Ripoff

by St. James, Morgan

  The rest of the day my mind raced while I tried to imagine what could be so important. Kate was already on the line when Cami called right at eight.

  “My mom came through for us. She called Aunt Fannie for Nathan’s number and told her I might be taking a business trip to D.C. Aunt Fannie was so delighted, she couldn’t give Mom the number fast enough.”

  “That’s great. Absolutely wonderful.” I popped a dark chocolate covered cherry into my mouth, savoring it as the sweet filling coated my tongue.” So, did you find out anything about Alaric or Superior Moving yet?”

  She chuckled. “Agent Triple Zero reporting. I checked out Alaric Fabricators today armed with some really slick business cards. They set me back sixty bucks, but I wanted to look professional.”

  I said, “Good move,” and Kate added, “We’ll share the cost. Spit it out. You sound like the cat stalking the canary.”

  Cami’s chuckle escalated to a slightly hysterical giggle. She tends to do that when she’s really wound up. “Stalking? Not even close. I think unmasking is a better description. See, I drove out to City of Industry expecting to find Alaric in an industrial park or something like that. You know, a building number generally means it’s that kind of place. I pictured a factory big enough to produce good-sized orders like the ones for the supply depots.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Well, I didn’t have to look for Building G-2076 at all. That block of Ransom Road turned out to be a street with nothing but stores. Know what was at 2897 Ransom Road? Mailboxes and Much More. They call their private mailboxes building numbers instead of boxes if that’s what the customer requests. They just tack the box number after the letter.”

  “But maybe that’s just the mail drop for the factory. Maybe—”

  Cami interrupted. “—maybe, this is much more of a scam than we could ever imagine. I thought the same thing. By the way, taking a page from Matt’s book, I made sure to wear a low cut blouse and short skirt, sort of a civilian version of our uniforms, just in case I’d be dealing with a guy at Alaric. I figured I’d tease him the same way I tease male contracting officers. Of course I knew if it turned out to be a woman, I’d have to regroup.”

  I laughed. “So you turned on the sex appeal and found out more?”

  “You bet I did. The fellow behind the counter at Mailboxes and Much More was pretty cute. I couldn’t help noticing him eyeing my cleavage.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t wait to hear this,” Kate said before adding, “When we jokingly called ourselves the Fraud Busters the other night, I had no idea it would turn into something like this. I was figuring simple embezzlement. Go on.”

  “Yep. Well, I made sure to look forlorn. I do that look pretty well. I told him I really needed to find the factory and reeled off our story about being desperate to have all of this furniture made. For good measure I added that Alaric had been highly recommended as a company that could do it and I just had to find them. I handed him a business card to make it look genuine. I even made my voice wobble when I said my time was running out and I didn’t have any more options. The coup de grâce was Maneuver 101—you know, I pushed my boobs forward and batted my eyes while I pleaded with him to help me.“

  “You didn’t!”

  “I sure did and it worked.” She giggled. “The girls did their job! He said, ‘Sorry, but if you really need to find them I guess you’ll have to book a plane ticket because they’re not in L.A.’”

  Kate said, “Not in L.A.?”

  “Surprised me, too. He said all they ever received at the box were envelopes with a return address with the initials FACR in Washington D.C. He remembered that because he thought it was strange they never got anything else. Just stuff from, as he put it, what appeared to be some funky government agency. He lowered his voice like he was telling me a secret and said, ‘I’ve always thought they might even be a spy agency.’ Then he winked and added, ‘Coool.’”

  “Boy, was he off-base! Did he have anything else to offer?”

  “Well, he said the envelopes are usually letter-sized, and you know what that means. They probably contain checks. Here’s where it gets even better. His instructions are to forward all mail to a J. Harrison at a post office box in Seattle. He said this has been going on for about three years.”

  I blurted out, “It’s beginning to sound like Alaric doesn’t exist anywhere but on paper and their “factory” is nothing more than a private mailbox in City of Industry, California. But, that couldn’t be possible, could it?”

