“And why would the owner and founder of this firm steal from his own company? One that has been in his family for generations?” Trent asked.
“You’d have to ask him. But the guy is broke.”
“Sales are up year over year, even taking out the false billables,” Amanda said.
“His company isn’t broke.Heis broke. All his life working as a lawyer, and soon he’ll have nothing to show for it. The offer from Dominique Sharp is a joke, but he signed on the dotted line, using his majority shares to justify the decision. There was nothing the rest of us could do.”
Amanda leaned forward. “What do you mean it was a joke?”
“Just that. It was a lowball offer, only a fraction of what the firm is worth.”
“Why would he accept the offer then?” Trent asked.
“I just told you. The guy is broke, and he ain’t getting any younger. He thought this was his way out.”
“Except you’re missing one point here. If he embezzled over a million dollars, the guy isn’t broke,” Amanda reasoned.
“Listen, I don’t know why he’d do it. All I know is it wasn’t me.”
“Detective Stenson.” She stood and summoned him to join her on the other side of the room. “Let’s say this is Howard Gabay. He’s on his way out, and byhisaccount”—she nudged her head toward Finch—“needs all the money he can get. It wouldn’t make sense that he’d put money back into the company at this stage. Doing so could even draw unwanted attention.”
“Which it did, but I have another question for our friend here.” Trent walked back over to the table. “Why would Howard Gabay try to frame you?”
“His first wife left him for me.”
“When was this?” Amanda asked.
“Seven years ago.”
Back when the money started being siphoned out of the firm. Finch had struck on something with his accusation, but there had to be some way to prove it. Amanda wasn’t going to rely solely on his word. “You said that all partners can authorize new accounts. Run us through how that works.”
FORTY-TWO
Amanda and Trent let Harris Finch return to his client meeting while they set off to talk to the people in the accounting department. Finch had told them there was a paper trail for every new account. Each request had to be signed off by a partner, and Finch said they didn’t use signature stamps. Amanda messaged Detective Lopez in Financial Crimes to remind her to send the list of business names as she hadn’t seen it yet.
The accounting supervisor was Molly, a plain woman with brown hair. After they introduced themselves, she gestured for them to sit across from her desk.
Amanda was the first one to talk. “There have been several new accounts opened in the last six months, vendor and customer, attributed to Harris Finch. These are numbered companies, and he’s denying that he made the requests. We’ll need to see those signed requisitions and be provided with samples of each partner’s signature for comparison.” This would let them know if someone had forged Finch’s signature, and if so, who.
Molly leaned forward and clasped her hands on her desk. “Right, well, I can’t help you unless you have a warrant.”
Amanda was afraid they would meet with that response but figured they should try it first. “We’ll return with one.” She left the room with Trent.
“I can call Judge Anderson about this,” he offered, and when she nodded, he got on the phone.
A few minutes later, he was off and giving her the update. “We’ve got verbal authorization, and I’ll get the paperwork through to my email soon. Have you received the list of business names from Detective Lopez yet?”
“Let me see.” She checked the email on her phone and saw a message from the detective come in. “I do.” She turned and knocked on Molly’s door.
“Come in,” she called out. The supervisor’s shoulders sagged when she saw her visitors were Amanda and Trent again.
“We have verbal authorization for these requisition forms from Judge Anderson. A hard copy will follow soon,” Trent told her.
“Okay. Once I get that, I’ll gather the requisition forms.”
“If I could get your email, I’ll send you the list of businesses and Detective Stenson will forward you the warrant.”
“Very well.” Molly gestured to her business card in a holder on her desk. “My email address is on there.”
