1 To Catch a Bad Guy

by Marie Astor

  “So that’s it – that’s your final offer?”

  “It is. And I dare say that it’s a damn good one. Look, Janet, I know that I’m no hero in your book, but Jon Bostoff is a crook, and Emperial’s owner, David Muller, is an even bigger crook. The only reason we went after Bostoff was to get to Muller. We need to prove that the two have been operating a coordinated market manipulation scheme, and then we will be able to get the whole gang.”

  “What about Creaton, Rigel, Gemini, and Sphinx?” Janet rattled off the other hedge funds that were prominent clients of Bostoff.

  “Them too, but they are small fish compared to Emperial. Emperial is running the shots. You worked for the DA’s office. You used to catch the bad guys. I imagine it would not be that difficult for you to get back into the game again.”

  “I never pretended to be someone I was not, and I never snuck behind people’s backs.”

  Dean nodded. “I guess I’ve earned that one. Look, I know you must hate my guts right now. I wish things could be different, but they’re not. Help me with the case, and I promise you that your employment record will remain unmarred. The same goes for Lisa.”

  “Are you going to bring her in on the case?”

  “Of course not. She’s too close to Bostoff. Her loyalties are obvious. It goes without saying that you must not tell Lisa or anyone at Bostoff about your involvement in the investigation. If you do, the deal is off, and you’ll be added to the suspects list for obstructing the investigation.”

  “Gee, thanks for the warning.” Janet dropped her face into her hands. How was she supposed to go on sneaking behind Lisa’s back for weeks to come and live with herself?

  “Janet, I know it’s hard, but you’re getting a pretty good deal. Neither you nor your friend will be implicated in the investigation.”

  “Lisa got me a job at Bostoff in the first place, and this is how you want me to repay her? By sneaking around behind her back while her fiancé could face serious legal action against him?”

  “I never said this would be easy, but let’s evaluate the facts. For one thing, if Lisa weren’t such a dingbat, she wouldn’t be working at Bostoff in the first place. You were there for only a few weeks and you instantly saw that things were off, so really, it’s because of her that you’re stuck in this mess in the first place. And as for Paul – he’s a nice enough guy from what I’ve seen of him, but he doesn’t have the backbone to stand up to his father or brother, and sooner or later one pays the price for being a pushover.”

  “You’ve got an explanation for everything, haven’t you?” Janet slouched in resignation. How easy it was for Dean to justify betrayal, but then what did she expect from a man who clearly had no moral principles?

  “We could argue for hours, but I didn’t come here to argue. I came here to ask you if you were on board. Are you on board?”

  “Yes,” Janet gave the only reply she had the option to give.

  “Good. Moving on to step number two – developing a game plan.”

  “I thought you’d never get to that part,” Janet could not resist poking at Dean’s smugness. If Mr. In-Control had all the answers, then why did he ask for her help? Because he needed her, that’s why, so he’d better get used to not being the boss with her. “These are the trade blotters from last week.” Janet pointed to the reports she had laid out on the table prior to Dean’s arrival. “There is a clear pattern of orders from the Impala Group: the stocks they targeted dropped in price significantly. So far, the most noticeable impact has been on Date Magic, a recent IPO that started trading at thirty-five dollars, but closed at twelve dollars today.”

  “Let’s see here.” Dean punched a few keystrokes on his laptop. “Date Magic CEO, Andrew Foley…” He stared at Janet. “He wouldn’t by any chance be related to Lisa Foley?”

  “You never miss a thing, do you? He’s her cousin.”

  “Nature of my job. Why would Jon Bostoff want to manipulate his brother’s fiancée’s cousin’s company stock?” Dean shook his head. “That was a mouthful, but do you get my drift? I think this means that Jon Bostoff is merely taking orders from Impala; he’s not the brains behind the operation. He didn’t even bother to do the homework to see what stocks were being targeted.”

  Janet nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.” And indeed she had not. Well, at least things were starting to look a little less dire. Bostoff taking fraudulent orders was still bad, but it was not nearly as bad as originating the orders.

