A Dish Best Served Cold Ch. 04

"This was a little spat?" asked Ashley. "Christ, I'd hate to watch a major fight between you two." Looking at Lee, she added, "Remind me, when they get married, plastic cutlery."

Pete's laugh made him catch his foot in his trouser leg, causing him to stumble, eliciting laughs from the other three. As he fastened his belt, Rosa walked up to him. She placed her hands on his chest. "We okay?" she asked softly, tentatively.

He bent down and kissed her. "We're okay. I'll just be a few minutes." She reached up and kissed him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Then she went to Ashley and Lee and hugged each of them, saying, "Thank you."

Pete walked Rosa to her car and came back to talk to Lee. Ashley was just finishing getting dressed when he returned. When she sat down to listen to Pete's report, he looked at Lee, leaning back in his chair. "She knows more about what's happening around here than I do; and we're going to need her help setting up Don," answered Lee to Pete's unasked question.

Pete shrugged. "What I found, I think, is his gang connection. Ultimately, all the accounts lead back to an umbrella corporation owned by what looks like a conglomerate, but is really a single entity, based in Northport. When I tried to talk to some cops there, I got nowhere. It wasn't like they were stonewalling me, there just wasn't any information on the owners, and there had never been any kind of complaints. Apparently the entity, similar to a holding company, just manages several other companies.

"I talked to a friend in the FBI office in Cleveland. Again, they don't have much; they are aware of the business, but haven't had any reason to investigate it. It has an import/export company it runs, and operates its own docks, using union labor. I talked to the union leader; no complaints, and I got the definite impression that any further questioning was not welcome, the only sense of a threat I had all week.

"By the way, I didn't tell the FBI about Don's laundering activity. I didn't think you'd want them snooping around just yet."

"Good. Well, where does that leave us?"

"Pete," Ashley asked, "did you get any information what sorts of activities they are into?"

"Pretty much the usual, although there seems to be an agreement to leave the coke and heroin to the Jamaicans, and the pot trade seems to be a cottage industry, split up among a few locals; but there's auto parts, smuggling, prostitution, usury, arson, bootlegging liquor and cigarettes, trafficking; they probably get some kind of fee from the docks for providing union labor, and construction. A whole lot of small shit, but it adds up, and it doesn't draw a lot of attention if some of the small fry get into trouble."

"How does the money laundering work?" she asked.

"It's more complicated than I first thought, and a lot bigger. Ostensibly, an order is received, by him, of course. It is 'processed,' and a bill is produced and submitted for payment. The payment comes to him, and is deposited in one of his accounts. There are, so far, three that we have found. He moves it around through a number of other accounts, earning about $1400 a week, total, in interest, which he siphons off into some personal accounts. That's in addition, according to his personal checking accounts, to the tenth of a percent they pay him for each deposit.

"These may be the accounts he was going to use to incriminate Ian. There aren't any others we could find.

"Anyway, another order comes in, and he cuts a check on his accounts to purchase supplies for the in-coming order, returning the money to the mob. There are no matching job numbers, stock room or receiving records or shipping orders for any of these ghost orders of his.

"Interestingly, all the accounts are held at the same bank, and they were extremely reluctant to provide any information about them, even with Ian's letter authorizing me to inspect any Carruthers account."

"Hmm. Were you able to find out anything about the boss of this entity; the godfather, I guess you'd call him?" asked Lee.

"Not much. He appears to be living on family money, made by his grandfather during the Depression in the '30's. He's apparently very civic minded, on a bunch of committees whose aim is to improve the area in and around Northport. He gives both time and money, and gets some benefits. His 'friends' who do business with the state, county and city seem to have inside tracks when it comes to getting contracts for on-going services, and construction. Since he's apparently retired, it doesn't reflect on him, but I'm sure he shares the profits."

"Hmmh. Okay, Pete," Lee sighed, sitting up. "Oh, does this civic paragon have a name?" he asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Marco DiMare."

"The Angel of Northport? Holy hell! I,ve met him; I've been to his house, on Lakeview Terrace. Oh, shit! That is too rich." He looked at his partner, shocked.

"You know him? How?" asked Pete, as Ashley sat gaping at him.

