I flipped through the papers, recognizing the same bills and estimations Jason had shown me in his office a few days. And then the bank statement that showed several deposits from the company that fit the excess on the billing statements of two of the bills.
I wondered whom it belonged to. The name had been redacted.
“I’d like you to take a look and explain to me what all that stuff means.”
He smiled again, an almost charming smile that was also a little self-deprecating.
“Well, these estimates show how much the project should have cost, based on the price of materials, the billboards the material would be used for, labor, and all the other little things that go into these projects. And the bills are what the client was billed after the work was finished.”
“Is there always such a huge discrepancy between the two?”
“No. The final bill is almost always less than the higher estimate, but higher than the lower. That’s why we do three estimates, so that the client will be aware of the high end, but relieved when it comes in lower.”
The detective nodded. “That’s sound business practice.”
“These bills are off because someone charged for too many billboards and more supplies than they should have. It’s a simple mistake that should have been caught by the accounting department when the creative team sent their receipts down. Normally, in cases like this, the client would have asked for more billboards and that’s why there would be a discrepancy. But when that happens, the creative team normally sends an amended order to us so that we can adjust the estimate.”
“Did that happen in these cases?”
I looked at the bills again, noting the clients. “I don’t know. I’m not the only accounting assistant, but I don’t think so.”
“And the deposits marked on the bank statements?”
“Fit exactly the difference between the estimates and the bills. In fact”—I taped my fingers against one deposit—“this shows the difference is such that the bill should have been lower than the lowest estimate if it had been presented to the client properly. That’s probably because the billboard company we use often offers a discount for a certain number of billboards used in a single month.”
“You pass that savings on to the client?”
I nodded. “Mr. Brooks prefers to do things that way.”
Detective Grant nodded again. “Can I ask you to walk me through the entire process? How do the accountants arrive at the billing amount? Who oversees the process?”
“Of course.”
As I began walking him through what my department did every day, he took notes on a small pad of paper. I’d never had to explain my job to anyone before. It seemed so odd to hear it laid out like that, and it made me think of all the ways in which the process made it too easy for someone to take advantage of it. I could even see how this theft had taken place.
And I explained it to the detective.
“Each department head and creative team is given an expense account to pay for dinners with clients, travel expenses, and other job-related things. Each account has a set amount in it, deposited at the beginning of each quarter. Those accounts require for the employee to submit receipts. If they spend all the money in a said quarter, great, things come out even. If they have an excess, they are given a bonus in their final check for that quarter. If they go over, that much is taken from the following quarter’s allowance.”
“Okay,” the detective said, nodding slowly.
“The creative teams also get a bonus each quarter for the number of new clients they bring in, the number of projects they bring in under the lowest estimate, and a few other small things. This also includes the supervisor of the creative department—because that is the heart of the company.”
He nodded again. “Continue.”
“The team that often comes in over the estimates, however, does not get this bonus. In fact, the excess is sometimes taken from their account, depending on the reasons for the excess.”
I sat back a little, thinking about Jason. I wondered what he would think if he was sitting here, listening to me explain this to a stranger.
“The system we use is top of the line. But like any software, it has its vulnerabilities. One of those is the ability to confuse it when it comes to recognizing a deficit and an excess. If you submit a bill and a list of receipts at the same time that come to about the same amount, the software could place the balance of the impacted accounts on the wrong side.”
The detective shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”
I closed the file folder on my lap and leaned forward a little, looking the detective in the eye.
“Someone who is aware of this flaw could, for example, submit receipts for the creative team’s expenses along with the receipts for the project—and if they come to almost the same amount, it will cause an excess in one account and a deficit in another, so the software will want to make them either both excess or deficit. That’s when the accountant must pay attention and make the proper correction. But, in these cases, the accountant either wasn’t paying attention or missed it intentionally. So, the final bill was much larger than it should have been—excess—and the expense account was not reduced, but was increased by the amount of the receipts.”
“But I thought deposits into those accounts were only made at the beginning of the quarter.”
“They are. But the software would want to balance everything out. And the software doesn’t know it’s only supposed to make deposits at the beginning of the quarter. That’s where the accountant comes in. However, the person working these accounts clearly missed it.”
“But how did the money end up in the person’s account?”
“Each person attached to an expense account has a debit card connected to the account. It’s simple to make a payment to themselves from the account. Happens all the time. When someone accidentally uses the wrong card, or whatever, they’re allowed to pay themselves back. They just have to have a receipt for it. But, in this case, the money shouldn’t have been there in the first place, so if they removed it immediately, no one would ask questions until the end of the year when the statements for each account is reviewed. And, even then, it might not be noticed, especially if someone in accounting was in on it and missed the mistake in the first place.”
