Speechless, I nodded again. She had beaten me to it. Maybe nothing was wrong after all.
She walked over to the cabinet, unlocked it and rummaged through quite a few files. Then she pulled some out and handed them to me. “Well, go ahead and get a preliminary report together for me. I hate to say it, but cash flow is a little tight and I might have to do some fancy shuffling this time. It will help to know how much we’re looking at. Unfortunately, quite a few of the big invoices haven’t been paid yet.” She cleared her throat and brushed her hair from her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping tabs on those personally.” I noticed she glanced over at the file cabinet again before her eyes flicked back to mine.
Something in her eyes told me I was right in the first place. I could feel it in my bones. I took the files she offered. Then I said, “I’ll run another set for myself and leave these with you in case you want to look through them,” and handed her mine.
I was half out of my chair when she signaled me to sit back down. “Listen, I actually called you in here for a completely different reason. I have something important we need to discuss now.”
My mouth went dry. Was she going to fire me? Maybe I had gotten too close to whatever was wrong with the whole scenario and all the talk about bonuses was designed to get me knocked off track. Shit. Me and my big mouth.
Instead she said, “There’s something in the works that’s really big. Truthfully, it has nothing to do with your job description, but Matt has volunteered to do what he can and I really need you on board too. You’ve got a good relationship with all of the sales reps and I’m counting on you to be the liaison with them.
I felt my teeth clench and knew she saw it.
She said, “I don’t have the time to go into details right now, but we’ll meet after lunch. I’ve got a free hour between one and two and I’ll spell everything out for you. This is Bruce’s idea and I do believe that it’s brilliant. It will mean so much to our cause.”
What kind of a “cause?” Last time I looked, this was a furniture manufacturing rehabilitation program. What could possibly qualify as a cause? I recalled a statistic she cited with fierce pride in our original orientation talk. Maybe she was more dedicated to keeping inmates from returning to prison through our program than I thought. Maybe that was her personal crusade.
I remembered her saying it had been proven there was a twenty-five percent reduction in repeat offenses among former inmates who had been part of the Federal Association of Correctional Reform program. Could that be why she used words like “mission” and “cause?” I tried, honestly I did, but I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that washed over me when I’d recognized a flash of greed in her tone.
Julia had asked Matt to sit in on the meeting later that afternoon. We spread ourselves around the small conference table near the floor-to-ceiling window and I drank in the fantastic view of the shimmering lake.
“Kimberly, Matt knows some of this already, but Bruce wants to have a big blowout party for our main manufacturing partners, maybe some of our good customers and everyone on our staff. We’ll be hosting the executives from twenty of our big manufacturing partners. The contracts we have with them for design, training and components are what keep us growing. They all love a party with great food and free drinks, so we’ll really wine and dine them. Bruce insisted upon inviting representatives from certain key accounts as well. He believes bringing everyone together will instill confidence. Then we’ll have our company meeting the next day and pass out commission checks.
Matt shook his head and broke in. “Of course, like I told you Julia, we certainly can’t present the invitations that way. We have to say that with our sales team up and running, this is an orientation workshop and sales retreat. You know, say we want our top contacts in these companies to meet the team that’s pulling in the orders. There’s never any problem when we claim a meeting will set up a synergy. After a few token presentations, we’ll have lots of partying and everyone will be happy. Otherwise, we could all be found guilty of violating government rules.” She and Matt both snickered at that while I tried to figure out what was going on. How were they paying for this if they might not be able to cover bonuses as Julia had intimated earlier?
She turned to me. “Kimberly, the way I see it we can bring everyone in and put them up at the Westin. The party will start in the early evening on Friday and we’ll have the meeting on Saturday. There’s much more to this, but I’m not going to go into that right now. Bruce feels very strongly that after this party these key customers will agree we make it very pleasant to do business with us and want to expand their involvement instead of asking for so many waivers to buy from private-sector companies.”
Matt added, “Bruce is sure this will generate millions and millions of dollars of additional capabilities from the manufacturing partners as well as business from the federal government accounts in the near future.”
Julia broke in. “On Saturday we’ll lay out all of the good projections for the future and the team’s responsibilities. That’s important because I know some of our people will be disappointed at the amount of their checks this time, but we have to keep their spirits up, and that’s part of the reason for the party.”
Her last statement threw up a red flag. Talk about not marching with reality. Throw a party that costs a bundle and expect the sales team to be enthused when they don’t get the amounts they expected? I was about to say something to that effect when Julia said, “I know what you must be thinking, but trust me. Next quarter they’ll be much happier. After our little meeting, we can get everyone to the airport in time to catch flights home.”
At this point, the checks weren’t the only thing I was worried about. Just how big a party were they planning at government expense? None of this felt right to me. I looked at both of them, wondering if I’d entered the Twilight Zone instead of Julia’s office. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, where exactly will this gala event be held? I’m guessing a humungous hotel bill would raise a lot of questions among the auditors.”
