by David Allen
Joe, Steve and Luke went to the dealership the prior day as soon as Joe got home from work. Steve bought the car that night with a portion of the money he made on the sale of his accounting system software.
The early morning cleaning effort was underway, but over an hour had passed and no part of the car had yet to be even touched. Steve was still collecting buckets and sponges and various other cleaning gear. Steve had given Luke several preliminary tasks. His current task was ripping several old t-shirts into polishing rags.
Steve opened the trunk and began to unload the various cans of polish, tire cleaner and car wash solutions he bought on the way home from purchasing the car. Luke came out of the garage with the vacuum cleaner and Steve immediately sent him in search of the nozzle for the garden hose.
The actual cleaning of the car finally started. It began with a complete interior wipe-down and meticulous vacuuming of the carpet. Next came a brushing of the convertible top followed by a detailed hand washing of all painted surfaces and the wheels. Almost three and a half hours passed before the first dab of polish was applied.
Luke was enjoying the event as much as Steve. He followed Steve’s many instructions precisely. The two had a good system worked out. Luke would work ahead of Steve and apply the initial polish to the paint surface. Steve would slowly follow behind, wiping off the dried polish and buffing the finish into a brilliant luster.
Luke’s task took less time to accomplish. He completed the application of the wax while Steve still had a long way to go with the polishing effort. The morning was getting hot so Luke headed into the house to get a couple of sodas.
Steve continued along with his painstaking process. He was intently removing the last bit of polish from around the driver’s door handle when he heard a voice come up from behind him.
“Hello. Excuse me. Do you know where I would be able to find Steven Peterson?”
Steve looked up from his work to find the mailman standing behind him. Steve stood to his feet and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. “I am Steven Peterson,” he replied.
“You live next door?”
“That is my legal address,” Steve replied.
“I have a registered letter for you,” said the postman. “I need your signature right here on this line.”
Steve signed the paper and was presented with an official looking envelope from the First Virginia Bank and Trust.
“Thanks,” said Steve, as he examined the oversized envelope.
Steve slowly tore through the sealed top of the envelope. Inside was a seven-page document. Steve pulled the pages from the envelope and spread out the sheets. As he smoothed the pages, a piece of paper dropped out and fell to the ground. Steve reached down and picked it up.
The piece of paper was a check for forty seven thousand five hundred dollars made out to Steven Robert Peterson. Steve stared at the amount printed on the check and then at his name printed above the amount. Steve had no idea what the money could be for. He finished unfolding the letter and began to read the contents.
The first page explained that the check was for the remaining balance of the trust fund that was set up for Steven Robert Peterson by his parent’s estate following their death. The page detailed the various sources that financed the trust fund and provided the overall starting value of the account.
Steve turned the page and found a detailed listing of all of the interest deposits made over the life of the trust fund. The letter was still not making any sense at all to him. He turned to the next page.
The third page was the start of the complete listing of the monthly support payments that had been made by the trust fund. At the top of the page was the name of Jack Peterson. He was listed as the recipient of the payments for his role as the guardian of Steven Peterson and manager of the trust fund.
The rest of the pages continued to detail all of the payments to Jack. The final page of the letter listed the total of the payments made out to Jack Peterson at over two hundred and twenty seven thousand dollars.
Steve sat down on the driveway and stared at the words and the numbers printed on the pages. The reality of the letter slowly sank in. Steve began to cry as the meaning of the pages became clear.
Jack had always told Steve that his parents had died penniless. He told him his parents did not care enough to provide for him. He told him his parents did not love him. Steve now realized the stories were made up in order to deceive him.
The letter meant that all of Jack’s stories were nothing but lies. They were made up tales to hide the secret fact that Jack was living off of his parent’s money. Steve dropped the letter and wept. His whole life was turning out to be a lie. He parents loved him after all.
Chapter 18 - The Ruse II
Tim Burke continued on his latest rant when the call came into the boardroom of Peterson Software at ten minutes past eleven on Monday morning. The new-fangled triangular shaped conference phone in the center of the large boardroom table began to flash a bright red light and chirp loudly. The phone’s display panel lit up with a faint emerald green glow. It read: “Peterson – Ext. 417”.
Kevin was seated closest to the phone. He was doodling on a notepad trying to kill some time. The mindless task also helped to drown out the sound of Tim’s endless ranting over Steve Peterson’s unexpected morning arrival at the office.
When the phone went off, Kevin was busy drawing some fancy interlocking 3-D squares on a notepad. He barely heard the chirping and paid little attention. Tim yelled to Kevin to see who was on the phone.
Kevin did just what Tim asked. He leaned forward in his chair, read the phone display and announced to the room that it was a call from Steve Peterson. Kevin then leaned back and slid into his chair. He glanced around the room looking for someone to take charge or at least offer some advice on what needed to be done next.
The phone started to chirp again.