  “Now all we need is to find out who’s behind the Impala group, and we’ve got our case.”

  “Something tells me that Impala and Emperial are connected – if only from the fact that orders from Emperial have dropped to almost nothing and orders from Impala keep pouring in.”

  “Yes, well, a mere coincidence is not going to help us. We need evidence.”

  “I’ve looked through Bostoff’s legal files – nothing there. I bet Tom Wyman has all the answers we need. If only we could get to his files,” Janet added wistfully. “But he guards his laptop like a hawk.”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “We’ve got to. Wyman handles all of Bostoff’s legal affairs. Lisa doesn’t know a damn thing, and frankly, I don’t get to do much either. Wyman keeps it all under control. But it was not always like that….”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wyman’s predecessor, Fred Rossingram, used to be the general counsel for Bostoff Securities before Jon Bostoff started employing Wyman’s services. I found several of Rossingram’s memos on the Legal drive. The last one was dated right about the time that Jon Bostoff took over the business for his father.”

  “Shared Legal drive,” Dean mused. “I missed that one.”

  “I guess you can’t sift through everything,” Janet could not resist jabbing him.

  “Well, then, we’ve got to pay Fred Rossingram a visit.”

  “How do you propose we do that? I don’t know anything about the man besides his name.”

  “In the age of the Internet, no search is insurmountable.” Dean reached for his laptop. After a few moments of his fingers typing feverishly, he exclaimed triumphantly. “Found him.” Dean turned the laptop screen towards Janet.

  “Fred Rossingram – Estates and Wills, Prenuptial Agreements and Divorces,” Janet read. “Must be a big change from being a general counsel of Bostoff Securities,” Janet observed, noting Rossingram’s address, which was all the way on York Avenue.

  “I think we should pay the old man a visit.”

  “How do you know he is old, and under what pretext are we going to visit him?”

  “The first one is easy.” Dean flipped to the About Us section of Rossingram’s website, showing a picture of a gray-haired man in horn-rimmed glasses. “We’ll just have to come up with a pretext to visit him.” Dean drummed his fingers against his chin. “We’ll say that we need a prenuptial agreement.”

  “Can’t you think of a better cover-up?”

  “This one is perfect: a nice young couple seeking an old man’s advice – just the thing to drop his guard.”

  “But we’d be imposters. Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I don’t see anything illegal about inquiring about drafting a prenuptial agreement.”

  “You’re the boss.” Janet leaned back against the cushions of her couch, feeling as though she had sunk into a deranged thriller movie. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “By all means.”

  “Do all Treasury investigators operate by such unorthodox means?”

  “Nope – just me, but then I’m not your average investigator.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “If we solve this case, I promise I’ll tell you.”

  Janet shrugged. She already knew the answer anyway: extreme arrogance and smugness. Oh, and deep blue eyes, a strong chin, well-defined nose, and broad shoulders… Snap out of it, she kicked herself. Dean Snider was the enemy, and one could not lose one’s guard around the en
emy.

  Dean looked at his watch. “I think that’s it for tonight. I’m glad to see that we’re making progress already. I’ll see you tomorrow: same time, same place?”

  “You know the address.”

  “Janet, if we are to solve this case, we’ve got to move fast. My boss gave me an extension to a three week deadline, and week one started today.”

  “I got it. I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s a girl. It’s good to have you on my team, Janet Maple.”

  “Good night.” Janet headed for the foyer and held the door open for Dean. He would not fish any compliments out of her.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Back at his apartment, Dennis pulled a beer out of his fridge and gulped down half a bottle with satisfaction. Finally, he was getting somewhere. Granted, he had assembled most of the picture already, but having Janet help him on the case made things easier. Two heads worked better than one, but in this case, it was Janet’s access to the trading blotters that had sped up the process. Sure, Dennis had wired her computer, but that only gave him access to her emails and files that she created and saved. Janet had told him that the trading blotters were saved on the shared drive. She was opening up the reports without saving them to her computer and printing them, which was why the tracking software had missed the files.

