoping it will be okay with him if you pursue an assignment that deals with the layoffs. We’ll see what he says. In the meanwhile, cover the obits for the next week, and here’s a list of five stories I’d like you to write.”
Katherine looked over the list: how a community radio station was getting along after leaving Long Island’s Southampton University campus and moving to Southampton Village; Southampton Village’s police chief passing his exam to become permanent chief; the district attorney’s office dispute with the Southampton Town Board letter on moving police records; whether the Southampton Zoning Board of Appeals would approve a Southampton pool application; and a new director taking over at Southampton’s animal shelter. She tried her best to maintain a neutral face, hoping Chuck could not read her thoughts. It wasn’t that she didn’t know she would be starting at the bottom. She had expected that. She enjoyed meeting new people and understood the value in finding local stories of interest. The problem was the transparency of her impatience with doing such stories the way they’d always been done.
Katherine wanted to expand these stories, uncover what the men and women in Southampton and Long Island were really all about, their aspirations, their frustrations. She wanted to learn what they were particularly interested in, how they were unique, and what drove them, but why not cover the bank stories as well? They were in the Twin Forks Press area, too. But in looking at Chuck’s face, in gauging his general demeanor, she knew this was not the time to debate the matter. She simply smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“Get out of here,” he growled. “I have work to do.”
* * *
Katherine walked down the aisle dividing the partitions in the reporters’ den and passed Luke’s desk, saw he was busy writing, and went back to her station. She thought about her conversation with Chuck and decided she needed to rein in her enthusiasm a notch, or at least its appearance. An e-mail popped up that she hadn’t expected.
Angelo Bertolini. She opened the attachment.
Investigative Report
Investigator: Angelo Bertolini, P.I. #2394876 N.Y. [Former NYPD DECT GS]
Subject: Preston Wilson
White Male
DOB: 3.13.65; Age: 47
Married: Marcia Wilson; Age: 39
Child: Preston Joseph Wilson; Age: 15 months
Education: College Degree: B.A. Political Science, Hamilton College
Occupation: Automobile Dealer
Corporate: 35% Owner, Wilson Holdings Inc. (35% Marcia Wilson, 15% Alex Herman, 15% Casey Fitzgerald)
Dun and Bradstreet Rating: Wilson Holdings Inc. BA
Employees: 6 stores—127 employees in the aggregate
Financial: Credit Rating: 680
License: New York State
Violations: 2 speeding, 1 red light, 24 equipment violations (reductions)
Addictions:
Drug Use:
No Arrests, No Convictions
Alcohol Related: No DWI arrests or convictions; one DUI arrest—no conviction
Tobacco: Yes—cigars
Gambling: Yes—off-line and casino-based betting—horses
Criminal: NYS Unified Court System: No record shown
Bankruptcies/Involuntary Receivership: None filed
Medical Records: Pending
Civil Matters: Wilson Holdings Inc.: Multiple lawsuits, 6 active, 3 dismissed (NY County Supreme Court Docket); other states pending, federal pending
Personal Claims: (1) Sexual harassment, employee, dismissed
Private Clubs: Union League Club, Southampton Country Club, Vail Colorado Ski Club
Business Reputation: Automobile industry-dealers (20 groups, other sources) “well regarded, successful dealer who dodged the bullet”
Personal—appears satisfactory
Additional notes:
Note: Surveillance (Angelo)
Subject under random surveillance by Angelo from time to time. Attends Union League Club, his place of business, upscale restaurants throughout Manhattan, often frequents the 21 Club, going to and from his condo residence in New York City, usually by car with driver, occasionally walks, associations appear consistent with the car business. Behavior, associations, and those accompanying subject all appeared routine and uneventful.
Courtesy Surveillance (by reciprocal service agreement) Subject took private plane to Las Vegas 6/1-6/3/2012. Subject checked in Wynn Resort; meeting with group of men in lounge—45 min; dinner in hotel at Chinese restaurant with T. Greco (known to P.I. 10642) and unidentified female—2.5 hours; subject gamed at craps table, predominantly black chips—1 hour, lost; returned to his room alone; 5/18/2012 left his room at 7:30 a.m., took taxi to Frontier Hotel, 8:00 a.m. met with attractive woman (same unidentified female) in coffee shop, had breakfast—2 hours; went back to Wynn Resort; gamed at same craps table, black chips again—1/2 hour, lost; went to spa in hotel—2 hours; went to betting parlor at Caesar’s, watched horse races, met with T. Greco, went to lounge—1 hour; T. Greco left, subject back to horse races—2 hours; end of surveillance due to prior commitment of colleague. (Photos available upon request.)
Note: Subject was subject of a sexual harassment complaint by one Henrietta Higgins, an employee at Mercedes Manhattan. This occurred February 12, 2012, at complainant’s desk on the first floor of the main showroom. Subject alleged to have inappropriately touched complainant on the back and then the shoulder and made inappropriate remarks including “You look very nice this morning.” These were the allegations complainant alleged to support the complaint. New York State Division of Human Rights referred investigation to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The EEOC conducted a field investigation. No probable cause was found. Complaint was dismissed. Follow-up by Angelo consistent with EEOC findings.
