Tags:
United States,
Fiction,
Suspense,
Thrillers,
Suspense fiction,
Women Private Investigators,
Large Type Books,
Brothers,
Theft,
Banks And Banking,
Secret service,
Bank Robberies,
Bank Employees,
Bank Fraud
second you sent that first fax,
it was just a matter of time until you blew it.”
“The first fax?” Charlie blurts. “The Kinko’s one? You think that was
us?
” He puts a hand on Shep’s shoulder, hoping to buy a second or two. “I swear to you, buddy—we never sent that—in fact… in
fact, when we got in this morning… we were… we were trying to catch the thief ourselves… isn’t that right, Oliver? We were
doing the same thing as you!”
Ghost white, I just sit there. Charlie knows I’m lost. He glares my way.
Dammit, Ollie… get with it. Please.
Turning back to Shep, Charlie laughs like it’s a riot. “I swear to you, Shep. We were trying to track the thief oursel—”
“Knock, knock—anyone home?” a scratchy voice shouts as the door to my office swings open. Shep spins around and finds the
source of the voice—the paunchy, but still impeccably dressed middle-aged man who’s now approaching my desk—Francis A. Quincy,
head financial partner of the firm. Behind him is the boss himself. Henry Lapidus.
I throw on a phony grin, but down low, my toes dig toward the carpet.
“Look who it is—the forty-million-dollar man!” Lapidus sings my way. “Believe it or not, I hear Tanner Drew’s holding a spot
for you in his will.” As he says the words, he wipes his hand across his mostly bald head—it’s part of his constant state
of kinetic motion. Despite his towering six-foot-three frame, Lapidus is like a hummingbird in human form… flap, flap, flap,
all day long. I used to think it was an energy that couldn’t be contained. Charlie used to say it was hemorrhoids. They always
show up around assholes.
“And guess who we brought for you?” Lapidus asks. Stepping aside, he reveals a nebbishy turtle-faced kid slicked up in a way-too-expensive
Italian suit. He’s our age and looks familiar, but I…
“Kenny?” Charlie blurts.
Kenny Owens. My freshman year roommate at NYU. Obnoxious Long Island rich kid. Haven’t seen him in years—but the suit alone
tells me nothing’s changed. Still a putz.
“Been a long time, huh?” Kenny asks. He’s waiting for an answer, but Charlie and I are both eyeing Shep.
“I thought you’d like some time to catch up,” Lapidus says, sounding like he’s setting us up on a date.
“Old friends and all that…” Quincy adds.
Cocking his head, Charlie knows something’s up. As a rule, Quincy hates everyone. Like most CFOs, all he cares about is the
money. But today… today, we’re all family. And if Lapidus and Quincy are personally taking Kenny around… he must be interviewing
for a job.
Before anyone can get a word in, Lapidus follows our gaze to Shep. “And what’re you doing here?” Lapidus asks, sounding pleasantly
surprised. “More lecturing about Tanner Drew?”
“Yeah,” Shep says dryly. “All about Tanner Drew.”
“Well, why don’t you save it for later,” Lapidus adds. “Let these boys have some time alone.”
“Actually, this is more important,” Shep challenges.
“Maybe you didn’t understand,” Quincy jumps in. “We want these boys to have some time alone.” Right there, the fight’s over.
CFO outranks Security.
“Thanks again for doing this,” Lapidus says to me. Leaning in close, he whispers, “And take it from me, Oliver—helping us
get Kenny—it’s a perfect way to round out your B-school applications.”
Charlie and I sit there silently as Shep grudgingly follows Lapidus and Quincy to the door. Just as they leave, Shep turns
around and pegs Charlie with a javelin glare that pins him through the heart. The door slams shut, but there’s no doubt about
it. All we’ve done is prolong the pain.
“So do I look good, or do I look good?” Kenny asks as soon as they’re gone.
Charlie’s still in shock.
“What’re you doing here?” I blurt.
“Nice to see you too,” Kenny says, taking a seat in front of the desk. “You always so warm to your
Alan Cook
Unknown Author
Cheryl Holt
Angela Andrew;Swan Sue;Farley Bentley
Reshonda Tate Billingsley
Pamela Samuels Young
Peter Kocan
Allan Topol
Isaac Crowe
Sherwood Smith