Conflict of Interest

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Conflict of Interest Page 6

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg


  Doug had first begun his downward spiral when he started day trading in the stock market. With insider knowledge in the technology field, he’d quickly amassed a considerable amount of money. Being a risk taker, however, he’d gone on to suffer heavy losses. Soured on the stock market, he turned to on-line gambling casinos. Without Joanne’s knowledge, he’d mortgaged the house and taken out loans from all kinds of lending institutions. Prying open a safe hidden under the floor with a crowbar, the police had discovered stacks of computer-generated birth certificates, driver’s licenses, documents for phony corporations—a virtual labyrinth of deceit.

  Caught up in an endless cycle of wins and losses, Doug Kuhlman had created a program sophisticated enough to embezzle from his employer, Telinx, a giant in the industry. Each day he’d electronically transferred thousands of dollars from the company to accounts set up under the various corporate entities he had fabricated.

  “I’m starving, Mom,” Mike yelled, startling his mother out of her thoughts. “When are we going to have dinner?”

  Joanne headed to the kitchen in a daze. When she opened the door, she saw pots and pans scattered all over the counters and sniffed the distinctive odor of smoke.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Leah said, placing her hands behind her back. “I was going to have dinner on the table when you got here. I must have set the oven too high.” She looked away, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The casserole not only burned up, I thought I was going to have to call the fire department.” She tilted her head toward a stack of soggy dish towels in the sink. “When I tried to take the pan out of the oven, the pot holder caught on fire.”

  “What a mess.” Joanne stared at the walls, covered with soot. “I’ll have to paint the whole room.”

  “I’m sorry,” Leah said, blowing her nose on a paper towel. “I wanted to do something nice, to make up for taking the car. Now I’ve made you even more mad at me.”

  “The fact that you tried is what matters,” her mother told her, deciding a bucket of paint was the least of her worries. She walked over and embraced her. “Its okay, sweetheart,” she said. “I was planning on repainting before we moved anyway.”

  “I know I was wrong to take the car. Mom,” Leah said, her voice cracking. “I was upset last night. I couldn’t sleep. Dad used to let me drive his car. Lots of the kids who don’t have a license drive their parents’ cars. Rita told me it was okay because Seacliff Point is private property”

  “It’s an incorporated city,” Joanne told her. “That doesn’t mean the state laws don’t apply” She walked over and opened the refrigerator, then let her arms fall limp at her sides. Every day she learned another appalling fact about her husband’s irresponsibility. “Alone?” she exclaimed. “Your father let you drive the car alone? Or did he take you out in the car to teach you how to drive?”

  “Sometimes Dad didn’t come home until late at night. The tutor left at three, and the housekeeper left at four. We needed things, you know. Mike got sick once, and I couldn’t reach Dad on his cell phone. After that, Dad gave me the keys to the Range Rover in case of an emergency.”

  “Get your brother,” Joanne said, closing the door to the refrigerator. “We’ll have dinner at the Cove tonight.”

  “Really?” Leah said, beaming as she ripped off the apron.

  “When we get back,” her mother added, “I expect you to clean the kitchen. And you’re going to be responsible for preparing the meals for the rest of the week. That way, you’ll think twice before you take my car. You don’t live with your father anymore. I love you with all my heart, but in my house, there are rules.”

  Leah tossed her long blond hair to one side, shuffling her feet on the parquet flooring, “if you make me cook, ill probably burn the house down.”

  Joanne reached into the cabinet and pulled out a cookbook, slapping it down on the kitchen table. Her daughter was a lovely girl. Her skin was darker than Joanne’s, more in the olive tones like her brother. Her caramel-colored eyes were large and expressive. Of all her features, however, Joanne thought her perfectly shaped mouth and glowing smile were the most spectacular. “You can read, right? The freezer and refrigerator are well stocked. Of course, if you prefer, I could take away your computer.”

  “I’ll cook,” Leah said, rushing out of the room to get dressed.

  SIX

  Saturday, December 16, 2000, 10:15 A.M.

