+1+
“Looking good, kid!”
I turn as the photographer’s flash goes off. Supervisor Gerald Bruno and Vice Chair Liu Lee laugh good-humoredly as they stroll pass me. I’m not sure which one of them called me “kid” but I fight the urge to say something back.
Breathe
I exhale and let the tension flow out of me
“Mr. Prince”, the photographer’s voice sounds far away as I watch my elder colleagues bound down the steps and out for their usual two hour lunch. I turn back to the photographer and settle my features into a serious (but hopeful) smile as I stand awkwardly posed in front of the U.S and local flags in Old Town Hall’s lobby.
“Coming along nicely, Mr. Prince”, Al the security guard comments encouragingly from his post.
That gets a smile out of me that the photography catches before taking her camera off. As a courtesy the photographer shows me pictures she wants to submit to the Communications department. Just looking at the images draws up my anxiety. I feel so wound up I want to scream.
Sera had bought the slim white dress shirt for me when she went into the city last week to finish up a contract. I don’t recognize myself in the bright white shirt. It is a blemish in my all black wardrobe and I couldn’t wait to get rid of it.
This morning Seraphina slipped the bright white shirt over my shoulder and smoothed it down before buttoning it. I’d nervously peered around her trying to catch a glimpse of myself in the triple fold mirror I’d put up in the dressing room. She carefully tucked in the unnaturally white shirt in, her fingers grazing my semi-hard cock tightly secured in a clear resin chastity cage a constant and only slightly painful reminder of what I was hers. The months of pent up frustration taking a backseat to that morning’s new anxiety.
“They call me kid”, I told her my eyes focused on her hands, “My colleagues. I’m almost thirty and it’s like no one takes me seriously.”
“They’ll learn”, she said running the back of her hand down my face inspecting my close shave, “They’re afraid. They can tell how much you want this and it scares them.”
I turned my eyes back to the mirror, the white shirt showed so many details of my thin wiry frame that black usually smoothed over. Growing up my foster brothers and I had worn black to mourn the family we lost. Eventually most of my peers stopped but I never did. Neither did Hmjeu. Wearing black was how I had honored the family I didn’t remember. Though, since I was fourteen, it has mostly been in remembrance of Hmeju.
“It itches”, I said pulling at the buttons of the offending white shirt.
“Paris”, Seraphina warned.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe in the showy rough textured fabric. The bleach in the fabric was harsh against my sensitive skin. I HAD to get it off. I started clawing at the buttons.
“What the hell is with this thing”, my fingers struggled over the last two buttons and I finally pulled the shirt off. Tremors coursed through my body even when the shirt was on the floor.
Sera watched me, her eyes and mouth narrowing into a straight line. She walked out the dressing room and returned with a glass of water and my anxiety medication. I took the pills from her a little roughly and swallowed them dry. She threw the water in my face. I was still. I didn’t react.
“Next time I bring you water. Drink it.”, she said tossing the glass in the corner for me to clean up later
“Sorry Darling.”
“I know you are”, She’d remarked just barley keeping her frustration at bay, “Now pick up the fucking shirt.”
She left no room for argument so I did.
“I think I’m allergic to it--”
“Put it on, Paris.”
I obediently slid my arms into it. I know it’s just a shirt but even now I feel something crawling in it. Sera flipped the dressing room mirrors around so I could no longer see myself, then she buttoned the shirt back up. She worked a brand new blue and red tie around my collar and tied it into a perfect Windsor knot. When was done she put her hands on my shoulder and lowered me to my knees. She tilted my chin up and surveyed me.
“I think you look good”, she said circling me.
“I shouldn’t have to follow a dress code. I’m an elected official.”
Seraphina sighed somewhere behind me, “It’s just for a picture, Paris.”
“I...I know it’s irrational but …Just…be careful today. I don’t want something bad to happen—“
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes a she heads back to bed. I relaxed my posture and sat on the floor of the dressing room for nearly a half an hour waiting for my pills to kick in.
“…this one looks good.” I turn back to the photographer and set my face back into the smile I’d let it drop for a moment, “Thank you. I can’t wait to see my portrait hall with my colleagues.”
We exchange a congenial hand shake and I power walk up to my office. After three weeks on the job I’d gotten a feel for the office. I’m no longer surprised to see Ms. Ginger’s desk empty or hear the chatter of my colleagues behind closed doors. The other supervisors had a routine I didn’t fit into yet. I don’t even bother ask if they need me anymore. I’m always told to fuck off and work on the audit.
What I knew of my colleagues was what I picked up online or from Mrs. Ginger. Supervisors Bruno and Lee of the 1st and 4th district have been serving together for nearly 30 years. They are both in their early 60’s and have been on the board the longest. They’d had been colleagues with Day’s late father Armitage Day.
Gavin Hollins was the newest member. He represents the 2nd district and is in his 6th year serving. He is a middle aged dentist turned politician who I learned (via Mrs. Ginger) was a close Day family friend. I admired Hollins career change but he was the quiet one of the group. Though he was the only one who remembered to say hello to me in the morning.
