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The Arts Festival was over, and the heat of August dominated. I was trying to arrange a week off to take the boys camping
this year. As usual, my growing reputation seems to take me well beyond State College.
Harry was still my tenant, or at least his office. Like me, he had become a Big Brother to an orphan. Chuck Hardy was just
into his teens, slightly older than my boys. So he tended to take charge when they played. Eventually, we could trust him
with the boys.
It was a Friday night in mid-August when Harry stopped at my office with a proposal.
"Bud, How'd you like to go to New York next week?"
"By myself?"
"Yes"
"Who'd take care of the boys?"
"Paul can still watch them, and Chuck will be here for short times."
"How long will we be gone?"
"I need someone to check the books of the Mutual Baseball League. They seem to have had some trouble, so they want me to investigate
fraud."
"So, I take it that you need me in that investigation?"
"It's your expertise, Bud."
"Paul is going to want free rent."
"You can afford it. Just take it off your Schedule E".
"When do we leave?"
"Monday morning. I have the hotel reservations."
Just then, Buddy came into my office.
"Sir, when are we going to camp this summer?"
"Maybe the end of the week. Harry and I are going to New York on business. You and your little brothers are to behave for
Paul when you're here."
"Where in New York?"
"Mutual Baseball League"
Buddy's azure eyes beamed. "May we come to a baseball game?"
"I don't know how long we'll be there, but I will be sure to mention it. Now go and play."
Buddy ran out the door, his blond hair towsling in the wind. He joined Pete and Marty, who were playing in the backyard near
the woods.
"George's going on another caper with Harry again!" he informed the boys. Chuck was just coming into earshot.
"My Big Brother and your Big Brother are on another adventure?" Chuck quizzed.
"It looks that way," Marty confirmed.
"If we behave for Paul, George says we can go to a baseball game in New York," Buddy added.
Cheuck's face reddened with the thought. "I always wanted to go to the Metropolo Field.
"Pete chimed in, "Did George say when we might go?"
Buddy looked embarassed. "No only after their business is done."
Monday morning we bade the boys goodbye for the week. Harry and I could not take the boys alone. Paul wasn't happy either,
playing double Big Brother to four boys, but he consented.
We met that afternoon in Manhattan at the office of the commissioner, Bob Matlock. Neither Harry nor I had ever met the man.
We found ourselves on 34th Street in front of a huge building.
"He's on the 34th floor," Harry informed. We walked across the lobby toward the elevators. My eye caught a familiar face in
the lobby.
"Harry, Isn't that -- "
"I believe so. What's Noah Kirkegaard doing here?"
Kirkegaard, nearly two meters tall and having long strides, stormed out of the lobby before we could confront him. When we
reached the office, the receptionist was absent and the inner office reeked of conflict.
"If the players' union should think we'd cave into such demands, they'd be severely deluded," Matlock spat. "We'll do our
own investigating the finances."
The secretary was just leaving the office when she saw us in the outer office. "Your investigators are here," she said as
she leaned back into the office through the doorway.
"Good. Send them in."
After we shook hands and sat down, Matlock began the narrative.
"Our league has been losing money over the past few years, and it's been the worst here in New York."
"Did you contact the Manhattan District Attorney?" Harry jumped in.
"They've been useless because we cannot locate the source of the losses. The office blamed it on Covid, but as you know, we're
well recovered from it."
"What does the management think generally?" I asked.
"The Commissioner, Bill Lemony, dismissed our concerns. So I want you to go undercover to investigate the problem".
"How are we going to do that?" Harry questioned.
"There's a dispute with some of our players over salary. So we need Buddy to examine the books as the excuse and cover of
the investigation. Harry, I need you explore the grievances of the players and sniff around the headquarters."
"What does Lemony think of this idea," I inquired. "Is he against the idea?"
Matlock smiled, "I haven't told him yet. I intend to wait as long as possible."
"Does anyone else know?" Harry added.
"Right now, it's a secret mission."
"I don't like it, Harry," I intoned after we left the office. "I suspect we're being used."
Harry gave me a sideward glance as we walked. "We don't know that yet, Bud."
"I'd rather speak with Lemony first."
"We'll see him tomorrow. I surely don't want to waste an opportunity to mingle with the players. Just remember, I'm the assistant
to the auditor."
"This auditor remains suspeicious," I replied. Then I thought about it. "We usually got out of scrapes before, even when I
was solo."
Lemony's office was even higher in a skyscraper. It had been in the Twin Towers, but the league had moved to this building
before the attack in 2001.