  TRUDY WAS curled into a ball on one comer of the bed. For awhile, Ian stared at the ceiling, afraid to move for fear of waking her. Then he quietly got out of the bed and circled to the other side, kneeling down on the floor beside her. He couldn’t believe that she was still here, that the night before had actually happened. With her face bathed in sunlight, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He traced the outline of her face with his fingers. He smiled when she flicked his hand away, then pulled the covers up to her chin.

  Closing the door to the bedroom, Ian left a note on the coffee table in the living room, then drove the Firebird to Vons where he purchased two chocolate chip muffins and a pint of orange juice. Trudy was waiting for him on the sofa when he returned, her hair wet from the shower. She was wearing one of his white T-shirts, and a pair of his jeans. To keep the pants from falling off, she’d rolled them over several times at the waist.

  “I hope it was okay for me to borrow some of your clothes,” Trudy told him, motioning toward the black coat and slip that she’d worn the night before, now Folded neatly beside her.

  The phone rang. When Ian reached for it on the coffee table, Trudy grabbed his arm. “Don’t answer it,” she told him. “It might be Gary.”

  Ian was confused. “Why don’t you want to talk to Gary?”

  “I’m tired,” Trudy said, standing. “I want to go home.”

  “Last night…we…I…” Ian stammered. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Last night was great,” Trudy said, collecting her belongings. “That’s the problem. You’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. Look”—she pointed at the sack he was carrying—“you even went out and bought me breakfast.”

  “I…” Ian was shattered. Her words sounded wonderful, but they were just words. People had said nice things to him all his life, things they didn’t mean. He could tell if they were sincere by the tone of their voice. It reminded him of how people talked to their pets. He wondered if Trudy was going to pat him on the head. “I’ll drive you home now.”

  “I don’t have to leave right this minute,” Trudy told him, sorry she’d upset him. “I’m not mad at you. I just wanted you to understand that I can’t stay here all day That doesn’t mean we can’t have our breakfast.”

  “Here,” Ian said, handing her the sack. “You can eat in the can”

  Ian dropped Trudy off in Los Angeles, then returned to his apartment around one o’clock. He saw Gary and Tom in the parking lot. They must have gone out to score dope, he thought, and Willie had given them a ride to his apartment. “I’ve been calling you for hours,” Gary said, hitching his pants up. “Where’s Trudy?”

  Ian wasn’t in the mood to talk. “I drove her home.”

  “We told her we’d get her back to L.A. this morning,” Tom said, leaning against a tree. “Did something happen? You know, was there some kind of a problem? Trudy’s a good-looking chick.”

  “She got sick,” Ian told them, locking his car. “She threw up in the bathroom.”

  The two men took up a position on either side of him. Gary jabbed Ian in the ribs with his elbow. “You ain’t that ugly,” he told him. “Why didn’t you call us last night at our folks’ place? Tom and I would have fixed Trudy up.” He cut his eyes to his brother. “I guarantee she wouldn’t have puked if I had been here.”

  “I thought your parents wouldn’t let you stay at their place anymore?” Ian said. “Isn’t that what you told me last week? Every day you tell me something different.”

  “They’re out of town,” Gary said, puffing his chest out. “What they don’t k
now won’t hurt them. They’re supposed to come back this morning. When you didn’t answer the phone this morning, we had to call Willie to come and get us.”

  “We can’t stay with him,” Tom explained. “That apartment building he lives in is a pit.”

  The brothers had practically moved into Ian’s apartment. “You guys can stay here every once in a while,” he said, throwing the paper sack from the supermarket in one of the trash containers, “but I’ll get thrown out if the manager finds out. The rules are strict here. I can’t have anyone live with me. The state pays part of my rent. I keep telling you. My mom doesn’t want you staying here at all. She’s mad at me because I’ve been spending so much time with you.”

  Tom draped his arm around Ian. “Your mom just wants to control you. Remember, we’ve talked about this before. Haven’t we been having fun together? Just like old times, right?”

