by Dawn Edwards
Taggart, the name was familiar. It piqued my curiosity, ‘Lewis Taggart is his father.’
‘Lewis Taggart…’ I said the name aloud. I knew it meant something to me, I looked to Breton.
‘Lewis Taggart co-founded Custom Charters Inc.’ When he said the name of my father’s first company it all made sense. The reality of what he was saying was sinking in like a rock in water.
‘Ok, start from the beginning,’ I told him. I stood up and poured myself a glass of scotch that was sitting on his desk.
‘So, I was able to get a copy of some facial recognition software from a government contract. I scanned his picture, the ones on the passports and the ones I got from your computer…sorry, I had to hack into your apple cloud to get them.’
‘You could have asked…but whatever, go on.’
‘Yeah, we’ll chat about how to clear your browsing history in a bit.’ He looked at me pointedly, and I knew exactly what he was going to bring up.
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, your porn search history is not the main point right now.’ He looked at me with a sad tired look in his eyes. ‘Any ways, the software was how I was able to confirm the name. And sure enough, he has two documents with that name on it. And from what I can tell, those ones are legit. His mother was originally from Canada. Back when she was young, her family immigrated here for work, but she kept her dual citizenship. So, he was entitled to that also. He was born here in Boston, raised here till he was about four. His mom died when he was five, two years after your dad bankrupted the company to force him out of the partnership.’
‘What?’ I asked, ‘Dad’s company went bankrupt?’
‘Yeah, I’ll get to that. Now, all these identities I’ve checked out, they would pass my initial tests. Someone has really done their homework.’ He stood up, walked over and pointed to the Bermudian documents.
‘Bryan Mount went to private boarding school in Maine and then to university in Pennsylvania. Where he meets, oh, another Bermudian,’ he pointed to my picture. ‘According to their wedding announcement, they were childhood friends who reconnected at the university. Web pages, photos, so much to back it up from a simple check. But when you dig deeper, things don’t add up.
‘When you call these schools, they are all forwarded to the same switchboard in France, where the same woman with a British accent picks up. I didn’t want to raise any suspicions, I just requested some info on the schools, and another time I was trying to sell them things. It’s a very sophisticated little criminal ring. But I still don’t know why. I have my suspicions, and that’s where Custom Charters comes into play.
‘Your father and Lewis Taggart founded Custom Charters in the mid-80s, with the help of our grandfather willing to invest some money into it. For your dad, it was always just his start-up, a way to move onto bigger and better things. Now, something happened. I don’t know what, that was prior to email and digital footprints, and I’m not ready to go ask Steve for that information yet, though it might come to it.
‘But from the looks of it, things started to go downhill for the company in the early nineties. It coincides with the diagnosis of Matt’s—or rather Justin’s—mom with breast cancer. Their finances were a mess; second and third mortgages on their home, finally, it was repossessed by the bank. Now, from the accounting, there were two sets of books. Your dad was doing some fraudulent accounting. Looks as if he was trying to show Lewis that the company wasn’t performing at it should have been.’
‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘This can’t be right, Dad would never…’
‘Jessa,’ Breton said my name, snapping me back from my spinning thoughts. ‘Listen to me. Twice your dad and granddad offered him cheques. Those I did find through drafts and letters. One was a buyout, the second was a redundancy. Finally, the third was just what the letter referred to as an equal share of the assets at that time.
‘But, during the time that your dad was trying to disassociate with Lewis, he was already setting up another company. This time it was Cahill Global, and at that time it was branded as a company that sold private jets. It was your mother’s family that provided an initial investment in that. But your father was also using money and contacts from Custom Charters to fund this new company too, off the books. Or at least, different books than what he was showing Lewis.’
‘You really think my dad could do that?’ I asked, dumbfounded, not able to believe my father would be anything but aboveboard when it came to business. ‘You said yourself you were not sure on some of it.’
‘Some of it is speculation, Jessa, but the numbers don’t lie. I looked at the initial investment that your mom’s parents put in, half a million, but the books from the first year showed assets of nearly four. Custom Charters had three plans. One jet and two twin engines. The documents presented to Lewis showed Custom Charters in the red to the tune of nearly one million. There were overpayments on overhead and labor, and undercharging on fees. But in fact, the real records showed Custom Charters made a profit of nearly half a million that year.
‘Your father initially offered Lewis that full amount, looks like to be rid of the guy in October. Then the books were altered again in October, and November, and he was offered just under 200k, then finally in February, the same month his house was repossessed, he took the 100k and fled to Canada, where he died three years ago.
‘The year before Matt met me,’ I said. ‘Can I see the proof?’
‘Yeah sure, I mean, you have an accounting background, but the accounts are all very good at the documentation. There are two books; in September they became Cahill Global books, and from there, that’s when the Custom Charters books were being altered.’
‘But what happened?’
‘I really honestly don’t know. If I did, I would tell you,’ he said, and I believed him.
‘I know, but it had to be something big, my dad’s one of the most honest men I know, and I don’t think I’m being biased, but everyone says that of him. He’s got people working with him to this day that started when it was Custom Charters. Jack, his pilot, and Trish, the receptionist, and his personal assistant, Janice. They have all been with him the whole time.’