“So, you’re telling me that someone in the accounting department had to be in on this with the thief?”
I nodded. “Had to have been. This is a well-known flaw of the software. People in my department make jokes about it. All the accountants would have known to look out for it. I don’t see how they could have missed it.”
Detective Grant was about to say something, but his cell phone buzzed. He tugged it out of his pocket, apologizing as he stood and wandered near the door to answer it. I opened the file folder again, staring at the numbers on the bank statement. I found myself wondering if the head of the accounting department, Mr. Fredericks, could have had something to do with all of this. He was fired the day after the head of the creative department was fired. And the way the detective was talking, there had to be two people involved.
And a lot of money. If the third theft had been allowed to go through, the company would have been out nearly a hundred thousand dollars. That was a lot of money, five, six times what should have been available in the expense account given to the department heads and creative teams. Someone should have noticed such a large deposit into an expense account—even if they missed the system flaw. It should have been noticed. If not by the accountant working the receipts, then by the supervisor. It almost had to be the department head who was in on this because he was the only one who could have made the evidence disappear from the system and keep others from seeing what had happened. Not everyone in my department was corrupt. At least, I assumed not. And it would take more than one person to turn a blind eye if the evidence remained in the computer.
“Your boss is here,” Detective Grant said, some amusement
in his voice.
“My boss?”
I was picturing Mrs. Constantine, my direct supervisor. She didn’t particularly like me because I was late much too often and I’d been called up to the top floor twice in the last three days—and that made her suspicious, especially in the aftermath of Mr. Fredericks’ dismissal. So I couldn’t imagine why she would be here.
But then the detective clarified.
“Mr. Brooks. Apparently, he’s under the mistaken impression that you were arrested and he’s making quite a fuss at the front desk.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I tried to imagine Jason arguing with the desk sergeant, but when I did, I imagined him as he had been last night, angry with me for a moment before he became passionate, pressing me up against a brick wall and…well, and then.
“I think we’re done here,” Detective Grant said. “I’ll walk you out to the lobby.”
I handed him back the file folder and we left, walking side by side down the dirty hallway.
“I assume you had your own accountants look at this already,” I said.
He nodded. “We did.”
“Why ask me to look at it? It’s not like I’m high on the hierarchy in the department.”
“That’s why we asked you. Our accountants said that someone in a higher position could be involved, but someone in your role unlikely has the access to the software program needed to pull something like this off. Plus, your name was on one of the estimates, so we knew you would be familiar with enough of it that you might have new information. Which you did.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
He pushed through a heavy door at the end of the hallway, and I could hear Jason’s voice.
“You can’t just walk into my building and arrest my employees!”
He was angry, his face reddened with emotion.
“Sir, if you would just—”
“I’ve got it,” Detective Grant said to the desk sergeant as he approached Jason. “I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding,” he said, touching Jason’s shoulder to encourage him to turn and see me standing just a few feet to his left. “Ms. Forman was not arrested. We just needed to ask her a few questions.”
The relief on Jason’s face was nearly palpable. I smiled softly, as much to reassure him as to convey my own reaction to his. It was nice to know that he cared enough to be that relieved to see me. On some level, I still couldn’t believe he even knew my name, let alone wanted to spend time with me. It made me feel more than special. It made me feel wanted.
Jason’s eyes moved slowly over me for a long moment. Then he turned and focused on Detective Grant.
“Are you the one handling the theft at my company?”
Detective Grant inclined his head. “We are still investigating. But we hope to go to the DA this afternoon and he’ll contact you after that.”
“Thank you.”
Jason turned to me and gestured for me to head out the door. As we approached it, however, it opened and Frank Thomas walked in with a couple of guys in suits. Lawyers, I assumed. They just had that look about them.
Frank looked at Jason. At first his eyes narrowed with something much deeper than simple anger. And then they began to dance with sinister amusement.
“That was some picture on the internet this morning, Jason,” he said. “I’m sure Mommy and Daddy found it illuminating.”
Jason pressed his hand to the small of my back and guided me around Frank. However, Frank wasn’t going to be ignored. He grabbed Jason’s arm and tugged him close, whispering something in his ear that I couldn’t hear. But I felt the tension rock through his body and saw the tightness on his face, so I knew it wasn’t a friendly comment. Then Frank laughed, as Jason continued to guide me outside.
We didn’t speak as we made our way to the parking lot. Jason helped me into the passenger seat, slamming the door a little too hard before moving around and gunning the engine as he started the car. We moved into traffic quicker than we should have—especially sitting across from a police station—and maneuvered through the streets as if we were running a race. I was afraid to look at him, let alone ask him what Frank had said. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight and his lips pursed as he stared ahead.
