Miz Sarah Wins One, Loses Another

"No, I swear I drove straight home."

Cindy jumped in again. "Did you see anyone while you were at work? Could anyone verify that you were there the whole time?"

"I was the only one in the office. I didn't see a soul."

I urged him to go on with what happened next. He told us that he got up, fixed breakfast for himself while Adele slept, and went to the office at the usual time. Everything about his work day was completely normal. But when he got home from work in the evening, Adele immediately attacked him, accusing him of adultery and waving a report that she said detailed his affair of the previous night. Nothing he could say would pacify her and when she began to throw things at him, he left in desperation to look for a motel where he could spend the night until she calmed down. When he tried to return the next morning, he found the locks on his house had been changed.

When he was finally able to reach her by phone, Adele continued to harangue him about his infidelity. She told him she planned to divorce him and "take him to the cleaners." To make matters worse, Michael went on, she apparently had already begun telling everyone they knew of his purported adultery, and now most of his friends weren't speaking to him. And to add insult to injury, he hadn't been allowed to see Tasha since he moved out. Now, he said, the only person he had left to turn to was me, an old friend -- and his wife's attorney.

When he had finished his story, I sat thinking about it for quite a while. Finally, I made up my mind. I took him by the shoulders and turned him to look me square in the eye. "Michael, are you telling me the absolute truth? Did you have an affair that night? Have you ever -- at any time -- cheated on Adele?"

"Miz Sarah, I swear to you on my daughter's life, I have always been totally faithful to Adele."

I sat there staring at him for a while, then went to my desk. I returned with a note card and gave it to him. "Now here's what I want you to do. First, I want you to contact John Nesbitt. He's an attorney who's an old friend and a good man. Here's his number and address. Tell him that Sarah Cannon asked that he serve as the attorney of record for you in this matter."

Michael started to protest, but I pressed him. "Michael, you have to trust me on this. You must have legal representation, and I am already committed to working for Adele. We cannot have a conflict of interest when this all comes to a head."

When he nodded, I went on. "The next thing you need to do is to stay away from Adele until all this is resolved. I'm not sure what's going on just yet, but I am sure that there's nothing to be gained if you two get into it with each other."

"Finally," I continued, "you need to stay away from me. Even the appearance of a conflict of interest or collusion between us could make for a big problem. Just get in touch with John Nesbitt and do whatever he tells you."

Michael reluctantly agreed. He was obviously still in great distress, but I thought I saw a little relief in his expression. At least someone had listened to his side of the story without calling him a liar.

When he left the office, I sat down with Cindy to discuss what we'd heard. Cindy spoke first, with great conviction: "Either he's the best actor I've ever seen, Miz Sarah, or he was telling the truth." Then, a bit less certainly, she asked me, "What about you -- do you believe him?"

I nodded somewhat grimly at her. "I believe I do, Cindy. And as the Bard of Avon once said, 'There's something rotten in the State of Denmark.' We just need to try to figure out what it is."

I wasn't sure if Cindy actually knew who the "Bard of Avon" was, but whether she did or not, I think she caught the drift of what I was saying. "For starters," I told her, "I'd like you to see what you can find out about Mr. Tom Spangler, that detective Adele hired."

"Do you think he made a mistake and followed the wrong fellow, Miz Sarah?" my young assistant asked. Then, as other scenarios began filling her head, she added, "Or maybe somebody bribed him to make up the story about Michael. Or maybe Michael has an identical twin . . ."

"Slow down, honey, slow down," I cautioned her. "Leaping to conclusions will only land us in the briar patch. Let's just start by trying to get a handle on this detective fellow."

There was a fire in Cindy's eyes. "I'll get right on it," she said, and scurried away to her office.

When the mail arrived that afternoon, it contained a package from Martin Denison, Paul Mason's attorney. In all the hoopla about Adele and Michael Donelson, I had nearly forgotten about poor Emmy Mason's case. Trying to shift my mental gears, I opened the package to look at what Martin had sent me.

The most important document for me to see was the accounting of Paul and Emmy Mason's assets, which were to be divided according to the proposed property settlement. As I looked at them, everything seemed to be in order.

