by T. S. Hill
Arriving early, I caught Mrs. Baker at the rear entrance straightening and dusting the foyer. She informed me that she was sure that Al meant for all of our needs to be met while we were there. If we wanted to eat in the main house with them that would be his wishes, but if we needed to eat in the guest house due to the intensity of our work, that Al would also understand that. When Tony had told us last night to just let him know of any of our wants and needs, he was serious, as that was Al’s exact directions to him, to see that all of our needs and wants were fulfilled. If we had any special requests we were to just let Tony know.
I told Mrs. Baker to tell Tony to just use his best judgement and keep us fed, and as far as I was concerned, I would like for us to take our meals in the main house. That would give us breaks away from the work, and an opportunity to report and interface with Al, as well as socialize with the three of them, outside of our work, which at best, is mundane. There was no point in getting cabin fever in Al Longworth’s guest house, when there were three perfectly interesting people there to interface with periodically.
It wasn’t long before Al appeared for our lunch, just after Tony burst into the kitchen with a bustle and two arms full of grocery bags.
“What’s for lunch?”, Al blurted loudly, before even getting all the way through the doorway.
“We’re having a shrimp salad, with a fine gouda and captain’s wafers on the side that I made myself. And I have a nice Riesling chilled.”, Tony replied.
“Skip the wine and bring us water. We’re working people and mostly don’t drink until after five.”, Al fired back him. “And what did you make yourself, Tony, the gouda cheese or the crackers?”
“The captain’s wafer’s sir.”, Tony replied.
“Yeah, I hadn’t seen any cows or goats out on the back forty lately.”, Al said chuckling.
“Actually, Tagg, if you want the wine, go ahead.”, Al relented. “I just can’t stomach it this early in the day. Not the white stuff anyway, and it makes me sleepy.”
“I’ll have the water too.”, I said. But if you’ve a spare bottle of scotch that you’d like to send back to the guest house, for late evenings when I can’t sleep for worrying over your problems, I wouldn’t turn that down.”
“I told you, Tagg, whatever you need to get this done.”, he said smiling. But, then his face turned dark. “But get it done!” Just as quickly, his face brightened again. “Mrs. Baker when you, or Tony, next go out to the guest house, please take Tagg a couple of bottles of my good stuff.” Then he turned to Tony, “Tony old boy, keep trying, you may get some sophistication in this house before your done here. It took Mrs. Baker near twenty years, to just get some civilization in here! I do appreciate your efforts son, I just ain’t going to drink wine for lunch! I’d sleep all afternoon, and be up all night!” Then Al started his signature laugh again, sitting down at the table.
“Tagg,”, he addressed me. “Did you get the ladies dresses taken care of?”
“Shoes and all, Al!”, I responded.
“Tony says that he can drive us, and my tux is being brought over from the cleaners, so we should be set to go. Tony, is the limo gassed up?”
“You know that I never let any of your vehicles get below half of a tank sir.”, Tony replied.
“I know, I just ask out of habit, Tony, and to give you an opportunity to brag on yourself.”, Al said, still laughing. “These two are rare gems, Tagg. Of course, you’d know something about rare gems, wouldn’t you?”
“What do you mean Al?”, I asked, feeling a bit alarmed, at his talk about gems, after my conversation with Fredrick Segal.
“Those three gems that you have working with you! That is unless you’re investing in more businesses, than the fashion industry and putting veterans to back to work.”
“Yeah, we still need to talk about TIC, Al.”, I responded.
“Relax, old boy.” Al assured me. “You have nothing to worry about there, and I have a financial report to print out for you in my study, that was emailed over this morning from TIC headquarters. I think that you are going to be very pleased at your little investment company’s performance.”
“Headquarters! What kind of small investment has a helicopter and a headquarters? Al, I’ve never questioned your business sense, it’s just that sometimes your business logic doesn’t land on the same page with what most people regard as sanity.”