Summary: Client had no specific direction or inquiry for investigation. No parameters were set. P.I. used his discretion in a random surveillance, inquiry, and review of subject, avoiding contact with subject or those likely to inform subject of investigation.
Conclusion: Subject has general good reputation as successful businessman. No known addictions or infirmities. Criminal record clean. Informal unconfirmed sources suggest further investigation for potential gambling issues, particularly with offline betting.
Katherine called Angelo right away to thank him for the thorough report.
“You got it. You had me shooting in the dark so I didn’t know how far you wanted me to go. A friend of mine in Vegas helped me out—no charge. If you want me to do more, let me know.”
“No, this is fine. I appreciate it. But keep an eye and ear open for anything you think I should know about Preston Wilson or his company.”
“You ever gonna tell me who this guy is to you—why you’re interested?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Is he causing you any trouble?”
“He’s definitely not causing me any trouble. But thanks.”
“My pleasure,” Angelo said.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Hi, Marcia,” Casey said, getting out of his chair, moving around his desk, and giving her a hug. “Good to see you.”
Marcia sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, and Casey sat in the other.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“Not at all. I should have called you sooner.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t want to do it. I have to do it.”
“Why?”
“We all went through hell, but thanks to Joe, we turned things around—”
“And you think it’s not working?”
“Considering how deep the hole was, we’ve come a long way. Our banks are still with us, our sales are adequate, and we’re still generating revenue.”
“But?”
“This is going to sound selfish, but . . . the but is I’m not happy. It doesn’t feel right to me around here anymore. I think Austin’s an ass. Systemically, we’re moving sideways and taking unnecessary risks.”
“I get that Austin’s an ass. But help me with the last one, Casey.”
“If I learned anything from Joe, it’s the importance of a strategic plan—a process where we have benchmarks or metrics to measure whether we’re on course performance-wise, timing-wise, and otherwise. The otherwise is not doing anything illegal. I’m still into all of that, but I’m lonesome.”
“Meaning Preston, Austin, and others aren’t helping—aren’t with you in the process?”
“I don’t think they see the value of the process or the danger in not following the rules—and that’s the risk—but it’s worse than that. I honestly don’t think they care.”
Marcia thought about Alex, the automotive consultant Joe had brought into the negotiations with BNA in Charlotte, and thereafter, to whom Preston had given fifteen percent equity in the company. “Have you talked about this with Alex?”
“Yes. He sees it the same way. In fact, he’s been pulling away from a lot of the operational oversight. I doubt if Preston will be able to keep him.”
“But he owns fifteen percent.”
“Of what? Besides, Alex was not driven by the equity. That was an add-on. Wilson Holdings is not his day job. He came in, helped us a lot when we needed it—honestly, because Joe asked him to. And Joe’s gone.”
“Does Alex not get along with Preston?”
“He gets along with him. He just doesn’t get him.”
“You sound like you’ve made up your mind.”
“After we met in the mountains, what followed for me was a real change in the way we did things. I remember when I called Preston—that was when Joe was starting to work on our case—to tell Preston all the stuff he wanted from us, documents, tax returns, operating statements, audits.”
“And he told you to give it to him.”
“But it wasn’t that simple. We needed documents from him, and as you know, from you. And the letter from the criminal lawyer—that really pissed Preston off. What Preston didn’t get was that Joe needed him to be a part of the turnaround process, not a distant CEO making assignments—and to commit to a clean way of doing business.”
“And you think that’s all happening again. I can understand that. I really can,” Marcia said, tears forming in her eyes.
Casey returned to his desk chair and reached in his desk for a box of Kleenex, which he handed to Marcia, and a Snickers bar for himself.
“This company’s been good to me for a lot of years. I make two hundred thousand dollars a year and can drive any car I want. I’ve earned that—worked my tail off here. And I’ve always been loyal to your husband. What matters most to me is my wife and three children. They know I’m not happy. I told Preston I quit, but he, of course, didn
’t take me seriously. That’s why I’m officially resigning as CFO—today.”
Marcia had never seen Casey so emotional, and yet so calm. She knew how important Casey was, not only to the company, but to Preston. Casey might have underestimated Preston’s reliance on him, or maybe he had it just right, that he understood all too well Preston’s reliance on him. She would have felt better if he was ranting and raving; perhaps then there would have been hope. Under these circumstances she doubted it, however. After all, she’d been wrestling with a lot of the same issues.
What a mess, she thought. What a serious, unnecessary mess.
* * *
Preston entered the Manhattan store on a cloudy Monday morning, made more so when he saw Casey still in his office standing behind his desk. Preston walked in and sat down. Casey continued packing personal items in cardboard boxes.
“I learned from my wife that you’re quitting,” Preston said.
“Resigning,” Casey said as he packed his framed diploma from Wharton. “You’re the one who’s quitting.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not quitting,” Preston said.
Casey stopped what he was doing, grabbed a Snickers bar from his desk drawer, walked around his desk, sat in the chair next to Preston, and put his feet up on the desk.
“How can you eat a Snickers bar at a time like this?”
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