The one asset I had had questions about was the franchise store Paul operated. I had wondered about its value and whether it might become a bone of contention between them. Looking at the profit and loss statement, however, I could see that It wouldn't make any difference. After paying the franchise fee, the lease on the building and the loans on the equipment in the store, the business was losing money. "I guess we won't have to wrangle over the division of any profits," I thought wryly. "And if the business goes under and Paul owns it, at least Emmy won't be liable for its debts."

I made a note on my calendar to contact Emmy to review the property statement with her. From what I had seen, I didn't expect there to be any issues. "The quicker we get all this over with, the better it will be for her," I thought.

As I set the Mason file aside, Cindy popped her head in my door. "Gotta run, Miz Sarah. I've got something I want to do tonight." She waved and was gone.

I was a bit surprised at her early departure; Cindy wasn't normally a clock-watcher. "I bet she's got a hot date tonight," I thought disapprovingly. "It'll be interesting to see what time she drags in here in the morning."

I was wrong. When I came downstairs to get started the next morning, Cindy was already waiting in my office. She was obviously excited.

"Oh, Miz Sarah, you'll never guess what I did last night!"

Remembering my displeasure at her early departure, I said somewhat sharply, "I hope it was something about Detective Spangler."

That took her aback. "Oh, Miz Sarah, I haven't started on that yet," she apologized. But she recovered quickly, and went on, "But I did do some more research on Paul Mason."

I was surprised -- I thought she'd forgotten all about the Mason case. "I'm pleased to hear it. Were you working on your home computer, dear?" I asked.

"Not exactly, Miz Sarah," she replied with just a hint of embarrassment, "I went to his store."

I hadn't expected that. It seemed my assistant still wanted to play detective. "Why ever did you do that, honey?" I asked.

"Well, you wanted me to find out all I could about him, and I thought searching on line just wasn't enough. So I decided I'd go to his store last night and look around to see if I could find anything out of the ordinary."

Amused, I beckoned her to continue.

"After I left work," she explained, "I drove over to Mr. Mason's store to try to get a feel for the place. It was easy for me to 'case the joint' because the place was packed. In fact, it was so busy there were people lined up waiting to get served."

I found that very interesting: perhaps Paul's business was doing a little better than I was led to believe.

"Do you think that could have been just a fluke, Cindy, a one-time thing?"

"I don't think so, Miz Sarah. I asked one of the clerks if it was always this busy, and he said, 'Pretty much.'"

She went on, "The thing is, Miz Sarah, Mr. Mason's got a really good location. I drove around, and his store is close to a lot of small offices in the area. I figure they're too little to have a mailroom or a lot of high-priced copying equipment, so they all go to his store when they need something like that," she explained.

"Wow, honey," I said, "that makes a lot of sense." This girl has a good head on her shoulders, I thought.

"Anyway," she continued, "I decided to grab a bite to eat before going back to the store for one more look. They stay open till 8:00 on week nights, and I got back a few minutes before closing. When I walked in the door, the last customer was just going out, so I guess the bell on the door didn't alert them that anyone was still out front. Anyway, I went in and then stepped behind a display so I wasn't visible from the checkout desk."

"How very clever of you," I encouraged her. "Then what happened?"

"I could see Mr. Mason and the woman who was his assistant manager straightening up a bit. I couldn't tell much about her because she was wearing one of those smocks all the employees wear. She looked to be in her thirties, but she still had a cute face."

"Only Cindy would think a woman in her thirties was aged," I thought to myself, but I didn't want to interrupt her story.

"Anyway, Mr. Mason looked around to see if all the customers were gone, then he motioned for her to go to the back office. When they went in together, I noticed the door didn't close all the way, so I snuck back there to see what was going on."

"When I peeked in, they were hugging and kissing like teenagers. They were so hot for each other! I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but then he started taking her clothes off. She pushed him back onto a table and straddled him, and -- I guess I don't have to tell you what happened next. Anyway, it was pretty clear this wasn't the first time they'd done that."