  Anyhow, Dennis was glad that Janet had agreed to help him. He was even gladder that he had been able to talk his boss into granting protection for her. Ham Kirk had been most cantankerous about the notion, but he finally had caved in, telling Dennis that his head was on the line. Well, Dennis Walker was not used to failure, and he was not about to start now.

  Chapter 26

  Janet exited the cab on York Avenue and Ninetieth Street. A sign on the corner building with ground floor offices read, Fred Rossingram – Suite 1A. She looked around, searching for Dean. They had an appointment with Rossingram at six o’clock; it was six o’clock on the dot. The sound of hurried footsteps made her turn around. Dean was walking toward her. He had his work clothes on – yet another variation of a suit that was two sizes too big for him.

  “Sorry, I got held up at work.”

  “Let me guess, another nincompoop who could not turn on his computer?” Janet felt a pang of sadness, remembering how Dean’s jokes about his job used to make her smile when she had actually thought that IT Specialist was his real job and that his interest in her was genuine.

  “You hit the nail right on the head. Shall we?” Dean offered his arm to her.

  “You know, it’s not too late to call the whole thing off. It has disaster written all over it. If Rossingram’s got at least half a brain, he’s bound to see right through us.”

  “And what makes you say that?” Dean put his hands on either side of Janet’s shoulders, steering her toward the glass door of the building, in which she could see their reflection. He leaned in closer to her. “I think that we look compelling as a couple.”

  Janet felt her face flush. Dean was kidding, of course, but for a moment, the possibility had crept into her thoughts.

  “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

  “That’s my girl.” Dean pressed the intercom button. The door buzzed open, and together, they walked into the building lobby.

  Rossingram’s office was on the ground floor to the right. Janet felt nervous jolts run through her body as Dean rang the doorbell. She made a mental tally of their story to Rossingram. They were an engaged couple on the brink of tying the knot, and they needed a prenuptial agreement. Nothing fancy, just the bare bones to protect Dean’s inheritance. At least she was glad that Dean had spared her the role of the rich heiress. There was no way she could have carried off that charade. It was Dean’s idea, so let him do the crazy bit. Yet, mixed in with her nervousness, there was excitement too. She had never done anything like this, and if it had not been for Dean, she probably never would.

  “Good afternoon.” A man in a tweed jacket and wool slacks opened the door. He was in his mid to late sixties, with gray, slightly balding hair. He had pudgy cheeks, a gray mustache and horn-rimmed glasses. “Jeff Amble and Jacky Stein?”

  Janet blinked, remembering the pseudonyms Dean had come up with for their visit to Rossingram.

  Holding her arm at the elbow, Dean nodded. “That’s us.”

  “Come on in.” Rossingram stood by the door. “This way, please.”

  The office consisted of two rooms: a foyer with a receptionist desk and a room in the back that contained Rossingram’s desk and law reference books.

  “Please have a seat.” Rossingram motioned to two chairs that stood opposite his desk, as he took a seat in the worn swiveling chair behind his desk. “So, I understand that you are looking to draft a prenuptial agreement?”

  “Correct.” Dean patted Janet’s hand, sending shivers up her spine. “It’s my family. They are very conservative. I told Jacky that I trusted her completely, but you see, my mother will not have it any other way. You do understand, honey?” Dean cooed at Janet, and it took all of her self-control not to burst into laughter. What was this guy doing working for the Treasury? His calling was on Broadway.

  “Yes, dear.” Janet looked at Dean with what she hoped was convincing affection. “You know that I do.”

  “Good.” Dean exhaled as though an incredible weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  “Very well.” Rossingram eyed them curiously. “I am going to need some information about your employment and assets. Have you brought the paperwork I’ve asked you to complete?”

  “Yes.” Dean put a manila folder on Rossingram’s desk. “Everything is in there.”

  “Let’s have a look.” His expression perfunctory, Rossingram began reviewing the files. When he reached the part about Janet, or Jacky Stein, as Dean had decided to name her, Rossingram’s expression clouded. “You work for Bostoff Securities?” He peered at Janet over the rim of his glasses.