  Recovering from the stunning revelation, Kate asked, “Did you have a chance to check out the shipping company yet? Common sense tells me there must be some other explanation. After all, the customers must have signed off when the orders were delivered or the invoices wouldn’t have been paid. That’s right, isn’t it Kimberly?”

  I considered the standard procedures for payment before saying, “Absolutely. Which means there’s a very good chance the contracting officers are in on it. Here’s another thing. For HRF to receive commissions, or as Julia called them referral fees, those orders definitely had to not only be shipped, but paid. I mean, all of you are paid for shipped merchandise only. That means those checks that get forwarded to J. Harrison have to be for the full amount due on the invoices. Hundreds of thousands of dollars each.”

  Kate said, “Makes sense to me. Go on.”

  “Plain and simple, I’m pretty sure now FACR did pay every invoice we found.” I added, “About $38,000,000 worth over the three year period! Now we have to figure out how the merchandise got to the supply depots.”

  I paused for breath and let what I’d said sink in. “Let’s recap. First, I never saw copies of any of the paperwork and I should have. From the time our office was operational they received about $14,000.000 in orders. Second, according to what we pulled from Julia’s records, Alaric accounted for about $24,000,000 worth of pass-throughs before we came on board. Remember, when I questioned it she claimed to be handling anything tagged with HRF personally. The only thing I ever saw were puzzling entries on the sheets she gave me. Third, the copies were in the batch of things we copied at her house.”

  Kate said, “Don’t forget all of those emails with the subject SUPPDEP.”

  I continued. “With what Cami discovered, my guess is J. Harrison has to be Julia. After all, Harris? Harrison? The names are too close to be a coincidence. So, maybe Julia and Bruce own a silent interest in a manufacturing company, or even own the whole thing secretly. Maybe they farm the orders out to job shops in the Seattle area. I guess that might be a possibility.”

  We were all on the same wavelength.

  Cami blurted out, “I see where you’re headed. Between them they could have easily slid through an approved vendor status for Alaric even if the stuff is made in a garage. No one would ever check it. After all, FACR’s two main people endorsed the vendor. Maybe that’s part of the reason our office is in Seattle. Near Paradise and away from prying eyes.”

  “Silent ownership of a government contracting company by government executives? That would smack of fraud. Using their positions to secure contracts? Maybe they’re overcharging and that’s how they make their money. What do you think?” Kate waited for us to offer our opinions.

  “Well, it does sound like something that could net them a hefty profit. Particularly if they pull back on the specifications and overcharge for the merchandise. The media is full of government ripoff stories like that.”

  Cami added, “With a scam like this, they could actually pocket a pretty penny, even after paying off all the expenses. Still, someone would have to be running the factory for them, so we still have to find out where the stuff is made.”

  With every one of the orders automatically going to Paradise prison for a pass-though, the scenario we envisioned could definitely work. Plus, Julia is there a good deal of the time.

  So many questions hung in the balance, we agreed to talk again after Cami had visited Superior Moving and Storage.
That way I’d know more when I tried to pump Matt. What the hell had we gotten into?

  Cami said, “Something still really bothers me. Suppose Alaric, or whatever it turns out to be, is located in Washington State. Why would the shipping company be in L.A.? It simply doesn’t make sense.”

  She was right. If Alaric Fabricators wasn’t here in Washington, where was it? Maybe they did have the stuff made somewhere in L.A. My mind was mush. I couldn’t take in one more thought.

  I might not have mentioned that Kate is a history buff. Her parting comment was: “Alaric is a strange name for a company. If I recall correctly, the King of the Visigoths was named Alaric, and he plundered Greece way back—I think it was in 395. By 410, his last year in power, he attacked Italy and conquered Rome. Then he fell ill of a fever and died. Do you suppose that has any relevance? Besides plundering, what do you suppose this Alaric is out to conquer?”

  ~36~

  I tossed and turned all night, unable to get Kate’s comment out of my mind. What was Alaric out to conquer? Obviously they had managed to take in millions, but how much did they actually keep? How deeply was Matt involved? Was he an equal partner with Bruce and Julia or simply someone who got paid off by them? Where did he really get his money? This time I wasn’t looking forward to our dinner.

