by James Ross
Curt was skeptical. “That sounds like a set up.”
“ . . . Maybe. Maybe not,” J Dub shrugged.
“Could you help?” Curt persisted.
“I think so.”
“Are you?” Curt continued to pry. There was a momentary pause. Curt and J Dub looked at each other. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” Curt said. “You really don’t have a choice, do you?”
J Dub raised his eyebrows. “It’s the federal government, you know.” Curt realized that J Dub had no choice. He had to cooperate. “They don’t want me. I haven’t done anything wrong,” J Dub added.
“Will you need a lawyer?”
“Not right away. Will you be able to get one for me if I need one?” J Dub turned the tables and asked a question.
“It’s going to be tough to get a good one. Everybody around here knows the guy,” Curt suggested.
“What does that mean?”
“They might have a conflict of interest. But we’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Curt explained.
“What should we do now?” J Dub inquired.
“The only thing that I can think of is for you to continue to live your life. Let’s continue to do our due diligence and monitor the lawsuit that is filed against the business,” Curt replied. “Did you ever find out who filed the suit?”
“Go ahead and tell him, Honey,” Marcia urged.
J Dub paused and looked at Curt. “It’s the heirs to the Morton Estate.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
“Dammit!” Walter yelled. “I don’t want to deal with all of this crap.” It didn’t matter how nice the weather was or how well things had been going for Walter. When Lewferd E. Zerrmann walked through the door to his office, turmoil seemed to enter with him.
“Hey, they were your account,” countered Lew. He always wanted to deflect the blame off of himself and onto someone else.
Lew had showed up once again in Walter’s office. The two of them had some issues that had been pushed to the forefront. The topic of the meeting was the lawsuit that the Morton heirs had filed against both of them. Not only had a possible gray area of the past been challenged but Walter was going to have to incur the expense of a defense lawyer.
Walter got up from his desk. He was severely agitated. He started to pace back and forth across the room. It was something that he only did when he felt the walls closing in on him. His fidgety nature had been pushing him to the brink of panic. “And it was your lousy driving!” Walter could not let go of the fact that a hooker had been run over.
“What does that have to do with this damned lawsuit? Forget about that,” Lew insisted.
“How can you just forget about something like that?” Walter cried.
“She was a ‘nobody.’ No family. No home. No nothing. Forget about the rotten wench!” Lew demanded. He was clearly frustrated with Walter’s obsession over a person that no one missed. “Forget about that slutty, black streetwalker!”
“It’s on my mind every day,” Walter whined. “I can’t let it go. We ran over an innocent person.”
Lew reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold-capped crown. He held it up in the light and admired it. It glittered brightly after Lew polished it. “Does this make you feel better?”
“What’s that?”
“She had a gold-capped front tooth, remember?” Lew tried to explain.
“Oh gosh, where did that come from?” Walter was visibly shaken.
“I had a barbecue a few weeks ago,” Lew explained. “I just went to where the body was buried, dug up the bones, doused the pile with gasoline, and started a fire. It just so happened that a sack of bones went up in smoke with the trees. The master would have been proud.” Lew crowed. The ice cold, methodical way that Lew described the incident sent chills up Walter’s spine.
“You are sick!” Walter shouted. “Not to mention disgusting. And what do you mean by ‘the master’?”
“Hitler, of course. But, never mind that! Over and done with! Forget about it! Let’s move on!” Lew yelled back at Walter.
Walter stared out the window. The daylight had a calming effect on him. He started to regain his composure and settle down. “Okay, okay. You win.”
“I doubt if there was even a missing person’s report filed. Just let it go. She was a nobody,” Lew emphasized in a voice that reassured Walter further.
“ . . . Very well. What are we going to do about this other mess?” Walter was worried about the lawsuit that the heirs had filed.
“I have no idea what you did,” Lew said as he threw the issue back into Walter’s lap.
“I got involved with you,” Walter lamented.
