Page 9 of Tangled Trust

"If you’re fishing for compliments, you’re shit out of luck," I laugh.

"That’s it. You’re paying for dinner."

"Gladly."

New York City is noisy, crowded, and completely different from California. But you can’t argue with the thrill you feel when you’re negotiating your way through its pulsating streets. Here, it’s all business. There's no time for LA’s green juice breaks and sun-soaked lunches here. Not a palm tree in sight. Just yellow cabs and steam rising from the scattered manholes in the asphalt.

I’m on my way to the new office I opened about six months ago. Real estate in NYC is always at a premium. That’s how I know that dear old Greg is fudging numbers at my expense. I should have listened to the voice inside me when I met him. He was too perfect. Too keen. Slimy bastard.

I meet my forensic auditor, James, outside the upmarket building where the office is located. There's no point in bringing a knife to a gunfight, I always say.

"Good morning, Mr. Moore."

"Hello, James. Thank you for meeting me. Are you ready?"

"Indeed. Let’s take this guy apart."

James enjoys the thrill of the chase. He is, after all, one of the best in his field. Some people are born with a killer instinct.

"I couldn’t have said it better myself."

Greg looks nervous. His shirt under his armpits is stained with sweat.

"Good morning, Carter," he smiles.

That’s Mr. Moore to you, you bastard.

"Greg," I nod. "This is my accountant, James. He’s going to take a look at the books. See where he can assist you in cash flow."

"I see."

James walks straight past Greg and into his office, where he makes himself comfortable at the computer. Greg looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he doesn’t say a word. Before the day is out, I plan on laying charges against him. I can’t believe he’d be so stupid.

The other agents in the office go about their tasks. Nevertheless, they look nervous. I would be too if my manager was stealing from the company. I plan to reassure them of their positions once I’ve dealt with Mr. Long Fingers. All I want to do is get this done so I can go home and be with Jagger.

This man is going to be sorry he took me for a fool.

It’s been a long day. I’m back at the hotel. The concierge packed my bags, and I’m having one final drink with Charlie before I fly home.

"So, the weasel was pocketing a third of the commissions. He must have some sort of death wish," Charlie says before he downs his whiskey.

"Can you believe the gall?"

"He’s an idiot. I hope it was worth it."

"Worst of all is that I lost time with Jagger. And I had to ask Amanda for a favor."

"Sounds to me like you’d benefit from hiring an Au Pair for the little tike."

"That’s not a bad idea, actually."

"Claire and I made use of an excellent agency when we were in LA. I’ll forward the details to you if you like."

"Thank you, Charlie. Amanda and I are pretty busy with work. Well, I’m busy. Amanda’s charity work isn’t that strenuous, I don't think. But, she does keep busy. An Au Pair would be a Godsend."

"There you go. Another problem solved."

"A productive trip all around, hey."

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