Break Point Down Page 8

  Yet, Jeff loved him.

  That love and devotion, though, were nowhere in evidence when Kitt walked into the spacious offices that were headquarters to the Buchanan Enterprises. His brother looked haggard and petulant. Until recently Kitt had rarely seen Jeff anything but suave, together, businesslike. Success had radiated from him. Right now he looked smaller, older. Did I do this?

  Jeff looked up as Kitt came in, and surveyed him with open hostility.

  “What are you doing here?”

  So he'd been drinking. He'd be touchy, sarcastic, belligerent. Looked like he'd passed his limit a while ago. Jeff rarely drank more than a glass or two— he was not one to relinquish control. But he had today.

  “We need to straighten out some business affairs—the money for the guys, my own finances. Some checks bounced—”

  “Did they now!”

  It wasn't going to work today, and Kitt rose to go.

  “Sleep it off. I will be here first thing in the morning. Try to get sober enough to give me the facts.”

  He called the bank from home, and also the VISA people. Both were very sorry, but there was no money in either account. What about the savings account? Sorry, they couldn't give that information over the phone. Didn't he have a bank card or a pin number that could get him that information from their automated services? He'd have to take it up with his financial manager.

  What had Jeff been doing? Switching funds so he couldn't get at his own money? Plugging holes with all the liquid assets, most likely. Selling and reinvesting, and moving accounts from bank to bank. It wasn't the first time, but he'd never left him high and dry like this.

  Never been as mad as this, either.

  The next morning he returned the vehicle. At the bank, the news was puzzling. The savings account was down to a few dollars, enough to keep it open. The checking account had a negative balance.

  Jeff must have pulled out money to cover his losses, probably to hold on to his pet stocks. No need to let things get into this much of a mess, and without so much as a warning not to use these accounts anymore, or a hint about wherever they were banking now. Trying to scare him. See how miserable I can make life for you? Better get back in line.

  At his office the next morning Jeff stared at him, suspicion clearly outlined in his face.

  “Got some more happy tidings for me, or shall I read the newspaper to find out?”

  “Cute, Jeff. Meantime, I have bounced checks, and I promised to come in today and make them good.”

  “I'll have to see you later this week. You've left me a mess, and I have a lot more to straighten out than a couple of measly checks.”

  “One of those measly checks was for a truck, and for your information, that came to forty grand. They don't like to be told they can wait for your convenience.”

  “And why do you spend amounts like that without checking with me first?”

  “Since when do I need to clear my purchases with you? What have you done with those accounts, and why haven't you told me?”

  “At a time like this you can't be spending like that.” Jeff ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm getting it all worked out—”

  “A time like what?”

  “Kitt, quit hassling me! I've got problems. It's nothing I can't work out, but I need time.”

  “Not good enough. I want some explanations now. And I need money because I have other expenses. Now what's going on here?”

  “We're in a mess, that's what. Your disappearing act has cost me four or five million, and that's just the beginning. There are a lot of other complications, and—”

  “Why should my quitting the tour cost you so much money?”

  “Never mind. You don't know anything about business or about finance, and I'm not going to give you a short course in business management right now.”

  “Perhaps you should give me the short course in accounting. I would like to know how it is possible that there's no cash when I've brought in big money for so many years.”

  “And given it away by the shovelful.”

  “Don't give me that. Those gifts didn't leave me broke.”

  “You're not broke. Not by a long shot. The only place we're hurting is liquid cash. I've been trying to keep from selling. Some investments didn't pan out, and that's cost some money.”

  “What do you mean by ‘some money’?”

  “I don't have the exact figures. Quite a bit.”

  “Papers forget to mention the stock market crashed?”

  “I can't go over all of it with you right now. If you had stayed on the tour we could have patched some holes and made out fine. Right now it's a mess.”

  Kitt took a deep breath. If he'd lost a substantial amount, so be it.

  “If you can't tell me today, then tell me by Monday. I will expect at least a general accounting by then—”

  “That's too soon,” Jeff interrupted. “You have no idea how much work is involved—”

  “I don't care how much work is involved. You've been telling me for months now that it takes time, and you've had time. I don't expect all the details down to the penny, but you'd better have some ballpark figures for me. What's lost is lost. I want to know specifically what and why and exactly what is left. Liquidate whatever you need to. Right now, give me the general picture.”

  “I can't do that. I just don't know exactly right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Kitt, you don't know enough about these things for me to explain it to you just like that. I'm going to have to put together some reports—”

  “So put together your reports! Start being up front with me. Don't let me find out from checks bouncing. I'm going to need enough in my account to cover those and my expenses for the next few months. I want to know who's been paid and how much. I want to know what we owe to whom. I can keep my expenses down until you have a chance to sell some securities. Do whatever you have to do.”

  Jeff ran his hand through his hair.

  “It is not as simple as that.”

  “Why is it so complicated all of a sudden?”

  “I can't tell you. Not today. You don't know what you're asking. I spent years putting together your investments and I can't give you a rundown of everything overnight.”

