I stopped at a fast food joint for a bite to eat before driving past the house in question. It was anything but a healthy choice—a Southwestern chicken-something, topped with a glob of processed cheese and a limp green Ortega chili pepper. The bun, definitely over-nuked, had taken on a cardboard-like texture but I choked it down anyway. Lost in thought, I drizzled three packs of ketchup over what turned out to be pretty good fries, sipped my diet drink and pondered my options.
The price for renting the wonderful mansion Matt had supposedly lucked into for the party was many thousands of dollars, and apparently my oh-so-innocent boss would be the direct beneficiary of this windfall. I wondered how much Matt’s cut was. He said his inheritance funded his lifestyle, but now I had to wonder if Julia was the one allowing him to indulge his taste for high living. This whole thing was starting to smell worse than a week old bag of garbage in a heat wave.
I swished the last French fry in a pool of ketchup and popped it into my mouth, then gathered up the debris intending to shove it into the overflowing waste receptacle. Three teens in black Goth wannabe outfits, sporting enough metal to open a hardware store, blocked my way. I thought about asking them to move aside, but they all stood there fixing me with challenging glares, as they waited for me to make a move. I made a move, alright. I plunked the tray back on one of the tables and left. I wasn’t about to have a fight to dump my garbage.
All the way to Medina I told myself that above all I had to appear like I was clueless about what was happening right under my nose. Maybe I’d already shared too much of my concern with Matt, but no more. He couldn’t be trusted. Thoughts swirled through my mind in a small tornado, vacuuming up every one of my doubts along the way.
The comfortable six figure income I’d earned when I was at STC wouldn’t even make a dent in what it cost to keep some of the sumptuous homes along Barrington Road looking like covers of Architectural Digest.
I parked the Mercedes at the curb beside the home now owned by MULCT Enterprises, got out and peered through the ornate iron gates. My nerves were on high alert. Everything almost seemed too quiet. A long, cobbled driveway led to a Tudor-style home, its used brick façade highlighted by leaded glass windows. All of the windows in the house were dark, although the driveway was lighted and spotlights illuminated lush greenery, flowers and mature trees.
So this was what the mysterious $4,000,000 property looked like. I could force myself to live like that. This magnificent place was probably considered below average in a neighborhood where values soared into tens of millions. Some of the homes I’d driven past were as large as hotels.
Deeply engrossed in studying the house, I think I jumped three feet when I felt a light tap on my shoulder accompanied by a sandpaper voice. Well, maybe three feet is exaggerating a bit, but it sure startled me. A private patrol cop wearing a too-tight uniform and a florid face above a set of sagging jowls said, “Good evening Ma’am. Can I help you find an address?”
I guessed it was a good thing I was driving a Mercedes. From the look on his face, if I’d been in an older economy car he probably wouldn’t have been so polite.
I thought fast, then said, “Actually it looks like I might not have the right house. I was supposed to meet some business friends. They suggested we meet here and I was pretty sure this was the address they gave me, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”
My heart hammered so hard I had to catch my breath. I made a big show of rummaging in my purse to make it look like I hoped to find the paper with the information, then shrugged as if in defeat. I kept my eyes downcast, because if I’d looked at him I probably would have completely blown it.
“Nope. Not in here anywhere. Silly me, I must have left the address and their phone number on my desk. I was so sure I had it right, but maybe I’ll just drive around and see if I spot their car.”
I’m not sure how he did it, but the rent-a-cop managed to cock one bushy salt and pepper eyebrow. “That’s not a good idea, Ma’am—not in this neighborhood. Maybe you should go back, get the number and call them instead.” He took off his cap and ran his fingers through the few strands of thin gray hair it concealed, all the while fixing me with a commanding look. He swept the expanse of the property with his arm, voice stern. “Like you said, doesn’t look like anyone’s home here. Why don’t you just follow me out to the main road?” He made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.
