by J. S. Marlo
The feeling this might not be a social visit feasted on her insides. “You forgot my resignation.”
“You can’t resign, Lily.” When he unfolded the chair with a flick of the wrist, it clanged and clattered. “I need you.”
To be needed sucks. She opened a bag and grabbed the first thing she touched. “Please lie and tell me you’re here because you miss me.”
The chicken burger she bit into hit the right spot.
“I could never lie to you.” A disarming smile livened up his weary face as he sat on the opposite side of her desk. “I met with Stuart Reiter in a church parking lot this morning.”
“The manager of the complaining political party?” In Damien’s place, she wouldn’t have risked holding a private meeting with the shady manager in broad daylight. “Why?”
“He contacted me earlier this morning to tell me he had proof of Thomas Finch’s collusion with that other political party.” Damien handed her the envelope. “Have a look inside.”
She set her burger aside to retrieve a sheet of paper from the envelope. Bewildered by the copy of a corporate check, she stared at him. “Where did Stuart get that?”
Damien shrugged. A smidge of mustard dotted the corner of his mouth. “He refused to say.”
The recipient of the check didn’t shock Liliane as much as the name of the company in the top left corner, the amount, or the full signature at the bottom.
“Thomas used his company account to write a fifteen-thousand-dollar check to his favored political party? It can’t be real. Aren’t corporate contributions outlawed and personal contributions limited to fifteen hundred and fifty dollars per individual?” She discarded the sheet of paper on her desk. “He’s not that stupid, Damien.” Stupid had become a redundant adjective in the last few days, still it didn’t apply to her returning officer. Liliane would bet her pay check on it. “Thomas would never sign a corporate check for an amount almost ten times the permitted limit unless he wanted to be caught. Too many blatant red flags. Hold on.”
She wasted her morning searching for credit card receipts. It frustrated her she only tracked down a few, but those few featured an interesting characteristic. Unlike the signature on that check, which spelled Thomas’ first and last names, all the receipts featured two initials, T and S, followed by Finch.
Though it might prove to be an exercise in futility, she wanted to compare the two signatures. She placed the receipt for noise-cancelling headphones on her desk beside the picture of the check. Unlike the subtle disparities in the capital F and the lower c in Finch, the reason behind the purchase of these headphones was a mystery she intended to solve later. “I’m no handwriting expert, Damien, but that contribution check looks like a forgery.”
He leaned closer to her desk. For the longest moment, no other sound than the disco song on her iPhone pierced the silence of her office. Then he turned his gaze toward her. “From what you know about Stuart Reiter, do you think he’s playing me? Or is someone else pulling the strings?”
“Stuart is an opportunist of the worst kind. He could as easily be the puppeteer as he could be the puppet.” Liliane would never understand why the candidate of that complaining party, a respected retired firefighter, chose Stuart as his campaign manager. “Between you and me, I find it ironic that someone is trying to discredit Thomas when the man is busy tying nooses around his neck while digging his own grave.”
Her guest choked on his hamburger. “That wasn’t funny, Lily.”
Maybe not, but it’s true. Another thought crossed her mind. “Could someone want to cast a doubt on the validity of the by-election? Or give an unfair advantage to a party?”
Five candidates entered the race. Two of them belonged to fringe parties, but the other three candidates represented major parties, and according to the latest poll, four points separated them from each other.
A groan rattled Damien’s throat. “Using the returning officer as a pawn would be a new low. Then again, anything is possible in politics.”
~ * ~
Within minutes of Damien’s departure, Gloria ushered Ahmad into her office. The twenty-something college student with a clean haircut looked pleased with himself. Baffled by his complacency, Liliane invited him to sit.
He disregarded the chair she indicated and handed her a bunch of receipts instead. “I just wanted to drop these off. You can take your time totalling the expenses. I don’t mind waiting an hour to get my money.”
Money? What money? Though she’d summoned him to her office, he acted like coming to see her had been his idea. Something aside from those mysterious expenses didn’t add up. Her suspicion on the rise, she accepted the receipts. “What are these for?”
She didn’t intend to broach the subject of his absence in such a manner, but since he opened that door, she might as well venture in and see where it led.
“The errands Mr. Finch asked me to run for him this morning. He needed paper, pencils, stamps, toilet paper...” The special ballot coordinator fumbled through his pockets. “I have the list somewhere if you want to make sure I bought everything.”
“Hold on.” An explanation she didn’t like dawned on her. “Are you telling me Thomas asked you to drive around town this morning?”
“If by Thomas you mean Mr. Finch, then yes, ma’am.” Ahmad stilled with both hands in his pockets. “He said it was important. He also told me to come see you upon my return so you could reimburse me for the purchases.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me? A groan she struggled to contain rumbled in her full stomach. “May I ask who manned the special ballots while you were gone?”
The coordinator shrugged. “Mr. Finch said not to worry.”