  “When can you have the cash for me?”

  “I can't do it. Not right now.”

  “You can't do it?” he asked incredulously. “Can you borrow it? Certainly my credit should be good enough to—”

  “I can't.”

  Kitt took his time digesting that answer.

  “I think you'd better start talking,” he said, finally. “I've made a fortune over the past ten years or so. You're arguing with me over petty cash.”

  Jeff pursed his lips, shuffled a few folders on his desk.

  “There have been losses. I can't tell you more because I don't know it yet. Just stay cool. I expect to have it resolved in a couple of weeks.”

  “You're a CPA. You can do better than that.”

  “Kitt, if you understood the first thing about finance—”

  “I'm beginning to wonder if you do.”

  “This is temporary. I have a lot going on, and you'll be all right. That's a promise. The losses are mostly my own. I was counting on your income to back up some financial moves I made. Without that income some of it has backfired on me. Nothing we can't put right, but it's tied up your assets. I had to borrow some liquid cash from you. I can't explain it in midstream. It wouldn't make sense to you.”

  “It doesn't make sense to me now. I'll be back Monday, and I won't take any more crap about how complicated it is. I want to see figures, and I don't care what it takes. Next time there's a cash problem, tell me about it.”

  At the door, Kitt turned to stare at his brother. With a display of preoccupation, Jeff pulled out files and papers, picked up a phone and began furiously punching in numbers. Holding the receiver to his ear, he barked impatiently at Kitt.

  “Okay, now what is it!”


  “I think you're lying.”

  The brand-new and jarring realities were here, and they were coming from the bedrock now. Jeff was lying through his teeth. The look in Laura's eyes bordered on hatred. After years as the favorite relative, he was now the bad guy. So that's what it was about all these years. Fame. Money. Control. Jeff's financial planning had depended on the anticipated income from Kitt's career, and his retirement had caused the newest grandiose investment plan to collapse. To Jeff that was calamity. He wouldn't want anyone to know he'd bombed. Ergo, he was fuming. White-hot. Said things that hurt. Okay. Could he live with that? Of course he could. Comforting thought. But was it the truth?

  How stupid are you?

  Jeff was not at his office when Kitt came in that Monday, and it took him days to track his brother down in New York. On the telephone Jeff was unapologetic. He was too busy for little chats. Kitt was just going to have to trust him to do what was in his best interests. He'd call just as soon as he had a free moment. Right now all ready cash was tied up.

  “I'm getting tired of being put off,” he said irritably. “And I will have that accounting, Jeff.”

  “Soon as I get back to town I'll start working on it. I am straightening things out as we speak. It's looking good. Be a little patient, will you?”

  He took the truck back and drove the Bronco. It was a good car, but it needed maintenance and he'd intended to trade it in. There was money left from the sale of the other cars, but he'd paid tuition ahead for the year, and there was no telling how long it would take Jeff to free up cash again. Better not spend it all right now.

  Jeff's office two weeks before Christmas was a scene of devastation. Boxes were stacked everywhere, banded with IRS tape. He entered Jeff's private office without knocking. His brother sat, gray-faced and pale, behind his desk. Papers were scattered about. His hand trembled as he raised a drink to his mouth.

  Kitt snatched the glass away from him.

  “I'm going to talk to you before you are falling-down drunk,” he said coldly. “I've been put off once too often and believe me, we are having this out. It seems to be disaster time.”

  Jeff made a futile gesture, tried to say something. His voice deserted him, and he rested his head in his hands.

  “I want that accounting, and I want it right now,” said Kitt, his voice ominously calm. He slammed some official-looking notices on the desk. “And I want an explanation of these!”

  Jeff did not look at the documents.

  “I don't know what I can say. I'm sorry.”

  “Not good enough. I want to know what happened and I want details.”

  “I don't quite have all the figures—you see, it's very involved and—”

  Kitt's hand crashed flat on the desk and Jeff shrank back.

  “I know. It's complicated and hard to explain and I don't know anything about business. It seems to be a little over your head, too. If you don't have the exact figures, get them. Now.”

  Jeff shifted his eyes. “It's not that simple, Kitt,” he began, but Kitt interrupted him sharply.

  “My figures aren't that complicated. Let me give you a quick rundown. Here,” he thrust a paper in front of Jeff. “Seems like I have earned some 90 million dollars in prize and appearance money. Then there's upwards of 350 million dollars in endorsements and contracts. A simple calculator operation makes that roughly 440 million, gross. That is a low-end guess. Not counting the income that money should have generated.”

  “I don't think it was quite that much,” protested Jeff, “And then, of course—”

  “Overhead. Payroll, travel, hotels, medical treatments, lawyers and accountants and brokers and what have you, equipment, coaching, stringers, trainers, masseurs, private courts, memberships, I don't think all that stuff could have added up to more than 50 million. Add to that your take, let's say at least 110 mil.”

  “I devoted my whole career to managing you.”

