by F J messina
18
Wednesday morning, Sonia’s phone woke her from a deep sleep. “Hello.” She squinted, trying to see the clock.
“Good morning, Sunshine.” The voice was upbeat.
“What’s so darn good about it. And what time is it, anyway?”
“It’s seven o’clock in the morning, sweetheart. Time to rise and shine.”
“Wait a minute. Who is this?”
“What do you mean, ‘who is this?’ It’s your bosom buddy, your partner, your BFF. It’s the woman all of Kentucky lovingly refers to as Jet.”
“No. Can’t be.” Sonia’s head flopped back down on her pillow. “Jet would never call me at seven in the morning, not after punishing my body with physical abuse the night before.”
“Oh yes, kiddo, it’s me.” Sonia could tell that Jet was enjoying this. “And you can thank Burnett Saunders for this early morning reveille.”
“Burnett Saunders? What’s he got to do with it?” Sonia was struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Well, it seems Burnett has come up with a plan to catch Michael Oakley in the act of stealing from old man Brownlee, and he couldn’t wait past six-thirty to call me and tell me all about it.”
“What’d he say?” Sonia sat up in bed and stretched as she brushed that wisp of hair out of her face.
“Oh no.” Sonia could almost hear a chuckle in Jet’s voice. “I wouldn’t let him just tell me over the phone, by myself. I figured that if I was going to get dragged out of bed at six-thirty in the morning, the least I could do is drag you with me. Just be glad I had the decency to let you sleep until seven.”
Sonia stifled a yawn. “Great.” Her voice slid downward. “After our debacle last night, I got home just in time to get a call from Brad. We were on the phone for almost an hour. I don’t even know when I got to sleep.”
“Everything okay with him? He making any progress on the case?”
“Oh yeah.” Sonia swung her legs out of the bed, stood, and stretched as she spoke. “Seems like it’s just something about his former client getting caught cheating and thinking that his wife’s doing the same thing. Now he’s got Brad up there trying to get proof against the wife so the client doesn’t lose everything in the divorce. Brad hates it, but he really can’t say no.”
“And you and Brad? Everything’s okay there?”
“Absolutely.” Sonia was aware of the smile creeping across her face. “Honestly, it was great to hear his voice. And I could tell he didn’t want to get off the phone either.”
“Okay then, sleepy head. I told Burnett to meet us at the office and that we’d be there by seven-thirty.”
“No, I’m a wreck.” Sonia glanced at her iPhone. “Call him back and make it eight o’clock. Also, tell him to meet us at Magee’s. I’ve got to get something into my stomach.”
“Okay. See you at eight. Now get a move on it.” Jet hung up.
Fifty minutes later, Sonia left her apartment, walked up Ashland Ave, turned left onto East Main, and walked into Magee’s just a minute or two before eight. Jet and Burnett were sitting at one of the larger tables in the center of the room. Before she caught their attention, Sonia was taken with the realization that clothing aside, and with a warm smile on his face, Burnett was really quite attractive. She also sensed that below that awful suit there might be a pretty darn appealing male body. “You guys just get here?”
Burnett stood up politely. “No, Ms. Vitale. We’ve been here since seven-thirty. Sorry you couldn’t join us sooner.”
Sonia could see a sheepish look on her partner’s face. Jet had also let her long blonde hair out of its perpetual ponytail; it was hanging down in front of her shoulders. “Seven thirty, huh? Well, I got here as soon as I could.” She turned to Burnett. “I’m certain that Jet has kept you entertained.” Sonia was quite certain that Jet could perceive the sarcasm in her voice even if Burnett missed it.
Jet put her coffee cup down on the table. “Business. Just talking business. Glad you’re here. Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.” Sonia looked up at the counter. “I’m sure that as soon as Hildy saw me walk in the door she got started with my croissant and coffee. I’ll be back in a sec. You two finish whatever it is you were doing before I got here.” She surreptitiously gave Jet a look.
A few minutes later, Sonia sat down at the table and started pulling apart her warm, delicious, almond croissant. “You have something to share with us, Burnett?” Sonia knew full well that Burnett had asked her to call him Mr. Saunders. She smiled to herself. I guess if it’s good enough for Jet to call him Burnett, it’ll do for me as well.
