Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,31
the kickoff meeting who had been worried about criminal investigations. Darryl, who apparently hadn’t noticed twenty million dollars was missing until last Friday.
Darryl Nolan required investigation.
* * *
There was an old joke accountants told each other. A business owner was looking to hire a manager and he interviewed each candidate with a simple question: “How much is 2+2?”
The engineer pulled out his slide rule and shuffled it back and forth, finally announcing, “It lies between 3.98 and 4.02.” The mathematician said, “I can demonstrate it equals 4 with the following short proof.” The psychologist said, “It’s not for me to answer, but we should spend some time exploring the question.” The attorney stated, “In the case of Swenson v. the State, 2+2 was declared to be 4.”
The accountant looked at the business owner, got out of his chair, and closed the office door. Then he leaned across the desk and said in a low voice, “How much would you like it to be?”
The accountant got the job.
Darryl Nolan, the controller at Strike, had either been told two plus two equaled twenty million, or he honestly had no idea it was four.
“The agreement was insane, I told everyone that from the beginning.”
On Tuesday morning, Nora sat in Darryl’s office, a dull space littered with Post-its, letters, and the general detritus of a man whose bottom had been wiped for far too long into his childhood.
“The agreement to rent the stadium? Can you elaborate on that?” Nora’s senior analyst peered over her open laptop at the company’s senior finance manager.
“You saw the contract. $250,000 a day? Is one and a half million a reasonable amount to pay for less than a week of rental space? And don’t get me started on ‘vStrike.’ ” He used air quotes. “It makes the stadium look like a garage sale.”
The man seemed incapable of sitting comfortably in his chair. He’d been twitching and readjusting his girth for the last ten minutes while detailing examples of overspending at Strike. His salary, Nora thought, could be included as one of those examples.
“So, given your financial duty to the company, at what point did you caution the owners about their excessive spending? Did you prepare any reports? A cost benefit analysis? Request they review more competitive bids from other vendors?”
“You don’t understand Gregg Abbott.” The man took a swig of a liquid that resembled dark cough syrup.
“We’d like to.” Nora folded her hands, smiling benignly.
“He doesn’t do anything Kmart. Only the best quality suppliers, sustainable, green, LEED-certified, woman-owned, fair trade, award-winning for whatever the hell they’re giving out awards in next.”
Darryl went on about the exorbitant costs of Strike Down, shoving poorly executed Microsoft Excel tables across his desk for them to peruse. Nora’s analyst raised her eyebrow a millimeter and Nora suppressed a smile; among accountants, there was no judgment like spreadsheet judgment.
They went through the tournament costs, line by line, while Nora considered the man. She’d already learned a lot about Darryl Nolan. He’d been with the company for a decade, had no CPA or credentials beyond a bachelor’s degree, and was married with two kids. His wife worked out of their moderately priced suburban home, making Disney-themed items to sell on Etsy. Neither of them overcharged their credit cards. They’d almost paid off a late model Chevy, attended a Lutheran church, and took annual trips to the Florida Gulf Coast for the Twins’ spring training. In short, they lived within their means.
“We’ve examined the payment process,” Nora broke into the discussion, lacing her fingers together. “It appears to be completely automated.”
“Yep. An off-site company handles all the data entry. We can’t change amounts or vendors or destination banks here; all we do is select yes or no. It’s completely secure. I approve and Gregg releases the money.”
“Not Logan?”
“She authorizes transfers when Gregg’s traveling, sure, but she leaves the back office to the people who should be running it.”
Which meant if Darryl wanted to approve phony payments, he knew which partner was disinterested enough to allow them out the door. The automation looked good, she had to agree, but no system was ever completely secure and an unsupervised accountant who knew a few tricks could easily find loopholes. Darryl Nolan had plenty of opportunity. Nora could smell some rationalization on him, too, talking about Gregg’s big spending habits. A guy like this could watch money being spent on everything else and feel he deserved an equally inflated piece of the pie. Two plus two equals ten million? Sure,