  “Yes.” Janet swallowed. Her throat had suddenly gone dry under Rossingram’s piercing gaze.

  “Janet recently joined their legal department,” said Dean. “Of course, I keep telling her that there’s no need for her to work, but she is so independent,” Dean exclaimed with the authentic disdain of someone who never had the need to work. “But all of this is going to change once we get married, right, honey?”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Janet retorted, aware that her acting was nowhere near on par with Dean’s. “Now is not the time to discuss it.” She blushed. This was a natural reaction, but she hoped that it would add credibility to her words.

  “There, there.” Dean took her hand and pressed it to his lips – an unnecessary action in Janet’s opinion, but apparently, the gesture produced the desired effect on Rossingram, as the lawyer looked at Janet with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

  “Young lady, and may I add that I use the term in the most endearing sense of the word – I’ve got a daughter of about your age, Ms. Stein.” Rossingram cleared his throat. “I suggest that you listen to your fiancé and quit your employment at Bostoff Securities immediately.”

  “Why would you say that?” Janet asked, prompted by the pressure of Dean’s fingers on her hand.

  “That place is a boiler room,” Rossingram snapped, halting immediately, as though frightened by his own blunt admission. “I have not spoken about this matter to anyone for years, but I suppose there is no harm in me telling you. The two of you seem like such a nice couple… I was the general counsel of Bostoff Securities for almost twenty years. Hank Bostoff and I were good friends, but when his son, Jon, took over, everything changed. Bostoff had been one of the most respected shops on the street for years, but the markets began to change, and the margins started to dip. Agency business and floor trading, which was where Bostoff Securities used to get the majority of its revenue from, were no longer what they used to be. And the fact that Hank’s wife passed away didn’t help the matter either. Slowly, Hank began to give more and more authority to Jon, and the
business of Bostoff Securities began to change. Jon started signing shady hedge funds that Hank would have never let within two feet of the front door. I tried to reason with Jon, but he would not listen to me. Instead, he cut me out of the loop completely, contracting all the legal matters out to Ridley Simpson law firm. I believe the fella’s name was Tom Wyman…”

  At Rossingram’s mention of Wyman, Janet nearly jumped out of her seat, but was steadied by the touch of Dean’s hand. Thankfully, Rossingram was too engrossed in his own memories to notice her reaction.

  “I tried talking to Hank, but he waved me off, saying that we were too old to understand the new markets, and that it was time for him to pass the business over to his sons, Jon and Paul. But Jon was the one running everything. Paul’s involvement was limited to marketing and PR. He did not really have a head for business.” Rossingram took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It was a difficult decision to make. Over the years, I had come to think of Hank Bostoff as a friend, but there was nothing I could have done to help him. Jon had taken over completely, so I resigned. Now, I do estate and prenup work to keep myself busy.”

  “This sounds like a detective novel!” Dean exclaimed. “What exactly was going on at this firm while you were there?”

  “I couldn’t tell you the specifics, as Jon had cut me out of the loop at the outset. I bet the lawyers at Ridley Simpson have the whole picture, though. Jon started using them once I told him that I didn’t agree with his ‘business model.’ He knew that I would tell Hank about the kind of business he was bringing into the firm, which I did, only Hank didn’t listen to me…”

  “So, Jon Bostoff outsourced everything to Ridley Simpson law firm?” Dean prodded.

  “Yes. I’m sure there’s another reason why he did it. If Bostoff Securities were ever to come under an investigation, attorney/client privilege would be impenetrable, unless waived by Bostoff. It’s much easier to pressure a firm into disclosing its communications with the internal counsel, versus outside law firm.” Rossingram shook his head. “I sure hope it will not get to that. I would hate for Hank to see his life’s work covered in shame… I wish I could have helped, but Hank would not listen to me, and with the kinds of clients Jon was signing on, I knew that nothing good would come out of it, so I resigned, and I advise the same to your fiancée.”