“Yeah, but look at who’s rich, and look at the bank accounts of all the sane people calling the rich man crazy. Now you tell me Tagg Hill, who’s crazy?” Mrs. Baker was giggling and even Tony was grinning.
“I wish I was that crazy!”, Tony quipped.”
“Don’t worry boy! You’re well on your way!”, Al shouted at him. In fact, I’d say that all three of you are well on your way! Mrs. Baker! Please, one of you, bring that shrimp salad so I can quit talking, and you good people can have some temporary peace, while I eat!” He was still laughing when Mrs. Baker set the huge bowl of shrimp salad in the center of the table, followed by Tony’s placing a tray of the wafer crackers and a plate of the gouda cheese alongside. Mrs. Baker took her seat and Tony brought bottled water to each of us.
“The same as always Tagg, take some, and pass it around.” Al said. I didn’t know whether to be worried or puzzled. I think I was both.
Chapter Three
And Now I Know
Sometimes what you don’t know won’t hurt you, and can really help you out.
After a really tasty lunch, Mrs. Baker insisted that we all try a new desert cordial that she had encountered at her bridge club a few weeks back. I think that it was the left overs that no one wanted to take home. After Al and I were in his study, he tossed the remainder of his, glass and all, into the fire place.
“My gosh Tagg!”, he had said. “That shit tasted like the worst cough medicine that I ever put in my mouth! Do you think Mrs. Baker is trying to kill me?”
“No!”, I answered. “I think that she’s trying to kill all four of us in some kind of suicide pact!” Al burst out laughing, slapping both of his hands on his desk top. Finally, after a good hearty laugh, he fell into his chair. Swiveling around, he picked up a packet of papers from the tray of his printer, and then reaching into his center desk drawer, he retrieved a stapler that he used to clip the left corner of the stack together. Then he tossed them across the desktop toward me. I studied through the pages for a few minutes, then asked him, “What the hell am I looking at here Al?”
“That’s the latest quarter’s figures for TIC. Bottom line, seventy percent of that is yours and thirty percent is mine. Nobody else has any interest.”
“And this is the forty thou that you invested for me five years ago, Al?”
“It wasn’t forty thou, and five years ago Tagg. It was a hundred even, and almost eight years ago. Or, don’t you remember? I can take sixty percent of that back if you want?”
“Set me straight Al. What happened here?”, I queried.
“It was like the usual jobs you do for me Tagg. You said, pay me what it’s worth Al. So, I low-balled you, as usual, and said forty-grand? You gave me the evil eye, and then hemmed and hawed around. As usual, I figured it was worth double my low ball, which would be eighty, but knew that you did such an excellent, and exceptional job, that you really deserved more. I didn’t want to feel guilty about it at all, so I paid you a little more than I figured that it was really worth on the market, which came to an even hundred grand. That left me with a clean conscious. Then you said for me to invest it. So, we started Taggert Investment Corporation. Just to keep my mind interested at an acceptable level, I invested thirty percent, and you invested seventy percent. The whole thing came out to around one hundred and forty-three thousand dollars.”
“It didn’t start out that way, but now, the entire thrust of the investment company is to keep as many vets employed, or financed in their own businesses, as possible. People like Ray Belcher, that you met, obviously can’t manage a business. But, he still can do
a helluva job within a narrow scope of interest. He normally does precision flights that have no tolerance of error. He hasn’t messed one up yet, even though he has scared the living hell out of a few clients.”
“Others, that we bankrolled their small businesses, and got them started, for a fair cut of the business, are paying us off royally, and getting rich in their own right. Since you weren’t drawing off anything, I just kept both of our shares reinvested in the company. Seven years, and what, nine months down the road? And now, the little booger is worth almost two mil.”
“Are you shitting me Al?”
“Not unless you suddenly became a shrimp that I ate for lunch!”, Al shot back at me.
“So, who is this Tillotson, that sent Belcher to pick us up?”, I asked.