Lew forced a grin. “It hasn’t been such a bad run for you, has it?”
“Yeah, right. Dead bodies, lawsuits, red flags, barbecues, and your morbid fascination with Hitler crap,” Walter ranted. “It’s all too much for me to handle. I don’t know how you deal with all of it.”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. It’s tough to make a buck. You have to stay one step ahead of them,” Lew rationalized. The impersonal, matter-of-fact manner in which Lew compartmentalized things drove Walter crazy.
“And be half of a crook too,” Walter conceded.
“That’s the way it is. Deal with it,” Lew said. He was comfortable with the cards that he had been dealt. His next goal was to deflect the problem at hand. “Now what did you do to the estate?”
“Lord if I know. I haven’t read the complaint yet.”
“Do you need a lawyer?” Lew asked. “I know some good ones.”
“I bet you do,” Walter laughed.
“No. Seriously.”
“I think that we’d be better off with our own lawyers. I don’t want to be tied to you any more than I am,” Walter maintained. “What do you think?”
“I think that I’m going to try to get this frivolous lawsuit dismissed,” Lew stated adamantly.
“ . . . On what grounds?”
“First off, Statute of Limitation concerns. Secondly, I didn’t have a thing to do with the heirs of Margaret Morton’s estate,” Lew said defiantly. His ire was raised as he spoke. “They were your clients, dammit! Didn’t you take care of them?”
Walter was incredulous to Lew’s reaction. “And how do you plan on getting all of that done?” Walter probed.
“It pays to have connections,” Lew exclaimed deviously. Walter forced a smug grin. “Do you know Judge Rowland?” Lew asked.
“Troy Rowland?” Walter countered.
Lew nodded his head. “We need to get the case transferred over to his court,” Lew explained.
“And how do you plan on getting that accomplished?” Walter inquired.
“ . . . With a little legal maneuvering. You get your attorney and I’ll get mine,” Lew continued. “Let’s put this estate stuff behind us.”
“For a piece of crap, you sure have a healthy mind,” Walter grinned when he spoke the words.
“Business is business,” Lew stated.
“Who is this Sneed guy, anyway?” Walter wanted to try to find out about the lawyer that represented the Morton heirs.
“ . . . Never heard of him. Just a young kid that chases ambulances,” Lew sighed. “We all know about that kind.”
“Yeah, well, let’s rattle his cage a little. I don’t want him influencing my client,” Walter suggested.
“You never did tell me what you did,” Lew revisited a topic that Walter did not want to talk about.
“ . . . Nothing. Just like you,” Walter said. He clearly wanted to avoid discussion about his role with the Morton heirs. “You get your attorney. I’ll get mine. Let’s get the suit thrown out of court or at least in a court where the decisions will be favorable to us.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The lounge at LUCKY LADY LANES was a spot that made J Dub feel more comfortable. It was difficult enough for him to provide information on Prairie Winds Golf Course to the government. A neutral meeting spot was
agreed upon so that he didn’t have to drive over to the IRS building and park his pickup outside a sign that screamed INTERNAL REVENUE SERVICE.
He and Booker had several conversations about where to meet. Both were bowlers and sports fans. The bowling alley was convenient and they agreed that being seen together in its lounge would not raise any suspicions. An added bonus was that it was a dark environment in which they could hide better.
“Maybe I would blend in better at the ice skating rink,” Booker commented as J Dub approached the corner table. Booker had a subtle way about him.
“You didn’t ride a motorcycle over, did you?” J Dub grinned as he grabbed a chair.
They both chuckled at their time in history. J Dub handed him a folder. “Here’s some more stuff that should help you.”
“We’ve been onto him for quite a while,” Booker revealed. He wanted to give assurances to J Dub that it was Lew that the IRS wanted to investigate.
“He’ll do all that he can to beat you,” J Dub hinted.
“We expect that he’ll use all of his standard tricks. The madam’s been down that road with him before,” Booker mentioned.
