by J. S. Marlo
“Unless his plane is hijacked or shot down, the observer should make an appearance sometime today.” More chuckles resonated in the room, but this time, he joined in before gesturing toward his right-hand man. “Now, Leonard, if you could please rise and introduce yourself. Again.”
The man seated at his right stood up. “I’m Leonard Hassler, the assistant returning officer. I will keep Mr. Observer occupied.”
A brazen smile tugged at Liliane’s lips, a smile that unsettled Thomas.
Steps resounded in the corridor.
“Mr. Finch?” Gloria’s silver head peeked around the doorframe. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. His name is Damien Godfrey. He says he’s from Headquarters.”
“Thanks, Gloria. Leonard and I will be right there.” Thomas dismissed the receptionist with a swat of the hand. “The rest of you, get back to work.”
Time to throw the watchdog a few bones. With any luck, the observer would choke on them.
Chapter Two
~Blood is thicker than integrity.~
She may have saved Gloria’s job, but Liliane had the uncanny feeling she’d made a dangerous and powerful enemy. Every fiber of her being warned her to consider her next move carefully.
Her private office, furnished with a metal desk, a few chairs, and a filing cabinet for which she possessed the only key, was located at the end of a dimly lit corridor nicknamed The Catacombs. Her lone neighbor consisted of Nathalie. They’d chosen the two remote offices on purpose so the loud noise coming from the revision and training rooms wouldn’t disturb them.
To safeguard her privacy, Liliane kept her door closed while she worked. To her astonishment, sounds still traveled but in more rudimentary and covert manner.
Thomas’ and Damien’s voices carried through the air ducts and exited above her head, clear as a bell.
Liliane suspected Leonard also attended the meeting, but so far the assistant returning officer hadn’t uttered a word. On the other hand, if Thomas believed he could blindside Damien with his sweet talk, he faced a rude awakening.
The men were talking about Damien’s flight and how long he had to wait to retrieve his luggage last night after the police evacuated the airport. The somewhat inaccurate but colorful account that Damien provided of the bomb squad and their sniffer dogs was entertaining, though not as entertaining as Thomas’ sympathetic remarks.
The returning officer couldn’t have cared less if the plane had crashed, and yet, he sounded so sincere and appalled by Damien’s difficulties. At this rate, Liliane would need another coffee to wash down the disgust coating her throat.
She turned on the music on her iPhone. Notes from the seventies rose into the air. The intent behind the music wasn’t to drown out the words coming from Thomas’ office but to cover the ones emanating from hers. She had the tendency to think aloud, a bad habit that could prove not only risky but also detrimental to her position.
A knock on her door diverted her attention from the objectionable request form on her desk. “Come in.”
The door opened.
“Sorry to disturb you, Liliane.” The recruitment officer, a retired schoolteacher whose little electoral black book contained more names than a dating site, took a tentative step inside. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
Amanda’s unexpected visit saved Liliane the trouble of summoning her to her office in the next ten minutes. “Sure. Close the door behind you and take a seat.”
To prevent anyone from eavesdropping, Liliane cranked up the music another notch. The door closed and Amanda pulled up a folding chair across from Liliane’s desk.
Seated at the edge of her seat with her back erect, the recruitment officer fidgeted with her hands on her lap. “I need the money to book the flight to Sininen Lake.”
Sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning, a form requesting twelve hundred and fifty dollars from the petty cash had landed on Liliane’s desk. Not on the floor, which often occurred when someone slipped a sheet under her closed door, but on top of her desk, which implied someone stepped into her office.
Aside from herself, only one other individual possessed a key to her office. Thomas Finch.
Since she kept the door of her office locked at all times during her absence, only he could have sneaked in the request form on her desk despite Amanda’s signature at the bottom.
“Let me see if I understand the exact nature of the situation, Amanda.” Liliane understood too well, but she wanted to see Amanda’s reaction as she laid the facts on the table. “We have a poll in the remote indigenous community of Sininen Lake, a community that can only be accessed by plane during the summer, right?”