Why do I bother worrying about rules and regulations when no one else does? “Well, Mr. Finch lied to you. If you want to keep your job, you should worry.” On a few special occasions in the past, she had put her diplomatic hat on and managed to tell people to go to hell in such a way they looked forward to the trip. Today, she couldn’t fret less about offending anyone’s sensibility. “I don’t care who asked or ordered you to run these errands, Ahmad. You were hired as special ballot coordinator, not as Thomas’ minion. Your job demands you stay in your office and wait for voters, not gallivant around. Electors came in this morning to vote, and I had to take care of them.” To her disappointment, the belligerent husband had chosen to wait in the lobby only to burn Gloria’s ears with his colorful adjectives. “You deserted your post, Ahmad. That alone justifies firing you on the spot. Do you understand how serious this situation is?”
Color drained from his face as he slumped on a plastic chair. “But Mr. Finch—”
“Thomas will shove you under a bus to further his agenda, Ahmad. For him you’re a minion, a disposable minion just like the toilet paper you bought.” The young man facing her didn’t deserve to end up at the receiving end of her tirade, and though she had no intention of firing him, he needed to re-evaluate where his loyalty lay.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you give me a second chance, I’ll never leave my office again.” To his credit, he looked her in the eyes. “I need that job to pay for my tuition next year. Please?”
“Well...fine, but if Thomas tries to pressure you into doing anything outside special ballot, you have to promise to tell me right away and I will take care of him.” A part of her looked forward to the chance of confronting her obnoxious returning officer again. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His loud sigh of relief floated above the music. “Do I have your permission to share this incident with the other two coordinators so they don’t end up in trouble?”
“Yes, you do.” The offer, which spoke of his character, pleased her. “Now, about those purchases you made, I’ll—”
As she glanced at the receipts, Liliane noticed the last four numbers of the credit card used to pay for them. These same four numbers had haunted her morning. She checked the five receipts. All were paid with the same credit card.
“Is something wrong, ma’am?” The man stared at her in confusion.
She held his gaze. “How did you pay, Ahmad?”
“Mr. Finch gave me his credit card.” He squirmed on his chair in spite of his steady answer. “He told me to use it then give you the receipts so you could pay me back...so I could pay him back...that’s not the way it works, is it?”
“Show me his card.” The card Ahmad presented her sported the logo of Election Headquarters. “Purchases made on that card are paid directly by Headquarters, Ahmad, not by Thomas.”
The special ballot coordinator frowned. “I don’t understand. Why did he want you to reimburse me if he isn’t paying for it?”
She’d been right thinking Thomas’ revenge was brewing. Had she not recognized the last four numbers of his election credit card, and probed Ahmad, she would have used the petty cash to reimburse the coordinator who in turn would have signed her ledger as having received the payment. When Election Headquarters would have reconciled the transactions, it would have looked like she and Ahmad embezzled the money.
Once Damien learned about this, he would be enraged.
“Why? Because you’re not the only one Thomas is trying to throw under a bus.” She waved the card in front of his eyes. “I’m keeping this. If Thomas corners you about the card or the money, tell him I confiscated everything. I’ll deal with him.”
Though Liliane condemned violence, her friend Nathalie’s idea held a certain appeal. Killing Thomas might not be the answer, but it would solve all her problems.
Chapter Six
~Be careful what you wish for.~
In the heat of the early dawn, Liliane tiptoed out of her bedroom with her gym clothes in her hands.
She felt like a teenager sneaking out of her boyfriend’s bed before his mother knocked on his bedroom door to wake him up for school—not that anyone had ever caught her in such a precarious situation.
I’m too old to be involved in a clandestine love affair.
Alone in the kitchen with the dirty dishes needing to be loaded into the dishwasher, she slipped on granny panties, purple yoga pants, an orange sport bra, an oversized lime green muscle shirt, and two socks. It wasn’t like she shied away from getting dressed, or undressed, in front of her lover. Not after the last three nights. The man was even more amazing than she’d fantasized.
Had he not arrived late last night after another trip to the airport to take care of some forgotten luggage, and had they not fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning, she might have woken him up.
Liliane grabbed a clean water bottle from the cupboard and filled it. Maybe it’s best I didn’t.
The temptation to skip her workout at the gym might have been too strong to resist if he’d pulled her back into his arms and started kissing her again.
Before she changed her mind, Liliane exited the silent house only to pause on the porch. His rental car was parked in front of the garage while her hatchback slept in the garage.
As she re-entered the house to fetch his keys, her iPhone rang.
~ * ~
The weight room smelled worse than the hockey locker room Liliane used to venture into when her daughter Ariana played ice hockey with the local boys. She didn’t know if the stench resulted from the leak or the restoration, but it reeked.
Someone needed to plug in some air purifiers. On her way out, Liliane would make the suggestion to the registration desk.
Nathalie waved from the corner of the gym where two rowing machines were stationed between the water fountain and the emergency exit. Their location offered some privacy, though this early they could yell at each other from across the weight room and no one would eavesdrop on them.
“You’re late, Lily.” Her friend’s voice was raspy as she rowed across an imaginary lake.
Liliane sat on the second machine. “Car issues, then Ariana called as I opened the door.” It had been a pocket call, still she enjoyed chatting about wild topics for a few minutes.
