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Payback (Revenge is Fun, #3)
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About the Author
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Also By Morgan St. James
Join Kimberly Martin, Cameron Harsen and Kate Steele as they unravel the twists and turns in this clever crime caper. When Kim and Kate pay a visit to Los Angeles, they never dream the three of them will become involved in going undercover to help crack an ingenious drug money laundering scheme.
Marina Publishing Group
Las Vegas NV
www/marinapublishinggroup.com
1
I SAT AT MY DESK REFLECTING on my crazy journey from success to defeat and back to success again when the shrill buzz of my phone zapped me back into the present. Without thinking I automatically pressed the speaker button. “Cameron Harsen speaking,” I said in a crisp, businesslike voice.
“Geez, that sounds so formal, and you have me on speaker, no less?” A familiar voice on the other end replied. “I called to congratulate you on receiving this year’s ADDY award—just read about it in the Wall Street Journal. According to the article, Harsen Advertising Associates is one of the fastest growing advertising agencies on the West Coast. So, in view of your new dignified status, should I call you Ms. Harsen, or at least Cameron instead of Cami?”
A warm feeling spread through me as I pictured the first day I met Kimberly Martin and Kate Steele around a conference table in Seattle. We were part of the new marketing arm of the Federal Association of Correctional Reform. By the way, if correctional reform makes you think about prisons, that’s because the furniture our team marketed to the military and the Federal government actually was manufactured in Federal prisons.
“Kim, how the Hell are you? Kate and I were just talking about you yesterday.”
“I’m great, and I’m so impressed by everything both of you have accomplished. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other. In fact, I called because I’m planning a trip to LA and I’m really hoping Kate can come down from San Francisco so the three of us can get together for a day or two like old times. That is if you’re not too busy, Miss Powerhouse. There’s something I want to talk to both of you about.”
I could hear the smile in her voice.
My friends Kate and Kim are two of the sharpest women I’ve ever met. Our marketing team at FACR was made up of smart, attractive women—a tactic designed by the lecherous head of the division since most of the purchasing agents were men. Back then most so many of the team members were over qualified but down on their luck, just like me.
And, before you think prisons just make license plates and stuff like that, I have to tell you we were astounded to learn prison manufacturing is close to a billion dollar a year business, with furniture being the biggest part. Picture this. The first time I saw the elegant FACR executive office in Seattle complete with a view of Elliott Bay, I immediately remembered the old story about lavish government spending and $8,000 toilet seats.
Talk about first impressions and fake news, I learned the furniture in that office was all manufactured in prisons, and like many other sensationalized stories, toilet seats were not where big government bucks were going—the toilet seat story wasn’t true at all.
Kim’s voice broke through my memories. “Cami, are you still there?”
I stopped arranging papers and put the memories aside. “You bet I’m still here. Whatever your plans are, I’m in. Do you want me to call Kate? She has become one of my big clients, and we talk every other day. Have you seen that her FraudBusters website has exposed scams all over the country? It’s going gangbusters.”
“Yeah, I’ve been following it and I’m not surprised. She really has a knack for that. I sure hope she can come. I miss the pajama parties we used to have. You know, I’ve often thought that if I hadn’t squeezed into the elevator between you and Kate that first day on the job and suggested having lunch together, there might not have been a FraudBusters and no million dollar reward for each of us under the Whistleblower Act.”
“Don’t forget, I wouldn’t have had the money to start my agency either, and you probably wouldn’t have met Nathan. Amazing how all of the pieces fell into place, wasn’t it?”
Kim laughed. “Even calling it amazing is mild. Although I was terrified most of the time we poked around as wannabe sleuths, you two made me feel alive again during my darkest hours.”
“Yeah, me too. You know, in a way I miss the intrigue and excitement.”
Back then we’d each taken the first job offered just to stay alive, and that’s how the three of us wound in that meeting in Seattle. I guess some things are meant to be. We jokingly called ourselves the FraudBusters when we bumbled into uncovering a massive embezzlement ripoff. Kate loved the name so much, she used it for her website and company.
I let out a sigh. “We certainly have come a long way since collecting our rewards and leaving FACR, haven’t we?”
Kim answered, “Yeah, we sure have.”
Kate and I had no reason to keep selling furniture after getting our money, but when Kim was offered the position of Director of Marketing for FACR, she accepted. The division moved to DC, so did Kim.
When I quit FACR and returned to LA, a big part of my plan to get even with my former bosses was to establish Harsen Advertising Associates and specialize in campaigns aimed at the Baby Boomer market like laser beams. That fat old goat Cunningham said I was over-the-hill at forty-four when he fired me by voice mail and hired a twenty-five year old to replace me. Well, he was going to feel my wrath big time. I’d show him!
Kim interrupted my mental trip down Memory Lane. “So Cami, how is the sleazeball who fired you dealing with your vendetta? Tyler Cunningham, wasn’t it? You have to bring me up to date.”