  Ian saw a man and woman walking together and holding hands. Couples could live together, as long as they were approved by the board. The excitement of the previous night passed through his mind, and he felt his body swaying from side to side. Was there a chance he could find someone to share his life with? He’d always dreamed about getting married and having a family. After repeated rejections, though, he’d decided no girl would ever want him. His eyes darted from Gary to Tom. Gary’s shirt was stained, his pants filthy, his hair shaggy and uncombed. Tom wasn’t that bad, but he never went anywhere without Gary. Trudy had said all those nice things to him. Yeah, he thought, smiling. Trudy liked him. It was Tom and Gary that she didn’t want to see. They were the jerks, not him.

  Ian thrust his shoulders back with pride, remembering the things Trudy had said when he was making love to her, the sense of power and gratification he’d felt when she’d cried out with pleasure. He knew the girls in the dirty movies were actresses, but he’d felt Trudy’s body responding to him. No, he told himself, she hadn’t been faking. He started to ask Tom for her phone number, then decided he’d try to ditch the two of them somehow and drive back to her apartment. If she wasn’t there, he’d leave a note on her door. He’d offer to take her to a movie, maybe take her out to eat. Girls liked those kind of things.

  Once they were inside his apartment, Gary and Tom flopped down on the sofa and turned on the television. Ian told them he wanted to take a nap and went to his room. He could still smell Trudy’s perfume on the sheets. He would introduce her to his mother and sister. Pauline would help him pick out a new shirt to wear on their first real date.

  Gary threw open the door to his room. “Get up,” he said. “You gotta drive us to the Quick-Mart.”

  Ian sat up in the bed. For the first time, he understood what Elizabeth had been trying to tell him. He shouldn’t be hanging out with guys like Gary and Tom. “Why?”

  “You know,” Gary said, smacking a wad of gum. “We need some smokes and beer. I ran out about an hour ago. We want to be back before the football game comes on at two. It’s already past one, so we need to leave now.”

  “The Quick-Mart is on the other side of town,” Ian protested, standing up and stepping into his tennis shoes. “I just drove to L.A. and back. Why can’t you get the stuff at Vons? Vons is cheaper than the Quick-Mart.”

  “I smoke a certain brand of cigarettes,” Gary told him. “They don’t sell them at Vons. I don’t want to miss the game.”

  “Whatever,” Ian said, deciding he couldn’t just throw them out. He’d have to think it through, figure out what he was going to say All he could think of right now was Trudy. He noticed that Gary was staring at something on the floor by the bed. Ian walked over and picked up a white clip that must have fallen out of Trudy’s hair. Holding it in his hand was magical. He opened the dresser and placed it in the top drawer.

  “When did Trudy get sick?” Gary asked, looking sharply at Ian. “Last night or this morning?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Just curious,” Gary said, although his lips had compressed into a thin line.

  Ian took a deep breath. He couldn’t let them know what had happened. He had to be smart now. He had to lie, something he’d never really learned how to do. If they knew the truth, they would find a way to take Trudy away from him. “She started throwing up this morning,” he said. “She got sick right after she got here, though. The only reason she spent the night was her roommate took the key to her apartment.” They were in the living room now, and Tom was waiting for them by the door. “You know why she stayed,” Ian said, pulling the door closed behind him. “She called you before she came over here. You’re the one who told her to come to my place.”

  “If we’re going, Gary,” Tom said firmly, “we need to go now.”

  When they reached the Quick-Mart, Gary told Ian to park on the left side of the building. “Back in a flash,” he said, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket. “Keep the engine running.”

  Ian leaned out the window. Neither of the men ever gave him money for gas. “It costs money to run the engine.”

  “Damn thing stalled out the other day,” Tom said, thumping the side panel of the car as he followed his brother into the store.

  Ian dozed off, exhausted from the night before and the conflicting thoughts spinning inside his mind. He bolted upright when he heard the trunk of the Firebird slam shut, then Gary shouting at him as he jumped into the passenger seat. “Move it, Ian! Fast!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Gary said, his eyes trained on the front of the store. “Turn right out of the parking lot, then head south on the freeway.”

