That morning, Jane parked near her favorite downtown coffee shop. With an Americano and a bacon’n’egg biscuit in hand, she walked to her office. When she’d left the mansion, Mahsood had been sleeping, his nose tucked into the pillow. She’d grabbed an Uber to her apartment, picked up her Prius, and now measured the pavement with bouncy steps.
The bitter, hot liquid burned her tongue, the bacon crunched in her mouth, and tranquility reigned in her core. A toe-curling orgasm was the best cure for blues and anxieties. Jane grinned and turned the corner onto 20th Street.
Honking and construction drilling reverberated among the highrises. As usual, traffic blocked the driveway to the South Trust Plaza. An enterprising homeless person scurried between the vehicles with a sign ‘I work for food. God bless.’ Here and there, car windows rolled down, and dollar bills flew into the bucket on his neck.
Jane stretched her shoulders and took in a full breath of the city air. So good to be back to normal. The new normal, in which the bustling days preluded to nights filled with her husband’s caresses. At least, she hoped they would. Humming, she entered the marble-clad foyer, took the elevator to the eleventh floor, and unlocked the suite occupied by Davis Consulting.
The automatic light went on as she stepped inside.
Jane moved through the lobby toward the hall leading to individual offices.
Tom Davis, the owner of Davis Consulting, emerged from one of them. Sweeping back his disheveled salt and pepper hair, he blinked at her.
“Hi, Tom.” Jane beamed. “Spent the night on the couch again?”
Her boss had a habit of working late and crashing on the sofa. A committed bachelor, he devoted his life to growing his business, which brought him stacks of cash and a great reputation in his field.
“I see the honeymoon went well.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “Congratulations, again.” He adjusted his necktie and looked at her. “Hope it’s the first and the last time. The team has been shuffling through paperwork at RAF for the past several days.” His voice surged, and his speech picked up speed. “Mike discovered a shortage of more than half-million, but he can’t find where the money went.” Tom paced back and forth, glancing at the reception desk, and then halted. “Where the hell is Rachel? Is it so hard to arrive on time?”
“It’s not nine yet. I’m sure she’ll be here shortly,” Jane said. Tom wouldn’t dare to yell at her like he did at Rachel. She made him too much money.
Tom grumbled. “Go to RAF now. Call me when you figure it out.” He trudged past her and disappeared into the break room.
An hour-and-a-half later, Jane parked next to a tall, glass-paneled building in Montomerry’s business district. After getting to RAF’s floor, she rushed past the front desk and into the spacious conference room.
Piles of papers littered a huge table in the middle, and guys from her consulting group clicked on their laptops. Mike raised his head full of tight black-brown coils and smiled.
“Finally, Jane. I thought your vacation would never end.” He rubbed his red eyes.
“Have you checked the invoices?” Over his three years at Davis, Mike had learned a lot and could resolve most problems without her help. Sorting out credits and debits should’ve been a breeze.
“All are in place, but six hundred and forty thousand dollars are still missing.”
“And the payouts?”
“They also match. Ralph Ferez issues all negotiable instruments personally and keeps copies with the accounting records. I verified everything.”
Jane frowned. The situation smelled like fraud. “We need to request all data on deposits and withdrawals from the bank. Someone might’ve stolen the funds.”
Mike’s eyebrows crept up.
In his short accounting career, her young colleague hadn’t had to deal with crime. Yet.
“That would require permission from Ferez,” Mike said.
Jane nodded. A difficult conversation with the CEO of RAF couldn’t be avoided. She marched out of the conference room and toward Ferez’s office located a few doors down.
***
Mr. Ferez, a frail older gentleman, sat behind his massive mahogany desk. His bookkeeper Victoria, a curvaceous redhead, occupied one of the chairs across from him. Jane perched on the other one.
Ferez grunted. “My bookkeeper has been with me for twenty years and never made a mistake. You guys have been here for less than a week and found some supposed inconsistencies. How can the funds be missing if all the invoices are in place and I review all the payments myself? Right, Victoria?”
“Of course, Mr. Ferez. You know that my calculations have always been accurate.” Victoria flapped her fake eyelashes. “Jane is being overcautious. You know how consultants work, especially if their services are paid by the hour.”