Truly, I am proud to be able to work with all them but the nickname? Them calling me ‘kid’? I could do without. I am putting an end to that. Instead of going to my office (still needed to put that fucking desk together) I head to Day’s office.
“Paris”, Day says when I stick my head in, “How was picture day?”
“It was fine.” I say even though the white fabric still makes my arms itch, “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
Day’s oversized office is large and lived in. It had the same regrettable green carpet as the rest of the building but his large office windows has a nice view of the scenic SR-8 .The quiet out of the way location is one of the only benefits of being located in Old Town Hall.
Day has oak shelves full of books and an oversized curio cabinets with his degrees and awards. Along the walls are photos from when Day’s father was president of the board along with pictures when Harrison County was just a rural bedroom outpost in 80’s. I’m drawn to the older photos of Day. He has a few of him in college with his friends and a large photo of him and his wife at their beachside wedding. He also has pictures of his daughter grinning in front of SeaWorld. My office is lacking these memories. I have a picture of Hmjeu and an old class photo of my brothers--but they were too painful put up. Sera doesn’t like having her picture taken and the few I have aren’t exactly safe for work.
“What’s up Paris?” Days asks cutting into my thoughts.
“Oh, sorry.” Fuck I’ve been staring, “I just…I like this part. I like what an office says about a political figure.”
“I wouldn’t call myself a political figure. Just a public servant. Now what’s up?”
“Cortland…I feel like I’m not making an impression with the other supervisors. They keep calling me ‘kid’”
“Paris, you’re so young you can’t blame them”
“I’m almost 29.”
“Yeah but…” he sort of shifts awkwardly, “I mean you just got out of school. It’s just a little hazing.”
Breathe
“But I—“
“Also…we all know the game, Paris. This is a stepping stone for you. I’m sure by next year you’ll move up to the city or state level. I’ve known these guys my whole life. They are good people. We will bring you in when the audit is over.”
I was being ridiculous. Paranoid. I, of all people, should know better than to put my needs before anyone else.
“Thank you. I needed that. Mind if I ask what you’re working on?” Its’ a valid question but also a good way to network.
Day just shrugs
“Just some zoning proposals. It gets kind of quiet around here in the summer. Well don’t let me keep you from the audit.”
I take that as my cue to leave. When I get to my office the wood pile that is my desk is still in the corner. I shut the door, wrench off the offending white shirt, throw it in the trash and pull on a safe clean black one.
+2+
I spent the next week working 12 hours a day on the tax audits. It was simple work. All I had to do was make sure the funds placed in the tax budget were property used to pay any and all taxes the county owed. Everything was on the intranet archive but I’d been advised to dig through boxes of hardcopies. There were the occasional inconsistencies I had to report but nothing to harmful. It was just tedious.
The tax audit was eating into the time I should have been spending with my fellow supervisors. I usually got home with dinner around 7pm, and most nights I had to eat dinner in my home office so I could help Seraphina with her accounting, clients, billing, contracts, appointments, schedule and invoices before I went to bed. Even though we never talked about it leaving New York was as going as good for her career as it was for mine.
This audit was fucking with my career trajectory.
I needed it done.
So, I cheated.
I connected my Chromebook to the Intranet and uploaded the tax budget, tax bills and schedules for the past 25 years into UBalance--the flexible customizable open source accounting program (invented by a fellow Harvard alum) I used for Sera’s business. The program could read the forms and pull the numbers into a database. Using the open forum I wrote a predictive code that could review the funds that went in and went out of the budget. It could forecast results and essentially perform the audit for me.
I wasn’t stupid.
I knew I was screwed if I was caught putting county data into an open source program on my personal computer, but I wasn’t spending my entire term stuck in my office. I decide to upload the county’s annual budgets too. That way they can act as a quality control. I quickly log into the intranet to pull up the budgets but get hit with an error.
USER NOT AUTHORIZED
“Weird”, I say to myself. I hadn’t had any issues pulling it before.
To be safe I type my username and password again. ParisPR then DARLING08
USER NOT AUTHORIZED
“Fuck it”
I log off and use the username and password Ms. Ginger keeps taped to her desk. I get in with no issues. I shrug it off and upload the annual budgets to UBalance and spend the next hour cleaning up the code. Then I let it run. After thirty minutes the program produces data for 2000. I set my Chromebook the corner and let it work.
I spend the day getting to know my colleagues. Mostly Ms. Ginger since Bruno, Lee, Day and Hollins are playing in a charity golf game that had been planned months ago. I’d have to talk to Sera about taking lessons.
Once Ms. Ginger does her disappearing act, I buckle down and prepare for future board meetings by reading transcripts and watching YouTube vides of previous meetings. The ones after the shooting were particularly heated. I am in awe of Day’s leadership and how he controlled the emotional room.
I am the last one to leave the office just after 5pm. It’s Friday night and the few people in the building have started their weekends early. I casually toss my Chromebook in the back of the Mercedes SUV Sera had taken me to get on Valentine’s Day. Because I am craving some catharsis I turn on my favorite Rocket Olsen APR story.