"And," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "unlike Detective Spangler, I managed to get a few pictures of them on my cellphone while they were getting busy. When they were too -- um, excited -- to notice, I snuck out and headed home."

Blushing, she handed her cellphone to me, and I found she'd taken a dozen photos. They may not have been of the highest quality, but as I scrolled through them there was no doubt about what was happening and who was doing it.

As I had listened to Cindy's account, I was astonished that my flighty little assistant had showed such initiative to undertake this reconnaissance, and I was equally impressed by her courage. My girl had pluck!

At the same, I was terribly disappointed to learn that Paul was carrying on an affair right under his wife's nose. No wonder Emmy hadn't seen any unusual behavior -- he was having his rendezvous right in the back room of his store. "I'll bet this has been going on for quite a while," I speculated.

I was also intrigued to learn that Paul's business was doing so well. The statement I'd received only the day before made the store seem like a sinking ship. But Cindy's account suggested that the business was practically coining money.

"Cindy," I praised her, "I want you to know how impressed I am with your initiative, and how much I appreciate your doing all this on your own time. Your undercover work has shed a whole new light on the Mason case."

She beamed at my words.

"Based on what you turned up last night," I went on, "I'd like you to see if you can get any information about running a franchise like the one Mr. Mason has. What I'm really trying to get a handle on is how much a store like that might be expected to earn. I'm not sure how to go about that, but give it your best shot."

She grinned back at me, obviously pleased by the confidence in her my new assignment demonstrated. "I'll get right on it," she promised.

While she set to work on that, I remembered I needed to give some more attention to the Donelson case. I went to the phone and called my friend John Nesbitt. I wanted to explain what was going on with Michael Donelson -- at least as much as I knew -- and why I had asked John to help him.

John was an old friend and a good, thoroughly honest attorney. He and I have done favors for one another over the years. "I owe him a peach cobbler for this one," I thought.

When I reached John, I was pleased to learn that Michael had already been in touch, so he now had an attorney of record. I no longer had to feel so guilty about my earlier meeting with Michael.

Shortly after I finished my phone conversation, Cindy came back in my office beaming. "Aren't you supposed to be researching the franchise business?" I asked a bit impatiently.

Her grin broadened. "I've already done it, Miz Sarah."

I was impressed. "Well come here, honey, and tell me what you've found. And while you're at it, tell me how you found it so fast."

She sat down by my desk and showed me a number of print-outs that appeared to have come from the franchiser's web page. "What I found on the web got me started," she said, "but there weren't any specifics on financial performance. However, I did find a contact number for franchise sales, so I called them and pretended to be interested in buying a franchise. I talked for quite a while to a nice man, and I asked him what I could reasonably expect in the way of revenue and profit. He was hesitant to give out any numbers, but -- she grinned at me again -- after a little sweet-talking on my part, he gave me a range of results for high and low performing franchises. He told me the most important determinant of success was the location."

When she handed me the sheet with the figures, I was taken aback. Even the poor performers were doing much better than the results reported on Paul Mason's financial statement. And from all Cindy had told me about her field work last night, it seemed pretty likely that Paul's store was above average.

"Honey, I think you've found out exactly what I needed to know," I said, patting her hand. She was clearly pleased with herself, and rightly so, I thought.

Turning to the phone, I made a quick call to Martin Denison's office. I winked at Cindy as I began speaking.

"Martin, this is Sarah Cannon. Something important has come up and I need to meet with you as soon as possible. Yes, I can come over now, if that's convenient with you. Very well, I should be there in thirty minutes -- traffic permitting."

When I hung up, Cindy asked if she could come along. "No, honey," I said with a grim smile. "I'm going to go apply a little pressure to Mr. Denison, and he'll be more likely to cave in if there's not a pretty girl there to witness it."

She smiled back at me; she understood.

When I reached Martin Denison's office, he was alone. I hadn't figured him to have a roomful of waiting clients.

After we were seated, I reached into my bag and pulled out the property settlement he had prepared. Next to it, I laid the report on the range of results of high and low performers from the franchiser. Both were turned on the desk where he could read them.