‘Yeah, from what I can tell there are about three others. Now our grandfather took the heat for the bankruptcy. He was the one who got hit with it. My mom’s store, the building is technically owned by your mother’s father. I didn’t know this until yesterday, I’m not sure Mom even knows. Our grandfather sacrificed to save your dad’s ass, and I think by doing that, he took the heat and investigation off your dad, and that’s why we get to live how we are. Now, this is speculation, but I think that’s what happened.’
‘So, do you think that Lewis Taggart knew all this and is somehow plotting revenge from beyond the grave?’
He gave me a curious look. ‘It certainly appears that way.’
‘What do we do?’
‘Nothing yet,’ he told me flatly.
‘Nothing?’ I questioned. ‘No, I can’t sit idly by and do nothing.’ I was completely and utterly shocked by what Breton had just told me. I was feeling ill and literally shaking. ‘I need to speak to Matt, or Justin, or whatever the hell his name is.’
‘No!’ Breton shouted, standing and placing his hands on my shoulders to settle me. ‘No, this goes too deep, these bank accounts, Jessa, have like tens of millions in them. I’ve just now started to scratch the surface, and there are others involved. I don’t know where the money came from yet. We need to get to the bottom of this, and you storming in all emotional will not allow me to get the answers we need. It’s not a coincidence that the son of a former burned business partner, who is using an alias, proposed to you…’
‘Thanks.’
‘Sorry, I don’t mean it like that, and you know it.’ He looked at me. ‘Jessa, there is something bigger going on here, and we need to find out what it is.’
‘How long?’ I asked. ‘I need to know my commitment to this act.’
‘A few weeks
, or a few months.’
‘A few months?” I exclaimed. ‘Breton, in a few months I am supposed to marry this guy.’
‘Jessa, we will form a plan before that. You trust me, right?’
‘Of course,’ I told him.
Chapter 13
DREW
I’D REALLY MESSED THINGS up with Jessa. I knew I had.
She was ignoring all my attempts to contact her, and the fact that she was in Boston with her fiancé was driving me fucking mad.
I’d drank more since Wednesday than I had in years, but I also pushed myself to work harder than ever. Breton had stayed in Boston this week, so it was just me working on the property alone. Colleen hadn’t even been here this week.
But I knew everyone would be back tonight, it was Thursday and there were no hockey or basketball games to attend or even watch. I’d been trying to follow them so I’d be able to be social with Breton and his friends.
I’d spent the past few weeks getting all the plans and projects for the house and grounds finalized, materials ordered, and contractors sorted for the larger tasks. There was a lot of work to be done, and even more preparations for them. But before I finalized any of the finer details, I first needed the Cahills’ approval for how I wanted to transform their outdoor Hyannis Port property.
Between finalizing the Cahill Global parking lot and building renovation, preparing and presenting the proposal for the private departure terminal and the Cahills’ Hyannis Port home, I’d never been so busy in my life. Since I’d moved out to the Cape, I’d been working mainly on my computer and not doing much physical work, but I knew it was coming, and I was actually really excited for it.
These were the biggest projects I’d ever undertaken, and the Hyannis Port home was like a blank canvas, and it was all mine. At first, I was intimidated and felt, well, over my head. But as I got a feel for the property and the surroundings, the ideas just kept coming. The Cahills’ Hyannis Port property sat on just under an acre of prime waterfront land. The house was a massive 1920’s style mansion, built at the time of new money and at the height of the roaring-twenties Hyannis Port social scene. I knew it had been a family home, previously owned by Mrs. Cahill’s great aunt.
It had been left to the family, but the Cahills has bought it from the estate in the mid-nineties and spent a lot of time and money updating it then. But nearly twenty years later, it was in dire need for more updating.
All the plumbing and electrical was still sound, having been done during the large original renovation. But from the few times I’d been inside, I knew there were major interior flaws. I knew aside from some grass seed, a new hot tub and a basic wooden deck, the outside of the house had been mainly neglected. In a way, it was great because I could change anything and everything.
I finally had all my plans and timelines drafted for the next few months. After showering and changing for dinner, I noticed that the Cahills’ cars were here, along with Breton’s, his mother’s and Jessa’s. My heart fluttered when I saw hers. Knowing she was here and I was going to see her made me excited and nervous. I needed to get her alone to apologize to her.
I didn’t want to spend time with her to get close to her father. It had been weighing heavy on my mind over the past few days, and the more I thought about it, the more I could see how people could use her for personal gain.
I only wanted to impress her father in the hopes he would keep me around to have unfettered access to Jessa. I needed to just tell her that, but her fiancé was still an issue.
Seeing his ring on her finger made me ill. He didn’t deserve her.
I held on to the conversation I had overheard a few weeks ago, that she was pretending and wanted out soon. I didn’t know why she couldn't just leave, but I wanted to support her to do it as soon as she could. Even if she wasn’t going to be with me—which was likely, given the difference between our social status—I just wanted her away from him and happy.