Lemony greeted up cordially, we exchanged pleasantries, and then we explained our task.
"I suppose it's necessary to review our books', he sighed, "but I don't think you'll find anything."
Lemony gave us the address of the department, so Harry and I left for the location.
"We'd better make it look good," Harry said as we waited for the elevator. Then it occurred to me that we may need clearance.
I left Harry at the elevator as I retreated to Lemony's office.
I approached cautiously as I heard Lemony berate Matlock, who had accompanied us.
"You made a mistake, Matlock! What if they should find out?"
"Shh, Bill. Someone might hear us. We have to put on a show. Besides, they won't find out. I guarantee it."
Upon hearing it, I discreetly retreated to Harry. After I told Harry, he shrugged and said, "We will have to be more on guard."
The next few days fell into routine, as I drove thorugh the finances of the Mutual Baseball League. Harry went around investigating
the players.
Then I began to find some curious expenses in the books. I decided to keep my suspcions quiet until I could confirm them.
Harry and I were back at the College Court Motel that evening.
"Bud, the players have their own CPA, and wants to see the books as well."
"Harry, I'm finding irregularities in the expenses. It doesn't add up; The expenses themselves look too high. Who's their
CPA?"
"Let me find out who and when you can meet."
A few days later, Harry had the information. When I had returned to the motel, Harry greeted me with the simple words. "It's
tonight."
"When?"
"Right now. I'm driving."
"Wait. I'd thought we had to show what I suspect."
"Bud, they want to hear you out first."
So, we drove across Manhattan to another motel in the early evening. Traffic caused us to take nearly an hour to get there
in New Jersey.
Before we egressed the vehicle, I asked which room.
"Number 10, Bud."
I blinked at the motel.
"Do you see a light on in there?"
"No. Are you sure it's 10?"
"Harry, maybe this Dave Brown didn't show up."
Harry walked up to the door.
"Maybe I have the wrong room."
Harry turned the doorknob, and his face changed in the dim light. He opened the door and scrambled for a light switch. By
the time I was in the doorway, the light went on.
The room was a mess, looking ransacked. Under the bed lay evidence of accounting. Harry went around the bed and gasped.
"There's a body lying on the other side."
He knelt behind the bed, searching for a pulse. He was still down when he said, "We'd better call the police."
"Shouldn't we get out of here first?"
"Let me look around a minute."
Harry stood up. observed what he could, then waved me to leave. He turned out the light, closed the door with a cloth, and
joined me back at the car.
"Okay, call the police and tell them about a murder in a motel room."
"He's dead?"
"At least an hour, Bud."
We drove back to Manhattan in slience, but the conflict played inside my head. I could see that Harry was contemplating the
situation, too. I finally broke the silence when we arrived at the motel.
"So, we continue to play as if nothing had happened?"
"Bud, you know it's the best way to solve it."
I frowned as I lifted my eyes. "Yes, it must be the way."
The following morning, Matlock called me into his office. I knew already what he would say.
"Brown was embezzling, so they fired him," he spoke in an angry voice. "I think you'll find the evidence in the books, but
I want you to wrap up the investigation this week."
Matlock thus told me how much time I had to uncover the real culprits. I left, and I went back to the office of the controller.
It was there I found a curious change in the QuickBooks. Until then, I didn't have access to the audit function in it.
It had to be a mistake -- or was it? The audit showed Brown did nothing to the books. However, the audit showed Lemony had
been using an account for sales that Matlock had entered. I looked it up, and I searched the internet for the firm. It didn't
exist! Millions had been sent to this façade over the last year, and it was out of the players' pension fund!
I checked the previous years. It had started small, then grew in services. Of course, I thought, Services would have no physical
evidence!
After a quick glance around the room, I took my cellphone and called Harry. He didn't answer. I almost panicked. Then I decided
to send the evidence to my edress. I no sooner sent it when I felt a pin prick on my neck. I went to reach it when I lost
consciousness.
Harry was getting nowhere with the players and their union. Matlock had told them their pension account had been losing money
because of bad investments. Harry had given up for the day and returned to the motel. He waited for me until 6 PM, called
the office, and Matlock told him that I hadn't showed up.
To complicate matters, Paul had called and told Harry that the boys wanted to some and see a game at Metropolo Field. Paul
had taken the liberty of buying five tickets for the following day. He wanted to know where they could meet and tour New York
afterwards.
When I didn't show that evening, Harry decided to use that excuse to see Matlock the following morning. He was determined
to uncover with uncover.
| A computer-generated image of Paul Wynn, who's a |
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| composite of two of my best buddies. |
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