Taking Stock

by C J West

  Brendan was on edge. His hands fidgeted on the tabletop, drifting with his thoughts. His eyes darted from Sarah to Gregg, no doubt seeing the ire in her and wondering what his boss was thinking in the seat next to him.

  Gregg put his hand on Brendan’s. “Whoa,” he said patting the hand as if calming a spooked horse. “No one is saying you did anything wrong. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The customer complained and we paid him what he asked. Sarah needs to know how it happened. Let’s stick to that.”

  Sarah had her tension now. Brendan was panicky enough to tell her anything if she asked the right question. The scene had played out exactly as she pictured it, but Gregg’s pragmatism left her feeling embarrassed of her own eagerness. She felt petty and confused. This kid was no criminal mastermind. Stan was right about the job. It wasn’t about catching criminals, but she was positive this was more than an honest mistake. Lightning struck on her first day and she’d made a career discovery. She might never stumble on something this big again and she wasn’t going to let it go, not for Gregg, Brendan, or Herman.

  She took a deep breath and gave Brendan half a smile. “Can we listen to the phone call again?” she asked and pushed the speakerphone to Gregg.

  He dialed a long series of numbers and Hank Johnson’s voice boomed over the speaker. He railed against the answers he was getting, but Brendan’s expression never changed. He’d dealt with dozens of irate investors. If he’d knowingly duped Mr. Johnson, he hid his guilt well. This voice was no different to him than the hundreds of others he’d heard.

  Brendan talked over Gregg’s recorded voice. “That can’t be right,” he said, referring to Mr. Johnson’s argument about the timing. “You know we put the transactions into the system while we’re on the phone. The system enters the time right then. There’s no other way to do it. As soon as we get off, the phones give us another customer. He’s got to be wrong.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sarah said. She pushed over a copy of the phone bill and a page showing the transaction in Mr. Johnson’s account.

  Brendan compared the two pages in disbelief. He’d heard Mr. Johnson say what had happened and now he saw the evidence, but he couldn’t fathom how the discrepancy could get into the system.

  “That’s impossible,” Brendan said.

  “That’s why we’re here. This isn’t supposed to happen.”

  “If you’re looking for an explanation, you’re asking the wrong guy.”

  Brendan wasn’t coy enough to feign confusion. He didn’t know any more about the problem than she did. She’d look elsewhere for the culprit.

  Sarah stood up. “Let’s keep this between us for now.”

  Brendan agreed, gave his boss a weak handshake and left without looking back. Her questions had shaken him. Both men were probably cursing her for turning an innocent problem into some devious plot to steal from customers, but neither of them could explain what had happened. Brendan was no thief and she owed him a visit later in the week to smooth things over. Gregg’s bitter look told her that might not be enough. He closed the door and sat back down. She’d definitely tone down her next interview.

  “We could have gone a bit easier.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset him, but questions need to be asked.”

  “The guy’s a star. The last thing I need is someone souring his attitude. There’s no reason to accuse him of anything. He’s a good kid. He answered the phone when Johnson called. He doesn’t have anything more to do with your investigation than that.”

  Sarah raised her hands in submission.

  “Message received. I’ll go easier next time,” she said.

  “This is probably a simple mistake or a software bug.”

  Sarah was tired of hearing that. “I don’t think it’s a mistake.”

  “We’re only human down here. We process thousands of transactions. Once in a while, we get it wrong.”

  “What if you didn’t? Brendan’s your best rep, right? He was the only one to touch the Johnson account in December. So what if he did everything right? The problem has to be upstairs.”

  Gregg seemed pleased with the idea if only to take the spotlight off Brendan. “There’s only one person to go to with something like this, but I’ve already taken this problem to her once.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sarah followed Gregg to the elevator and up to the twenty-second floor. The morning had been a disaster. She came off immature and self-absorbed and now Gregg looked at her as dismissively as she looked at Stan. Reversing that impression would be a feat, but she vowed to give it her best. He was so much more than she first thought. The rugged looks camouflaged a depth she hadn’t expected in a younger guy. Totally grounded and at ease with himself, he was as much a parent as he was a manager to the kids that worked for him. His maturity and intelligence were as attractive as anything she’d seen in him on her first day.

  Gregg led the way in, weaved around the cubicles and ended up outside a dark office. He looked surprised to find the office empty at 10:30 a.m. It didn’t look like she was coming in, but Gregg wasn’t ready to leave. He asked an older man if he’d seen her. He hadn’t.

  They returned to the elevators and he explained that Erica was there night and day, six, sometimes seven days a week. Sarah asked if there was someone else who could help them and his expression immediately turned grim. “These guys don’t care what happens downstairs, least of all Brad Foster.”

  “Isn’t he in charge of IT?”

  Gregg closed the lobby door before answering. “He’s the biggest problem up here. Erica worked–”

  “Did I hear my name?”

  A woman stepped off the elevator smiling at Gregg. She was skinny and gorgeous, one of those women who could wear a boxy pantsuit and make it look sexy without trying. A line of drooling men probably followed her whenever she left the building. Gregg lit up and Sarah’s hopes plunged. She wished the SlimFast had lived up to its name.