I entered through the back door, as I always did. Deb was setting the table and Breton was pouring water. After taking off my shoes, I walked into the kitchen. ‘What can I do?’ I asked, announcing my presence. Colleen was standing over the stove, stirring some kind of sauce.
‘Andrew,’ she turned and greeted me with a warm hug. ‘How have you been all week?’ she asked me, turning back to her sauce.
‘Good, busy,’ I replied.
‘I’ve felt so bad you were out here all alone this week,’ she informed me, then pointed to the fridge. ‘Not much longer now.’
I just shrugged my shoulders, I was used to solitude. ‘Can you get the wine out of the fridge and open it for me please?’ she asked as I saw Jessa walk into the kitchen wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of yoga pants, her hair up in a messy bun. She looked upset and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me.
‘Hiya.’ I smiled warmly at her.
She rolled her eyes. ‘More company for family dinner…’ she mumbled.
Colleen spun around. ‘Jessa,’ she said in a warning voice.
Breton walked into the kitchen and placed the empty water pitcher on the counter next to Jessa, making her jump. I couldn’t help but notice how skittish she was.
‘You ok?’ I heard him whisper, and she nodded. ‘Pull it together then.’
‘Where’s the corkscrew?’ I asked Jessa.
She didn’t answer but walked to a drawer past me, pulling out a fancy-looking corkscrew and handed it to me, gathering the salad bowl off the counter and walking out of the kitchen without saying a word to me.
During dinner, I was talking to Colleen and Steve about all the plans I had. I had taken my clipboard and tablet with me but didn’t have them at the table. They asked some questions and approved of all the proposals I had been sending them this week.
We agreed that I would amalgamate everything tomorrow and send it for them to sign off on, then I would be able to really dig into everything next week.
‘I’ll be out here most of next week also,’ Breton told me. ‘I have to be in Boston one day for meetings at school, and if the Celtics and Bruins continue to win, I’ll go in the evening for games, but will be back the next morning.’
I nodded, hoping I might get another invite; the nights out with him had been fun.
‘Great,’ I told him and continued to eat.
‘And the roof and new front pathway will be finished by Memorial Day?’ Mrs. Cahill asked with a worried look in her eyes.
‘Yes, the roof will be done by the Friday before. The roofers have other contracts and there are penalty fees built into our contract with them to make sure they don’t go past Friday.’
Mr. Cahill looked impressed. ‘And the yard?’
‘I’ll have enough time to restore it to a presentable level for your Memorial Day party, but then will really have the yard re-soiled and sodding done for your July 4th weekend.’
It was a major undertaking, with a new roof to the house, new siding, new grass throughout, new shrubs and flowers, new deck, new driveway, and guest house and garage to match the house.
‘I really loved the designs for the interlock driveway,’ Colleen told me. That was going to be a huge undertaking, but it would really be worth it.
‘That’s what the Rosses have at the Edgartown property,’ Jessa commented. ‘Sucks with stilettos.’
‘Then it’s not done properly,’ I added, and she rolled her eyes at me again.
This was going to be a bigger uphill battle than I had thought.
‘I also want to incorporate all the stonework for the retaining wall for the garden, the path down to the beach, for the fire pit down there and the gas fireplace on the new deck.’
When I mentioned a fire pit, Jessa’s head popped up, and I think I may have piqued her interest. This I could work with.
‘Steven’s always wanted to build a wharf out there,’ Mrs. Cahill said, gazing at her husband with a look that was usually reserved for teenagers, or those still in the honeymoon phase of their relationshi
p. It was nice to see that some people stay together for love. Not just money or social obligations. It was clear they truly loved one another.
‘I will check with the zoning laws and, if possible, can fill out all the appropriate paperwork for permits and find a contractor to carry out such a task. Unfortunately, it’s beyond my skills,’ I told him, and he looked pleased yet again.
I told them all of my plans, especially the one focused around the deck and transforming it into a quality, comfortable outdoor living space. Colleen had already made some comments earlier in the week about some design aspects, and all my new drawings for her reflected every one of them.
‘Maybe we can discuss some changes for the interior,’ Colleen said, looking around her dining room and through to the formal living room.
‘Colleen, I think he’s got enough on his plate,’ Steve told his wife.
I laughed. ‘I’d love that, maybe some rainy day when I can’t be working outside,’ I advised her, and the truth was, I’d love to help her. Every time I worked with her, I learned something.
Feeling bad for monopolizing the conversation, I asked Deb how her week had been, and then the table started to chat again, except Jessa who remained for the most part rather quiet.
I was made welcome as I always had been in the past, and they were interested in me, which I found completely weird. The stranger at their table for dinner and living in their guest house.
But as much as it was about getting to know me, it was a time for me to get to know them. Their common interaction revealed a lot of who they were and their family dynamic. Mr. Cahill was obviously adored by his wife and daughter alike. He was genuinely interested in their lives, even seeming interested in their daily lives, regardless of how mundane it was. The family was funny, and they seemed to enjoy poking fun at each other, their family members and especially Colleen, who took it all in good stride.