He returned to his patrol car and I meekly followed, wondering if he thought I was a high stakes cat burglar or something. Maybe he figured I was casing the empty homes in the neighborhood. So many movies have that theme, and those burglars on the big screen always manage to blend in with the people they were about to rob. I was wearing Armani and driving a Mercedes. Kimberly Martin—cat burglar? Not in your wildest dreams.
Eight o’clock. A quick calculation told me I’d be home by eight-thirty. Plenty early to place the conference call to Kate and Cameron before doing anything else, except of course kicking off my shoes and shedding my suit and silk blouse for a comfortable pair of sweats.
By nine o’clock, I’d made a bullet list of the things I wanted to discuss with my cohorts and settled down in my new easy chair to dial Kate’s number.
Her normally sexy voice said, “Kate speaking.”
I chuckled and came back with, “Kimberly barely speaking. Are you in a comfortable place? If not, I suggest you find one while I call Cameron and conference the call.”
She was immediately serious. “What’s going on? You sound awful.”
“Wait till I get Cameron on the line. That way I won’t have to repeat it.” I pressed the hold button and dialed Cameron’s number. She got it on the fourth ring. Good thing. The voice mail would have picked up on the next one.
“Hi Kimberly.” Obviously she’d checked her caller ID before answering. “What’s up? You usually don’t call this late.”
“I’ve got Kate on the other line. Let me hit the conference button.” I heard both of their voices at the same time signaling that the connection was complete.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Well, there’s bad news and interesting news. I’ll get past the bad news first, but you have to agree not to tell anyone else, okay?”
Cameron said, “Anyone else, you mean like at the company, or my friends or what?”
“At the company. It could set off a firestorm. As soon as I ran the commission figures I knew I had to alert both of you. They aren’t going to be what I’m sure you expected. Julia claims that several big orders didn’t go out before the cutoff date. She said a computer glitch entered the date they came out of production, not the date they were shipped. She’s not saying the commissions won’t be paid, but this pushes them to the next quarter. I can’t figure out what she’s up to, but I don’t like the picture that’s developing. If it continues from quarter to quarter, it will keep quite a bit of money in play that never really gets paid to the reps.”
Kate’s voice had an edge. “Sounds fishy to me. Somehow I can easily picture her doing that. How bad is it for Kate and me? Will it be a lot less? I was really counting on that money.”
“To answer your question, yes, everyone is affected including me. Your bonus is around $10,000 Kate, and Cami’s is a little under $6,000. Several thousand dollars were switched over to next quarter for each of you.”
They both exploded as I expected they would, but I pleaded for them to quiet down.
“I know, I know. It affects me too and I’m so angry I can’t see straight. But, here’s the strange thing. When I laid it all out and analyzed it with an accountant’s eye, a pattern became obvious. It’s almost as though she picked a similar percentage to be held back for everyone. She must have chosen the orders that were supposedly entered wrong for each person that would add up to the total she wanted. Otherwise why would it be spread so evenly? Multiply it by 20 reps, and it becomes a pretty penny.”
There was silence. Then Kate said, “That bitch. I take all of her authoritarian bull, and then she screws me. And how about you, Cameron? You had to go to Anchorage, Alaska in the dead of winter to do that stupid trade show. What about Cami’s Alaskan orders? They should have shipped in plenty of time. Considering everything she had to go through to get them, it would be a shame if she had to wait to get paid.”
“Wait a minute. Why did you say go through? I never heard about any problems. What didn’t you tell me, Cami?”
“Well, Tucker got permission to help me. Travel is so exciting. There we were, freezing our asses off in Anchorage on one of the coldest days of the month. At least it was warm inside Egan Convention Center, but getting there from the hotel was another thing. We had to walk. Anyway, I was waiting for a shipment of catalogs and brochures to be delivered to my booth, when two husky guys pushed over dolly after dolly of cartons. I was only expecting about 100 each of 15 brochures and a few promo gifts.”