A tender smile tugged at Nathalie’s lips. “Of course you needed to talk to her. How is she? Or should I ask, where is she?”
“Amsterdam for a few days. This morning, they enjoyed breakfast in the red-light district. Ariana told me I look great at forty-two compared to the women they saw in the windows.” Someone had set the resistance on her rowing machine at ten. To protect her shoulders, Liliane lowered it to two. “Who in her right mind poses half-naked in a window before noon anyway?”
Her friend burst out laughing. “She thought comparing you to a Dutch hooker would make you feel better? She definitely inherited your quirky sense of humor.”
“Nice to hear you laugh.” The comparison had also tickled Liliane’s funny bone. “How’s Connor? How did he break his wrist?”
“The little monkey fell off his bed. Of course it happens the week his dad attends a conference out of town and his mom and big brother are sick. Guess who spent the night at the hospital with him?” Nathalie was a devoted grandmother, a rock which her daughter could rely on.
“That’s what grandmas are for, my friend.” Had it been her grandchild, Liliane would have done the same to make her daughter’s life easier. “So what happened two nights ago to send you in a murderous frenzy?”
Amid many grunts, Nathalie recounted the events leading to her text message. Liliane was appalled Thomas dared touch Nathalie inappropriately in her office thinking she would prefer him to her husband’s ghost and stunned to learn he wanted to access her computer.
“The man is a menace, Lily.” The anger lingered in Nathalie’s voice. “We must do something.”
Hating the deal she made with Damien, Liliane pushed harder with her feet and pulled faster with her arms, but the knot forming in her stomach tightened faster than her muscles. “I’m as angry and disgusted as you are, Nathalie, but it’s not that simple.”
Before leveling with her, Damien had sworn her to secrecy, except Liliane couldn’t bear such a heavy responsibility alone. She needed a trusted ally inside the office.
The only person fitting the bill sweated beside her. “What do you mean it’s not that simple? Can we not wring his neck? Or his banana?”
A chuckle prickled Liliane’s throat. “No, not unless he’s a willing participant in your little fantasy, but if that makes you feel any better, Headquarters is aware of his behavior and shady deals.”
She shared with Nathalie everything she’d discovered. Though she remained speechless, her mild-mannered friend clung to the handles so tight, her knuckles turned a whiter shade of pale. For what felt like an eternity, the rushing sound of the rowers was the only noise cutting through the silence that had fallen over the weight room.
Her head bowed down, Nathalie paused to drink from her water bottle. “You’re telling me Headquarters knows all about the crooked scumbag, but they won’t replace him? Why?”
“They’re afraid to jeopardize the by-election.” Liliane sighed at the flagrant wrongness of the situation. “When you sent me that text message about killing Thomas, I was having supper with Damien Godfrey. Unless we can prove Thomas is in bed with a political party or that his behavior is influencing the votes, Headquarters would like me to protect his image, hush any scandals, and ensure his job is done according to the rules.”
The water bottle slipped from Nathalie’s hand. It hit the floor and exploded, splashing water everywhere. “Crap. I loved that bottle.”
Liliane hopped off her rower and rushed to the entrance of the room where she grabbed towels from the bin near the unattended counter.
Down on her knees, she helped Nathalie wipe the water from the floor.
Her friend met her gaze. “I hope Headquarters realizes how much damage control, or self-control, you’ll need to exercise to achieve these feats. In your place, I might have quit.”
According to Damien, Headquarters had been apprised of the full situation, but Liliane wasn’t convinced they understood the difficulties she faced.
“Believe me, I
was very tempted to quit.” Damien had played the loyalty card, and she’d yielded to his insistence. “Lots of taxpayers’ money has already been spent on this by-election. Headquarters would prefer not to have it declared illegal simply because the returning officer is a slime ball. I can’t say I agree with the decision, but I understand their reasoning. Nathalie, I need someone to protect my back, and you’re the only one I can trust.”
“I’m flattered...I think.” Her friend gathered the towels and her broken bottle. “How do you feel about running outside? I think I need some fresh air before I throw up.”
~ * ~
On the hard-packed dirt trails snaking through the woods surrounding the Recreation Center, they jogged side by side in perfect rhythm, the length and pace of their strides matching each other. The sun filtered through the branches of the trees, casting misshapen shadows, and the brisk morning air reinvigorated Liliane and brightened her day.
A strand of brown hair escaped the bun at the back of Nathalie’s head and bounced on her shoulder. She pushed it behind her ear. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Lily, but is there a reason Damien Godfrey trusts you with that crazy assignment? I mean he arrived two days ago, how did he know you were the best person to box in Thomas?”
Since Nathalie agreed to help her out, Liliane owed her some sort of explanation. “Damien is a former returning officer. Before I moved here, I worked a few elections with him. Among other things, I’ve been his ARO.”
“You were his assistant returning officer?” Stopped near a tall birch, her friend leaned her back against its trunk and eyed her over the frame of her glasses. “That’s why you know the rules and how to run the office. Is Thomas aware of your past experience?”