Pointing to the figures he had provided, I said, "Mr. Denison, are you quite sure that this is an accurate profit and loss statement for Paul Mason's store? Before you answer, please compare these results from other franchises just like his. I need to remind you that knowingly conveying false information in a case like this is a very serious matter, something the Georgia Bar Association takes a dim view of. You may not be aware that I am a member of the Ethics Committee of the Bar Association. It would be most unfortunate if they were to find cause to conduct an investigation of your practices."

Before he could respond, I pushed on. "In the course of an ethics investigation, it's not uncommon for the attorney in question to claim that he or she relied on the client for the information that was provided. But since I understand you handle all of Mr. Mason's legal affairs, I doubt that will be a mitigating factor."

He didn't say a word, but I noticed a dark stain developing below his armpits, even as the wall-mounted air conditioner droned away.

"That's not all, Mr. Denison," I continued. "As you are likely aware, the Internal Revenue Service places a high priority on the accuracy of income tax filings by small businesses. They are so eager to uncover under-reporting that they have established a hotline so law-abiding, tax-paying citizens can call to provide tips about possible tax cheats. The IRS even offers rewards to those who enable them to recover lost tax revenues. I wonder, Mr. Denison, if Paul Mason would be comfortable having an IRS audit of his franchise at this time?"

Once again, Martin Denison simply sat there, but I noticed that the paper in his hands trembled slightly.

Rising to leave, I said, "Mr. Denison, I would strongly suggest that you relate the substance of our meeting with Paul Mason immediately, and that you and he review his financial records to see if there are any 'errors' or 'oversights' that need to be corrected. If he does so and provides me with the 'corrected' figures, I see no reason why any of us should have to go through the unpleasantness of an audit or investigation. And Mr. Denison, I expect to have that amended statement on my desk tomorrow."

With that, I took my leave.

When I returned to my office, Cindy couldn't wait to hear how my session went. I felt a bit uncomfortable about revealing details of a confidential discussion between attorneys, so all I said was, "I believe that Mr. Denison will want to meet with Paul Mason just as soon as Mr. Dennison has had a chance to change his underwear."

Cindy giggled.

Adopting a more serious tone, I told Cindy, "I don't think there's anything more we can do about the Mason case just now, so let's get back to the Donelsons. Did you have a chance to find out anything about that detective, Tom Spangler?"

Cindy immediately became more serious. "I checked in a lot of places, Miz Sarah, but I couldn't really find any information on him or his detective agency. It's not listed in the phone book, he doesn't have a web page, and unless he operates under a different name, I couldn't find him on any listing of detective agencies for the area. When I went to the Georgia Board of Private Detectives and Securities Agencies, they didn't have his name either. I tried running his name against business incorporations for the last couple of years, but nothing matched up."

"Also," Cindy went on, "I've read that a lot of private detectives come from a police or military background. I thought I'd try that angle, but I came up blank there too."

Handing me a print-out, she explained, "I did manage to get a picture of him from the Department of Motor Vehicles. It's the photo that was taken for his driver's license. He applied for it about a year ago. It lists his address as an apartment in a part of town where I wouldn't care to walk at night. "

She winked at me. "But he is a nice-looking guy," she added.

"Hmph," I said. "Well, he doesn't exactly sound like a top-flight detective to me. I wonder how in the world Adele found him. Wherever it was, I don't think he's a particularly reliable resource for checking up on one's husband."

Cindy didn't have any more information, and since it was getting late, we agreed to reconvene in the morning to see if we could come up with anything new.

"Are you planning to do any more sleuthing tonight, honey?" I asked her with a smile.

"Oh, no, Miz Sarah. My girlfriends and I are going out to do a little clubbing," was her reply.

"Drinking and dancing on a week night?" I thought to myself. "Is that really the best way for an Agnes Scott graduate to spend her time?" But I shrugged it off -- I know that things are a lot different now than when I was Cindy's age. "Let it go," I told myself.

Given her plans for the evening, I didn't expect to see Cindy until well after 8:00 a.m., when our work day begins. But once again she had beaten me in, and once again she was nearly beside herself with excitement.