The Blameless Bystander Ch. 14

"Like what?" Peggy asked.

"Why they really fired O'Toole and what part Jarrod Morris has in all this," Roger answered. He handed Peggy the car keys. "I would guess that your source, Miss Jacobs is home right now. I'm going over to the diner for a coffee and a piece of pie. Pick me up after you've talked to her again."

Peggy knocked at Tracey's door. "I told you everything I know," Tracey said as she opened the door.

"There's something important to tell you," Peggy said. "I'll explain if you let me in." Tracey opened the door wider and stepped aside. "I thought that you'd like to know that we confirmed everything you said about the senior math test with Nathan Smithling and Bob Jackson," Peggy announced after she was inside.

"You didn't tell them that I told you?" Tracey cried out.

"No, they asked, but we refused to give it and they didn't press the point."

"Well, okay—that's good. I've told you all that I know."

"We still want to find out why O'Toole was fired, and how Jarrod Morris had a part in it.

"Jarrod had something to do with it?" Tracey asked.

"I thought that you said you didn't know him."

"I don't! Everyone knows of him. He's the Mayor."

"Maybe so, but I think you do," Peggy said. "There's a guy working in the Feed Mill who should be teaching and kids who are flunking out. Jarrod Morris had a hand in it."

"James is working in the Feed Mill?" Tracey asked meekly.

"Yes, I spoke to him yesterday. He was stacking sacks of feed at the time."

"I would help you if I could," Tracey said. "I just don't know anything more."

***************

It was bowling night and James was just barely on time. He saw Bubba's pickup in the parking lot as he pulled in. His hopes rose for seeing the eleven hundred dollars that was due him from the Florida trip.

As James walked into the bowling alley he saw Bubba at the bar. He waved and James sauntered over to him. "I bet cha' been waitin' for this." He said as he handed a check to James. "Wanna' go a game of shuffleboard—double or nothing?" he laughed.

"Normally I would," James replied, keeping the joke going, "I've got tendonitis in my shuffleboard shoulder."

Bubba slapped him on the back. "I heard about what happened to you at school. I was sorry to hear that. I figured you'd be lookin' for that check."

"Keep me in mind if you need a helper on another trip," James answered. "My job at the Feed Mill is just temporary."

"Maybe you'll be hired back at the school," Abby said, peeking around the corner of her husband's burley chest. James hadn't seen her standing behind Bubba. "Hello, James. It's nice to see you."

"Why don't you talk to James while I go in the locker room and change my shoes, Baby- Doll," Bubba said. "We're set to start in a few minutes.

As Bubba walked away, Abby gave James that smile that had set him on fire so many times.

"How's your job hunting going?" she asked.

"Plenty of rejections," James answered. "I think my reputation has gotten around."

"Too bad!" she cooed at him. "You'll never find a job."

"I know—but I don't know what to do about it." James said.

"I could make it stop," Abby said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'll make it stop if you say the right thing. You just have to say that you'll come back to my bed." Abby explained.

"I won't say that I haven't thought about you more than just a little." James answered. As he looked at her, he noticed that nothing had changed since their days of pleasure. Her petite little body looked just as inviting as before; she still smiled at him like she always did; and, as always, she was eager for a bed partner with whom to ply and share her skills. A voice in James told him to say 'yes'.

"Sorry Abby—can't do it," he answered. "Same reason I told you before. Look, can't we just be friends?"

"I'll let you wonder over the answer to that," she replied. "By the way, I told Nathan that I would be seeing you tonight. He gave me a message for you. He wants you to call him tomorrow as soon as you can."

"I'll call him," James answered. "Maybe I'll tell what you've been doing."

"And prove what?" Abby retorted. "Even if Nathan found out, he'd just give me a slap on the wrist—like he always does when I'm bad. It's an arrangement that Nathan and I have."

************

"Thanks for taking care of my friend, Ethan," Jarrod said to Tracey's reflection in the mirror as he straightened his tie. "I'm calling it off, though. It didn't have the effect I was hoping for."

"And what effect was that?" Tracey asked.

"I thought it would bring him back down to earth. It doesn't matter, now. By the way, you should have checked with me before going in for round two."

