Stephanie Feagan - Show Her The Money

After dragging my exhausted, half-drunk ass out of the pool, I showered and dressed in a loose, cotton sundress, one of my better Target finds, and went to the kitchen to help Mom get supper on the table. She was just pulling the fajitas out of the oven, saying, “I love Rosario’s fajitas, but I guess maybe they’re better when you eat them there.”

A deep voice responded, “They’ll be okay.”

I moved farther into the kitchen and spotted a tall guy leaning against the opposite counter. In a faded red T-shirt, he was buff, with longish, dark hair that didn’t look like he wore it long on purpose. It looked like he either forgot to go get a haircut, or blew it off. Glancing at the hole in his jeans, I voted for blew it off. Ed was not a guy who cared what he looked like.

He definitely looked like the type of guy I’d love to have hot sex with, then send home right after. Not relationship material. Bad boy material. And I knew all about bad boys. I married one.

Mom spotted me and said, “Pink, this is Ed.”

I stuck my hand out to shake his and smiled politely. At least I think it was polite. Feeling his huge, warm hand wrap around mine was very stimulating. I may have leered at him, but I’m not sure. The hot sun and the Coronas and my complete lack of a love life over the past year and a half all added up to a few lightning-bolt zings in the vicinity of my hootus. So maybe I did leer at him and probably held his hand too long. He smiled back and mumbled something like, “Nice t’ meet you.”

I finally let go of his hand and we stood there, eyeing each other like moose in mating season. Hmm. Nice body. Good teeth. Smells awesome. For a minute, I wished I was a moose. Then we could go get it on and no one would think anything about it.

But alas, I wasn’t a moose. And Mom was right there, noticing all the animal attraction and clearing her throat, as if to say, Back off you two and save the drooling for later.

I turned to glance at her and noticed her eyes, those dark, flashing Mom eyes, said, See, I told you so.

Mom loves to say “I told you so.” Most times, I don’t care. It gives her a charge, so why not? Other times, it really ticks me. This was one of those times. I decided not to like Ed, just to show her she wasn’t always right. Looking up at him, I asked casually, “So, Ed, what’s with you not paying your taxes?” I ignored Mom’s sharp breath.

He never so much as blinked. “I forgot.”

“And the IRS bought that?”

“No. They bought that I’ve never made that much money before and didn’t realize I needed to pay in quarterly.”

“So, how much did you make?”

“Whitney Ann!” Mom said in a take-no-prisoners voice, “Stop asking such personal questions and behave yourself!”

Ed still didn’t look away, or appear one bit concerned. “A little over five million.”

“Musta been a good case. Who’d you sue?”

“Marvel Energy.”

Just like that, he got me, right between the eyes. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

He smiled then. Grinned, actually. “Loved it. Wanna go for round two?”

“Maybe later. I’m starving.”

Mom looked ready to wring my neck, but she didn’t say anything else, or call me Whitney Ann! again. We sat down in her elegant dining room and ate fajitas out of a foil pan and talked about the Midland school board and their latest attempts to pass a gigantic school bond. Ed wasn’t as dumb as he was a slob. In fact, he seemed very intelligent.

By the end of supper, I knew I needed to steer clear of him. He was an accident waiting to happen, and I was doomed to be the sole casualty. My ex-husband, George, was just like Ed. Well, except that George was a mechanic and Ed was a lawyer. But other than that…And I suppose Ed did have better manners. George would never have asked if Mom and I would like more iced tea as he got up to pour himself another glass. George would have grunted, pointed his fork at his glass and waited for me to jump up and get it. He got away with that exactly once. After that, he waited so long, his ice melted.

Ed poured more tea into my glass, then Mom’s, and retook his chair. “Tell me about Marvel Energy and the senate finance committee.”

“What? Don’t you watch CNN? I’m the flavor of the week. Me and Senator Santorelli. They’ve got me sleeping with him.”

“Well, he is very attractive,” Mom said. “And he’s single now, since his wife passed away. You know the media loves him, and they really get off on pairing him up with single women.”

“I don’t even know the man. And I don’t think he’s the least bit attractive.”

“Why?” Mom frowned at me over her fajita stuffed tortilla.

“Gee, let me count the ways. Could it be because he made me tell the entire United States about Mister Bob?”

“He meant well. How could he have known about Mister Bob?”

She had a point, but I was not in the mood to be understanding. I refocused on Ed’s face. His very attractive, manly face, with a five-o’clock shadow and really nice brown eyes. “What do you want to know that isn’t already out there?”

He swallowed his drink of tea, set the glass down and said easily, “I want to know how you knew about the memos and how you got them.”

Sitting back in my chair, I stared at him for a long time.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” Ed said.

I took a long drink of tea. Would he believe me? Or would he be like Mr. Dryer and Barbara Clemmons and assume I was as guilty as the partners at the firm? I supposed there was only one way to find out. “When I discovered the enormous amount of debt Marvel carries off the books, and how close the company was to defaulting on those loans, I went to Lowell and told him. He said I should forget the loans, that I should just conduct the audit and make sure I had workpapers to back up clean financials.”

“He told you to lie?”