Julia waved me off. “Heavens no, there’s a trick to doing something like this, Kimberly. But then I forget that this is your first government job. You’re quite right when you say we don’t want something as obvious as a huge hotel entertainment bill on our books. We’ve found a perfectly wonderful mansion in Medina that we rented for the weekend. That way, we’ll officially call our little event a brainstorming retreat for the sales people and no one will question it at all. I know what I’m doing. They never question anything they don’t totally understand. We’ll come up with cost codes to shelter most of the expenses and it will all slide through smooth as silk.”
“But—“
Julia cut me off at the pass. “No buts. There will be no changes, understand?” That sharp edge had entered her tone. I listened to Julia prattle on and on about how to do it, certain this wasn’t the first time she had bent the rules."
I was still in a mild form of shock when she said, “We’ve booked one of the top caterers in town for the party. Wait until you see the gourmet menu Matt selected.”
It definitely sounded like an illegal use of taxpayers’ dollars. Why hadn’t he said anything to me Friday night? If Matt worked out the menu with the caterers, then he certainly knew what was happening. I was pretty miffed at being kept in the dark, and felt my doubts about him returning as well. The man was making me feel like a yo-yo when I needed to think of him as an ally.
~15~
Matt pushed his chair away from the table and said he would check with me later. I was about to leave too, but Julia said, “Stay for a minute, Kimberly.”
Okay, there was that tentative feeling again, like the other shoe was about to drop. She said, “Um, there’s one more little thing. You know, of course, our compensation plan is set up so the bonus checks are issued for merchandise shipped before the end of each quarter.”
I nodded, but couldn’t shake the feeling she was setting me up.
�
�Eventually you’ll have full access to the new software system, but for now some portions will remain confidential until our consultants work out the bugs.”
I was about to question that when she added, “For example, I’m afraid certain dates previously shown for merchandise shipped in the last quarter were wrong. Like I said, there was a glitch in the program.” Her lips tightened. Here it comes flashed through my mind.
A wry smile replaced the tight expression. “Some of the shipments were entered with the date the order came out of production instead of the shipping date.” A bit of a flush crept from her neck to her cheeks. I knew she was lying. Her eyes flitted around the room, as though looking for any place to rest. Anywhere but connecting with mine, that is.
“That has created a bit of a problem. Several of those large orders didn’t actually go out until the following week, which means they won’t be payable until next quarter. I don’t have the corrected figures yet, so I just made a list for you and highlighted the ones I’m talking about. There are quite a few.”
I definitely didn’t like the sound of that. What reason could she possibly have for not letting me access that information directly? I’m the financial whiz. I know quite a bit about computer programs, and it simply didn’t seem reasonable that only certain big orders would have automatically been entered wrong while others weren’t. Besides, where were the actual printouts with corrected dates and the backup information?
Why hadn’t Julia given me the supporting documents showing actual shipping dates? The only thing she handed me were some sheets with the supposed wrong dates highlighted. Bands of yellow decorated the pages like stripes on a bumblebee. Obviously, she expected me to take her word. But I didn’t. She should have given me a report of all the shipped orders in complete detail, not just her own tabulations.
She probably saw the shadow of doubt cross my face. I don’t know how else to describe the flinty quality in her eyes at that moment. It was clear our meeting was at an end. She shuffled the papers and restacked them. While ushering me to the door, she said, “Don’t worry. When the program is working correctly, you’ll be bombarded with more paper than you could ever want. Enjoy it while you can.”
Somehow I’d expected her to be less transparent. Those “things I didn’t need” were probably the exact ones that showed our team was owed quite a bit more than the checks she intended to pass out.
Just as I suspected when I opened the file, a quick glance at the top paper told me despite all the highlighting, there was a lot of missing information. She’d given me only what she wanted me to see and no more. Who did she think she was kidding? I was being set up to take the flack that was sure to blossom when the checks were disappointing. That’s why the meeting was scheduled after the party and not before. She needed everyone to be their charming best for the corporate executives and key clients, and if they realized they were being cheated, it certainly wouldn’t put anyone in a party mood.
Oh, she had been clever about it. I would be her buffer when pandemonium broke out. Kimberly Martin, punching bag.
To me her smile had looked much more like a smirk when she said, “There are bound to be complaints. When that happens, it will be your job to explain about the cutoff dates glitch. Regardless of the amount, every one of them should be delighted to receive any check at all, but people get greedy. Just keep calm. Make sure to say it looks like next quarter will be quite lucrative. That will calm them down.”
What a clumsy cover up. I remember how Matt had caught my eye during the meeting. Had he been giving me a silent message to be careful? How was I going to keep people pumped up if they were being screwed?
Talk about walking a tightrope. On one hand I knew I had to tell Kate and Cameron what was happening. On the other hand, I dreaded it. I couldn’t keep it from them, which meant they would be the only ones on the sales team who knew. Would they explode or go along with me? And then there was Matt. Just when I’d come to think of him as a trusted friend, the doubts were burgeoning. Was he tied in with Julia in some underhanded scheme? Did he really inherit from a rich grandmother, or was he a liar?