“Jim Tillotson.”, Al responded. “He’s been the brains, and get up and go, of the whole operation, since its beginning. He sold me on the idea of betting on vets, and the rest is history.”
“Before we leave Texas, I want to meet this man!”, I stated emphatically.
“Sure thing, Tagg. Anything else you need to know about TIC?”, Al inquired.
“We’re not taking advantage of vets in anyway with this are we”
“It’s just the opposite, Tagg. We’re betting on them being successful, when nobody else is. Tillotson, says that banks, and the usual financial channels, won’t give a lot of these guys a fighting chance, due to PTSD, or physical disabilities. They don’t give that as their reason, but the fact is they just aren’t willing to take the risk. Tillotson says that if you do your due diligence before backing any of their business ventures, that you already have a leg up on other investments, because of their fighting spirit. They don’t roll over and quit like a lot of startup business owners do. The fees and percentages we charge are marginally low for the industry, or market, or ever how you want to say it. But the people who we invest with, succeed at a much higher rate than average, and the failures are few and far between. You don’t get that kind of track record out of your everyday entrepreneurial startups.”
“So, we’re doing well, just by doing the right thing?”
“I think that you could make that the corporate motto for TIC. That pretty much sums up the whole operation.”
“Al, what about the way we keep people like Ray Belcher employed? We’re making money from that?”
“Not really, Tag. We keep books on it very closely, and some years it makes a little money, but almost always the next year it loses it back. So, what we try to do, is just keep that part of the operation, more or less, breaking even. The good part is, while it doesn’t make any money, it has grown in scope, and every year we’ve been able to help a few more, otherwise, unemployed vets do meaningful work, and earn a living.”
“Al, did you read this financial yet?”
“No, I just got the email from Jim this morning, and printed it out for you. Is something wrong in there Tag?”, Al asked, looking concerned.
“I’ll say there is, Al!”, I responded, looking back down at the page that I had been reading. “With asset growth this quarter, minus the usual operating expenses, we’re looking at a net of not just almost two mil, but well over two mil. In fact, if the next quarter performs like the last three, we’ll be over the two mil mark way before end of quarter, which is the end of the year?”
“That’s correct, Tagg.”, Al replied. “The fiscal year is the calendar year. And that return doesn’t surprise me. I’m telling you, investing in businesses run by vets is good business, in more ways than one. It’s smart business! Is there anything else that you need to know, or information, or reports that I can get you about TIC?”
“Yeah, Al, in a related sort of way. My operating funds, after almost three years in the field, are getting a bit low. Is there any safe way to leverage TIC, so I can bulk up my operating capital until we wrap up this assignment?”
“Sure, I’ll advance you whatever you need against future earnings of TIC.”, Al offered.
“At what rate?”, I asked.
“Do you think that I’m going to screw you over Tagg? One percent or less. Very likely less. Nothing else is paying off right now anyway. What do you think would do it?”
“Well keeping the ladies up in the style in which they are rapidly becoming accustomed to, is costlier than I thought it would be.”
“It always is.”, Al interjected, chuckling.
But, one fifty ought to do it.”, I said.
“I’ll have a hundred and fifty thou wired to your account this afternoon.”, Al said. “What about the investment that you’re considering with Miss Almeyda?”.
“That’ll be down the road, and after we close out your business nightmares, Al. One thing at the time, right?”
“A man with three women on his arm, is telling me, one thing at a time?”, Al said, starting to laugh. “I think that you already know, that what you just said is made up of the same stuff as buffalo chips!” I didn’t respond to that comment, but did grin a bit sheepishly.
“You want a paper agreement, or is my handshake good enough?”, I asked.
“I want in on this fashion venture thing, when you get ready to launch it.”, Al said squinting his eyes at me. “You have an eye for opportunity Tagg, and that’s how I’ve made money, by betting on, or with, people who have that kind of insight.”