“Huh?”
Booker shrugged nonchalantly. He had been in the investigation business a long time. He realized that it was tough to catch all of the crooks. “She was a rookie prosecutor back then. He got off,” Booker continued.
“I never knew anything about that,” J Dub confessed.
“He beat her on a technicality. He and his lawyers are good at that,” Booker carried on.
“What happened?” J Dub asked.
“Nobody talked, but one of his associates had the noose wrapped pretty tightly around his neck,” Booker rambled. “That guy took the fall for Lew and the others.”
“He can’t stand to lose an argument,” J Dub offered. “He has to win at everything and he’ll spend any amount of money to vindicate himself.”
“Time has a way of settling scores,” Booker said. “We’ve been keeping your business under a watchful eye for quite a while.”
“Then it wasn’t our imagination when we couldn’t make the numbers work,” J Dub sighed.
Booker shook his head. “I don’t know what you figured out. All I know is that it looks like you should be claiming more income than you have been,” Booker said. “The returns show that you make a few thousand dollars a year. That’s pushing things a little too far.”
“We’ll make that in a weekend,” J Dub confessed.
“ . . . Exactly! Does he think that we don’t notice stuff like that?” Booker offered.
“I had nothing to do with the way he kept the books. He had Walter set everything up,” J Dub pleaded.
“We know that,” Booker stressed. “The accountant isn’t new to us either.”
“Oh, man,” J Dub whined. “What kind of a mess am I involved in?”
Booker raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the answer to that was anybody’s guess. “We’re just on to Plan B now with the guy,” Booker said.
“What’s that?”
“Tax evasion,” Booker stated bluntly.
“Winning is one thing that he loves more than himself,” J Dub confided.
“We know that he’s an adversary that will put up a fight,” Booker admitted.
“I’m in this deep enough. If I have to pick sides then I might as well be on your side. Your pockets are deeper than his,” J Dub rationalized.
Booker’s smile lit up the dank room. “If there is one guy that the two of them don’t want to tick off, it’s me.”
“You mean Lew and Walter?” J Dub asked.
Booker nodded his head. “I can make life miserable for the two of them for a long time running,” Booker disclosed. “We’re not going anywhere. If things don’t happen this year, then there is always a later date.”
“How can I help you?” J Dub volunteered.
“I work for the government. Just cooperate and do as you’re told,” Booker stated. “I’ve already said more than I should have.”
“What happens if he finds out?” J Dub pried.
Booker raised his eyebrows and grinned. “He’ll have enough to worry about from us. I’m pretty good at keeping the pressure on and demanding specific answers. Just remember I won’t be able to talk about the investigation. Don’t ask me any questions about it.”
“So I’ll be in the dark as to what you’re doing?” J Dub solicited a response.
Once again Booker nodded as the two men got up and walked away from their corner table. They opened the door from the lounge to the bowling alley. The sound of pins rattling was heard in the background. “It will be a private matter between the IRS and a taxpayer. Remember not to ask me any questions about it,” Booker reiterated. The shook hands and headed for the exit.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
A few days later . . .
Booker and Hayden from the Criminal Investigative Division of the IRS as well as Ellie Hackett and Peter Dooley from the U.S. Attorney’s Office met in a conference room adjacent to Ellie’s office. Hayden had been assigned to do the forensic accounting on the books for Prairie Winds Golf Course.
“My pleasure,” mumbled Hayden as he shook outstretched hands.
“You’ll find Daniel here to be a top-notch tax accounting expert, folks. He’s handled everything from small business to corporations to mid-level drug dealers. If there is a scam, he’ll find it,” boasted Booker.
Ellie leaned over to Dooley and whispered, “I’m surprised he’s not wearing a pocket protector. Good Lord, did he say his name was Poindexter?” Dooley smirked, but knew they were in good hands with their tax expert.