The petite woman granted her a curt nod. “It’s a beautiful place to go fishing in August, Liliane, this is why I need to book the flight early.”
On Sunday afternoon, Liliane had phoned Mimi Smalltoes at her home in Sininen Lake. The indigenous woman had been on the election payroll for the past seventeen years. From what Mimi told her, Sininen Lake was more than a beautiful place, it was Fishing Heaven. Tourists paid top dollars to fly in and stay in the rustic lodges along the lake.
Hoping to put Amanda at ease, Liliane leaned back in her chair. “On Friday, you gave me the names of the two individuals scheduled to man that poll. I assume that hasn’t changed?”
Her visitor clasped her hands together and stilled. “No change. Mimi Smalltoes will be the DRO. She’s done it for the past four elections and she works as secretary at Sininen School where the polling station is located. Her daughter Agnes will be her poll clerk.”
“I see.” Mustering her best poker face, Liliane picked up the request from her desk. “If I read this correctly, you want two hundred and fifty dollars to fly Graysen Triplett and the ballot box to Sininen Lake on the Friday prior to the Monday election. Plus another two hundred and fifty dollars to fly him back with the ballot box on the following Wednesday. And then another one hundred and fifty dollars per day to pay for food and lodging. Did you know I’m not authorized to use the petty cash to pay for a twelve-hundred-and-fifty-dollar trip?”
The petty cash account consisted of fifteen hundred dollars. The returning officer wasn’t supposed to give his finance officer more than a few hundred dollars at a time, and Liliane couldn’t spend more than two hundred and fifty dollars on a single item. Nonetheless, Thomas handed her the full amount last week. Liliane suspected he wanted to ensure all the money was available to fulfill that specific request.
“I know, Liliane, but...” Amanda chewed on her lower lip as she pointed at the request form on the desk. “The plane only flies on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It’s not like we have a choice. If you enter each amount on a separate line, it’ll be fine. That’s how the former finance officer listed the expense.”
Someone had devised a clever and effective way to circumvent the rule by itemizing each component of the trip and keeping them within the allotted amount. Still, Liliane was disappointed no one at Headquarters had questioned the expenses, or its justification, during the last election.
“Out of curiosity, who was that former finance officer?” Liliane had come across a name, a woman’s name, but it didn’t ring a bell.
“Celine Norton.” The name rolled off the recruitment officer’s tongue without hesitation, suggesting she knew Celine. “She’s Thomas’ niece. I’m sure he would have hired her back if she hadn’t been on a Mediterranean cruise.”
Another family member? Her returning officer’s blatant disregard for the rules continued to astound Liliane. “To be honest with you, Amanda, I did some digging. During the last election, Graysen Triplett flew to Sininen Lake for five days, but he also worked at a polling station in town—while he was in Sininen Lake.”
Had the guy been named John Smith, Liliane might have believed it consisted of two different individuals, but not with such a unique name.
Blood drained from Amanda’s face, but she remained silent.
“While you ponder the wisd
om of telling me the truth, let me show you something else.” From the top drawer of her desk, Liliane retrieved the list of workers that Amanda recruited last week and placed it on top of the request form, facing her visitor.
“This is your current list of workers. You have Graysen Triplett working in town and flying to Sininen Lake. He must be quite an extraordinary man to be at two places, hundreds of kilometers apart, at the same time.”
A kind, soft-spoken divorced woman, Amanda liked to visit Liliane’s studio on Sundays. Liliane could have sworn her faithful patron didn’t have a single crooked bone in her body. It seemed so out of character for the petite woman to be involved in a deceitful scheme.
Money couldn’t be the motive, not when Amanda liked to remind Liliane she could afford to buy a painting every month with the generous alimony she received from her cheating ex-husband. The reason behind her patron’s strange behavior intrigued Liliane more than the details of the scheme she’d pieced together thanks to Mimi Smalltoes’ excellent memory.