Lee leaned forward on his arms, on his desk, shaking his head. "Back when I was a junior in high school, Riverview, Hamburg, Northport and some small school from northeastern Ohio, I forget... joined to compete in a cooperative science competition. Hamburg won the toss to draw for partner and drew the Ohio school.

"We had to design and build a household robot, that could accomplish at least three of six listed tasks. Then the winning schools got to go to a larger regional competition. We lost by two points, just because our 'bot broke the egg by dropping it on the floor instead of in the bowl.

"Anyway, his son, Jamie, was on the Northport team. We had to work together writing a floor sweeping program. His dad wasn't happy; didn't want his kid associated with housework, but Jamie persisted; claimed it was the hardest program to write.

"When we were alone, he told me his dad was very image conscious; anything smacking of women's work...he'd leave the county to find someone else to do it for him before he'd even try. Also told me Marco couldn't stand to be touched by a man, not even him, anything more than a handshake." He looked at Pete. "You're sure he's the boss?"

Pete nodded. "As sure as I can be."

"Okay, Pete. Thanks. You better get on home. Looks like you might have some making up to do."

"Right. Women!" He noticed Ashley cocking her head at him, smiling. 'Sorry, Ash, but sometimes you ladies are totally unfathomable. First she said I could, and then..."

With a laugh, Ashley interrupted, "She said you can, just don't be upset, if you do, if she does; that if you don't want any other prick in her twat, keep your prick out of any twat but hers. It's really simple."

"Yeah, when you put it like that. Well, we'll see you guys later."

After Pete left, Lee was silent, thinking, for a few minutes. "What are you planning to do?" asked Ashley.

"Fucked if I know," he answered, with a short laugh.

"May I suggest some things, based on what I know about Doofus?"

"Why do you call him Doofus? Did he do something to you?"

"Not directly. Mostly because he's such an asshole. He asked me out once when I was filling in for Mrs Bridges, and pulled the 'forgotten wallet' routine, then had the nerve to want to come in when he took me home. He promised to repay me, and I'm still waiting, a year later. As far as I'm concerned, the skankiest streetwalker in NYC is too good for him."

Lee laughed. "Doofus he is, and that's being kind on your part. What were you going to suggest?"

"First, every year, for the Community Fund drive, he's the only person in the office who doesn't contribute something, not even a quarter a week. If your sister is really trying to spend his money without gaining material value in return, a donation to the CF won't get him anything but mad and a blessing which will aggravate him.

"Second, he and the bank, if they're dabbling in short term capital gains, have to have some sort of slush fund to cover losses. Think of his panic if that fund disappeared. I could install a stroke tracker on his computer to identify the account and his password when I replace Mrs. B. It would only take a few minutes, sometime when he's out to lunch."

"Not to mention the reaction of the banker," laughed Lee. "Okay. I'll talk to Max about the CF donations. And is there a way to disconnect the on-light on these intercoms? If there is, as soon as you can, disconnect it on his set. I want you to listen to everything he says when he thinks he's alone."

Pete slowly opened the door to the apartment, not sure what to expect. He peered around the door, looking for Rosa. She was sitting at the further end of the sofa, still in her overcoat, her knees up and her forehead resting on her knees. He walked in and closed the door. The sound roused Rosa.

When she raised her head, it was plain that she had been crying. Pete hurried to her, shedding his coat along the way. He picked her up and turned around to sit down. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?" he asked.

"I... I... I'm afraid I messed everything up. I just wanted to let you know that..(sob)..that I didn't expect you to be a saint. I know there will times when you're traveling..(sob).. when you've been away for a while that you'll need..(sob)..and I would accept that, if you told me. But if you're, like at a convention for a few days (sniff), and you're out drinking and hook up with some.(sniff)..well then, you shouldn't be upset if I do something like that. Or," she sniffed, "if you're working late with that twat Marjorie, and you get randy, then don't be surprised if I (sniff)...

"I hear you thinking," she said, a note of sureness in her voice, "well, I just won't tell you if I fuck someone else.'" She shook her head. "Somebody always tells; sooner or later, I'd hear. If I don't hear about it from you, I guarantee I'll spread my legs for..." Pete covered her mouth with his fingers.

"I understand, Rosa. You don't have to worry. You haven't messed us up. And, while I can't see me wanting anyone else, if it ever happens, I'll tell you."

