Chapter 6 - The Ellison Gambit
Grant Ellison liked to have breakfast at the Lexington Club.
It was a place where men in charcoal suits discussed the fate of the city over poached eggs.
I arrived at 8:00 AM.
I wasn't wearing the dusty-blue dress.
I was wearing my work scrubs.
The navy-blue ones with the Cedar Ridge logo on the pocket.
I looked like a nurse.
I looked like someone Grant usually looked through.
I found him at his corner table,
staring at his phone.
He looked tired.
The arrogance was still there,
but it was brittle.
I sat down across from him.
He didn't look up immediately.
“Vanessa,
I told you I’m busy,”
he said.
“I’m not Vanessa,”
I said.
Grant’s head snapped up.
He looked around the room,
worried about the optics of a nurse sitting at his table.
“Kimberly.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to discuss your tax situation, Grant,”
I said.
I pulled a single sheet of paper from my bag.
It was a summary of the V.A. Designs transfers.
I slid it across the table.
Grant looked at it.
His face didn't change,
but the hand holding his fork tightened.
“This is private information, Kimberly.”
“You’ve committed corporate espionage.”
“I’ve committed an audit, Grant,”
I said.
“Just like you wanted to do to me.”
“I’m sure the IRS would be very interested in why Ellison Capital is paying a ‘creative consultant’ in the Caymans three hundred thousand dollars a year.”
Grant set his fork down.
“What do you want?”
“I want the lien on my parents’ house removed by noon.”
“I want a signed release for the Coleman Brothers note.”
“And I want a formal letter of apology to Nathan’s father.”
Grant laughed,
but it was a hollow sound.
“And if I don't?”
“Then the file goes to the federal prosecutor,”
I said.
“And Vanessa goes with it.”
“She signed the papers, Grant.”
“She’s the one whose name is on the account.”
“You put her in the line of fire to save yourself.”
Grant looked at the paper again.
He knew I had him.
He was a predator,
but he wasn't a martyr.
“I need more time for the lien,”
he said.
“It’s complicated.”
“You have four hours, Grant.”
“The bank in Cincinnati opens at nine.”
I stood up.
“Oh,
and one more thing.”
Grant looked up.
“Vanessa is going to leave you,”
I said.
“Because once she realizes you used her as a human shield,”
“not even her love for chardonnay will keep her in that house.”
I walked out of the Lexington Club.
I felt like I was walking on air.
May you like
I had been the dependable daughter for thirty-three years.
But I was a much better auditor.