Burnett sat up in his chair and went through his normal routine; he tugged on both lapels of his jacket and straightened his already straight tie. “That I do, ladies.” A smile crossed his face. “And I must admit this has been great fun for me. You know, normally I just look at financial records. I try to put together, from those records, an accurate account of what has already happened.” He leaned forward, his voice conspiratorial. “But now, you’re asking me to assist you in making something happen, and in tracking it as it occurs. Fascinating fun. Truly, a real hoot for a forensic accountant.”
Jet gently placed her hand on Burnett’s forearm and gave him the full southern belle treatment. “Well now, professor. Why don’t you just start considering yourself one of us? Would you like to be part of Bluegrass Confidential Investigations, just for a little while? I’m certain all the ladies would find you ever so dashing if you did.”
Sonia was pretty certain she saw Burnett blush. “Yes, Burnett. Why don’t you just consider yourself one of us, a real private investigator.” She shot a quick look at Jet then turned back to the forensic accountant. “Now, what is it that you’re going to make happen?”
Burnett looked back and forth between Jet and Sonia, but his eyes rested on Jet. “Well, before I tell you what I’m thinking, I have to ask for your utmost confidentiality.” He snuck a surreptitious look around the bakery. “You see, what I’m planning on doing, in fact, what I’ve already done, is, well . . . .” His eyes widened. No words came out.
“Well, professor,” cooed Jet, “you can be certain that we’ll never tell a soul.”
Sonia could have sworn she saw Jet batting her eyelashes.
“Okay then. I began . . .” Burnett Saunders stopped and looked around the room again. “Ladies, would you mind if we moved to that table in the back corner?”
Jet and Sonia looked toward the back of the room and then at each other. A silent message passed between them. Sonia stood up, grabbing her coffee and pastry. “Anything you’d like, Professor.” The trio moved to a much more private table near the back of the room.
Burnett began again, very softly. “As I was saying. I’ve been thinking about how we can trap Michael Oakley in the act of embezzling funds from our client, Mr. Brownlee. What I’ve done, something I’m certain is not an activity sanctioned by─”
Once again, Jet touched Burnett’s forearm. “Yes, Burnett. We understand. Go on.”
“Well, what I’ve done is that I recreated an electronic copy of one of the invoices that Mr. Oakley is using in his illegal activity.” He was beaming.
Jet and Sonia were somewhat confused. Finally, Sonia asked, “And that helps us how?”
“Don’t you understand?” Burnett looked at Jet, then Sonia, then back again to Jet. “We can now submit one of those invoices to Bronson/Brownlee ourselves.”
Jet reached out her hand, this time leaving it on Burnett’s forearm. “I’m afraid you need to tell us more, Burnett.”
His eyes glanced down at Jet’s hand on his arm and lingered. Then he looked up at her. “You see, when Mr. Oakley sees that invoice come across his desk, one of two things will occur to him. First, since we’ll make the invoice for the same amount as the last one he posted, he may just think he had forgotten to pay it; he’ll go ahead and do so. Or, second, he may realize that someone is on to him, and that will put him in a difficult
position.”
Sonia reached out and put her hand on Burnett’s other forearm, then smiled at Jet. Jet’s actions had not gone unnoticed. “Tell us how that helps us, Burnett.” Sonia’s tone of voice had gotten breathy by the end of her question.
Burnett was a little flummoxed, but he dove into his explanation. “Now then, I’ve already told you that three days after each transaction, Mr. Oakley empties the account to which he has sent the illicit funds. That makes it very difficult for us to prove that he is the one performing the illegal transfer, particularly if the name he uses to access the account is fraudulent. However, and I learned this on television, if Ms. Vitale can plant one of those computer bugs on Mr. Oakley’s computer, the kind that record and transmit any keystrokes made on the machine, we’ll be able to demonstrate that he is the one making the illegal transfer.”
Jet removed her hand and leaned back in her chair. “Cool.”