"You really can't?" She looked at him, examining his face. "I can. If we'd had a fight just before you leave on a trip. Or, if for some reason we hadn't made love in a while. Or, if we were having a couple over, where we both really liked both of them and things got warm... "

"You'd do that, switch partners?" he asked, incredulous.

"It would certainly depend on the couple, but maybe," she replied, her tone shy, uncertain.

"Who?" he asked, unbuttoning her overcoat.

"Who would you let fuck me?" she countered, unbuttoning his shirt. "Who would you want to see me with?"

"Shit, Babe, seeing you with Lee tonight... right now just the thought of you with someone else makes me so freakin' horny I can't think straight."

"Feels straight to me," she giggled, squirming in his lap. "What woman..."

"Fuck it," he groaned and picked her up to carry into his bedroom.

That evening, Lee and Max had dinner with their father and discussed Pete's report and Ashley's suggestions.

"She has that much stock?" Ian asked. "That tall blonde with the Roman nose. And she came up with these ideas. Sorry, but she doesn't look like the type..."

"Just goes to show you shouldn't judge a person," said Max. "I would never have thought it of her, either, but she's right. I'll send them, what, enough to get his attention."

"We want to get the attention of Marco, suggest a motive for raiding the slush fund when we find it. And to make it likely they'll publicly acknowledge the gift. So, a hundred and fifty K? Think that would do it?"

"Sounds good," agreed Max. "We all set tomorrow?"

"I think so. I was wondering, how would you feel if Thelma or Ashley were forced to watch me take you?"

She grinned. "You like having an audience, huh? Why not? It will shock Thelma out of her mind, and probably give Ash a huge orgasm. Later, if not while she watches."

"That's for certain. She knows who I am, by the way, and totally supports us going after Doofus, as she calls him."

"Ohhh, damn. Knowing that just got me wet. Excuse us, Dad, but I have to get home, and I'm not going home in this condition. Come on, Lee, to my old room."

The next morning, before the office really got started, Lee buzzed Ashley. "Ash, call the mail room and have Teesha make my office her first stop, starting today. When she gets here, have her bring the cart in here. Thanks."

An hour later, there was a timid knock on his door. He looked up from his computer to see a cute, African-American face peering around the corner of the door. "Y...Y...You wanted me to bring the cart in here?"

"Teesha? Yeah, bring it on in." He buzzed Ashley again. "Ash, call Max and her secretary and tell them I need to see them now." He turned back to Teesha. "You have my mail? I'll take it while we wait. Have a seat."

She sat in one of the chairs, knees and thighs together, feet, about eighteen inches apart, her hands clasped, between her legs, looking around the office, trying to look calm.

Teesha's stomach developed a bad case of butterflies. Whatever was going on couldn't be good if Ms Max and her mom were being called. She tried to think what she might have done that was wrong. Yeah, she had read a couple of letters, but there wasn't anything in them, nothing important, anyway.

There was a knock at the door and Max walked in, looking puzzled, until she saw Teesha, then her expression turned to one of resignation. Thelma was right behind Max. When she saw Teesha, her look became one of alarm, making Teesha's stomach sink. Lee ignored them while he finished the page he was working on.

He turned to his desk and invited the new arrivals to take a seat. Before speaking, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead, between his eyes. Max recognized it as his signal he was stressed and wondered if something had come up.

Lee pushed his chair back and stood up to walk around his desk and lean against the front of it, facing the three women. In a low, obviously controlled voice, he began. "Thirteen, no, fourteen weeks ago, now, Max, you hired me to try to bring this company into the 21st century in terms of operations and products.

"Since then, I've had to deal with a VP of marketing who doesn't have the slightest idea of the modern market, a product development department that couldn't develop a black and white photograph, a nosey secretary who gets off on listening to other peoples dirty laundry, and now, this."

He turned around and picked up a sheet of paper. "This is an anonymous complaint. Ordinarily, I'd use this kind of shit for toilet paper, but it documented previous complaints which HR confirmed, and alleged a number of subsequent complaints which have gone unaddressed.

"Complaints that someone in the mailroom has obviously read their personal mail; complaints, they say, Maxine, which have been made to you, verbally and in writing. Is that correct?"

"Yes, but..."

"And they were ignored?"

"Ah, no..."