"Maybe I liked it," Tracey answered in her sultriest tone. She rose from the bed and pressed her nude body against Jarrod's. "I think he's kind of cute," she said as she twirled her fingers in Jarrod's hair.

"Hey, Tracey! Be careful not to get lipstick on my collar," Jarrod ordered. "I don't think Ethan's your type."

"Maybe I'm looking for a new type," she pouted.

"Oh, yeah? Just what type is that?"

"I don't know," Tracey replied. "Maybe I'll make him into my type."

"He thinks that you and he are headed for the altar," Jarrod informed her.

"The altar?" Tracey hooted. "As what—human sacrifices?"

"No," Jarrod replied. "As bride and groom."

"Sounds romantic," Tracey teased. "It's the best offer I've had all day."

Jarrod spun around and pushed her onto the bed. "I told you—I'm calling it off!"

"Who are you to tell me to call it off," Tracey protested. "What do you expect me to do, just wait until the next time you decide to take a long lunch?"

"Just stay away from him—for you own good," Jarrod warned through bared teeth. "Don't play games, Tracey."

Tracey ceased teasing about Ethan, sensing it had struck a nerve with Jarrod. She would use it later. His arrogance made her angry.

"What did you have to do with James O'Toole getting fired?" she demanded.

"O'Toole? How did that come up?" he shot back.

"I just want to know."

"It was just a little business transaction," Jarrod replied.

"Oh, I don't believe it!" Tracey exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

"I told you—it was business," he answered. "Why would you care about him?" He stood over her, still sitting naked on the edge of the bed. He paused several seconds, lost in thought. "You screwed him, didn't you? I'll be damned. You went behind my back, you slut."

"What if I did?" Tracey retorted in defiance. "I wanted to. I like him. He was the best I ever had!"

"You bitch!" Jarrod screamed. He whipped her across the face with the back of his hand. He looked down at her stunned expression as he hovered over her. "I'll show you!" he roared, and then closed in to attack her. When he was finished Tracey's cheekbone was purple and her lip was split. There were bruises on her arms and breasts. "That'll teach you to get out of line," he said calmly, and then walked out of the bedroom. Tracey lay on the floor. In a few seconds Tracey heard the front door slam.'

She didn't get up right away. She lay naked on her bedroom floor crying. Her body screamed in pain all over, but she hurt in other places more. Finally, she lifted herself from the floor. She staggered to the bathroom and winced as she looked into the mirror.

Her teeth were still firmly in place, which surprised her. She blotted the blood from her lip with a wet washcloth as the pain made her grimace. At last, she put on her robe. She would have to call in sick for a few days. She couldn't appear in public as she was.

As she made her way to the living room to make the call, she spied Jarrod's briefcase. "I'll be damned if he thinks I'm going to take it to him," she thought. It wasn't his regular case. It was an extra one, a leather portfolio that he carried along sometimes. Tracey assumed that he left it behind in his hurry to leave the house.

She wondered what was in it, and why Jarrod needed an extra briefcase when he had such a nice one. Normally she would have set aside, but on this day she decided that he had waived his right to privacy. She unzipped it and found two folders inside. One was labeled Church Finances. The other said "Insurance Fund". Tracey glanced through the material. There were check registers, receipts, some accounting type papers. They meant little to her.

She got dressed, covered her wounds with makeup as best she could and made a call. She zipped the folders back in the portfolio and went out.

*************

Peggy Hardaway greeted Tracey as she arrived at the Valley Sentinel offices. "Tracey, what happened to you?" she cried in alarm.

"Never mind that," Tracey answered. "I came to talk about Jarrod Morris."

"I need to introduce you to our publisher, Roger Blair," Peggy said and led him to his office. After introductions Roger motioned the women to sit down.

"I asked her what happened to her," Peggy said. "She wouldn't tell me."

"I think I know already. It was Jarrod, wasn't it?"

Tracey sat silently, not answering.

"Well, what do you want to say?" Roger asked when he realized he would get no reply.

"Maybe this will do the talking," Tracey replied, as she opened the portfolio and placed it on Roger's desk.