“Sounds like you got more than you bargained for. What was in all the cartons? Someone else’s stuff? I’ve heard they don’t always get the requests right. Marie said once—“
“Forget Marie and picture this. Some goofball at the prison printing plant must have added a zero to the quantities. I couldn’t even fit all of the boxes in my stall.
There were at least a thousand, not a hundred, of each. Picture it. Not 1,500 but 15,000 brochures, all sent by Federal Express. We shoved packets at everyone who came anywhere near our booth just to try to get rid of them. I saw lots of people dumping them, but I didn’t care. Anyway, by the end of the day I gave up and was making out the Fed Ex return labels to send all of it back when Tucker stopped me. It was probably a good thing she’d come up to help. She’s the smart one. I’m the 100% honest one.”
I tried not to laugh, but I could picture the two of them surrounded by all of those boxes trying to pawn off the unwanted literature on every person who passed. “15,000 brochures? What were they thinking?”
“Lord knows. All I know is we were stuck with thousands after the show. Boxes upon boxes. Tucker said they’d never admit it was a shipping error, the freight would be a staggering amount and worst of all we’d get blamed for ordering too many and CRS would have to pay a fortune to ship them back.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well Tucker was right. You would have heard plenty about it if Julia had to absorb a huge shipping bill to return them. She wouldn’t have cared whose fault it was.”
Cami continued. “Anyway, Tucker used her sugary drawl, batted her eyes and played the poor helpless woman with a couple of strong young guys. They found two big platform hand-trucks and loaded all of the cartons on them. There we were, in the freezing cold, fighting to wheel those heavy things down Fifth Avenue because we figured there had to be a bank of dumpsters somewhere.”
Kate broke in. “I had something similar happen, but they only sent a double order and I didn’t have to dump anything.”
“Yeah, you lucked out. Imagine lifting every one of those cartons into the commercial dumpsters that we finally spotted at the side of Egan Convention Center. The guy upstairs must have been watching over us, though, because a homeless fellow was huddled against the building. He was ecstatic when we gave him $20 to do the majority of the lifting but we were helping, too. Let me tell you, the two of us were exhausted and my arms ached for days. We must have wasted thousands of dollars worth of literature that day, but what else could we do?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Don’t feel bad. Tucker and I were the only ones who ever knew about it, and I swore her to secrecy until I finally told Kate. Besides, how could I say anything to you? You’re finance and like I said, we dumped thousands of dollars worth of literature. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.”
“Okay, I understand. Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’re getting paid on all the Alaska stuff, but the total check will still be way less than you expected. I’m dreading this. Everyone is going to be furious once they see their checks and I’ll be the one feeling their wrath. Just so you know, like I said, it does affect my override, too. I was looking forward to paying off the bills for my furniture and now I won’t be able to. This is all Julia’s little game—maybe Matt, too—but there’s not a thing I can do to fix it.”
“I don’t envy you. Can Kate and I do anything to help? You know we’re here for you.”
“You can’t tell anyone. If it gets out, I’m in deep trouble. We have to let her play her game. Absolutely no one, not even Tucker, can know about this until the commission checks are handed out after the workshop and party. At least now I know why she scheduled the team meeting the day after the party. Who knows, she might even have skimmed our money with Bruce’s blessing to cover the cost of this gala event. She knows exactly how mad everyone will be, but she also knows that not one of us can afford to quit. As long as she keeps rolling over the commissions to the following quarter, we’ll stay on board to get our money. Otherwise, we give up a few thousand dollars we worked hard to earn.”
Kate hissed, “Like I said, she’s a real bitch. And you’re right. We’ll all stay. You said that isn’t all of it. What else?”
“Ah, this is the really interesting part. As far as I can tell, the withheld commissions aren’t the big problem. What I’m going to tell you now is more suspicion on my part than anything else, but I’d swear something very devious is going on right under the noses of the government watchdogs. I just can’t figure out exactly what it is yet.”
There were a few more questions, and then it was time to tell them about MULCT, about my fear that Julia, Bruce and Matt were in cahoots, and every other off-the-wall thought roller coastering through my mind.