“Only a lot. That’s when I knew he’d set me up. He promoted me and put me in charge of the audit so when the news broke that Marvel is basically bankrupt, I’d be in the hot seat. I’d get my license jerked for gross negligence while Lowell stood back and acted like he had no clue. The firm would stay in business and my career would be history. I was the sacrificial lamb.”

“He didn’t count on you blowing the whistle.”

“Not hardly. Or maybe he just thought I wasn’t smart enough to figure it all out. The day I suggested we should go to the SEC with what I’d found, he went ballistic. I told him I was gonna do it, and he fired me. The next day, I turned over copies of Marvel’s debt instruments to the SEC, thinking they’d investigate, fine the company and demand they clean up their act. Instead, they asked me a lot of questions about how we’d conducted the audit in the past, about how much debt Marvel had during those years and how we missed it. That’s when it dawned on me, Marvel had been hiding debt at least three years before the current year, and Lowell must have known all along. That’s when I knew we weren’t just talking about losing a CPA license. We were talking about criminal charges against any of the management who worked on the Marvel audit during the past several years, including me. By blowing the whistle on Marvel, I’d basically set myself up. No way anyone would believe I wasn’t aware of the cover-up.”

Ed gave me a funny look and I held my breath. He had to believe me. If he didn’t, how could I hire him to represent me, to help me get through the next hearing?

“If you’d realized the hidden debt was there in years past, would you still have gone to the SEC?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitating. “It all would have come out eventually because Marvel didn’t have the income they needed to pay off the loans, but I hoped I could get things straightened out before they had to declare bankruptcy. I hoped I could keep the stock from losing all of its value.”

“Even if it meant putting yourself on the line?”

“Even then, but I didn’t realize my position until I went to the SEC and they started asking a lot of questions. I was scared to death, and figured my only hope was to find something that proved the deal was between Lowell and the CFO and CEO at Marvel, which would go a long way toward proving me and the others who worked on the audit had no clue about the debt.”

“The memos,” Mom said, her dark eyes wide.

“As it turned out, there were memos, but for all I knew, it could have been on the back of a cocktail napkin. I went to the office late one night, got in with a key card I swiped and hit pay dirt. I called the SEC the following morning and set up an appointment to deliver one of the disk copies a couple of days later. They asked if I was willing to testify in front of the finance committee and I said I’d have to consult an attorney. I hired Mr. Dryer, and he set up a deal that I’d have immunity from any prosecution, if it came to that, in exchange for my testimony. When the disks were ripped off, I didn’t want to admit it, thinking I might still be able to get my hands on the Mister Bob copy.”

“Do you think they offered the deal because of the memos?”

“Mr. Dryer said so. He says if I don’t get the last disk, they’ll withdraw immunity and I can be prosecuted along with Lowell and the other principals at the firm.”

“Santorelli made it sound like they can’t prosecute anyone without the memos,” Mom said, her face pale. “If you don’t turn them over, they can’t prosecute you, so why does it matter? You don’t need immunity.”

I hadn’t counted on Mom being so difficult. “I lucked out when I found those memos, and I’m sure they’ve been destroyed by now, but there may be other letters, or e-mails or something they can use to bring charges against the firm. It may even become obvious that the firm signed off on fraudulent financial statements. I have no idea, Mom.”

“You can’t be prosecuted if you’re innocent!”

“I’m afraid she can,” Ed said in a deep, calm voice. “Guilt by association. She might not be found guilty, but she can certainly be prosecuted.”

Mom rubbed her hand across her forehead. “What a nightmare.” She looked at Ed and said, “And as if it’s not bad enough, she’s got some maniac after her.”

“Maniac?” He turned a questioning look toward me.

I explained about the loft, the car and the missing copies of the disk, but before I could finish, Mom went off about the Dog Doo Stalker.

I ate my fajitas and didn’t add anything. I didn’t need to.

“…and after she went to the SEC, he started calling in the middle of the night, threatening to kill her if she gives the disk to the finance committee. I told her, she should get rid of the disk, but she insists…”

I tuned her out by wondering if Ed was married, or had a girlfriend. I wasn’t interested in starting a relationship or anything like that, but I’d been alone a long time, and something about Ed really punched my buttons.

When Mom was on the verge of foaming at the mouth about the danger I was in, Ed held up his hand and stopped her. Turning to look at me, he asked, “Do you have any clue who he is?”

I slanted a “duh” look at him. “Because of me, at least fifteen men are about to lose their jobs, and some of them may be starting new careers making license plates in the joint.”

“You think one of the Marvel executives, or a partner at your firm may be behind all this?”

I shrugged. “Stands to reason, doesn’t it? They have the most to lose.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll represent you, Pink, but you have to agree not to talk to anyone at Marvel. They have a branch office here in Midland, so you’re likely to run into some of the employees. And do not tell anyone where Mister Bob is right now. After what I discovered during the lawsuit against Marvel, I don’t trust any of them. This is the big leagues. The dog shit dude is a nuisance, but these guys mean business. One wrong move, one small leak of information, one hint that all you’ve got can be taken, and you could be playing a harp.”