“Well, don’t just sit there you dumb ass, answer the goddamn thing,” Tim barked, as he threw his arms into the air. Tim sneered, shaking his head from side to side. “I’ll bet if the goddamn display read Dunkin Doughnuts or Krispy Kreme you would have been all over the phone,” Tim muttered at no one in particular.
Kevin cleared his throat. He leaned in toward the phone and pressed the red oval speaker button. He tried to sound as professional as possible.
“Hello, this is the boardroom.”
“Hey guys this is Steve,” came the voice from the phone. “I am really sorry about this, but I will not be able to return to your discussion on new product ideas this afternoon. I have to head over to Clearwater for a meeting. It looks like I will be taking my vacation day after all.”
They were the words Tim had been waiting for. The deception had worked. Tim raised his right arm and gave a high-five to the surrounding air.
“That is not a problem Steve,” shouted Tim from across the table. “We can have the meeting later in the week. That will give us more time to flesh out some additional product details for you.”
“Later in the week sounds great Tim,” was the response. “Check your calendars and let me know what day will be good. Right now Friday from eleven to twelve looks good for me.”
Tim was now smiling from ear to ear. “Great Steve, we will coordinate our calendars and leave you a voice mail to let you know what looks good,” said Tim. “Have a good vacation day Steve.”
“Thanks Tim. Hope you guys come up with some real good and usable ideas. I will see you all tomorrow. Bye guys,” said Steve.
Tim nodded. He motioned for Kevin to press the cancel call button on the conference phone. Kevin looked bewildered. He looked back to Tim and shrugged with a questioning look.
Tim was already agitated at Kevin’s inability to think for himself. He extended his right pointer finger and began to flail his right arm up and down in the direction of the phone. Kevin finally got the message and hung up the call.
“I am just not used to this crazy thing yet,” Kevin said as he pressed th
e call cancel key. “A telephone shouldn’t have to be this technical.”
“Alexander Graham Bell you are not,” Tim said with a smirk. “I think you’re more like Alexander Graham Cracker,” Tim continued.
The room snickered at the remark. Tim was back in his element. He was back in full control. Steve accepted the made up story and was leaving the office for the rest of the day. The plan worked just like Tim said it would.
“Well, what did I tell you all?” asked Tim loudly. “Just as I predicted. It has all been worked out. And we don’t even have to meet with Steve until after the Thursday meeting. By then, none of this will even matter anymore.”
The major crisis of the morning had been successfully averted. The enemy had been eliminated and the meeting could continue on as planned. Tim took his seat at the head of the table. He still had one piece of unfinished business he needed to address before he got back to the meeting.
Tim leaned forward and glared over at Paul. “See, you just have to have a little faith in my abilities. You were already to throw in the towel over some slight setback that turned out to be nothing. You have to learn to act like a man,” said Tim. The tone of his voice was sharp and terse.
“Everyone in this room can learn a lesson here,” Tim continued. “You have to remember that all of us in this room are a team. There is no turning back now. We are all in this thing until it is complete. I don’t want to hear any more talk of backing out of this. No more talk of obstacles. We move forward from here on out. There is too much at stake.”
Tim placed the palms of his hands down onto the table and scanned the faces around him. He looked very serious.
“I am assuming everybody in this room agrees with what I just said,” Tim said curtly.
Paul knew Tim’s words were meant mainly for his benefit. He nodded at Tim in acceptance. “Yes, there is no turning back,” he replied.
The rest of the room nodded in quiet approval.
* * *
Steve Peterson climbed into the driver’s seat of his three-month-old Honda Civic. The time on the dashboard clock was quarter after eleven. The timing was going to be very close. Steve knew he would barely have enough time to make the drive all the way to Clearwater by noon for his meeting.
Steve wondered about the reason for the meeting. During his last conversation with the planning board they had discussed the demolition as the next step in the process. Maybe the meeting was to review the work that had been completed.
The timing of the meeting struck Steve as being a little strange. He thought he would have been given advanced notice. But Steve was well aware of the way the government agencies worked. Nothing they did surprised him anymore. Not even a vague message about an unscheduled meeting with an unidentified person for a reason he knew nothing about.
In the back of Steve’s mind he was also thinking about the missing shelter contract. He knew the planning board was expecting him to be returning the signed contract very soon. Steve hoped that whomever he was to meet with would have an extra copy of the contract that he could have.
The contract spelled out the homeless shelter redevelopment project in detail. Steve had worked out the plan with the Clearwater planning board in order to keep the city’s homeless shelter from permanently shutting down due to cutbacks in city spending. The contract called for a citizen based management team to be set up to own and maintain the structure that would house the homeless shelter. The management team was designed to operate at the private level, not the city level.
Almost all of the expenses for the building and the shelter’s operation would be handled through donations collected from the private sector. A nominal amount of city funding would be provided through a building lease back option.