  “Yeah, right. You had other clients, other business, investments. I don't care. I was a green kid when I signed the papers, and I had no idea that 25 percent off the top was a bit generous. If I had, I would probably still have signed it. I loved you.”

  Jeff winced.

  “Accounting firms tell me that on an income like mine I should have paid about 40 percent in income taxes. Now you doubtlessly used every tax shelter you could find, but even so, I would estimate that I should have paid some 110 million.”

  “You can't calculate it that way—”

  “Watch me. I have given money away. Let's peg that at 55 mil for now. Then there's my personal expenses, the house and the condos, a car here and there and a grand piano, furniture, vacations, computers, presents, you name it—I think 15 mil is an extremely generous guess.

  ”Let me make a very, very rough guess There should be 100 or 105 million left, and probably a whole lot more. You'd think that money would have generated at least another 40 mil or so over all these years, that about right? That should make my net worth close to a 145 million. Enough to cover me for the rest of my life, wouldn't you say? But guess what, Jeff?”

  Jeff said nothing. He avoided his brother's eyes, and stared at the desk, shrinking inside his expensive suit, his hands nervously fingering papers.

  “The IRS paid me a visit. Seems they've been sending warnings to you for a while now. Since all my business affairs were in your hands and you had power of attorney, my business mail has always come to your office. I never saw it. I didn't know we owed the IRS. I figured my brother was a professional accountant and investment broker, and that he had some ethics. I suppose you know what they told me.”

  Jeff still didn't speak. His glance darted to the bottle on the edge of his desk and Kitt saw it. His blue eyes flashed with anger and he grabbed the bottle and dumped the liquid in the wastebasket.

  “Will you start giving me some help here? The IRS tells me we owe them 45 million in back taxes. Forty-five million, so help me! What have you been doing, Jeff? What happened to that money? I seem to remember you telling me all the time I couldn't do this and couldn't do that because the IRS was eating up the cash.”

  “We made some hefty payments. They've got their figures wrong. It's easy with the computer systems to kick a few zeroes around. Let me just see if I can't straighten this out—”

  “Stop lying, Jeff. What is it with you! This isn't rocket science—it's all going to come out! And the 45 mil isn't the end of it, of course, but you're an accountant. You know that. It has about doubled with penalties and interest. So in addition to the forty-five you didn't pay, which theoretically should still be among my assets somewhere, I will now have to cough up another forty million or so to the U.S. of A.”

  “It can't be quite that much.”

  “Believe me, Jeff, it is quite that much. After I pay all that, you'd think I'd have some petty cash left in spite of your mismanagement. But here's another surprise. When I checked on some stock I know I owned, I was told it had been sold a long time ago. My bank accounts are zeroed out. Where is the money?”

  Jeff fingered some folders, opened them and closed them again, rummaged around in a file drawer in his desk.

  “We've had some losses,” he mumbled tentatively. “I told you about that. Some investments went bad. Took some heavy losses there.”

  “Ah yes, the losses. You were talking 20 million or so, I believe.”

  “I didn't say that. You just guessed at that—”

  “From something you said. You didn't correct me.”

  “I didn't know exactly. I knew the losses were heavy—”

  “Exactly how heavy?”

  “”Well, I couldn't say offhand, but—”

  “How much, Jeff?”

  “About 58 million.”

  “Fifty-eight million?” he repeated slowly, incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

  “The stock was solid, Kitt, I swear to you it was solid. I don't know what happened, but it crashed.”

  “Solid stock doesn't crash in
this market. I suppose riding it out isn't going to work?”

  “The companies have gone bust.”

  “We may be joining them any time now. So after all is paid back, what do I have left? Any other stock?”

  “No. I'm not sure how much is left.”

  “What about the money you should have paid the IRS, which may now be more than my net worth?”

  “I paid some last month, but—”

  “But what?”

  “It's the penalties and interest, Kitt. They're like loan sharks!”

  “And as a CPA you didn't know that in advance.”

  “Of course I did, but—”

  “So did you liquidate more stock to cover the penalties and interest before they grew even higher?”

  “I was going to do that, but then—”

  “Then what?”

  “There was another business deal. I tried to recoup some of the money, see if I couldn't make you whole. And then that went sour, and now I don't know if there's anything left.”

  ”You don't know if there's anything left?”

  “That's right.”

  “Let me see if I get this straight. Out of the original 400 mil or so, you don't know if there is a red cent left?”

  “No.”

  “I am broke?”

  “Not entirely, but—”

  “I want to see something that tells me where that money went.”

  “Well, that's not so easy, Kitt. You must understand—”

  “Jeff, I am going to crack your skull if you tell me one more time how complicated this is. Where is that money?”

  Jeff threw up his hands, and something like a sob came from his throat.

  “It's gone.”

  “What?”

  “Just more—expenses.”

  “What sort of expenses?”

  “I can't tell—”

  “What expenses, Jeff!”

  “I tried to use the money to make more money, okay! I tried to put that money to work so we could offset some of these losses and then pay the IRS. Only that didn't pan out either.”

  “How did you put it to work?”

  “Here and there.”