Chapter 27 #3
“Miles,” he said. “Please, call me Miles.”
“Miles,” I repeated. “There’s a reason we came to you. We were told that you’re willing to help with … sticky situations.” I let that bait hang. “Especially since you’ve had a few sticky situations of your own.”
His face went blank. “Where did you happen to hear that?” he asked carefully.
“We may be new to Little Rock,” I said, “but we do have some friends in town. Friends of the family.” I grimaced. “Friends of Jeff’s father, originally, and now friends of ours. When we were asking for developer recommendations, your name came up.”
Harlan looked intrigued. “May I ask who your family friend is?”
I made a show of hesitating. “He values his discretion, so I hate to use his name outright. But as I mentioned, his father and Jeff’s father were close.” I lowered my voice. “Until our friend’s father met with an unfortunate end.”
Harlan listened, not giving anything away.
“Our friend’s mother still dabbles in the family business,” I added, “but she leaves most of it to her son.” I tilted my head.
“I don’t know how interested he is in development projects, per se, but he does have a penchant for warehouses.
” I shrugged. “He likes to use hard-to-trace corporations to purchase or lease them.”
Harlan’s face went slack for a second before he recovered. “I see.”
“In any case,” I went on, “rumor has it you did business with his father before his tragic and violent demise.”
“Did you hear this from your family friend?” he asked, his voice measured.
“Heavens, no,” I said with a small laugh. “He’s much too discreet to share that kind of information. But I did hear it from someone close to the family, someone in a position to know.”
He nodded slowly again, as though weighing his options. “Yes. If we’re talking about the same family, then I have done business with both father and son, and I know exactly how much they value discretion.” He added. “Religiously.”
I refused to let myself get excited just yet.
Pushing out a relieved sigh, I pressed my hand on my chest. “Oh, that is good news.”
I was about to ask a follow-up question, but James beat me to it.
“Amber, don’t be a fool,” he sneered. “We can’t take his word. He’s given us no proof he knows who you’re even referring to. He’s only agreeing with whatever you say.”
“Jeff,” Harlan said in a placating tone. “I’m sure you understand that some clients prefer to keep their names private. Just like I suspect you prefer a bit of anonymity yourself.” His smile sharpened slightly. “Especially with … special, creative projects.”
James was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” he said at last. “You’re correct.” He sat up a little, “But I’d still like confirmation we’re talking about the same family.”
Harlan hesitated, “I’m not sure—”
“How about a compromise?” I said sweetly, glancing at James before turning back to Harlan. “What if you tell us the first letter of their last name? That can’t be too damning. There could be thousands of names starting with the same letter.”
Harlan pressed his lips together, then asked, “Jeff, will that appease you?”
James seemed to consider it, then gave a sharp nod.
Harlan drew in a breath, as if he needed to summon the courage. “K.”
I beamed. “Oh. That is most fortunate.”
Harlan sagged back in his chair with visible relief. “Since I’ve done work with your family friends, what do you say we get this contract signed?” He gestured to the PowerPoint slide on the screen. “I can whip up a contract in a matter of minutes.”
“Not so fast,” James said. “There’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
Harlan pasted on a polite smile. “Of course. What would you like to know?”
“What kind of car do you drive?”
Harlan blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You said you spend your money on toys instead of your office.” He tipped his chin to the worn desk. “So what’s the toy? What do you drive?”
A smug grin spread across Harlan’s face. “I’ve got a Maserati Ghibli at home, but my Porsche 911 Carrera S is here.” He jerked his thumb toward the back of the building.
“I call bullshit,” James said, his voice dripping contempt. “I didn’t see a Porsche when we pulled in.”
“That’s because it’s out back.” Harlan stood, went to the window beside his desk, and lifted the blind.
Sure enough, a metallic-gray Porsche was angled across two spaces as if it owned the lot.
James rose and moved closer to the window. “Is it optioned with the Sport Chrono package?” For the first time since we’d walked in, he actually sounded interested.
Harlan took the bait hook, line, and sinker. His face lit up. “Sure is. Chrono, upgraded exhaust, full leather interior. She purrs.” He turned back, animated. “You wanna see it?”
James glanced at me, his brow lifted in silent question.
I huffed out a laugh. “You men and your cars.” I waved a hand toward the door. “Go drool over it. I have a few calls to make anyway.”
“Wait until you feel the torque,” Harlan said as he headed for the door.
I looked up at Harlan. “Miles, do you mind if I make my calls back here? I would prefer privacy.”
“If one of those calls is to Franklin Delgotto, telling him you’re goin’ with me, you can have the office for the rest of the afternoon.”
I grinned. “I won’t need it that long. Maybe fifteen to twenty minutes?”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Take as long as you need. We’ll probably be a while.” Then he headed out the door.
James gave me a serious look before following Harlan down the hall.
I shut the door behind them, relieved to find a lock on the knob. The last thing I needed was Beth coming back and catching me messing with her boss’s computer.
After I shut the blinds so Harlan couldn’t peek in and see me on his computer, I pulled the hard drive from my purse and plugged it into the computer tower, which looked older than dirt.
Apparently, Harlan didn’t spend much money upgrading his technology either.
If it had a slow processing speed, copying the files could drag on.
Dammit.
His stupid PowerPoint slide was still open, so I minimized the window. Ten folders were neatly lined up on the left side of the desktop, but the ones I cared about most were:
Harlan Development, LLC
Clients & Investors
Financials
Insurance & Claims
Since Financials was what we needed most, I right-clicked the folder, hit copy, then pasted it onto the external drive.