My grin probably rivaled the legendary Cheshire Cat. “Oh him?” I said, “Tyler Cunningham is experiencing the revenge of a woman scorned right in his pocketbook! I won’t be able to force them out of business, which is what I really wanted to do, but they are feeling how much pain this over-the-hill advertising executive can dish out. I’ve stolen so many of their big clients and, best of all, they never know which one I’ll court next.”
Kim said, “I knew they would be sorry they tangled with you.”
“You bet. I understand from inside sources they haven’t been able to replace the accounts they lost to me. So, I continue to take on more clients and more space, while they have been forced to downsize.
“Good for you,” Kim said. “Downsize, huh?”
“Yep. I guess my slick twenty-five year old replacement couldn’t hold a candle to me. It is such fun to know I’m sticking it to them. We’re not only in their building here in Century City, but we have bigger offices than theirs on the floor above them. So, when are you planning to come?”
“Next week. I’ll be there on the fifth, and I’m stay
ing right near your office at the Century Plaza Hotel.
“Forget that,” I said. I have not one, but two guest rooms. You and Kate will stay with me. It will be like old times.”
When I said like old times, little did I know what the future really had in store for us.
2
AFTER WE HUNG UP, I realized I was so happy to hear from Kim I hadn’t asked if there was a purpose to her visit. Was it a getaway or some sort of business trip? After all, as the Director of the Consulting Resource Services division she was in upper management at FACR, and there is a prison factory in Lompoc, a few hour’s drive from Los Angeles. I’d have to remember to ask her the next time we spoke.
She also hadn’t said anything about her husband Nathan who is the United States Attorney General. I’d forgotten to ask about him, too. Nate and I were friends way back as teenagers when our mothers hoped we would marry some day. He’s a great guy, but it wasn’t in the cards for us. We are better as dear friends. I put aside the proposal I’d been working on and reached for the phone to dial Kate’s number.
Instead of waiting for a standard greeting like “How are you?” as soon as I heard her voice, I gushed, “Kate, you won’t believe it. Guess who’s coming to LA on the fifth?”
Without giving her a chance to venture a guess. I continued. “None other than Kim! You have to clear your schedule and come down here. We’ll have one of our sleepovers like old times. I told her not to stay in a hotel and you won’t either. I have all those extra bedrooms. It will be great.”
“Um, hello, Cami. And how are you, too?” She was always a stickler for protocol. As for me, except when I’m doing business, I tend to blurt out whatever is on my mind. However, when it comes to business, I am a dragon.
Kate continued. “Hey, that’s wonderful news. How long will she be there? We haven’t spoken in a while and catch up will be such fun.”
I used to hate my signature giggle because it makes me sound a little ditzy sometimes. You know, the dumb blonde syndrome. But trust me, I discovered it can really come in handy when I need to wheedle information out of someone. You see, when a guy hears that giggle I’m rarely given credit for my intelligence.
They never suspect I have a 160 IQ and am a workaholic. I’ve been told I look like Goldie Hawn so many times, I’m almost tempted to sign an autograph the next time someone rushes up to me with paper and pen extended. I can’t tell you how many times I hear something like, “Oh my God, Goldie Hawn. Would you sign this for me? My friends back in Beaversville won’t believe I really met you.”Then they thrust whatever they have handy in my face, hoping for an autograph.
With that thought in mind, I had to tell Kate a funny story. “Guess what? Last week Milt and I had dinner at a restaurant in Fisherman’s Village and before we left I visited the restroom. Milt waited for me in the reception area. I passed a couple of tourists—the guy was in Bermuda shorts complemented by regular brown socks and oxfords, she wore one of those flowered polyester butterfly tops, baggy slacks and a big floppy-brimmed hat. When she couldn’t stop staring at me, I recognized that look. She thought I was Goldie Hawn and had seen me get up from the table. The host led to the same table, and I thought they were going to have to call the paramedics for the woman. She went bananas and shouted, “It is her! Oh my God. I’m sitting in the very seat Goldie Hawn just left.” She fanned herself wildly as she melted into her seat.”
Kate got a good laugh out of that one.
Well, when you live in the LA area, you don’t get that excited if you see movie stars, but it is always fun to watch the reaction of out-of-towners.
Kate responded with a loud laugh. “Yep, that’s the Hollywood magic. Great story. So Goldie, tell me more about Kim’s call.”
“In answer to your question,” I said, “it sounds like she’s going to be here for two or three days. Good thing we don’t have to fake time off like we used to when we worked for FACR. I’ll never forget the few times we almost got caught. What kind of undercover agents would we have been if we got caught sneaking time off for imaginary funerals or whatever excuse we used?”
Kate laughed. “Yeah. I had a couple of close calls. One time I was sure Julia was onto me, but it was just my paranoia. Anyway, I’ll book a flight for the fifth and should be at your place around two after picking up a car.”
“Do you need a car?” I asked.
“Um, yeah. I’ll take care of some other stuff while I’m there. I want a chance to meet with my investigators about a fraud we’re working on. I can schedule an appointment with my agent, too. It seems my book has some interest as a movie. Hmmm. If anything gels, do you want me to suggest Goldie to play you?”
