Chapter Thirty-Three
Jumpin’ Jack Flash
The mood in the room the next week was bordering on jovial. It was our Monday morning Circle meeting. The coffee was hot, the doughnuts were fresh, the plant was running smoothly, orders were up and Chuck had a rare smile on his face. I think I was the only one that looked like I had eaten a bad burrito.
“Ok, boys. The sun is shining outside, and I have a two o’clock tee time and a hot date tonight with the wife. But before I can get to all that, my man Jack is going to update us on a sad and nasty problem we had and how he solved it.”
Phil Kitter asked with a bit of a plea in his voice, “Jack, how about you tell the JOKE before you start.”
There was a collective sigh around the table. In all the years I had known Phil, I had never seen him be very friendly to any human being. That is until Jack arrived. Phil seemed captivated by Jack. I think he wanted to be Jack. Heck, I guess we all did to some extent. And Phil loved Jack’s stupid dog joke.
“Ok, Tommy Test Tube, but just this one last time. There were these two guys walking down the street. They glance over into a front yard as they were passing by and see a large dog vigorously licking its private parts. The one guy looks at the other and says, ‘Man, I wish I could do that.’ The other guy looks back at him and asks, ‘Don’t you think you should pet him first?’”
Phil slapped the table and let out a hearty laugh. The others rolled their eyes at the joke they had heard at least ten times. I glared at Jack hoping I could wipe that smug look off his face before the coffee went cold.
“I swear. No matter how much Phil begs, that’s the last time I will tell that one.”
Chuck said with a huge smile, “It better be. How do I explain to the unemployment board that I had to fire you because some mangy mutt kept licking itself? Let’s hurry this up. On with the show, Jack.”
Jack proceeded to give a concise presentation consisting of two Power Point slides summarizing the fraud and who was to blame. He managed it in such a way that it was clear what had happened and how it happened but he was very short on details. Somehow, he also made himself out to be the hero of the story in every respect while portraying an “aw shucks” humility. Mr. Slick. At the end of his short masterpiece, the entire Circle (well, with one exception) was ready to go hang Earl up by the ankles and have him drawn and quartered.
“I know everybody loves Earl and he has worked very hard for this company. No one knows what drives people to do what they do sometimes.”
The collective herd voiced strong support for firing him, having him arrested, making him pay it all back, forcibly removing some of his more tender appendages etc. etc. I was the only one that remained silent.
Master Jack raised his palms to calm the mob.
“Whoa there, fellas. The accountant’s report clearly concludes that Mr. Boase is our fraudster. We have felonious financial entries made on his computer. In addition, I have evidence of large bank deposits he made. However, this may not be enough to convict in a court of law. Mick told me he talked to Earl this morning and he denied everything. Mick sent him home on unpaid leave. Charles and I are suggesting that we allow Earl to retire quietly and leave it at that. A prosecution would drag on forever, cost more than we could recover and we might not win. We will inform The Shareholder, strengthen our controls and put this behind us. In lieu of a pension or severance payment, Earl can live out his days on his ill gotten gains. On the bright side, if Earl lives twenty-two point five more years, that is actually an overall actuarial savings for Woodland. Any questions?”
As the room erupted into protests and calls for more punitive action, I quietly raised my hand.
“Mick, you have been very uncharacteristically quiet. I know Earl is a good friend of yours and I am so sorry this has happened. It looks like you may have some sage wisdom to share.”
“Actually, Jack, a request.”
“Shoot.”
Don’t tempt me. “As you know, this is quite a shock to me. Earl’s not only a good friend, he’s my best friend. I really appreciate all your efforts. But this is the second time we have had an employee burn us recently, no pun intended. I think you should share the forensic report with all of us so we can learn from it and know what to watch for in the future.” Kaboom, got ya buddy boy.
“Sure, Mick, great idea. In fact, here is a copy for you and I’ll have Victoria get copies to everybody by the end of the day including you, Charles.”
I’ll have to admit, I was a bit stunned as Jack slid a copy of the inch thick report across the table to me. Could Dad have watched the wrong episode of CSI? I took a quick scan through the report as the others were gathering their things up in anticipation of the meeting disbanding.
“Ok, I think that’s it for now. Good luck on the fairways today, big guy, and in the rough tonight.” Jack shot a wink at Chuck then turned to go out the door.
“Uh, just a couple more questions, if I may,” I quickly said trying to channel my best Columbo imitation.
“C’mon, Mick, I’ve got a tee time.”
“Can you bear with me just a minute, Charles?”
With an exasperated sigh, the “big guy” plopped back down in his chair. Everyone else paused somewhere between sitting and standing. Jack did an exaggerated eye roll, shrugged and flashed his slimy smile in my direction.
“What? You got a joke to top my dog classic?”
“No, Jack. I was just wondering something. Do they teach you criminal behavior in MBA school? And how were we lucky enough to snag two twisted demented dips in a row?”
A stunned silence fell over the room only interrupted by the sound of oversized backsides hitting the chair cushions.
“Uhhhhh – wha?”
That was the first time any of us had seen Jack speechless.
“Mick, are you high?”
“No, Charles. Before we lynch Earl, I think we need a few more answers from this lying con man.”
Jack found his voice, although it was a bit shaky. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“First of all, Earl and I went to his bank last week. They gave me permission to review all his account activity over the last few years. There was nothing unusual about his deposits.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t like your tone, Mick. And you told me you talked to Earl this morning. So why did you go to the bank with him last week?”
It was a pitiful attempt to turn the tables. I expected more from Mr. Smarmy. “I did talk to Earl this morning. I also talked to him last week which I chose not to tell you. You see Jack, I don’t cheat at golf and I don’t lie, unlike you.” Well, one out of two ain’t bad. I do not cheat at golf. As the story about going to the bank with Earl was a total fabrication, maybe I do lie a bit. But only for good reasons.