Steve was able to get the city’s consent to privatize the building by agreeing that he and Peterson Software would cover any expense incurred during the first ten years of operation that was not covered by private donations. The agreement gave the city what it needed. It assured that expenditures for the homeless shelter would never go up over the period and guaranteed that the taxpayers wouldn’t be left holding the bag.
The contract also outlined the details of the shelter’s renovation plan. Steve Peterson would purchase the shelter structure from the city for one dollar after the city completed some demolition and cleanup work.
Steve would be responsible for providing all of the needed renovations to get the shelter back into operation. Once the renovations were complete, the building would be turned over to the private management group and then leased back to the city at a rate within the city’s budget.
The estimated costs for the renovations and the operations of the shelter were huge. The contract estimated the renovation costs at close to one million dollars. Peterson Software would provide half of the money, the other half would be provided solely by Steve Peterson.
The homeless shelter plan was getting extremely favorable and enthusiastic reviews from the city council and the local press. It was a rare case of big business giving back to the community. The taxpayers were eating it up.
Steve Peterson was getting a lot of pressure from his senior staff for his extravagant contributions and the drain they placed on corporate assets. Urged on by Tim Burke’s words, the senior team felt the money would be put to better use by reinvesting it back into the company for product development. It was never discussed with Steve, but down deep the group really felt the money would be put to better use in their own pockets.
Steve could never understand the resentment his charitable donations caused within his senior staff. The contributions by Peterson Software amounted to less than five percent of total revenue per year. Salary surveys for the Tampa area listed Peterson Software as having some of the highest employee salaries by job description in the region. The benefits package offered by the corporation could not be beat. Steve even initiated a profit sharing program when larger companies started to award stock options to their best people as an incentive. He always tried to be exceedingly fair with his employees. The vocal concerns from his senior people had him at a loss.
As long as the company was doing well financially, Steve felt the company was obligated to give something back to the community. He believed it was his duty to personally return some of his earnings to the community. He assumed everyone would feel the same way.
The shelter contract was still very much on Steve’s mind as he pressed down on the gas pedal and turned onto route 60 in the direction of Clearwater. He traveled north into downtown Tampa, passing by the Ice Palace Arena, the SunTrust building and the University of Tampa campus.
Steve looked over and checked the dashboard clock. It was going to be close. Steve did not know from the brief message if the planning board representative was arriving at noon or if they would be there until noon. He wondered if it would be a single member of the board or if the entire board was going to be at the location.
Steve hit the redial button on his cell phone to call the city planning office one more time. Again the call went directly into the office voice mail system. Steve was a details person and a planning person. Right now he had no plan and very few details. He pressed down on the accelerator partly out of frustration and partly to try and make up some time.
Chapter 19 - Ouch!
Steve Peterson slowed his Honda to a crawl in front of the former Clearwater homeless shelter. The time on the dashboard clock was two minutes after twelve. Steve did not have to look at the time to know that he was already late for his meeting.
Anxiety was building in Steve’s stomach. His left hand tapped the steering wheel nervously. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the area for a place to park his car.
Almost all of the building demolition work being done by the city had been completed. It appeared as if only clean-up work remained. The parking lot in front of the building was filled with building debris and several overflowing dumpsters. The entire area was cordoned off with two rows of yellow police tape and
two-dozen or so bright orange traffic cones.
For as far as Steve could see there were no available parking spaces anywhere along the street. Steve pulled back onto the main road and began to circle the block looking for someplace to park, any space would do. On his second trip around the block he noticed a few open parking spaces in a paved area behind the homeless shelter. The sign in the front of the lot read: “Parking for employees and patients only.”
Steve checked the time on the dashboard clock. It was now eight minutes after twelve. Steve was behind schedule and getting frantic. In front of him, a car pulled into the restricted lot. Steve knew he was running out of time. He cranked the steering wheel and pulled in behind.
Steve pulled his Honda into the nearest open parking space. He checked the time as he scrambled from the car. The area was unfamiliar to Steve. He stood for a few seconds, looking around for the quickest way to get over to the shelter.
Steve didn’t take notice of the car he followed into the lot. His attention was focused on finding the quickest way to the shelter. He also didn’t notice the driver of the other car walking toward him.
“Hey, nice car you have there.”
Steve was slightly startled. “What?” he asked as he twirled around toward the sound of the voice.
“I said you have a nice car. Look, you have the exact same car as I do. Same model, same light silver color and everything.”
Steve barely heard the words or saw the woman’s face as she spoke. He nervously glanced down at his watch. He did not have any time to discuss the similarity of their cars. “Do you know the quickest way to get over to the homeless shelter?” he asked.
“You’re going to the homeless shelter?” asked the woman. “That shelter has been closed for over three months now. And if it matters, this is a private parking lot. You shouldn’t park here if you are going to the homeless shelter.”