I opened the file and fingered the pages, wondering whether to take a crack at them or wait until I could sort out my thoughts. It was too tempting. Every page had those yellow highlighter streaks, and every streak seemed to represent an amount that some salesperson was entitled to and wouldn’t get. At least not now. Realizing I was too confused and upset to deal with it right then, I closed the file, and promised myself I would get to the bottom of it. I had no idea what “it” might turn out to be, but as my mom used to say, “Something was rotten in Denmark.”
I spent the rest of the day doing busy work, trying not to look at the file even as it sat on my desk beckoning to me. Matt was nowhere to be seen the entire afternoon. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tear Julia’s figures apart. I’d do it tonight in the privacy of my office at home.
That evening I stopped for gas, then went to the market where I bought a takeout dinner at the deli counter and a cheerful bouquet of flowers. I put the flowers in a nice cut crystal vase and displayed it on my dining table. As I spread out my dinner, my mind wandered. I didn’t like being used. One thing was painfully clear. Julia had figured out how to fabricate a three month delay in paying thousands of dollars of commissions that should have been due now. Worse yet, she was using me as the goat. What in the hell was she up to?
That night, snuggled in my big blue bathrobe, I poured over everything in the file, then went through it again. I’d moved the flowers from the dining room to my office, feeling a need to fill the small room with their delicate fragrance. Occasionally I’d glance at the colorful array, telling myself there was no point in alerting Cameron and Kate until I had something solid to tell them. Around ten o’clock, I fixed myself a cup of coffee in an attempt to stay alert and continued through the sales figures. What other double dealings were hidden in Julia’s locked cabinet? Would I be able to figure out how to see the real files—the ones she supposedly used to compile the contrived sheets she’d given me?
Another thing bothered me. I knew I’d never seen some of the large orders that weren’t highlighted in yellow. Each of those was somewhere around $500,000 plus or minus and Julia had noted HRF next to each of them in the salesperson’s column. Projects that size usually involved several quotes before the actual purchase was made, so why had I never seen even one? Details. The little details were what bothered me the most. There were a ton of small and medium shipments, and not one was yellow lined. The yellow-lined orders jumping out at me were all $300,000 or more.
By one in the morning I realized I was just staring at the pages without comprehending, so I decided to turn in for the night. Tomorrow was another day.
~16~
The next morning I took everything back to the office and resolved to stay as late necessary to finish the statements. I kept my office door closed and had calls held, so things moved along at a good pace. Unfortunately, I definitely didn’t like the emerging picture.
The wayward commissions already totaled close to $100,000. Since I was working through them alphabetically, I’d finished Cameron’s and Kate’s statements. They would be furious when I told them what was happening, but they had to know. Orders supposedly shipped after the cutoff represented $7,000 in commissions to Kate and around $4,000 to Cameron. None of it seemed to make sense. As hard as I tried to accept that the supposed incorrect dates were typical of computer program errors, I knew for a fact that wasn’t likely.
Stranger still, were those HRF orders among the entries that I couldn’t tie to any of our known representatives. Did we have accounts that were basically house accounts, therefore not commissionable? Did that mean they wouldn’t come across my desk? That was nonsense. I was responsible for tracking all sales. If there were special accounts, someone should have told me. Maybe there were some in the preceding quarter. The only reason they caught my attention this time were Julia’s yel
low lines setting them off. Sandwiched as they were in the yellow borders, it was impossible to miss the mysterious transactions. I considered whether to ask about them, and decided not to. Something weird was going on, and questions would only alert her.
A loud rap at the door interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at my watch and saw it was after five. Where had the time gone? The receptionist stood silhouetted in the doorway.
“Kimberly, I was just about to leave for the day when this came.” She held out a thick envelope. “It seems to be from some escrow company, and the bike courier said he needed a signature, so I signed for it. It’s marked “personal” for Julia. I was going to leave it in her office, but it looks important. I thought you might want to get in touch with her instead. After all, she isn’t expected back in this office for a few more days.”
Escrow company? My curiosity was aroused. She did say she was renting a house in Paradise. Maybe she had decided to buy it. Picturing what I’d seen of the town of Paradise Hills, I banished that thought from my mind. I couldn’t picture anyone actually buying a house there. Next I considered taking an innocent little peek before depositing it on her desk. If I could figure out how to open it without her knowing, that wouldn’t hurt— would it?
I smiled at the receptionist. “You did the right thing. I’ll call her so she can tell me what to do with it. Do me a favor, and make sure the door is locked when you leave. I’ll be here all by myself.”
I listened for the sound of the door closing, then waited a few more minutes to be sure before I tackled the envelope. I didn’t need anyone walking in on me just as I was snooping. Confident the coast was clear, I studied the envelope. Fortunately it didn’t have one of those tear-off strips. That would have made it impossible. Maybe good old fashioned steaming would work.
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