  “Slacking again I see,” he said.

  “As usual.”

  Gregg made introductions and begged Erica’s help with their problem. She led them back to her office with apologies for arriving late. The room was twice the size of Sarah’s with the back wall made up entirely of windows. Sarah gazed over the southern part of the city and South Boston beyond. A slice of the harbor peeked out at the extreme left. Erica was barely visible behind stacks of paper and piles of manila folders. Greg stood, leaving the only chair not currently doubling as a shelf for Sarah. She checked her watch reflexively as she sat; not consciously reading the hands since she knew it was after ten thirty.

  “I didn’t realize you had it so good up here in IT.” Her tone sounded nasty even to her.

  Gregg looked as embarrassed as he did when she pressed Brendan for answers he didn’t have. Crestfallen, she knew he was going to distance himself from her as soon as they left this office.

  Erica was unfazed. “When you work ninety hours a week they don’t mind if you come in late once in a while.” She turned to Gregg with a wide grin. “Actually I just woke up an hour ago.” She seemed proud.

  “That’s about a week’s worth of sleep for you isn’t it?”

  “Do you have an idea about keeping me up at night?” The suggestion in her voice was unmistakable. Sarah would have given up hope, but Gregg ignored the implication and kept the focus on work.

  “It’s good for a few nights at least.”

  He launched into a recap of the Johnsons’ problem. He reminded Erica of his argument with Brad and his visit to ask for her help. She shuffled through a few piles on the desktop, embarrassed she hadn’t looked into the problem sooner then apologized for losing the documents he’d given her.

  Erica’s team had just implemented a system that tracked these transactions so this problem was her responsibility now. Gregg seemed relieved that she had official standing to help, but alarm bells started going off for Sarah. Erica fit the profile of a successful embezzler. She was responsible for the troubl
ed system and she’d been asked to help and done nothing. She had longevity and influence within the company, something Sarah’s instructors cited as critical. Gregg and his colleagues brought their problems directly to her, giving her a chance to see the dust she kicked up as she tramped around the company databases and took money from unsuspecting customers. She didn’t look the part, but she had all the right qualifications.

  There was an awkward pause with both Erica and Gregg looking at her, Gregg with his hand outstretched. She hadn’t heard what was said, but assumed he wanted the letter. She handed him a copy and they shifted focus to it immediately.

  “Sounds like he’s got a legitimate gripe,” Erica said when she was about halfway through.

  “We paid him. Now we want to know what went wrong.”

  Gregg handed her the phone bill and she placed it on her keyboard with the letter. She stood up and walked around the desk. “I’ve got some time between projects, I’ll start digging.”

  Sarah backed out toward the door.

  Erica stopped a foot from Gregg and rested a hand above his elbow. “I can work every night this week but one. The company’s buying me dinner if I recall.”

  “That’s right. When should I pick you up?”

  “I didn’t realize you two were dating,” Sarah spat from the doorway.

  “It’s not a date. The company is saying thanks for all the hours I put in on the fund services system. Gregg volunteered to be my escort because I’m chronically unattached and he’s incredibly chivalrous.”

  “It could be a date,” Gregg pleaded.

  “We couldn’t date. You’re too sweet. We’d both want to get married and that would be a disaster.”

  Gregg froze. Devastated, hopeful or maybe just confused.

  Sarah led the way into the hall, thanked Erica, and replayed the conversation in her head as they walked to the elevator.

  When the doors closed they were alone.

  “You didn’t tell me you two were close.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Really. If I’d known there were going to be that many sparks I’d have worn safety glasses.”

  Gregg didn’t answer. He watched the display flash ‘21.’

  “If you two want to keep it quiet that’s fine with me. All I care about is what happened to Mr. Johnson’s money,” she lied. “The whole thing does look suspicious, though. She’s responsible for the system and it seems like everyone brings their problems to her. It doesn’t look good from an internal audit perspective. If she was mucking around, no one would ever be the wiser.”

  Sarah stepped off the elevator and looked back.

  Gregg was livid.

  “If she was mucking around? She’s in control of that system because she’s the best programmer up there. She came from client services. She knows what we’re up against. How can you fault her for being helpful?”

  “I’m not accusing her of anything. It doesn’t look good, that’s all.”

  Gregg let go of the ‘open’ button and stomped off the elevator.

  “You don’t get it, do you? There is no one else. Those guys up there don’t care what we need. If Brad knew how much she helped us, he’d make her life even more miserable.”

  “Those two don’t get along?”

  The story was getting deeper by the second.

  “No one gets along with Brad unless they have something he wants.”