“Understand,” Burnett shook his head seriously, “that won’t be enough to prove that he was aware that it was a fraudulent invoice, though it certainly would put him in a precarious position. However, if we are lucky, and if Mr. Oakley is as brash as we believe, he might well sit at that very same computer and orchestrate the transfer of those funds out of that account and into an account in his own name. If so, we will have him dead to rights.”
Sonia sat back in her chair as well, nodding, then smiled at Jet.
Jet sat up again and leaned in. She put both of her hands back on Burnett’s forearm, giving Sonia a look as she did. “Oh, Burnett. That’s so elegant. It’s incredible. You . . . you really know your way around accounting, don’t you?”
“Well, I was first in my class at the university when I did my M.B.A. work.” He was, once again, beaming.
Sonia took a sip of coffee and put a final morsel of pastry in her mouth. Go get him, girl. Lay it on as thick as you can. But you’re going to hear about it from me when we get back to the office. She sat up as well. “So, you need me to get back into Oakley’s computer and put a keystroke recording program on it? Is that correct?”
Burnett leaned in and whispered so softly his words were almost silent. “Yes. And as soon as you do, you’ll have to use the form I created and send in the bogus invoice.” He looked around the room surreptitiously yet again. “Can you do that?”
It was Sonia’s turn to lean forward and whisper, though not as silently as Burnett had. “There was a time when I couldn’t and wouldn’t.” She, too, looked around the room surreptitiously, but for her, it was an act. “But now that I’ve immersed myself in the darkness of the human soul, you know, only for altruistic purposes, I’m ready and able to do so.”
Burnett’s face all but glowed. “Excellent.”
Sonia broke the mood and spoke in a normal voice. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to pull Ms. Jet away from all of this. We’ve got to talk about some work we need to do as regards something that may have happened out at Downstream Farm.”
Jet shot Sonia a quick, somewhat dirty look. Sonia just smiled back at her, a big smile. They were both surprised by what Burnett said next.
19
“Downstream Farm?” Burnett smiled. “Oh, they’re quite the topic of conversation this spring.”
Sonia cocked her head. “They are?”
“Oh yes.” His hands made a tiny movement toward his tie then stopped. “They’ve got a three-year-old who has been performing, how would you put it, out of his class, all spring. He’s won several races. Strangely, his name is Frailing, which apparently, is some form of playing the banjo. He’s owned by some famous musician who plays bluegrass music.”
Jet took the last bite of her cinnamon roll. “What do you mean, ‘out of his class?’ ”
This time, Burnett completed his standard lapel and bowtie routine. “As I’m sure you are well aware, the entire sport of horse racing is based on the notion of breeding strength, speed, and endurance into a horse. Although there are outliers, most racehorses can be expected to perform in relative accordance with the bloodlines from which they were bred. Frailing comes from good, but not great, stock, and was expected to do well, but not exceptionally well. The breeders and owners, of course, are hoping for that outlier, that horse that outperforms its breeding. In fact, there are three horses that are doing so this year, in quite impressive fashion, two colts and a filly.”
Sonia had been pulling together her empty cup and plate. She stopped. “And one of those is from Downstream Farm?”
“Yes, Frailing. In fact, he’ll be running in the Bluegrass Stakes this Saturday at Keeneland Racetrack.
Jet looked surprised. “Have I missed something. Is the spring meet at Keeneland starting this week? Gosh, that seems early this year.”
Sonia smiled at her. “It seems early every year. It’s always pretty brisk that first week of the meet, yet come this Friday, one-third of everyone who works in Lexington will come down with some sort of malady and call in sick. I swear the employers themselves are all out there at the racetrack. They must see their ‘sick’ employees.”
Jet snorted quietly. “They see them all right. They just turn a blind eye. It’s just a Lexington tradition. First day of the spring and fall meets it’s perfectly acceptable to call in sick and go to the races. Been that way for years.”
Sonia looked at Burnett. “How do you know so much about what’s been going on in the world of horse racing? You a big betting man?”