Roger opened the folders and thumbed through them. Every other page or so, his eyebrows rose. "How did you come by this?" he asked.

"He left it in my house."

"Did he ever tell you to safeguard it, or not to open it?" Roger asked.

"No, I think he just forgot to take it with him."

"Peggy," Roger said, "take Miss Jacobs to my doctor and have her checked while I take a closer look. I'll call ahead and tell him you're on your way."

When Peggy and Tracey returned from the doctor's office two hours later they found Roger Blair poring over the contents of Jarrod's briefcase with two other men.

"She took six stitches in her upper lip," Peggy told Roger. "The doctor said she probably suffered a mild concussion. She has a lot of contusions, but no broken bones."

"I'm alright," Tracey assured them. "What did you find?"

Roger introduced Tracey to the two men in his office. "This is Mike Walsh, Tracey. He's our Controller. I asked him to help me with his accounting knowledge in sorting out these ledgers." He nodded to the other man. "This is Detective Wright of the State Police. I had to call him after Mike told me what he found."

Wright was a big man, in his early thirties, square-shouldered and trim. He was dark-complected, with jet black hair and a moustache to match. "You look like you've been worked over pretty good," he said when he looked up at her. "You can file charges if you want to." Tracey shook her head.

"I'll let Mike explain what all this means," Roger explained.

"The first thing that's obvious is that he's siphoning money from the Church through this Insurance Fund. Look—here are the checks and there are the invoices. He's inflated the premiums by about thirty percent. Once, he loaned his company two thousand dollars that he hasn't repaid yet."

"That's embezzlement!" Wright said.

"That's not the most serious part," Walsh continued. "These charges by the insurance fund to his business—they're never paid. They're for every expense under the sun: consulting, cleaning services, and the like. He's creating phony expenses. My guess is that it's a tax dodge. The expenses get deducted by the business. The income is never taxed because the Church is exempt. He's got it going both ways."

"How much do you think is involved?" Roger asked.

"The overage on the insurance premiums is about three thousand; the loan is two; the phony expenses amount to twenty-five thousand."

"This is really something for the Feds," Hal explained. "I can see one thing; it won't be a tax fraud until he actually files a return with those expenses on them. We can't do anything right now."

"I'll sit on the story for now", Roger offered. "When it comes to a head, we'll have an exclusive."

"We've copied all these documents," Hal said to Tracey. "We've got to get the originals back to him so that he doesn't suspect. Can you help us?"

"I'll just tell him that I found the portfolio after he left and for him to come by and pick it up," Tracey said.

"I don't want him to hurt you again," Hal told her.

"I can handle him, don't worry," Tracey assured him.

"Try to handle him better than you did earlier," Hal said with a smile.

Tracey started to laugh with him, but then winced as she felt the stitches in her lip. "I'll do anything you say," she said. "Just don't make me laugh again until I get these stitches out."

"I'll give you a ride home. You shouldn't be driving with a concussion." Hal said. "Roger can follow in your car and then I'll drive him back."

*************

Jarrod knocked on Tracy's door that evening. "Did I leave a little briefcase here today?"

"I was going to call you at your office tomorrow morning," she said as he pushed past her into the house. "I doubt if you wanted me to call you at home."

He unzipped the portfolio and examined the contents. "Did you open it?" he asked.

No," she answered. "You know that I have no interest in business things."

"How would you know that there are business papers in here?" he asked suspiciously.

"What else would be in a case like that?" Tracey replied.

"Maybe airline tickets for two to the Virgin Islands," he teased. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon, but it was really your fault, Tracey."

"I know, Jarrod. I'm sorry; sometimes I get a little out of line."

"What do you say—after you're healed up we'll get back together again. I'll book that Virgin Islands seminar and we'll go together."

"That's sounds wonderful, Jarrod."

"He stepped to the door. ""I've got to get going. My wife is expecting me and I'm late already. Just don't get out of line anymore, Tracey," Jarrod warned. "I don't like hurting you."

"Oh yes you do," she said after she closed the door behind him.

*******************

TO BE CONTINUED...

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I look forward to your comments.

AW