I take my time driving down the scenic SR-8. There are still a few farms from Harrison County’s humble beginnings. When I turn onto the parkway I am right in the middle of the bustling eastern 5th district I am responsible for. It’s a harsh change. Oversized shopping centers, entertainment complexes and restaurants populate most of the former farmland. Infrastructure was at an all-time high and it just kept growing.
The Mount Laurel subdivision is one of the only residential areas in the 5th district. It’s centrally located behind one of the more egregious double decker shopping centers. I am sure to drive slowly through the neighborhood and wave to any neighbors in case anyone notices my vanity plates P4RIS PRINC3.
Sera had chosen the house at the end of the division for privacy. The five bedroom 3-story house had been the model home for years. Due to all the upgrades it had been on the market forever. After getting a black roof, refinishing the gray stone siding, converting a bedroom into a dressing room and remodeling the entire basement into a studio --we’d closed at just under 700,000.
When I pull into the garage all I can think is “I wish Hmjeu could see this”. Though he wouldn’t be proud considering what I’d had to leave behind. We had two guest rooms and I’d optimistically written, called, and e-mailed my brothers. But just like previous years…nothing came of it.
I leave my shoes by the door and jog up to my home office. Sera left receipts from Agent Provocateur, two new rental contracts for the New Aeterna space, vendor agreement forms and a stack of signed invoices and checks on my desk. I try to ignore the video contract with Sven that is sitting on top of the stack.
I check my phone. It’s just past six and odd that the house was empty. Sera liked to eat around 7:30 and she hadn’t reached out to tell me what she wanted yet. She also usually liked to keep an eye on me while I worked; perched on my desk with a glass of low-alcohol red wine. Working under her scrutiny always made me more productive.
I open my Chromebook to get to work and a bright red UBalance screen flashes in front of me.
DEFICIENCY ERROR
“The fuck?” I whisper and push aside Sera’s paperwork to analyze the error. I hadn’t seen the program do this since I tried to teach Sera to use it.
I study the error. It’s showing mathematical deficiencies with the data sets I’d given the system for the county. According to Ubalance 34% of the funds that were supposed to go into the tax budget in 2000…didn’t make it into the tax budget. I checked and saw it had been like that for the past 17 years.
I checked the records and found out what the deficiency was. It looked like funds that were supposed to go into the tax budget were being paid directly out to the Lowell County instead.
“Lowell County?” I whisper to myself. It was the neighboring county, “Why are we paying money directly to Lowell County?”
I did some more research and realized this payment was the property taxes we paid to Lowell County for the Municipal Complex building. The Municipal Complex was owned by Harrison County but located on Lowell County land. As a result we had to pay them property taxes.
The funds should have gone to the tax budget and then been paid to Lowell County. Not paid straight out of the annual budget.
“Sloppy”, I say to myself. The feds won’t like it.
Still.
The property taxes we were paying to Lowell County was really low for such a massive multi-purpose building. The Municipal Complex housed the (other) administrative offices, a recreation center and an award-winning community theater. The tax rate should be much higher.
I open a private browser and log into the county’s intranet just to get a look at one of these tax bills. I just have to know if there is something to explain why the tax rate is so low. I spend thirty minutes flipping through the property tax bills trying to figure out why it’s at such a low low .98%....when something sticks out to me.
The thing is…
I am an uptight type-A personality with a significant other that demands everything little thing be spotless and in its place. Because of this I have an eye for detail…so I easily notice two angled lines on the tax bills above the Lowell County header. The tiny lines are maybe from a backward staple…but those tiny lines are in the exact same place on every single tax bill going back 17 years. There located on the top middle of the page. An odd place for a staple. I go back a few more years into the 90’s and it’s a fucking mess. The dollar amounts on the property tax bills just seem like random amounts.
“What the hell?”
I dig back into the archive until I find the deed and mortgage documents from when we bought The Municipal Complex in 1987. Maybe some obscure law in the 80s’ caused the dollar amounts to vary. The complex had been purchased for $323,000 dollars, back then it was just a simple three-story office building. Manhattan Mutual provided the loan and the county paid it off in 1997.
“Hmmm”
I’d lived in Manhattan for almost 3 years and I’d spent a lot of my free time raising funds and building capital. I’d never heard of Manhattan Mutual. I Googled it and nothing came up. Even if it had shut down there should be some trace of it. I look up the address on the Manhattan Mutual letterhead and it goes to a neighborhood in Murray Hill..
“Shit.”
Maybe it was too long ago for the internet to have any record
Or the documents were fake
Fuck.
The tax bills, the mortgage documents, the deed.
They were all fake.
The county never bought that building and we’ve been paying fake property tax bills for three decades.
So where was the money going?
I tried to wrap my head around the idea. The Municipal Complex had been renovated by the county over the years to become the crown jewel of the county. The real owners of the complex couldn’t be oblivious to that. Unless they are also in on it.
There was no way Cortland didn’t know about this. He had to sign off on every single transaction made Why would he approve this ?
Because he didn’t want it to show up on an audit.
I log off the VPN and type up a quick records request to Lowell County for information on the property owner of the Municipal Complex. Something tells me it’s not Harrison County.
My phone buzzes and I glance at the text. It’s from Sera.
Love.
