BOOK ONE: DECEPTIONS
Chapters One to Twenty Six
Vignettes 1 - 140

BOOK TWO: YESTERDAY ECHOES
Chapters 27 to
Vignettes 141 -

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Vignette #99: Overlooked

It was to be one heck of a busy day. “Meetings, meetings, meetings.” Wella said to herself as she placed copies of files and stacks of notepads at various places around the boardroom.

In a few minutes the ball would start rolling and not stop until the end of the day. Wella loved it. She loved every aspect of her job, the creativity, the last minute deals and the meetings where everything was decided. The only thing she hated was stacking up copies of files and notepads.

She looked up in time to see Ian walk through the door. “Did we get everything?”

He let out two lungs full of air. “We lack one little call from legal. They’ll call Blake’s cell any moment now.”

“Let’s hope it’s in time.”

“This shouldn’t take long, but we’ll drag it out as long as necessary until we get that last little nail.” Ian patted her shoulder. “Have I told you today how wonderful you are?”

“Yes, but a fat raise and a new car says it so much better.”

“When I get those, you get those.”

Wella fussed with his tie a minute. “You’re gonna be fine, Ian. Blake will be here and I’m going to run around like a chicken with my head cut off tying up loose ends on the other end of the rope, but I’ll be back.” She smiled and squeezed his shoulders.

“Hey, Wella.” Ian smiled. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She patted his cheek as a man entered the room.

Ian turned to him and smiled. “Mr. Metcalfe, how are you this morning?”

“Fine, Ian. You?” Denver Metcalfe was the unofficial chairman of the board, almost an honorary title elected annually among the shareholders. Turner held all the power, but he always allowed his board to have an equal say, in most cases.

It was Metcalfe, who had made his name in the newsprint industry, that usually represented the board in matters Turner, and sometimes the board themselves, felt they needed a presence in. Ian knew the board had met yesterday, and would again after the staff dictated the fall lineup. The board would attend, break and then re-meet for final approval.

Ian also knew, that while he and his team were finishing up the Torkelson, now Torkelson/Sinclair, project the board had called Jack Tolan in for an emergency session. He had no idea what it was about, and unless someone said otherwise he felt the politics didn’t concern him.

“I am well, sir.” Ian turned to Wella. “Have you met my assistant, Manwella Johnson?”

Metcalfe smiled. “I’ve seen her in the hall on occasion but we were both usually dashing off in opposite directions. It is a pleasure to have a name to go with the face, Ms. Johnson.”

Wella shook his hand. “Same here, and please call me Wella.”

“I assume Mr. Turner is on his way?” Ian asked.

“Not far behind.” Metcalfe took a seat. “I’m glad I have just a few minutes alone with you. Please take a seat.” He motioned for both Ian and Wella to sit down.

They looked at each other and did as asked.

“I wanted to commend you both for the fine work you have been doing for this company. You have created an excitement in these hallways that has been missing for much too long. Not to mention the positive buzz in the industry.”

“Well, thank you sir. I think I can speak for the whole team in saying we are working hard to turn that from buzz into simple fact.” Ian said.

Metcalfe leaned forward. “I understand we have the two of you to thank personally for uncovering that little embarrassing incident in accounting.”

Ian and Wella looked at each other again. “We just saw some inconsistencies, sir.”

“Would you mind telling me how?”

“Well, it was a small series of things actually.” Ian looked at Wella.

“Things just didn’t add up.” Wella added. “Things easily overlooked, but when the kept happening we quietly investigated.”

“And ended up saving this company hundreds of thousand of dollars.” Metcalfe said. “Who knows how long it went on?”

“When we can trace it back to the beginning, we’ll probably have a better idea of who was behind it.” Ian said. “We thought it started in my department, but when digging further, I’m just the one who caught it.”

Ian turned to the opened door. “Blake would you bring in that file, the payroll one?”

Metcalfe motioned to the intercom. “My God, Justyn. That’s what this is for.”

Wella smiled, “Believe me, Mr. Metcalfe, this is easier.”

“There’s something about me and electronic devises that don’t mesh.” Ian apologized.

“Like my wife and a car?” Metcalfe smiled.

“Something like that.” Ian said blushing.

Blake came in with a thick folder and put it in front of Ian. “Thanks, Blake.” Ian scooted the pile of contracts to Metcalfe. “Know any of these people?”

Metcalfe looked through the stack. “Robert Tolliver…Faith Harkness…Bruno Schimelmeyer…according to these contracts they are all paid employees of HRT.” He looked at the contract he was holding, “and paid very well. Who are they?”

“No one seems to know.” Ian pulled another sheet out of the pile in front of him. “I got last’s month’s budget and almost choked when I saw how much over budget my department was for salaries. I called HR and was told there was no mistake, and they sent down all the contracts for my department…”

“So?”

“So…there were sixty four contracts.”

“We merged two departments, that sounds about right…”

“I only kept a total of twenty three people…that left forty one contracts. I thought at first they might have been misfiled from other departments or terminations/transfers that hadn’t been properly handled.”

“That wasn’t the case.”

“It was for three…that leaves thirty eight employees that no one seems to have ever seen, heard of or signed in and out at any of the gates. The only two things they seem to have in common is they all have direct deposit and someone has forged my name on the contracts.”

“You can prove that.”

“Take a good look, sir.” Ian pointed to the signature on one of the contracts. “My name is typed correctly, and the signature is almost perfect, except for one small loop.”

“Ooops…”

“Ooops. HR typed my name wrong when I first started, but I always signed it correctly…J-U-S-T-Y-N….I’ve already had these contracts purged from the system…no more paychecks…but I think we should do our own investigation and then get the police involved….”

“We quietly checked most of the other departments as well.” Wella said. “We turned up almost eighty more contracts of employees no one has ever heard of or have ever signed in or out of the building.”

“You don’t miss a trick do you?” Metcalfe smiled. “Any ideas who’s involved...?”

“Sortta…but no proof. Just a guess…but stick around, I’m about to put the brakes on another little scam, providing I have the legal basis to do so.” Ian filled Metcalfe in.

He hung his head, “Ian I am ashamed. We’ve always just given our execs cart blanche. I had no idea that this had happened.”

“Legal didn’t blink an eye either. Maybe this is normal, but that’s not how you run a business.”

“Have you told Turner?”

“He knows, now, and we think we’ve come up with a way to counteract it. We’re just waiting on the word from legal.”

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