  Daylight filtered through the clouds, sending hazy shards of light through the picture window in my bedroom. The last thing I could remember was checking the clock somewhere in the middle of the night and seeing 3:00 on the lighted display. I guess I fell asleep shortly after that. Oh well, four hours of sleep was definitely better than none.

  I stood over the sink to splash cold water on my face, then pulled my robe more tightly around me as I made my way to the kitchen.

  Why was I always attracted to the wrong men? Depending upon what happened next, Matt could even be headed for prison sometime soon.

  During our conversation the night before, we agreed that Kate would set up a phony email with Avarice-2 as the ID. She would send an email addressed to all of them and make it sound like it was from someone who knew what they were doing and wanted in.

  When I checked my computer, the blind copy of the Avarice-2 email was at the top of my inbox.

  To: jharrison@msn.com, Matt@hotmail.com,

  ghost@aol.com

  From: Avarice-2@yahoo.com

  I know what you’re up to and want in on the action. Don’t try to figure out how I got your email addresses. You have 24 hours to answer. Otherwise, things could get very uncomfortable for all of you. The ball is in your court.

  I re-read it, trying to picture the look on their faces when each of them opened our email. Julia would be furious, Bruce would probably be shaken and Matt—well, I didn’t really know how Matt would react. I’d have to watch him closely during dinner. Maybe he would slip and say something.

  We planned to meet at Manni’s Place, a trendy restaurant on Pine near 5th, at eight that evening. Cami was supposed to touch base with us at 6:30 to fill us in on what she’d found at Superior Moving, which meant I had plenty of time to go home, change clothes and get Cami’s call before meeting Matt.

  As I passed his office on my way out, I heard the muffled sound of Julia’s voice. I’m sure they thought his door was closed, but apparently the latch hadn’t caught and it was open a crack. Matt shouted, “Maybe cutting him in on a couple of deals will be enough. I don’t see how this happened. It’s…”

  I was about to see if I could hear more when I heard the door in the reception room slam so loud it echoed down the corridor.

  Of all people, Lena came barreling toward me with her head down. For a moment I froze. I’d only known her to come to our office a few times, so what the hell was she doing in Seattle? I didn’t take time to dwell on it, though. Body language says a lot and it was obvious she was in a rotten mood. Besides, I had more important things to worry about than Lena pitching a hissy fit about whatever had her upset.

  Fortunately I managed to sidestep before she smashed into me. That woman is built like a tank and if we had collided, I have no doubt she would have knocked me over. I nodded to her and hurried out.

  I didn’t envy them. Lena seemed to get pleasure from attacking Matt, always complaining and showing a nasty temper. Truthfully, the image of Julia and Matt squirming as they tried to push Lena out the door as quickly as possible was delicious. If the closed door conversation meant anything, Kate’s Avarice-2 email shook them up just as we had planned and Lena’s visit would upset them even more.

  I kicked off my shoes as soon as I got home and exchanged my business suit for comfortable jeans and a sweater. Then I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and worked the day’s crossword puzzle until Cami called.

  Sure enough, promptly at 6:30 the phone rang. Kate was already on the line.

  After ‘hi’ and ‘how are you,’ Cami gushed, “Okay, so I went to Superior Moving and Storage all prepared to use the same story as the one at Mailboxes and Much More. You know, saying I needed a company to warehouse and install a job of at least 80 workstations.”

  Kate asked, “Good. Did it work? Did you get to tour the warehouse?”

  “Well yes, no and maybe. This is getting murkier and murkier, you guys. Again, it wasn’t what I expected to find at all. Oh yes, it’s actually a very big warehouse and they do have a fleet of 18-wheelers. But they aren’t a company that would be first choice for warehousing office furniture and installing workstations.”

  That threw me. “What do you mean?”

  “Um, they are almost strictly dedicated to residential furniture. The manager explained that they warehouse stock on the West Coast for furniture manufacturing companies on the East Coast. Those companies manufacture living room, dining room and bedroom furniture. In addition, they handle many deliveries to the East Coast from companies on the West Coast. That way their trucks carry loads in both directions which is very profitable. They do handle other jobs like furniture shows and model homes, as well, but nothing for offices.”