Liliane couldn’t recall the names of the people she met yesterday, so she envied Mimi’s ability to remember the name of the man who delivered her the ballot box more than three years ago. A man whose name didn’t resemble Graysen Triplett.
“Nobody gets hurt, Liliane, and it’s not your money.” Amanda cast her eyes down. “Why does it matter?”
Because it’s illegal, unethical, and wrong? Because I put my signature at the bottom of the darn form every time I authorize an expense? Liliane took a deep breath to rein in her aggravation before it took possession of her mouth. “What’s so special about Roger Finch that you’re willing to risk your reputation to send him to Sininen Lake under a false name?”
Amanda’s mouth opened and closed like the fish in Sininen Lake. “He...you...it’s not...you wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand, Amanda. Thomas Finch owns a lucrative construction company, but he’s using you to give Roger a free fishing trip.” As soon as she heard the name Roger Finch coming out of Mimi’s mouth, Liliane presumed the man was related to her unscrupulous returning officer. “Who’s Roger anyway? His son? His brother? His nephew?” Same last name. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
The small window above the filing cabinet seemed to have captured her visitor’s attention, but there would be no escape, neither through the window nor the door, until Liliane uncovered the entire truth.
“Amanda?” Despite Liliane’s best effort, her patience wore thin. “Who’s Roger?”
The recruitment officer slouched in her chair. “His dad. He likes fishing.”
Amanda’s faint answer crawled into Liliane’s ears then dissipated in the music before reaching any ducts.
“His dad? Like in his father?” Keeping her voice low and even, Liliane sought a lengthier explanation. “Isn’t the old man richer than his son?”
“I know they both can afford to pay for the trip, but for Thomas it’s a game.” A despondent groan rattled Amanda’s throat. “I have to play along. My son works for his construction company. He has a young family. He can’t lose his job.”
So it’s not bribery—it’s blackmail. Liliane’s aversion for her returning officer reached a new high. “I understand your predicament, Amanda, but the game has to end. Let me make a few phone calls. I promise I’ll find a solution that won’t put your son’s job in jeopardy. In the meantime, if Thomas asks any questions, tell him I’m taking care of it. Okay?”
An invisible weight seemed to lift from the recruitment officer’s shoulders as she sprang to her feet. “Thanks, Liliane.”
~ * ~
The thought of stuffing the electoral chatterbox into a suitcase with a ticking watch, locking him up in the trunk of his rental car, and calling the bomb squad so they could blow him up as a preventive measure crossed Thomas’ mind.
He could swear Damien didn’t just like to talk, he loved to listen to himself.
In the last hour, Thomas had learned more about the man than he ever cared to know. He didn’t want to hear any more details about the observer’s turbulent flight, his delayed luggage, his rental car mixed up, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, his acrimonious divorce, or anything else.
In an ironic way, Thomas supposed he should be grateful that Damien didn’t seem the least interested in observing him, or his employees, in action.
A knock on the door silenced the unwelcome observer.
Peace and quiet at last. Thankful for the interruption, Thomas invited whoever stood on the other side to enter.
“Liliane?” Of all his employees, she was the last one Thomas wanted to see within talking distance of the chatterbox.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Thomas, but I wanted to give you an update on Sininen Lake.” Leaving the door open, she leaned against the doorframe. “You’ll love it.”
Thomas doubted it, but for her sake, the woman had better not screw this one up. “Can it wait till—”
“Fancy meeting you here, Lily.” The observer perked up like a child on a sugar rush. “We need to grab lunch and catch up.”
To Thomas’ consternation, Damien had not only cut him off and set his sights on Liliane, but it sounded like he knew her.
“I’m free today.” A warm smile illuminated her eyes when she looked at the chatterbox. “Are you paying?”
The woman’s attitude irked Thomas as much as it alarmed him since all she’d ever given him was the cold shoulder. “Sorry to rain on your little reunion, Liliane, but Leonard is taking Damien out for lunch and a sightseeing tour.”