Shit.
I look at my phone. Shit. Shit Shit. It was a first Friday
It was date night. That’s why she wasn’t here. Fuck
“Fuck.”
+3+
I pull up the calendar on my phone to see where I was supposed to meet Seraphina then bolt out of my office. I nearly break my foot navigating around the moving boxes and jumping in my SUV.
Once I get out of the neighborhood I jump on the interstate and speed to the Midtown Hartford Town Center. I quickly pull my Mercedes into a spot out front the shopping center. I take the time to fix my hair and spray on some cologne before power walking into the Blue Plate an hour late for the reservations I’d made two weeks ago.
I look around for Seraphina and find her sitting comfortably at the end of the bar in an intimidating black mini dress with a tulip hem. She has her aviator shades on and a pair of five inch beige stilettos with a metal heel. She’s nursing a martini and I can tell she’s clocked me under the mirrored lenses.
I squeeze through the crowd and maneuver my way to her.
“Darling, sorry I’m late. I just---I just found the oddest thing while I was working the budget—“
She takes her shades off.
“You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Paris”
“I --Sera listen I was using the—the program I use to manage your money for a county project. And it showed this weird discrepancy. I dug around and get this…for years Harrison county been paying taxes on the Municipal Complex…but I don’t think we own it. The deed, the mortgage documents the tax bills…I think they are all fake or copies I--”
“Paris you’re rambling--“
“The Municipal Complex.” I say as if that explains everything.
“I worked out there this morning. It’s okay but not worth the price.”
“Exactly”, I say trying to slow down, “Sera. This county has a ton of money that’s been mismanaged…like the fake property tax bill we are paying has a low rate. Really low. Like Florida low.”
Sera rolls her eyes. Sera hated Florida—years ago when we lived in D.C her boss paid for her and a few girls to do some “career development” in Miami. When she got back she complained endlessly about the heat, people, spring breakers and tourist. I’m pretty sure the only reason anyone went to Florida was because of the cheap property taxes--
“Fuck”, I say a little louder than I meant.
Sera lifts an eyebrow. She hate it when I cursed in public.
“Paris, I think I’ve been too easy on you since we moved.”, I can tell she’s getting frustrated with me and not the good kind of frustrated.
In my mind I can see the photo collage from Chairman Days’ office. He, his friends and family in front of bright blue beaches, bars and candy colored beach houses. His family at fucking Sea World.
“Florida”, I say pulling out my phone calculator, “The rates on most of those fake tax bills match Florida’s tax rate. We’re paying property taxes on a property in Florida. Shit. They must have Photoshopped the header on. What the fuck.”
“What? Paris what the fuck are you talking about?”
My mind is spinning so hard I can’t even register how mad she is.
“Seraphina, I have to check on something. Can we grab dinner on the way home? This is about work”
Noting my use of her full name Sera sets her glass down but I know this wouldn’t be the end of it. I gesture to the bartender so I can pay, then I remember I don’t have any money. I know Sera will give me a hard time if I ask her to pay or maybe I could—
I jump when a large hand clamps me on my shoulder. I turn to see Cortland Day behind me.
Speak of the devil. Then I remember he was the one who told me about this restaurant.
“Chairman Day”, I exclaim like an idiot.
“Paris. Weird seeing you out of the office. Do you ever dress casual?”
As if to prove a point he gestures to his Marlins t-shirt and fitted dark jeans
“I like to dress for the job I want.” I tell him.
“Look, me and some of the guys from around the county are back this way…why don’t you join us. I know you’ve been wanting some face time.”
“Oh, I’m –“, I say gesturing to Sera.
Cortland looks between us then gives me something akin to a wink.
“I hope he isn’t bothering you ma’am”, Courtland cuts in jovially to Sera, “You know Paris Prince is one of Connecticut’s up and coming politicians by way of Harvard Law. We on the county level like to meet our very fine constituents and provide the very best service we can”
“Columbia”, I correct Cortland realizing he was trying to be my wingman.
“What?” Cortland says confused by my attention to detail when he was trying to help me pick-up a woman.
“I went to Columbia Law.” I explain.
Cortland shrugs off the awkward moment and goes to shake Sera’s hand, with his other hand he flirtatiously tilts her chin up. Sera immediately adjusts her posture at the touch and quietly assess him as Day imperceptibly steps between us.
“Do you always touch women you don’t know”, Sera asks standing up to nearly 6’7 in her heels.
“You’re right…I’m sorry.” He apologizes easily, which means she’s already turned on, “I was trying to help out a friend. Why don’t you let Paris here buy you a drink, ma’am.”
“I’m married”, she says keeping her tone short and harsh. She takes a small step forward and he steps back. A small satisfied smile crosses her face as he turns his gaze down. Good boy.
“You know what? Me too—sorry you don’t have a ring”, Cortland makes a companionable gesture towards me as if I asked him to be my wingman.
“Uh…no….this is …we’re married”, I interrupt while gesturing to Seraphina that we need to leave. All my synapses are firing. Cortland. Florida. Taxes. Stolen. Fraud. Embezzlement. Money. Crime. Fuck. Me.