“I promise that you will have an opportunity to be at the table, when our launch is thought out completely, and ready to put into action. Now, do you want my signature or my hand on this loan?”
“Boy, I don’t need your signature or your handshake. Your word is good enough for me. Just don’t forget the deal, like you did the TIC investment.”, he said laughing. “You might want to write it down just for yourself though, and file it under, I forget!” He slapped me on the back, and I swear he left a whelp! “By the way, Tagg, I’ve got someone coming in this afternoon, for just a while, that I want you to meet.”
“Who’s that Al?”, I asked grimacing from his slap on the back.
“The girl friend that I mentioned earlier, and my new personal assistant, or secretary, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days.”, Al explained the best that he could. “Anyway, if you’re going to be out at the guest house, I’ll ring you up on the intercom when they get here, and you can come over and meet them. I really would like for you to meet them, Tagg.”
“Sure Al! I’ll look forward to it. Now, if there is nothing else, I need to get back, and sort out some of our paper work for Rosita to enter into our database later.”
“You go ahead boy.”, Al told me. “I’ll buzz you up when they arrive.”
An hour later, I had made significant progress into Lori’s first evidence box. I was truly impressed with the quality, and relevance, of the materials that she had stashed away, hoping to incriminate Sam Milinni, the man that she insisted on only referring to as the SOB. Now that I had come to know Lori’s personality so well, I was actually surprised that she was willing to just let it rest at SOB, instead of a string of profanities. At least it was one phrase without her favorite adjective. And, of course, fucking is Sasha’s favorite adjective also. I swear that in a former life, little Sasha had to be Lori’s little sister. Now that they had both colored their hair the same red, they even looked like sisters.
I sometimes think, that if I weren’t the one living my life, and was looking at it from someone else’s perspective, that I wouldn’t believe it. But, I am living it, and therefore, just have to accept it as it comes. My mind had started wandering, so I got up from the table to get a bottle of water, and take a bit of a break, when Al’s voice broke in over the intercom in the kitchen.
“Tagg, both of my guests are pulling up out front just now. So, come on up to the house when you get to a stopping point.” Unsure of how the intercom worked, I squinted at the intercom panel, and saw a talk button. Holding it down, I spoke at the little grid marked mic, “I’ll be right up, Al.”
“Take your time.”, Al’s
voice spoke back. “and back off from the microphone a bit next time.” I chuckled, and headed for the door.
Once again, I let myself in the back door, I didn’t encounter anyone, but peeped into the kitchen as I passed. Tony and Mrs. Baker were both there busying about.
“Hello!”, I called out.
“Oh, Tagg, hi!”, Mrs. Baker said turning around with a tray full of glasses of ice tea. “They’re in the front parlor. I was just about to serve this tea. Let me fix you a glass also.”, she said, setting the tray down on the kitchen table.
“Actually, I would love one.”, I told her.
“It’s Tony’s very own strawberry infused sweet tea.”, She said, pouring another ice filled tumbler full from the pitcher on the counter.
“Thank you, Mrs. Baker.”, I told her taking the glass and placing it on the tray with the other three. Then picking up the tray, I told Mrs. Baker, “You and Tony look very busy in here, I’ll take this in with me.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Tagg.”, she replied. “You know how Mr. Longworth is, about things.”
“I’ll take care of Al; you and Tony just take care of whatever it is your doing here.”
“Thank you!”, Tony responded over his shoulder. I just learned that our dinner list for tonight went from the seven that I expected, to nine now. I may as well cook for all ten place settings.” he groused.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.”, I said, taking the tray of tea through the swinging door.
When I stepped through the door of the parlor, I did not expect to see what I did. There were two bleach blonde women, both dressed in black, with black stiletto heels, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. The jewelry, and fingernail colors were different, but otherwise, they looked like they had tried to look like twins. The hair, the makeup, the clothes, all almost cookie cutter identical. Even their porcelain skin tone was identical.