A progress window popped up.
Copying 1,274 items (842 MB)… Approximate time remaining: 4 minutes.
How long could James keep Harlan out there?
I moved to the window and parted the blinds just enough to peek out. Harlan had the hood up, gesturing like he was teaching a class.
I’d probably have plenty of time. The man looked like he could brag about his car for hours.
While the Financial folder copied, I opened it to see if anything was password protected. Inside were more folders:
Bank Statements
P&L & Balance Sheets
Loans & Notes
Insurance Payouts
Accountant Reports.
I opened Accountant Reports and found a PDF labeled Forensic Review—the month and year Harlan was charged with fraud.
To my surprise, it opened immediately. No password needed.
A title page filled the screen, all clean fonts and professional logos.
Prepared by: Victoria Ames, CPA, CFE,
Mid-South Advisory Partners, PLLC.
Date: Five years ago.
I skimmed until I hit a section where she outlined ways Kincaid could “clean up” his books, from reclassifying expenses to backdated invoices. Basically, how to cook the numbers until the charges went away.
If Victoria Ames was handing low-hanging fruit like Harlan a road map to make fraud disappear, was she doing the same for the likes of Knox?
Maybe. Maybe not. But she’d just moved to the top of my list.
When the financial file finished transferring, I clicked Clients & Investors, then copied and pasted it into the external drive. The progress bar estimated three minutes.
While it copied, I opened the folder and did a quick search for Knox. I wasn’t surprised when nothing came up, so I tried something else—searching for the address of the house.
A folder popped up.
The folder’s name was the address, and when I clicked on it, a neat stack of subfolders filled the screen:
Lease – Harlan Properties, LLC to Blackstone Capital, LLC
Addendum – Renewal / Occupancy
Rent Ledger – 12 months
Utilities – Setup Confirmations
Maintenance – Work Orders
Vendor Invoices – Locks / Blinds / HVAC
Inspection Photos – Exterior / Interior
Emails – Tenant Communication PDF
Was Blackstone Capital, LLC one of Knox’s corporations … or had he used a go-between?
The folder finished copying, and I grabbed the two other folders I cared about. Both transferred in under five minutes.
While the files transferred, I checked on James and Harlan multiple times. Harlan was happily showing off features under the hood like he was unveiling a masterpiece. James played along, pretending to be impressed.
They were still occupied, so as the last folder finished transferring, I stared at the desktop and asked myself what else I could grab.
I hadn’t found any password-protected files, but I could still grab his emails.
He used Outlook, so I tried to copy the mailbox over to the drive, but the progress bar estimated it would take thirty-two minutes.
That was way too long, so I stopped the transfer, then searched for Knox in the emails. A handful popped up, so I selected them and copied them to the external drive.
Then I searched for the house address in his inbox. Multiple emails showed up, so I repeated the process.
I spent another three minutes grabbing anything in Outlook that looked useful: emails involving Victoria Ames, Kincaid, and Blackstone Capital. I wanted to keep going, but as the last files were transferring, there was a knock at the door.
“Mrs. Beachum?” Beth called out. “How are you doing in there? Do you need anything?” The doorknob jiggled.
My pulse spiked.
“I’m busy!” I shouted, hoping like I sounded like an entitled rich woman instead of someone who was up to something. “I’m on the phone.”
The knob jiggled again. “Can I get you anything?”
“I said I’m busy!”
The final email transferred and I decided I couldn’t push my luck any farther.
I disconnected the hard drive, closed Outlook, then shut down all the folders I’d opened. I maximized the PowerPoint again—exactly the way Harlan had left it—then scanned the office to make sure nothing look disturbed.
I couldn’t believe this had gone so well. It had been entirely too easy. But we weren’t out of here yet. We still had to leave without raising Harlan’s suspicions.
Then I realized Beth had just given me the perfect excuse.
I slid the hard drive back into my purse and stormed down the hall, stomping like I was one inconvenience away from suing someone.
I walked past Beth. Her startled gaze snapped to me. “Mrs. Beachum? Is everything okay?”
Ignoring her, I headed around the building and stopped at the corner like I owned the place. “Jeff,” I said in a sharp, clipped tone. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Harlan was sitting in the driver’s seat. He leaned around the open door, eyebrows lifted. “Amber, is everything okay?”
“No,” I said, my nose lifted in the air. “It is not. I asked for privacy, and your assistant interrupted me.” I held up two fingers. “Twice.”
I let the word hang there for a moment.
“If this is how you do business, Mr. Harlan, then your company isn’t suitable for our needs.” I gave James a pointed look. “Jeff. Let’s go.”
James’s look of disgust was enough to make Harlan shrink back into the car, but as soon as James headed toward me, Harlan seemed to realize thirty million dollars was about to drive out of his parking lot. He hopped out of the car and hurried after us as we stormed toward our car.
“Wait!” he called, his voice full of panic. “I’m sure there was a misunderstanding! We can work this out!”
I just gave him a single disapproving look, then climbed into the passenger seat.
James slid behind the wheel, and as we pulled away, Harlan jogged behind us. He followed until we turned onto the street, still shouting.
As much as I’d tried to make our getaway look natural, it still might make us look suspicious. We’d brought up Knox. That alone might be enough to rattle him. Would he report back to Knox? Or would shame and fear of admitting to a potential mistake keep him quiet?