"Then why is Teesha still working in the mailroom? Indeed, why is she still working for us at all?"

"Mmm" squeeked Thelma.

"Huh?" gasped Teesha.

"Lee, you can't mean that!"

"Mrs. Pieters," he said, sounding like a hard ass, "I'm beginning to wonder about keeping you on. You and your husband, and now this..."

"Mr..." croaked Thelma, "ahem...Mr. Brock, the problem with my daughter isn't Max's fault. It's mine. She asked, told me to speak to Teesha, and I...I just avoided it, after the first time. You can't blame her."

"So, you're saying you are to blame for your daughter. What do you say about that, young lady?"

Teesha felt like she wanted to sink through the floor. A shy girl to begin with, she hated to be singled out for anything. To hear that she might be responsible for her Mom and her nice boss losing their jobs was almost more than she could handle. She knew if she lost this job, the most menial work there was, except for cleaning, in an office, she probably wouldn't find anything better than working the counter at MickeyD's, a job she'd had and loathed while in high school.

"It wasn't either of their faults," she sniffed. "You don't need to fire them; it was my fault." She looked up at him, a pleading look in her big puppy eyes.

"Okay; Max, Thelma, I'll deal with you this afternoon. Teesha, I'll deal with you right now, as soon as your mom and Max leave us."

"Lee, what..."

"Mr Brock, please..."

"Teesha's eighteen, an adult. She can make her own decisions, take her own punishment. I'll deal with you two right after lunch." He pointed to the door.

Teesha watched the two women leave, a knot in her stomach. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, and was afraid she'd lose her job. It didn't pay much more than flipping burgers, but she got to work with her mom, and it certainly sounded better than working the fast food joints. And she got to talk to a lot of people during the day, helping her get over her shyness.

She turned back to Lee, to discover him watching her with an enigmatic smile. He gestured to her to stand up, and held out his hand, reaching for hers. When she was within reach, he took both her hands and raised them to the sides, openly eyeing her body. She felt uncomfortable, like she was on display.

"How do you like your job, Teesha?" Lee asked, his voice low and calm, almost tender.

"Uhh, what do you mean?"

"A simple question. Do you like your job, or would you rather go back to whatever you were doing before you got this one?"

"Oh. I'd rather keep this one. It pays more, 'n' I get to see my mom all day. 'N' I can wear my own clothes, not some ugly uniform."

"How much do you want to keep it? What are you willing to do to keep it and keep your mom from losing her job?"

"Wh...what do you mean?"

"You heard me."

"You're gonna fire Mom? She didn't do anything."

"Exactly. She didn't do anything to make you do your job right when she was asked to. If you don't want me to fire her, what are you willing to do for me so she can keep her job?"

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, sure she knew the answer.

"What do you think?"

"You want me to fuck you."

"That's a beginning. Would you do that?"

"Is there a choice? Fuck you or something else?"

"Not really. Are you a virgin?" She shook her head. "How old were you?"

"Sixteen. A girl at school had a slumber party for her birthday. I had to get up in the middle of the night to go pee. Her dad walked in on me, and he...you know."

"Did you like it?"

"No!" she said loudly, "I didn't want him to do it and it hurt like hell."

"Was that the only time?"

"No, I had a boyfriend part of my last year in school. He always wanted to do it. It wasn't much better, though. I thought it was supposed to get better."

"If the couple know what they're doing, it does. If I fuck you, I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

"What do you mean, if you fuck me?"

"You haven't said yes, yet."

"And if I don't, me and my Mom get fired? That's the deal?"

"Pretty much. Although since your mom's been working here so long, we might offer her a job out on the production floor, or with the cleaning crew."

"Be better if you fired her. You said fucking you was the beginning. What else?"

"We can talk about that afterward. Yes or no?" His hand came up, and the back of his fingers brushed across her beast. She caught her breath with a short gasp. She nodded. "You need to say it. You need to tell me you want me to fuck you." His fingers continued to brush across her nipple, now poking out into the light turtle neck she wore.

He watched her eyes. A series of expressions crossed her face almost too rapidly to be seen. Resentment, anger, resignation, acceptance, hunger, lust. Teesha decided if she was gonna get fucked, she might as well enjoy it.

"Fuck me, boss man, and fuck you."