“Sightseeing? Then I better make it quick in case you have things to discuss with Damien before he disappears for the day.” An indecipherable expression crossed her face. “When I saw the requisition form on my desk, I contacted Northern Key Aviation. For forty dollars each way, they will fly the ballot box in the cockpit with the pilot to Sininen Lake where Mimi Smalltoes, the DRO, will pick it up in person. After the election, they’ll repeat the process in reverse. The aviation company is fully insured and bonded. Therefore, it becomes redundant to send someone on the plane with the ballot box. It also saves us over a thousand dollars. I thought you’d be happy to know I made the arrangement and prepaid Northern Key for their services before they change their mind or jack up their price.”
As the words sank in, Thomas fought the urge to lurch at her and knot her red ponytail around her neck. The air of satisfaction enveloping her choked him. Shocked by her audacity, he struggled with his vocal chords. The woman would pay for her defiance and interference. He would shred her reputation to pieces, one painful thread at a time.
“A woman who’s not afraid to save money. Wait till I report this one to Headquarters.” The glee in the observer’s eyes as he leaned in his chair spoke of his approval and admiration. “They will love it, Lily.”
Their behaviors fueled Thomas’ rage. He swore the woman would taste his revenge as intensely as he would savor her downfall. “Very good, Liliane. Now would you excuse us, please?”
When his finance officer turned on her heels, low heels, and left his office without uttering another word, Thomas vowed never to underestimate her again.
Chapter Three
~Beware the purple minions!~
As the day progressed, Thomas’ aberrant behavior intensified Liliane’s apprehensions. The excessive politeness he displayed toward every employee in the office clashed with the obvious efforts he made to avoid her.
Something toxic brewed and the creepy feeling she might end up being the one boiled alive in that deadly mixture heightened her sense of self-preservation.
A week earlier, Damien had phoned her late at night. Though she’d stayed in touch with him after the last general election, they hadn’t talked in months. To hear his voice had been a surprise, a pleasant surprise that had morphed into an ominous affair. Headquarters suspected something was amiss with the way Thomas ran his elections. Under the guise of posing as an observer, Damien had been instructed to conduct a discreet investigation.
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br /> Some entries had raised red flags in her mind before Damien contacted her, but Liliane had lacked evidence so she didn’t disclose, ask, or volunteer any information over the phone, and neither did he.
Her primary goal wasn’t to get Thomas arrested or charged, it was to prevent him from orchestrating any more dishonest schemes so if—or when—he got caught, he wouldn’t be able to blame or drag Liliane, or any of his other employees, down with him.
Therefore, in order to protect Thomas’ scapegoats, Liliane needed to protect Thomas from his own schemes.
The irony left a bitter taste in her mouth that became sourer by the second. Steps resounded in The Catacombs and someone slid some daily timesheets under her closed door without bothering to knock and give them to her in person.
Liliane picked them up. The scribble at the bottom of the timesheets bore a strong resemblance to the revision supervisor’s signature.
Here goes another confrontation. Liliane exited her office and headed past the conference room into a larger room where three of the four walls were plastered with maps of the electoral district.
The revision supervisor’s desk, which Sophie occupied, faced four workstations from which revising agents dealt with voters’ inquiries and registrations. At the moment, two agents worked at those stations. Liliane recognized both of them. While she verified their identities matched the names on the oversized schedule taped on the wall behind Sophie, Liliane also glanced at the only name penned down for last evening. Laurie Milton.
“Is there a problem, Liliane?” The revision supervisor stared at Liliane with striking blue eyes accentuated by long black eyelashes, subtle makeup, and short stylish golden hair. The sleeveless designer dress she wore put Liliane’s gray capris and teal top to shame.
“Yes. Can I see you in my office, please?” Unless time was of the essence, Liliane preferred to discuss private matters in the privacy of her office.