“Okay, gentlemen, shall we get down to brass tacks as they say?” Peter Dooley was the typical All-American boy that played his cards right and landed a job in the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He was bright, articulate, meticulous, and perfectly groomed. As a prosecutor he had it all going for him in the courtroom and even earned the nickname of ‘Bulldog’ for his tenacity.
Most Americans have contact with the IRS through their annual filing on April 15th. Taxes are paid and another fiscal year starts. A select few are audited and have to deal with any errors and omissions that may have occurred with their filing.
Each year approximately three thousand taxpayers in the United States come under investigation by the Criminal Investigative Division of the IRS. The CID goes after those taxpayers that may have committed much more serious crimes involving violations of the Internal Revenue Code. In other words, they go after the taxpayers that they suspect are intentionally cheating the government out of taxes through tax fraud.
The CID investigates the various taxpayers and determines if there is enough evidence to recommend prosecution. They work closely with the U. S. Attorney’s office which is responsible for the actual prosecution of the criminal. It was no surprise that these four people met early on to talk about the preliminary findings in this investigation.
“What did your analysis show?” Ellie asked Hayden.
“Zerrmann took a little more than two million over the years,” Hayden confirmed. He had meticulously gone through each item on the financial statements and had reviewed the tax returns.
“My breakdown shows that with penalties, fines, interest, and back taxes he owes us at least four million dollars,” Booker added.
“That’s certainly a significant amount of money to go after,” Ellie conceded. “Are we sure how he did it?”
“In talking to his partner it looks as if he created an expense account to offset income. That was the machinery lease account that he talked about the other day,” Booker clarified. “In the process he did not pay self-employment taxes, corporate income tax, taxes on dividends, and social security taxes.”
“So he effectively defrauded the Social Security Administration too,” Ellie suggested.
Booker nodded his head. “It appears that way.”
“Who is Zerrmann’s accountant?” Peter asked
.
“A guy by the name of Walter Hancock,” Hayden replied.
“Do we know how long he has been doing the books?” Peter inquired.
“Since the corporation was formed,” Hayden said.
Ellie looked at the massive amount of paperwork that was spread across the conference table. She stared out the window at the birds that were perched on a nearby power line. Their bloated breasts signified the November chill that was in the air. “Four million dollars is a lot of money to go after. It certainly is worth the time and effort.”
“Are you kidding?” Booker asked incredulously. “I’ve gone after people before for less than a thousand dollars!”
“What I was getting at, is that we know how much an investigation of this magnitude is going to cost. I want to be able to justify whatever expense we might incur against the possible monetary decision that we might stand to gain,” Ellie said as she backpedaled a little.
“It all depends on if he folds his tent,” Booker interjected. “We need to get one of them to talk and admit to what they’ve done.”
“The odds are not good that Zerrmann will cooperate,” Ellie suggested before raising a question. “What about the accountant?”
“He’s the weakest link of the two. Your guess is as good as mine as to whether or not he will assist us,” Booker rationalized.
“We don’t stand to get anything from him. If it comes down to it we can offer him some immunity,” Ellie thought out loud.
“Let’s see how the events play out before we get to that stage,” Booker stated.
Ellie posed a question to Peter. “Do we stand a chance of winning this case in court?”
“Maybe. We’ll have to wait until all of the evidence comes in,” Peter deadpanned.
“Our hands are tied. It’s up to you,” Booker said to Ellie. “We can’t go forward until you decide to pull the strings.”
She was unmistakably at a crossroads. She wanted Zerrmann badly. Yet, she also knew that the investigation would be costly. Tax evasion was a tough crime to prove. The evidence would have to show that the two targets of the investigation had conspired to evade taxes. Her past experience with Zerrmann had indicated that he was going to hire the best criminal defense tax attorney that money could afford. She knew that he would say nothing. In the end it was going to come down to whether or not one of them squealed on the other. The government’s chance of victory on a circumstantial case was not going to be nearly as great. Ellie knew that she was going to eventually need one of them to talk.