Burnett smiled. “Oh, goodness no. A forensic accountant would never dabble in something so unscientific and unpredictable as betting on horse racing. No, it’s my interest in the relationship between expected results and actual results that excites me. Each year I follow horse racing results from all around the country. Then I build a mathematical model of predicted results and compare them to actual results. The mathematical permutations are fascinating. I would never actually bet on a horse.”
Jet snorted quietly again. “Me either. Why waste my time? I just send them a check. It’s easier and faster than going to the track and losing the money.”
“Yeah right,” laughed Sonia, “you’re out there every chance you get. In fact, why don’t we go there this Saturday and watch Frailing run? It’d be fun watching one of the Downstream Farm horses, wouldn’t it?”
Jet gave Sonia a sly smile. “Well, it would be great fun if Bur-nett would join us and explain everything that’s going on.” She turned to him, “Burnett, you’d come with us, wouldn’t you? You know, just to explain things to us.”
Sonia rolled her eyes. Nicely played girl. Got to give you that one. Nicely played.
Burnett had his biggest smile of the day plastered on his face. “Oh, I almost never actually go to the races, but that sounds like it would be great fun. I believe I could do that. You know, I don’t work on weekends. On weekends I do other things.”
Sonia stood up. “Okay, it’s really time we get going. I’ll check in with Steven Brownlee and we’ll make arrangements for another foray into the offices of Michael Oakley.” Then she gave Jet another sly look. “Jet, would you mind making the arrangements with Burnett as to our trip to Keeneland this Saturday?”
Jet didn’t answer.
“Good. Then let’s go. We’ve got other work to do.” She reached out to touch Burnett’s arm one last time. She looked at him with a certain softness in her eyes and voice. “Have a good day, Burnett. I look forward to seeing you Saturday.”
Sonia started walking away and didn’t turn around as she spoke. “C’mon Jet. Time to go.” She smiled to herself. Oh, Jet, my dearest friend, this is going to be such fun. I’m going to make you pay for every single bat of those beautiful eyelashes of yours and every time you put your hands ever so caringly on the forearms of Burnett Saunders.
Jet spoke as they climbed the stairs. “What was that all about?”
Sonia turned around with an innocent look. “What was what all about?”
“All those snarky remarks, and, ‘Jet, would you mind making arrangements
with Burnett for Saturday?’ ”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Sonia could barely contain her smile as they walked into the BCI waiting area and she continued into her office.
Jet followed, stepping through the doorway. “Yeah, yeah. Right. And then putting your hands on Burnett’s arms and asking,” her voice shifted into that of a pouty seductress in a cheap movie, “ ‘Tell us how that helps us.’ ”
Sonia spun around, her eyes and mouth wide open. “Oh, that’s rich. I’m the one who was playing up to Burnett?” It was Sonia’s turn to sound like she was asking the star football player to join them at the Friday night bonfire. “ ‘It would be so much more fun if Bur-nett would come with us and explain what was going on.’ ” Her voice shifted. “Hell, you’ve all but got a brass plate on the back of one of the seats at Keeneland. You certainly don’t need Burnett to explain anything to you about going to the races.”
Jet relented and gave Sonia a wink. “Hey, a girl can have a little fun, can’t she? What’s the harm? And besides, he really is a nice guy.”
Sonia took a seat at her desk. “Nice and stiff is how I believe you described him last week.”
Jet stopped and leaned against the door jamb. “Well . . . yeah, he’s a little formal, but there’s something a little sexy about him, too, don’t you think?”
Sonia did agree. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head as she spoke. “Okay. I’m not sure about that. But where are you going with this, anyway? Are you really interested in him? You know, as a . . . uh . . . I don’t know, a romantic interest?” Sonia watched as Jet stood straighter and looked off into the distance. Here it comes. I’m about to hear from the southern belle.
“Oh, my, my, my. Can a honeysuckle plant be blamed if hummingbirds are drawn to its natural fragrance? Can the little bee resist the temptation to fly from blossom to blossom, pollinating all those beautiful flowers?” She turned her eyes back toward Sonia and dropped her accent. “Let’s just say that Burnett Saunders and I have a natural disposition for being drawn together . . . even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