  Kate and I both said, “No shit!” at the same time.

  Cami continued. “Fortunately, the manager told me all of that before I spun the story about the big commercial job. Boy, did I regroup fast. I jumped on the model home angle and said I was doing a series of model homes and the furniture would have to be shipped in from different manufacturers to a qualified warehouse, then installed when everything was complete.”

  “Hey, Girl, way to go. You really think on your feet.”

  “You have to in advertising. Everyone is always one step ahead of you. Anyway I asked to see the warehouse and even asked about their off-premises insurance. I remembered that from a designer friend who took a bath when a warehouse burned down with her client’s merchandise in it. She was stuck for thousands because the storage company’s insurance wasn’t adequate.”

  When she gave one of her telltale giggles, I knew something good was coming.

  “He took me back into this cavernous space filled with furniture and crates. I swear it must have been the size of several football fields. From what I could see, just as he said, it was not a place likely to handle office furniture delivery and installation. As we walked, he pointed out areas with sofas and chairs shrink-wrapped on pallets, ready to ship. I tried to look like I recognized the names he called out. Stuff like Living Interiors, Sofa Solutions and others just as foreign.”

  I said, “Yeah, definitely sounds nice and homey.”

  “Okay, then we came to another section where crates and cartons were stacked nearly to the ceiling, and he said those were bedroom and dining room furniture. I was about to thank him for the tour and say I’d be in touch, when I saw two men off in a far corner of the warehouse stenciling something on large cartons. I’m not sure why it tweaked my curiosity, but it did, so I managed to steer him in that direction as we walked. I wanted to get a closer look.”

  “And?”

  “And what they were stenciling were the initials FACR and numbers that lo
oked like style numbers.”

  “So they are handling government stuff. I wonder why he lied to you. Actually, now that you mention it, I remember seeing a new Alaric order among the stuff we copied. I never saw any paperwork for that one either. The amount was—let me think—yeah, almost $400,000. Maybe that’s the order you saw at Superior. Looks to me like the waters definitely are getting murkier and murkier. What did you do?”

  “You would have been so proud of me. I took out my cell phone and pretended to call a partner to say I thought we had found exactly the furniture warehouse we needed.”

  “Good move. That made it look like you were for real.” I was very impressed with the way Cami had handled it, but then I heard her laughing.

  In between giggles she said. “Check your email. I’d managed to position myself just right to be able to use the camera in the phone to shoot pictures of the men marking those boxes without the guy realizing it. He was too busy ogling me. All the time he thought I was on the phone, I was snapping and wondering what was in the boxes and where they came from. Why would they have a shipment marked FACR if they don’t handle commercial furniture? On second thought, why would they be the ones marking the boxes? That really doesn’t make sense. The factories mark the boxes. By the way, the pictures came out great. They’ll make a terrific addition to our evidence when the package is ready to show Nathan.”

  ~37~

  We had been on the phone longer than I’d intended, but Cami’s discovery added a whole new wrinkle. What a mystery this was turning out to be. Just when we thought we were getting a handle on it, there were so many new things to consider. Hopefully I’d be able to learn more during my dinner with Matt. I tried to figure out what I was going to say to him in view of what Cami had uncovered.

  Whatever happened, one thing had become painfully clear. I really had to be careful he didn’t suspect I knew anything beyond what he and Julia thought I did.

  He lounged in one of the booths toward the back of the restaurant, handsome in a black turtleneck and sport jacket, every hair in place except for the bit that always tumbled onto his forehead. When he stood to give me a hello hug, I noticed he was wearing black jeans that fit as though they had been tailor-made. Why couldn’t he have looked more like my nervous controller back at STC, polka dot bow tie and all? It certainly would have made this easier. After that hug I fought the image of snuggling against his inviting cashmere-clad body. My inner voice yelled, “Cut it out, you jerk! The guy’s a slimy crook.”