  Erica was fitting the profile better and better. She couldn’t have been closer to these problems or have a better opportunity to cover them up. Gregg might do or say anything she asked. Sarah’s day had been a personal disaster, but a professional boon.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The bartender rushed off with the fresh twenty leaving Gregg to face his reflection over the array of bottles against the glass. A fresh haircut and a clean shave wrapped in his favorite royal blue shirt faced him meekly. He looked good save the timid eyes. His commanding presence had been beaten down by rejection after rejection. The eyes knew what they were headed for even if their master didn’t. Two years ago they’d had this conversation and she’d turned him away. He’d been dropping hints that he’d ask again for weeks. So far all he’d done is stiffen her resolve, but when he wasn’t pressing, she dropped hints of her own. She feigned innocence, but there was feeling behind her offhand comments. She wanted him close, but not too close, bouncing in the margin between friendship and romance. He was tired of bouncing. It was time to settle things. The two shots of tequila on the bar would give him the courage.

  Gregg gulped the first shot. The fiery liquid burned its way down his throat and into his belly. The fumes lit up his nostrils until he stanched the heat with an even larger gulp of water. The bartender had taken pity and filled both shots to the rim. Did he know what Gregg was about to face? Had dozens of men sat here building up their courage before journeying across the street and up her stairs? The bartender had probably never seen her himself, but he’d surely seen the devastated results.

  Gregg tipped the second shot, chased it down, and collected his change. Steadily out the door, he faced her apartment. The alcohol would kick in soon and help him blurt out what had to be said. Another drink or two at dinner and he’d be ready. She might not admit it, but the chemistry was there. Could he really give up if she turned him away again? He crossed the street wondering how he’d feel about all the lost time. Would he forgive himself? Would he lament years lost? Or was this the greatest pursuit of his life? Each step siphoned his resolve until he crested the stairs and faced her door. He rapped gently and the door swung open.

  “Hey, look at you,” Melanie beamed. She threw her arms around him, her fingers excited once they felt the fine threads of his shirt. She shifted a hand around to his chest and turned to Erica, “You’ve got to feel this.”

  Why couldn’t Erica greet him with Melanie’s enthusiasm? Why did she stand so coolly behind the kitchen counter with a hand on her hip and the other clutching a water glass? She made no move to come feel his shirt nor would she. She was forever pushing something between them; the counter here in the apartment, the table at dinner, her desk at work; anything to insulate herself from the spark. She foiled his every attempt to flick that fledgling spark into a vat of gasoline. If he could press his lips to hers just once the passion would roar out from behind those tranquil brown eyes.

  However restrained she acted she couldn’t hide the trouble she’d gone to. Her hair and makeup were freshly done and she was wearing a new skirt. It wasn’t the little black dress he dreamed of, but seeing a hint of her bare legs over the counter was a thrill after years of baggy pants. In heels she nearly matched his height.

  When Erica rounded the counter and came into the living room, she looked amused that Melanie still had both hands on Gregg’s shirt. The ploy had drawn her closer, but she didn’t look the least bit jealous.

  Melanie rubbed unabashed.

  “You better get over here,” Melanie said, “before I drag him down the hall and show him how a real woman treats a hunk like this.”

  Erica smiled at the two of them. “I don’t have exclusive rights.”

  “What’s this dinner about then?” Gregg asked.

  “Steve saying thank you. Was there more to it than that?”

  “I thought so. Does that mean I’m not getting any action?” He was glad he said it in spite of the embarrassment he felt. The alcohol was working.

  “Not from me,” Erica shot back without hesitation.

  Melanie still had her hand on his back. She leaned close, brushing his chest with hers as she stretched up toward his ear. Her sultry whisper was intended more for Erica than Gregg. “Come back after dinner. I’ll make sure you don’t go home hungry.” She wouldn’t betray Erica, but the longing in her eyes was unmistakable.

  Erica sensed it, too. “Come on, Lover Boy,” she said and linked her arm through his. She tugged him away from Melanie and toward the door.

  Melanie gave a sly wink as they
left. Progress.

  In the taxi, Erica kept the conversation focused on work, her project and how Gregg’s team had adapted to the new system. She clung to the technical and superficial, avoiding anything remotely personal. She wouldn’t be dragged into a conversation about what was going on between them and even if he could force the subject, the ride wasn’t long enough. He listened politely, biding his time even after they arrived at Mamma Maria.

  The steady flow of couples entering and exiting the bar provided Erica with prompts to help keep the conversation light. Gregg did his best to exhaust every avenue of office conversation while they were in the bar. Erica couldn’t have seemed more at ease.

  A host summoned them to be seated and led them up a narrow stairway to the Piccolo Room on the second floor. The sole table, set for two, overlooked North Square. He handed them each a menu, the wine list to Gregg and departed, leaving them alone in the heart of the North End. The chatter from the bar was barely audible.

  Alone in a setting women fawned over, Erica’s eyes darted around the room as if she’d been kidnapped. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to start something,” she said uneasily. Classic Erica: preemptively warning him not to say what was on his mind.

  It wasn’t going to work tonight.

  “I’ve been trying to start this for years. It’s time. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know if I can handle the competition. You had Melanie hanging all over you tonight and Sarah all dreamy-eyed yesterday. The hunky-farmboy-in-the-city routine is really packing ‘em in.”

  “You know what Melanie was doing. She sees the chemistry between us like everyone else. Why you choose to deny it I have no idea.”

  “What exactly am I denying?”

  “That you’re so crazy about me it scares you.”