”And the reason there were no unusual deposits is a that he used a different bank, you idiot. Check out these deposit slips.” Jack grabbed a stack of papers off the table and waved them around.
“I’d like to see those.”
“Yeah, Mick, I bet you would. So are we done here now?”
“Not quite. This copy of the forensic accountant's report looks somewhat different than the copy I asked him for last week. What you don’t know is that Bill McBridle also does my taxes every year and is a friend of mine.”
True. I pulled the copy Bill had given me out of my briefcase and slapped it on the table. I was feeling a bit like Matlock.
“To wit, page twenty-one in the real copy states that Bill could not conclusively determine who perpetrated the fraud. In the copy you just tossed me, it states that he clearly concluded that Earl is to blame. He also has nothing in his original report about a pepperoni or salami or whatever meat type fraud you so eloquently described. His findings were only about skimming during the rebuild.”
“Mick, Mick, Mick. You have quite the imagination. I’d be getting pretty
upset right now if I didn’t love you like a brother. What you don’t know is that I met with Anita over the weekend and she presented new and even more detailed evidence. She gave me a revised report. What you have is a preliminary copy. I just gave you the final. C’mon, Charles, let’s go grab a quick lunch. Come with us, Mick. It will calm you down. I’ll even buy to show that there are no hard feelings on my part.”
Oh, he was good. But I wasn’t anywhere near done.
“Seems like you can afford it, Jack. Before we go, let’s discuss the chart on page fourteen. It shows that the most recent fraudulent entries were entered on Earl’s computer.”
“There you go. Another nail in the Earl coffin. Let’s eat.”
“It also shows the dates and exact times those entries were made.”
“I told you this guy, McBridle, was thorough.”
“What you also don’t know is that, post Elwood, Earl decided it might be a good idea to see who was doing what in the Finance department in the off hours. So he discretely installed a few motion activated cameras. The DVD I have here shows work being done on Earl’s computer. Except at the time those entries were made, it’s not Earl at his computer. IT’S YOU!” Total ridiculous fabrication on my part, but said quickly and forcibly enough, it sounded pretty good. The DVD I partially pulled out of my briefcase was actually Shoe Stink Live in London 1982. Never get into a mud slinging fight with a dirt clod master.
“In fact, I did some background research on you, Jack. Google and all the other normal online tools showed you to be exactly who you say you are. In the conman world, I believe they call that building a back story. But dear old Dad reminded me that my brother Jay was a Federal criminal investigator. So I had him use some tools that the average, or even above average, Joe doesn’t have access to. He called me right before this meeting and told me:
Your name is not really Jack Wicker.
You passed the background check because Anita, the owner of the Barnum Security, happens to be YOUR WIFE. Barnum security, what a hoot. As in P.T. Barnum’s ‘a sucker is born every minute.’ She set up the firm just so you could perpetrate this fraud on us poor unsuspecting country folk. In a classic case of the cobbler not fixing his own shoes, Bill McBridle never checked to see if the company he hired into was legitimate.
I’m assuming a bit here, but I’ll bet Anita altered Bill’s original fraud report. Bill also told me she did the background check on you which turns out to be one hundred percent fiction.
You do have an MBA. However, you were implicated in some sort of cheating scandal while at school. You were never actually found guilty. It was rumored that you went scot free due to an ongoing threesome you were having with the Finance Chair and his wife.
You are under pending indictments for defrauding the last two companies you worked for.
And, last, I will bet any man in this room that if we had gone to lunch, you’d forget your wallet again and I’d have to pony up for the bill.”
The room was as silent as a tomb. I could see the blood literally drain from Jack’s face. I don’t think it was from my lunch comment. The other heads in the room were doing the tennis match swivel while the jaws were collectively dropping to the floor. The tension could not have been parted with a chainsaw. I braced for his next lie filled verbal assault.
Suddenly, Jack seemed to relax. He smiled as he casually commented, “Very funny, Mick. In fact…”
I thank my softball honed reflexes for the fact that I was able to turn and take Jack’s flying iPAD on the shoulder instead of full on in the face. All in all, though, another great shot by Jack given the distance, awkward stance, the projectile’s lack of aerodynamic shaping and the pressure of the situation. As I was falling backwards, I saw Jack knock Dan and Chuck out of their chairs as he bolted for the door. Kitter was the first to fully recover but unfortunately tripped over Chuck in his haste to pursue his former idol. The rest of us wound up in an awkward pile jammed in the doorway. It was definitely the Keystone Cops revisited.
As we were yelling and cussing and trying to sort ourselves out, we heard the unmistakable sound of a ‘Vette roaring to life in the parking lot and the scream of burning rubber. I was the first to make it through the door and turn up the hallway toward the exit. I ran head on into Victoria coming the other way. In normal circumstances, this would be a dream come true. She STILL looked great. But these were far from normal circumstances.
“Oh, sorry Victoria. Are you all right?”
“Fine. Listen I heard most of what was going in there once you started yelling at Jack.”
I had been yelling? Well, maybe.
“I called Will. He and my sons are blocking Route 17. They will catch that no good creep.”
“That’s great. But why would they do that? This seems like a company matter not a county law concern. ”
“I told him about what was happening here. I casually mentioned that his favorite grandniece’s boyfriend never mentioned that he is married. I also threw in that Jack may have once hit on me and tried to grab my naughty parts.”
Rut oh! Jumpin’ Jack Sprat was about to go splat.
MBA - Moron$ Ba$ and A$ PG Version Page 34