But when we pulled into the parking garage below the office building and slid into his parking spot, he shut off the engine and turned to me, cradling my face gently between both his hands.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“What did they want with you?”
I shrugged. I wanted to move into him; I wanted to press my forehead to his shoulder and forget about the entire morning. “They asked me about the same estimates and bills you showed me in your office the other day.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really. I explained to them how our process works and the flaw in the software—”
“Flaw in the software?”
My eyebrows rose. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head. So I explained it to him the same way I had the detective. The tension filled his face again with every word that fell from my lips. He cursed when I was done, even though his hands were still gently holding my face, his thumbs caressing the curve of my jaw.
“They’re gonna go after Fredericks next.”
I nodded.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Everyone in accounting. I don’t know who else.”
He groaned as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I can’t believe I’ve been such a blind fool about my own company.”
“It’s not your fault if your department heads aren’t reporting to you properly.”
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have been so complacent with Frank. I knew he was screwing up, but I felt like I owed him something.”
“I’m sorry.”
He groaned again before pressing his lips to mine. I moved into him, opening to his touch with the readiness of a starving man welcoming the first bite of a steak. I slid my hand over his chest, my fingers playing with the gap between buttons, my skin barely grazing his. He smelled so good, felt so good. I wanted to crawl into his lap and forget everything that was happening around us. I was pretty sure he wanted the same thing.
His hand slid down over my hip, his palm pressing against the side of my ass for just a moment, then moved lower down, sliding under the hem of my skirt. My thighs loosened at his touch, ready to give him access to everything he wanted at a second’s notice. But his hand stopped moving even as he pressed his lips even harder against mine for a brief moment.
“There’s something you should know,” he said slightly breathlessly.
“What?”
He hesitated, his lips brushing mine again. And then he tugged his phone out of his hip pocket and pulled up something on the internet.
I didn’t understand what it was I was looking at with my first glance. But then I recognized the shape of his car, the angles of his face. I sat back and held the phone for a long moment, studying the look of ecstasy on his face in a picture that I finally understood had been taken the night before—outside the bar where I worked—a picture of the two of us making love in the backseat of this very car.
“Who took this?”
“I don’t know. I suspect Frank had something to do with it, but I can’t really prove it.”
“Why?”
Jason took the phone from me and slid it back into his pocket. “He’s angry. He wants to hurt me, and he knows that damaging my reputation won’t only hurt me, but it’ll hurt my family.”
“But this is 2016,” I said. “How damaging can a photo like that be to you and your family?”
“You’d be surprised. Most of my parents’ friends and business contacts are ultra-conservative. They see something like this, and then they begin to think my parents can’t control their children. Then they think that if they can’t control their own family, how good will they be at controlling their business in
terests? And then it snowballs from there.”
He sat back in the driver’s seat and dragged his fingers through his hair. “My brother once got arrested for smarting off to a cop during a traffic stop. Even though the charges were dropped and everything smoothed over, a few of my father’s business associates turned their backs on him and he lost a few million in revenue that year.”
“Really?”
He glanced at me. “And I’m the good brother, so this…I don’t know what kind of consequences it’ll have for my parents. But I know it could lose a few clients for JB Graphics. No family-based business is going to want to do business with someone who can’t control himself in public.”
“But this was taken out of context.”
“Was it?” He turned into me and stole a kiss. Then he pressed his forehead to mine for a long moment, a sigh finally escaping his lips. “I have to make this go away.”
“What can I do?”
He pulled back just enough so that I could see his eyes. “I was going to ask you this anyway, but…my parents raise money for this community center they sponsor and tonight is this silent auction. I’m supposed to preside over it. I thought that if I were to show up with a respectable girl, it might smooth a few ruffled feathers.”
“I’m supposed to work at the bar tonight, but I can call in a favor with one of the other girls.”
“I’d really appreciate it,” he said with a soft smile.
At that moment, I would have done just about anything to keep that smile shining on me. I just nodded because I was a little breathless, a little incapable of making my mind form one, single, coherent thought. And then he kissed me, and all thought just disappeared like a wisp of smoke.
We moved into each other for a long moment, his hand sliding right back under my skirt. And then he slowly, almost reluctantly, moved away.
“We should go in before we present any more photo opportunities for Frank’s friends.”
He walked me to the main elevator banks and held my hand until the last second, our finger tips lingering in that way that made me sick to my stomach when I saw other people doing it, but which made my heart skip a few beats when he did it. When the elevator doors opened on the accounting floor, there was still a smile glued to my lips. But it began to fade as I felt everyone staring at me, openly wondering how I’d managed to be released from police custody so quickly.
SEAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 3) Page 60