“Are you kidding me?” Cortland says slapping his thigh, “No way? Seriously? I thought you were like a Suns player or something.”
“This is Seraphina”, I explain helping Sera into her black leather jacket, “We were High school sweethearts. We were just on our way out.”
“Oh, no”, Cortland says, “You are staying and telling all the guys how you landed a great girl like this.”
The ‘girl’ comment pisses her off, I see it flash briefly in her eyes as she leans against the bar. I could tell she was into Cortland. He was exactly the type of “toxic masculinity bro” she’d started fantasizing about teaching a lesson to.
“Paris is not my high school sweetheart. He just says that. My real high school boyfriend and I used to bully Paris all the time —Paris was such an easy target in his ironed polo shirt and Dockers.”
“So you used to be a very bad ---young woman then”, Cortland says.
“I was troubled.” she says then as an aside, “Still a little naughty.”
If Cortland smiled any harder at that line he’d split his face. It was The Grin. The stupid giddy look straight men get when they think gorgeous soft-spoken beauty in front of them is theirs. A fantasy they can finally possess no matter what.
Mine
“So what do you do Mrs. Prince?” Cortland asks.
Before I can stop Sera she hands him a business card over my head, pushing right up against my hard limit of mixing personal with business.
“Okay”, he says flipping the matte black card over, “Wow. Didn’t know we had domintatrixes in Connecticut.”
She gave him her best sexy fake laugh.
“No one use that word anymore”, she fake whispers to Cortland who is trading excited glances with me.
“Sera, why don’t you go start the car”, I hand her my keys and tap my fingers along her spine like I did whenever I wanted her to know something wasn’t right.
At the touch she immediately pushes off the bar, puts her shades on and slips her finger under Cortland’s chin like he’d done to her. Then turns to me.
“Hurry”, she says to me pressing her body against me and speaking loud enough for Day to hear to the fake desire in her voice. She leaves a twenty on the counter before heading out the door.
“Holy. Shit. Paris”, Cortland says once she’s out of earshot, “Holy shit. I can see why you were in a rush to leave. You just don’t seem like the type to get involved with an escort. That’s usually after you make it to at least state level. You are so conservative and straight-laced. I just. Wow. Wow.”
“She’s not an escort anymo—she’s a professional Domme. It’s different. Less off a social skill more of a trade? Once we get settled she wants to go back to staying at home…I mean sex work is…I mean--- I make sure it’s all legal. By the book. No gray areas. Never crossed any lines…I got every charged dropped...”
I trail off realizing I was talking too much.
“You know what”, Cortland says, “We will talk about this in the office on Monday”
“I…okay? I guess… I should…go?”
“You”, Cortland says patting me on the back, “Should most definitely go.”
+4+
I try to walk calmly out the door. Outside Sera has already pulled up in my car. We sit in silence while Sera drives out of the shopping center, her hands gripping the wheel as she navigates the crowded streets.
“Why do you always listen to this?” she asks softly turning down my APR episode.
“It’s about family. I like that.”
I’d gone from rambling to saying nothing at all. My mind still on whatever I had uncovered.
“What’s wrong? Did you not like me flirting with your boss ?” She finally asks once we are on the parkway.
“I didn’t mind the flirting but he is married and I get a vanilla vibe from him.” I turn on the GPS. I can tell Sera is already lost, “But more importantly Seraphina I think Cortland is embezzling from the county.”
Seraphina sighs and pulls off the parkway into the darkened shoulder. She turns off the engine and turns sharply to me.
“Paris, you always have to be overdramatic and self-righteous. As if you haven’t done a few questionable things in your life. I mean I practically bribed Landow to get the party to give you this job. I had to sign a year home contract with him and you know how annoying his wife is.”
“I know, Darling.”
“Do you?”
“Sera. Someone faked buying an entire building so they could siphon millions of dollars out the county possibly to possibly pay for vacation properties in Florida. I think Day is behind it.”
“Why”
I calm down and try to explain.
“Day has like a whole shrine to Miami in his office and the rate on the fake property tax bills we are paying matches perfectly for Florida. I keep thinking if the county had the money maybe the school could have had a better security system to prevent the active shooter. Or we could afford one of those text alerts or hire more crisis counselors. This is millions of dollars of stolen funds. I think it’s been going on for three decades”
“Day is what? Late thirties. How is that possible?”
“His Dad held the position before him”, I realize, “This place is a boy’s club. Who knows who else is in on it? Sera, if I complete the audit and don’t say anything I could get in trouble with the feds.”
Sighing, Sera turns off the GPS and makes an illegal U-turn.
“What are you doing?”
“If you’re right and Day is embezzling we should find proof before you start accusing people...”
“Sera, this has to be handled by a professional.”
“Paris”, she says turning at the light, “You’re an elected official, CPA and a lawyer… you are the professional. Let’s just…look around his office.”
I thought on this. I mean sure my experience was strictly academic but I had certifications.
“Well, I mean it would help if we had proof. And as the person handling the project I do have the authority to research discrepancies”
Sera parks the car a half mile away from Old Town Hall. She changes into a pair of flats before getting out the car and we walk the rest of the way, keeping close to the woods and out of sight of the few passing cars.