  Ian knew something was terribly wrong. He had never seen Gary this nervous. Mad, yes, but never nervous. Gary’s hands were trembling as he fumbled inside his jacket for a cigarette. Gunning the big engine on the Firebird, Ian skidded out of the parking lot, then roared up the ramp to the 101 Freeway. As soon as they passed the city-limit marker for Ventura, Gary said, “Take the next exit.”

  “Over there,” Tom said, pointing to the State Farm Insurance building, which was still under construction. “Pull around to the back.”

  Ian turned the engine off. “Now, will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “Didn’t you see those two guys in the store?” Tom asked. “They must have come in right after we did.”

  Still drowsy, Ian rubbed his eyes. “What guys?”

  Reaching over from the backseat, Tom placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder. He was wearing a navy-blue long-sleeve shirt, his leather jacket now crammed under the front seat. “The two men,” he said. “You must have seen them. They were tall. One guy was wearing a leather jacket almost like mine.”

  “Yeah,” Gary’s brother said, nodding in agreement. “This big goon was standing by the cash register while Tom was paying for our stuff. His buddy was lurking around in the back of the store. That’s when I told Tom we needed to haul ass, that these guys were up to no good.”

  Gary fiddled with the cigarette lighter mounted in the dashboard. “Happens all the time,” he said, his speech rapid-fire. “People get their heads blown off. An off-duty cop walked in on a holdup last year and got himself killed.”

  “I fell asleep,” Ian told them. “I didn’t see anything after you and Tom got out of the car. I must have drunk too much wine last night. My stomach’s upset.”

  “That wasn’t wine, idiot,” Gary snapped, yanking the cigarette lighter out after he couldn’t get it to work and hurling it at the dashboard. “This car is a piece of crap. Who took my lighter?”

  Tom retrieved a book of matches off the floorboard and handed it to his brother. Once the nicotine kicked in, Gary seemed to relax. No one spoke for awhile, then Ian started coughing from the smoke.

  “You got toasted on sloe gin,” Gary told him. “Girls like it because it’s sweet. How much did you drink?”

  Ian’s eyes expanded. “I think I drank the whole bottle.”

  “This isn’t the time to talk,” Tom said. “It’s li
ke a sardine can back here. Even I can’t breathe with your cigarettes, Gary.”

  How did they know that Trudy had given him a bottle of sloe gin? Ian asked himself. He might not remember everything that happened the night before, but he’d been sober when she’d handed him the paper-wrapped bottle. “You paid her, didn’t you?” he said, his fantasies flying out the window. “Trudy’s a prostitute.”

  “At least you’re not a virgin anymore,” Tom told him, chuckling nervously. “Besides, just because a girl has sex with you doesn’t mean she’s a prostitute. Trudy’s a nice girl. She wouldn’t have had sex with you if she didn’t like you.”

  Ian’s jaw locked into place, certain Tom was only trying to placate him. “Get out of my car.”

  Gary stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What would your momma think if she heard about last night, huh? Would she give you a spanking? She’d probably have you locked up in the funny farm if she knew you’d messed around with a woman. She wants to keep you a baby forever.”

  “Whoever those men were at the Quick-Mart,” Ian told him, “why would they follow us? I’m not as stupid as you think. You’re lying to me. What am I? just someone to drive you around and give you money?”

  Gary suddenly exploded, balling up his fist and punching Ian in the face. Tom tried to pull Gary back, but Gary slugged him as well. Seizing Ian around the neck, Gary smashed his head through the glass window, knocking him unconscious. Then he reached over and opened the car door, shoving him out onto the pavement.

  “What the hell…?” Tom shouted, looking down at the shards of broken glass in his lap. “You could have cut my arm off.”

  Tom craned his head out of the narrow rear window, trying to determine how severely Ian was injured. He was relieved when he spotted only a few cuts on his face. “I can’t tell if he’s breathing,” he said. “Jesus Christ, Gary, you may have killed him.”

  Sweat was pouring off Gary’s face. He used the edge of his shirt to blot it off. “Get the gun and the money out of the trunk. Ian knows too much now. He’s starting to put things together.”

 

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