Charlie Bowmont Pedersen sat on the wooden bench fingering the subpoena in her small delicate fingers as her brain was awash with what had transpired for the past three hours or so. She was "a person of interest" in a mess her employers, Joan and Walter Whitmore, had gotten into. The police and the justice department were looking for answers and the Whitmores had served Charlie up as the culprit.
"What the fuck is going on," came a familiar voice standing above her. "Oh, and I think I warned you about those two years ago."
She looked up and saw John Yankovitch, in all his glory, standing before her. He was a rotund man that resembled an unmade bed. His clothes as usual were wrinkled and ill fitting and there was evidence on his shirt of what he had eaten for lunch. Or possibly breakfast. But he was a genius with investments.
"They are waiting to talk to you," she said slowly but was once again interrupted.
"So, the fucking Whitmores embezzle millions and little you is left holding the bag," John shot back. "That figures. Let me guess, the dregs of the gene pool at the fed don't like your bank account numbers."
"That is putting it mildly," Charlie said glumly as the two of them were being ushered back into the offices.
They sat at a table with what was being called a financial forensics team and before anyone could say anything an irritated Mr. Yankovitch opened up his case and a piece of what looked to be an uneaten piece of blueberry scone tumbled out. He casually flicked the remnant onto the floor and blasted away at all present.
"So you geniuses think Miss straight arrow here is your villian because she has a fat bank account," he said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.
"She has." began to answer the female prosecutor. "A very substantial portfolio for a woman of her....."
"Don't be stupid," Yankovitch interrupted. "Look at her, she has no hobbies, no family and from what I can tell no vices. Shit, she gave me her full paycheck 4 month in a row back 3 years ago. She lives the live of a nun and she ain't getting' none if you know what I mean. Somebody gives me money like that I can make anyone a fucking millionarie."
He proceeded to layout each and every dollar in and each and every investment made including stock splits and a couple of lucrative IPOs. Within 10 minutes he was standing up, offering that perhaps "you fucking idiots should start barking up the right tree for a change" and leading a much more relaxed Charlie Pedersen out the door.
They walked out of the court house and Yankovitch said casually, "Hey, I pretty much saved your beautiful ass in there. Maybe you can do something nice for me. Like a tip."
Charlie stopped dead and looked at him, "Wait what? No way I am gonna......"
"Not THAT kind of tip, dear," he laughed. "I was thinking of a couple grand. You know, money? Shit, I was only trying to loosen you up."
He offered a ride home but she declined for no valid reason and watched him take out what looked to be some sort of pastry and eat it as he wandered to his car. She really admired that man. Not for his massive intellect which he often wielded like a club but as much as anything his honesty in a world where that seemed to be a forgotten virtue.
They had met some 6 years ago at a conference on tax laws when she was fresh out of school. They had talked briefly and he found her irresistible and made an alcohol induced club handed pass at her that involved a lot of hands in inappropriate places. Because of her history she didn't react well and it was starting to become a big deal. She saw that he was remorseful and said to just forget it.
The next day he apologized profusely and they became good friends. Friends with no benefits but friends. Well there were plenty of benefits because Mr. John Yankovitch generated quite a portfolio for her. A portfolio she was shocked to discover the true value of while in the clutches of the police.
She really didn't care about money, but numbers. She loved numbers and the math. Numbers are what they are, they never bullshit you or lie to you.
She walked along the street not even sure where she was or how to walk home from there. At that moment, and for maybe the first time in a long while, she began to notice the day. It was a beautiful day.
To rain on that day she was forced to replay the words John had said about her. She knew he didn't say them to be mean he was simply making a point. That was the way he was. And what he said was spot on about the way she was.
She was the third child of four to parents who were solid citizens were you to ask the members of their church. The reality was a whole lot different as Charlie was given tasks to do cleaning and clothes washing for her older brother Will at 9 or 10 and by 12 she was suffering regular abuse from her father.
He stopped, or more accurately was stopped when he died mysteriously.
Fortunately for Charlie, her mother brought her to the hospital at the time so suspicion fell on the oldest daughter. But nothing was ever proven. Truth was that he had started with Paula when she was 13 or so but she was not one to take it and there was an incident with a knife which saw the father badly cut. He was always mum on how he got stabbed but he never touched Paula again.
Paula was a full 7 years older than Charlie and she kept telling her not to take it but Charlie never had Paula's moxie. The youngest daughter was Marilyn and she was the apple of everyone's eye. Cute and precocious she was 8 years younger than Charlie and the job of raising Marilyn fell all over Charlie until she left home for community college.
Her mother took Marilyn to Florida and Paula had long since fled to California and To this point Charlie had not seen any of them since. Everyone suitably happy to be free of the others.
Charlie wandered into a little park and was tired so she sat on a bench and called an uber. IN the ride home she contemplated her life. No job because her bosses were probably going to jail and the negative press about the mess would certainly hurt her employment opportunities. And the Whitmores were not liable to be giving her any references.
When Charlie made it to her cute little house still wondering what to do with her life her day got worse because her brother Will and his equally irritating wife Winnie (Yeah, I know, what are the odds of that shit, right) were waiting for her in the driveway.
Will and Winnie had had everything pretty much given to them all of their lives and were not prepared to fend for themselves. As a result they were in deep financial problems and because of this idiot move or that had lost their house.
"We need to use your house, sis," Will told Charlie. "You certainly can't expect my wife and kids to be homeless, can you?"
"Yes, you can find a nice little apartment to rent," added Winnie.
Charlie stood there, head spinning and all she could say was," and when is this all supposed to happen? Today or tomorrow?" Because she was just honor bound to submit to her brother.
Learning what she just had,Charlie had the money to bail them out and the old Charlie, she most certainly would have. This Charlie made no mention of her fat portfolio.
"No we won't be moving in for two weeks because we are taking the kids to Disney," announced Winnie proudly.
"You are broke and you are taking a fucking 2 week vacation" That was what Charlie though but did not say. She just nodded.
Winnie left for their car and Will stopped and handed Charlie a slip of paper saying, "I know you are out of work right now and here is some info for a place where you can sell yourself or rent yourself out for a year or so and give us the money. It will be a big help.
Charlie just stood there, mouth agape as they happily drove off. Problem solved.
Her first call was to John Yankovitch to verify his boast that if she left that money with him she could retire in two years. He said no problem. Then she went online and contacted the people on that slip of paper from her brother.
Almost two weeks had passed and here she was looking around her house. All of her personal effects had been packed up and put into storage. Her life was about to change. Probably not for the better but it was going to change damn it.
She led him upstairs and into a smallish bedroom her short skirt flapping in his face as they scaled the carpet covered stairs.