“We can get in through the back emergency exit”, I tell her, “Al says it’s been broken for years…something I’m sure could have been fixed if we had the full budget”
Sera reaches for my hand and in the dark I lead her to the broken emergency exit hidden in the underbrush. We take the stairs to the top floor and I use my keys to get into the office. I also subconsciously wipe every surface we touch.
Sera looks around seeing the office suite for the first time. There is a small green carpeted hallway that lead to an open vestibule where Ms. Ginger’s desk stood and a waiting room straight from the 80’s. Hidden in the back is a small kitchenette and printing station.
“This is Cortland’s office”, I gesture to the second door on the left. I pull on the door and am not at all surprised to find it is firmly locked.
Sera takes her credit card out of her wallet and slips it in between the lock. I wait a tense half-hour before she manages to slip the card into the mechanism and force the door open, I couldn’t get enough of her self-satisfied smile.
“You really were a bad.”
“Just a little troubled.” she corrects
I focus on the photo collage housed on the bookshelf next to the awards, photographs and degrees while Sera flips through the calendar on his desk.
“Here. Look”, I whisper picking up a framed photo collage showing Cortland and what looked like the same group of guys throughout the years with a beach house in the background.
“Looks like Florida”, Sera says pointing to the shot glasses in one photo with the Gators logos. Cortland is in the middle of a group of handsome men in upturned tight pastel polo shirts. My college summers had looked nothing like this no matter how hard I tried. Sera touches my shoulder and I realize I’d been staring at the photo too long.
“I need to figure out the location of the house in this photo.” I pull out a notepad to take notes.
I study the pictures and jot down anything I can read in the background, partial street signs or numbers. I commit the images to memory so I can check Google maps later.
“Look”, Sera says showing me his calendar, “Cortland has three weeks off during the summer for vacation. I bet that gets expensive on a supervisor’s salary”
He’d written “Florida w/ the boys” “Florida with The Family” “Florida Solo Trip”
The more we look around his office what’s surprising is what we don’t find—work. No files, no draft policies, no plans, no meeting minutes, no communications with constituents. It’s like he’s stockpiling cigarettes and golf magazines.
“Is this it?” I ask myself sitting at Cortland’s desk, “Is this the future I can look forward to? Day was so inspiring in those old town hall meetings. It’s like he’s grown jaded by public office”
“I don’t think he’s done with public office”, Seraphina says picking up a document from his inbox
“What do you mean?”
She hands me a letter on party stationary. “He’s running for governor.”
+++
“I think this is it”, Sera turns her laptop to me. I push the french fry cartons across the brand new dining room table and study the Google Street view image. The candy-colored salt washed houses on the screen look just like the ones in Cortland’s pictures
“That’s it”, I say zooming in on the houses. “These are the houses…where is this?”
“Blue Orchid Estates”, she says tapping an acrylic nail by to the blurry sign on Street View
Blue Orchid Estates. I immediately switch over to a VPN and look up the property owner information for Blue Orchid Estates. Florida being a sunshine state has some information publically available. The database shows the community is comprised of six condos, all of them owned by one holding company called VacationSavers.
I do a quick Google search for VacationSavers. They have a single page website that looks like it was built in 2003. I look up the IP address and see the website is registered to a fake address in…Connecticut.
“What are the chances?”
The dining room table is covered in printouts from UBalance, the fake tax bills and the fake mortgage documents. I was slowly forming a dossier on what was essentially a decade’s long embezzlement scheme.
For a while the only sound in the dining room is my furious typing and Sera pensively tapping her plastic spoon against her half-melted strawberry sundae.
“I’m thinking I’ll confront Day on neutral ground”, I say just to fill the silence, “Press him with this evidence. If he tries to blow me off I’ll resign then drop this dossier off anonymously at the Hartford-Star.”
“What if he admits to embezzling?” She asks.
“…I think I still have to quit. I’m just starting out I can’t have my first public position start like this. If I get caught up in a scandal my career is over before it starts …I’ll be like Jerry Springer.”
There is another long silence before Sera finds her words.
“…Paris you’ve never had a job before.”
I stop typing and look in her direction. I didn’t recognize her indecisive tone. Sera just hadn’t understood the urgency of the situation. When we got home she’d taken the time to remove her makeup and change clothes. I haven’t even looked at my pathetic fast-food salad or closed my computer for 3 hours.
“Sera I’m 29 years old I’ve had plenty of jobs.”
“You’re 28 and not paying ones. Not powerful ones like this.” She clarifies.
“What are you saying?”
“Sometimes my clients would talk about how their jobs had…stressful gray areas.”
I close the lid of my Chromebook and respectfully meet her gaze.
“You think I should keep my mouth shut?”
Sera leans back in her chair and puts her long hair back into a low ponytail, “I know men like Day. They live in a different world. They don’t have to be accountable. Don’t you think it might be helpful to have something over the next potential governor?”
I fought the instinct to give her what she wanted. I wanted so badly to submit… but when it came to my career we agreed I was in charge.
“I can’t blackmail him. I want to do things right. If Cortland think he can steal from the people of Harrison County. Who might he steal from next?”