Jane gritted her teeth. “Mr. Ferez, we are a reputable firm and don’t bill clients for services they don’t need. I’ll talk to Tom, and if we don’t find anything, the hours spent auditing the bank data would be free for you. You have nothing to lose.”
The redhead glanced sideways at Jane and lowered her gaze.
Ferez chewed his lip. “I don’t think you have the authority to make such suggestions. I want a confirmation from Thomas in writing.”
Tom wouldn’t pat her on the back for gambling with their compensation, but her intuition screamed that someone at RAF was playing dirty.
“Give me a minute, please.” Jane got up and stepped out into the hallway. She dialed her boss’ number.
Tom listened to her brief explanation and fell quiet for a moment.
He must’ve reached a point of desperation. Unlike Ferez, Tom wouldn’t doubt that money was missing or question the competence of his employees.
“Okay, Jane. Not like you left me any choice. But you better dig up something or no year-end bonuses. For anyone.”
Jane swallowed. If she failed, her coworkers would hate her. But it was too late to turn back. She could only pray she was right. Jane returned to Ferez's office.
“Tom will email you.” She sat down.
Ferez clicked his mouse. “Got it. I’m downloading the data and will transfer it to you.”
Victoria hovered over him, whispering something into his ear.
Jane squinted. He’d better not listen to her.
Ferez shook his head. “We have to verify this, Tori.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line.
Finally. Now they could get some answers.
Returning to the conference room, Jane settled into a seat next to Mike and opened the records. Her gaze glued to the screen, she ate lunch that someone had bought from a vending machine downstairs. By the time twilight fell, all of her associates had gone home except for Mike, who’d fallen asleep with his head on his keyboard. Jane scrolled down to the next entry.
The bill showed the amount of nine thousand, but the bank listed a payout of twenty-nine thousand for the same transaction.
Jane opened the electronic image of the check attached to the records.
The number ‘two’ and the word ‘twenty’ appeared on the bank copy but not on RAF’s duplicate. The font of the additions matched the original.
If she hadn’t seen the initial version, she would’ve never noticed the changes. She looked up the recipient, which turned out to be a local cement supplier. Jane searched for other payments to the same company and found more altered drafts.
She smirked. After all, they were getting their bonuses this year. Fingers crossed that Ferez was still here. She picked up her laptop and rushed to his office.
The CEO of RAF Construction reclined in his chair, his eyes closed.
Ferez must have been a workaholic like Tom. Or, maybe he stayed up waiting for the outcome of her investigation. Jane placed her computer on the desk in front of him.
“I found some discrepancies,” she said.
Ferez sat up and rubbed his face. He examined the documents on Jane’s PC against the ones in his ledger, then turned pale.
“Who sends out your checks, Mr. Ferez?”
"I can't believe it..."
“Do you know this merchant?” Jane pointed to the name of the payee.
Ferez remained silent for a minute. “Victoria recommended this company, and she sends out all the payments. We’ve worked with them for some time.” His shoulders slumped as he scrolled through the documents.
Jane bit her lip. He must’ve trusted his bookkeeper a great deal.
Ferez squeezed out a smile. “Thank you. Although I hate to admit it, you were correct.”
“Sir, I advise you to contact law enforcement. In the next day or two, we should find the rest of the modified checks.”
“I understand. Let's discuss this tomorrow. I need to think.”
“Of course.” Prosecuting an employee with whom he’d worked for two decades must’ve been hard. Jane walked out into the hall and pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. She had to tell Tom the good news.
27 missed calls.
Gosh. Jane tapped the notification on her display. The number was unfamiliar. Good thing she’d put her phone on silent. Telemarketers were persistent these days.
The screen lighted up with an incoming call.
Urgh. They weren’t going to stop, were they? Jane touched the answer icon. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” said a hoarse voice with a slight accent.
Jane’s heart skipped a beat. It was him. The corners of her mouth pulled up. “I’m working.” She hesitated. “On a project. In Montgomery.” That’s right. It was her turn to be busy, and his to worry and wait.
Mahsood grunted. “Come downstairs. Now.” He hung up.74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgbpU8Ky7jg