Kate’s account had turned into a big one for us. To use a cliché, her FraudBusters website was just the tip of the iceberg. She had actually become a fraud consultant with a great reputation for being a crusader and getting down to the meat of a scam. In fact, I’d added a public relations expert to my staff, and her job was to keep Kate and other clients in the newspapers, on TV, and radio. She even became the on-camera spokesperson for a few products. Her comment about the possibility of a movie deal made me ask, “Since your book is the story about all three of us, do we get a cut?” I followed that with an involuntary giggle.
I wasn’t serious, but Kate being Kate, cleared her throat, then said, “You know I’ll take care of both of you—like you need it. Thank God we’re all successful now, but we still cover each other’s backs, don’t we?”
After we said our goodbyes, I glanced at my watch. Where did time go? It was one o’clock already. I still had so much to do, I decided to grab lunch at the little cafe on the main floor of our building. I left the office in a good mood, anticipating our reunion. My good mood lasted until I sat down in the cafe.
3
TWO ELEVATORS DESCENDED—ONE from the 43rd floor and the other from the 39th. The bell dinged and the doors of the one from 43 slid open. Wouldn’t you know it? I’d bet on 39.
People wearing sincere business suits stood squashed together shoulder-to-shoulder, unable to move. The scene reminded me of sardines in a can, but somehow when I flashed my sweet innocent “Goldie smile,” a few of them managed to shift around as much as they could to clear a space for me. I don’t know why, but that smile works every time.
During the ride down my head filled with thoughts of the days when Kate, Kim and I were a trio. While our investigation limped along, about once a month we managed to schedule time at one of our homes. Kim lived in Seattle, I lived in LA and Kate in San Francisco. Even though we were constantly worried about being discovered and scared silly every time a brilliant plan backfired, those were fun times. I think in some ways the fright added to the fun.
The elevator landed on the lobby level and passengers streamed out. I headed for the Century Cafe, a nice little restaurant located in the cavernous space. They feature good sandwiches and salads—a great choice for a fast lunch. A few booths lined the perimeter plus some tables for two or four. A placard on one wall proclaimed maximum capacity of sixty. Sometimes large groups pushed the tables together to create one long table. That afternoon it wasn’t quite as crowded as it usually gets right at noon when every possible table is occupied.
One thing I like about Century Cafe is that it’s pleasant, but not fancy like so many of the nearby Century City or Beverly Hills restaurants. The booths are upholstered in a combination of black and gray with granite-looking table tops made of some sort of synthetic, and black and white tile floor. You know how sometimes aromas in a restaurant make your mouth water? Century Cafe is one of those places. I was hungry but unfortunately also trying to watch my weight.
I settled for a Cobb salad and a cup of herbal tea. I was reading email messages on my phone when a shockingly cold, wet chill spread over my head while something wet and sticky ran down my whole body.
“You fucking bitch,” a man’s voice shouted. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, Girlie. But, you’re going to find out
.”
I looked up to see Jonathan Reid, Reid/Cunningham’s managing partner, looming over me. He held an empty glass that had been filled with Coke before he poured it all over me. His piercing blue eyes flashed anger in a face the color of a ripe tomato.
Reid was impeccably dressed as always in a beautifully tailored suit easily costing several thousand dollars. His crisp white shirt had monogrammed cuffs and he wore a silk tie with a blue and gray swirl design. Reid’s full head of steel gray hair was perfectly styled. Not a hair out of place. His nose was a little large for his face, but even though he was pushing sixty, Jonathan Reid was still a very handsome, successful-looking man unlike his bald, paunchy partner Cunningham. I imagined steam rising from the top of his head. Someone could have a stroke with that sort of anger, I thought.
Well, I was equally angry, and I have quite a temper when it is triggered. This former employer had just ruined an Armani suit. Coke and melting crushed ice remained in my hair while more ran down my face and body.
I shouted, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”
People turned to stare at us.
His voice was a low growl. “Teaching you a lesson, you Twit. You can’t just waltz back into LA and steal our clients.“
That was the last straw. I got up from my soggy chair, balled my fists, and locked eyes with him. Even wearing stilettos, I had to stand on my toes to do it. The illustrious Mr. Reid stood about six foot three inches to my five foot six so I had to tilt my head back, but I was sure he saw the fire in my eyes.
“You ass! Take this message back to your partner. He made a big mistake firing me the way he did. You two will learn what payback means from the over-the-hill woman, he fired.”
I took a deep breath and continued, struggling to keep my voice level and menacing.
“You know, I can still hear just about every word in that damned voice mail. Voicemail, Jonathan! After so many years as a loyal employee, he had the nerve fire me by voicemail.
I imitated Tyler Cunningham’s voice. “Your replacement, a really sharp twenty-five year old, hit the ground running. In a way, she reminds me of you when you started with us. Have your office cleared by the end of the day.”
Payback Page 1