“We should talk to Landow.” Seraphina says wrapping the ponytail into a bun, “Or the authorities first”
My gaze falls to my Chromebook and I consider where this is going. Carver Landow has been the Hartford city manager for decades. Sure, he had more experience… but he also has a duty to report misconduct. All misconduct.
“Darling.... It would be best that no one knows I discovered this. If I leak this I have to do it anonymously and we can’t stick around.”
“Why? “
“Well… I only caught this because I cheated. I put county information onto UBalance… on my personal laptop”
“And?” I can already hear the edge in her voice
“…well... You remember last year. If there was a federal investigation into this my Chromebook would become a public record. Everything on my computer would be public…like your client list.”
“Fuck Paris.” She snaps. It’s so harsh I flinch a little
“I’m sorry, Darling--”
“How could you be so fucking irresponsible?”
“I know. I’m sorry”, I stack up the documents and slip them into an oversized envelope, “It won’t get that far. “
“Why can’t you just let it go, Paris?” Sera pushes her chair back and paces around the dining room. I know it’s difficult for her to give up control but I kind of know what I’m doing.
“I’m sorry”
She shakes her head.
“You promised”, she says quietly but I hear the anger underneath, “We were going to settle down. This was going to be our home.”
“Sera-”
“We bought a house, I left my studio and my penthouse because we were supposed to finally settle down. It’s been a month, Paris. I warned you not to fuck this up.”
Technically a new record for me as my last job in politics lasted two weeks.
“I…I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It’s a good thing this is the only thing I’m letting you fuck up.”
+5+
I get up Saturday morning and drive to the Lowell County clerk’s office to check on the record request I’d put in... I’d barley gotten any sleep since Sera locked me out of the bedroom and I had to make due in an empty guest room. On the way to Lowell County I passed The Municipal Complex. It was a huge utilitarian wrap around beige building with tinted windows with a massive parking lot. How could this ugly building cause so much fucking trouble?
I get to the Lowell County clerk’s office just as the doors open. A woman with a Thermos in one hand holds the door for me as I walk in which makes me a little uncomfortable.
“Good Morning” She says.
“Good Morning”, I remember to pause and slow down, “I put a record request yesterday. I know you are busy but I need the property owner information for The Municipal Complex off the parkway. It’s…owned by Harrison County, right?”
“Mmmm. I think some company owns it. The people over at Harrison have just been leasing it for years. I’ll see what I can do”, she heads behind the counter and starts typing, “Is this for a school project?”
I look up and bite back a startled ‘what?’ I didn’t look that young. Did I?
“Not…exactly.”
Like me this woman is a talker so I charm her a little. I smile, I lean in and ask questions. Ten minutes later--after hearing about how her son is doing over at the community college--she prints me out a copy of the property records.
“Oh”, she says handing it over, “I was right. It is owned by a company. Harrison County just leases the building.”
I scan the page and stare at the name of the company that owns The Municipal Complex
VacationSavers
The property record has a coastal Connecticut address and phone number that looks promising. In the car I do a quick search for the address and nothing comes up. My last hope is the listed phone number. I dial and it actually rings.
“Good Morning. Smiles Unlimited how can I help you?”
“I…“
“Did you need to make an appointment?”
I hesitate and grip my phone tighter to prevent myself from throwing it.
“Is this a dental office?”
“Sir?”
“Is Dr. Hollins available”, I ask half seriously referring to Supervisor Hollins. The only colleague who remembered to say hello to me. And the only former dentist.
“Dr. Hollins retired. He works for the county now. His father is here but he doesn’t see patients anymore. ”
I hang up and let the phone drop between the seats. No way. Hollins didn’t seem like the type to be a part of a scheme like this. But his father…
I have one more stop to make.
I turn my GPS on and drive back to Harrison County and up SR-8 until I reach the edge of the 1st district. Here the houses are smaller and a little farther apart. Everyone has big sprawling lawns that aren’t as kept or artificially green as the ones in the subdivisions. I pull up to a one story brick house with blue shutters and take out the muffins I had purchased on my way over. I knock on the door and put on a relaxed smile. The curtains open and close quickly, then the door slowly opens.
“Mr. Prince what brings you by?”
“Hi Mrs. Ginger. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. I brought a little thank you. I appreciate the way you’ve helped me settle in the office.”
The elder woman smiles. I feel bad that she can’t see through my bullshit.
“Come right on in, dear”, she says.
I follow her in, giving her walker just enough breadth. She makes me coffee and I obligatorily help her set the voicemail up on her smartphone.
“Mrs. Ginger”, I finally say “I’ve been reading up on Cortland’s father, Armitage Day, lately. He was quite the politician. Could you tell me a little about him?”
She smiles like the memory is indulgent.
“You remind me a lot like him. He was so eager and young when he started.”
I stir the coffee she’d offered me but I don’t drink it, “Armitage…helped the county get The Municipal Complex, right?”
She thinks on this
“I guess that was his project. I remember because it happened around the time of the divorce. I used to have to babysit Cortland while they went to court. She wasn’t very nice to Armitage. He was always doing his best.”
“So…Armitage was in charge of the entire project. No one helped him.” I ask.
She thought harder on this.
“The county was much smaller back then and the building was originally purchased to house the computer we got. Armitage got a good deal on the building.”
“Mrs. Ginger…you’re sure the county bought the Municipal Complex in 1987?”
She squinted her eyes but she doesn’t seem suspicious. I guess she considered me her boss and she seemed to be of a mindset that admins didn’t question their bosses. The dynamic made me uneasy but I understood it.
“I remember because we had a little party and Armitage…he was always so funny…framed the deed for decoration. It was a big deal. It was the first piece of property the county bought. I saw the community playhouses production of Oklahoma! last year. It was wonderful you must check out their next production.”
I nod and let some silence past before asking my next question.
“Was Armitage friendly with Supervisor Hollins’ father?” I ask trying to sound casual.
“Those families go way back. Armitage and Dr. Hollins, Sr. were good friends. It’s so nice their sons are working together now.”
I stayed for a little longer before heading out to run errands. The entire time scenarios played out in my head. If VacationSavers owned The Municipal Complex and Dr. Hollins, Sr. owned VacationSavers that meant Dr. Hollins, Sr. must have helped Armitage with the scheme.
When I get back to the house Sera is peering down at the dossier I had laminated and carefully laid back out on the dining room table. She is wearing a black leather mini skirt and matching sleeveless crop top with tacky bright pink platform stilettos. She has another pair of platforms with a peep toe dangling in her hands.
“What are you doing?”, I ask my tone much harsher than I meant it.
She jumps. I’d startled her but her expression quickly hardens, “Paris, I don’t care if this is about your job. You should know better than to talk to me like that.”
I set her dry cleaning and the items from her shopping list down. I’d also bought her a kale smoothie but she doesn’t take it.
“I’m sorry. This thing has me on edge. I went to Lowell County this morning and talked to Mrs. Ginger.”
Sera perched on the edge of the table effortlessly crossing her long muscular legs in the tight skirt.
“Is it what you thought?” She asks. I reluctantly pull my gaze away from her toned and exposed skin. I take out my legal pad and scribble it out.
“I think its worse. In 1987 Armitage Day, Cortland’s father, was put in charge of buying a new office building for the county. Also around the time he got divorced. It sounded contentious.”
“Divorce usually is.”, Sera says and I hope that’s’ not a precursor because if we got divorced I was fucked.
“Maybe Armitage needed money? Maybe he wanted to make sure he could support his son. I don’t know but he and Dr. Hollins, Sr. came up with a pretty good scheme. They bought a small office building from Lowell County using a company called VacationSavers as a cover. Then they pretended to sell the building to Harrison County. Fake deed and fake mortgage documents. Then they started billing the county using fake property tax bills.”
“Is it really that simple?” Sera asks.
“Small locality with one man signing off on all the transactions? Sure. Armitage and Dr. Hollins, Sr. probably planned to run this scheme for maybe a few years but in the 90s property values in Lowell and Harrison County exploded .They must have created a fraudulent appraisal that allowed them to triple the amount on the fake property tax bills.
They billed the county 1.5 million dollars with these fake property tax bills. They stole so much money that VacationSavers expanded and I guess they bought Blue Orchid Estates. They bought vacation homes with stolen money. Prosecutors would love this case.”
“I though you said they were charging Florida tax rates.”
“Yeah. That’s the thing. In 2000 Armitage slowed it down. He stopped creating new tax bills with outlandish amounts. Instead he just doctored the tax bill for Blue Orchid Estates and submitted that every year. No one ever questioned why the amounts due on the tax bills were all over the place because he paid it straight out of the annual budget. Armitage Day died 6 years ago. He got away with this for over 20 years.”
Sera sighed
“And Cortland has just been keeping it up?”
I nodded, “I’m sure of it. Plus Dr. Hollins, Sr.’s son joined the board five years ago. I’m sure that’s not a coincidence. Day had no way of knowing they’d be audited. He tried to keep the annual budget from me so I wouldn’t notice the odd tax payments”
“Paris”, Sera says looking at the documents, “You are acting like a prosecutor. Do you really want to put a geriatric dentist and your boss in prison?”
“They got me involved.” I carefully stack up the documents in chronological order, “They tried to hide this from me so maybe they deserve to be held accountable.”
Sera sighs and looks out at the half empty moving boxes in the living room. It was going to be a pain to repack and sell this house. To start over. Again. I clutch the dossier to my chest.
“It’s actually kind of sad. Day and Hollins inherited their father’s crimes. If that’s what having a father is like I’m glad I never knew mine.”
+++
This was a stretch chapter for me. …I really struggled with this section because I’ve researched A TON of embezzlement cases which are hard to get convictions for because it’s often tedious to explain to a judge or jury. Selfish people buying Vacation homes is considered the holy grail of these cases. I hope I did my best. I based this on the case presented in the HBO movie Bad Education and a rather startling case where a financial advisor stole millions of dollars by just cutting and pasting together documents.
We will learn a lot more about Paris and Sera’s alternative relationship. There are just little snippets here
.