CHAPTER 7

The Wolfgang Berger Foundation’s office was on East Bay Street in Downtown Charleston, overlooking the Old Exchange Building. The area was filled with tourists, wandering through the historic city, taking photos of everything at every opportunity, and filling the air with joy. Tourists were a constant of life on the peninsula, and the locals accepted them as a part of living in such a historic and picturesque city.

Hennessy and Lockett entered the building, walked up several flights of stairs, and entered the only office on the top floor. The reception area of the Foundation was bathed in prestige. Gold trim circled the door, framed paintings of the Civil War hung on the walls, and the smell of fresh roses filled the air. The reception desk was large and appeared new, the carpet was plush, and there wasn’t a mark on the white walls.

The receptionist introduced herself as Maxine Summers. Her smile was easy, her eyes were kind, and her tone was warm and welcoming. She wore a nice woolen sweater, a black skirt, and hooped earrings.

“Please, have a seat,”

she directed them to the waiting area next to her reception desk. “Ms. Stevenson is on her way in now.”

“She doesn’t work from the office?”

Hennessy questioned.

“No.”

Maxine pondered her words carefully. “Ms. Stevenson works mostly from home. She doesn’t come into the office much, maybe once a week.”

“I take it by your tone that you do most of the work?”

Lockett questioned.

Maxine shrugged. “I do… a lot, yes.”

“And what does Mrs. Stevenson’s role include?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Maxine shrugged as she went to sit behind the receptionist’s desk again. “I started in this role five years ago, just after the Foundation started, and in that time, I haven’t seen her do much. Ms. Stevenson originally told me it was her role to gather more funding for the Foundation, but the only funding we get is from her family’s estate.”

“She hasn’t brought in any more funding?”

“Never.”

She shook her head. “But the Foundation does a lot of good for a lot of children. Lives are changed because of the donations made by her family’s estate. The charity foundation mostly supports hospitals throughout South Carolina but also donates to other causes, such as education and school events.”

“And you’re paid less than her?”

She stared at Hennessy and nodded. “I earn a lot less than her.”

“Even though you do most of the work?”

“All of the work,”

she quipped and then provided them with a small smile. She had said enough. “You must excuse me. I need to get back to doing these spreadsheets. Since we lost our accountant, my workload has doubled.”

When Maxine turned back to her computer, Hennessy and Lockett exchanged a nod.

Fifteen minutes passed before Michelle Stevenson, Wolfgang Berger’s only daughter, entered the office.

Michelle was a contrast to Maxine. There was nothing easy about her. Not the way she stood, not the expression on her face, not the look in her eyes. Everything about her was hard. Her black suit jacket sat square on her shoulders, and her black trousers were fitted to her muscular legs. Veins were visible in her hands, and her jaw was clenched. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly, not a strand out of place, and her eyebrows were thin and almost straight.

“Mrs. Stevenson,”

Hennessy greeted her. “My name is Joe Hennessy, and this is Mr. Barry Lockett. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Yes, yes,”

she was dismissive of his introduction. “And it’s Ms., not Mrs. I divorced my prick of a husband when I found out he was sleeping with his colleague.”

“My apologies,”

Hennessy said and held out his hand.

She shook it lightly and then indicated to the door to her separate office. “Hurry up,”

she snapped. “I don’t have all day.”

Hennessy nodded and led Lockett inside. The office was wide and spacious. There was abstract art on the wall. A leather couch in the corner. A large and expensive mahogany desk. The room smelled of lavender, and the tall windows looked over the beautiful architecture of Charleston.

Hennessy and Lockett sat down on the leather couch, and while Michelle waded through pleasantries, it was clear she had little interest in the conversation. Yes, it was hot. Looking forward to the cooler weather, she agreed. Yes, it was a lovely building that housed the office of the Foundation. Charleston had the nicest architecture in the country, she said.

“But you want to talk about what that accountant did to my father’s money, don’t you?”

She glared at Hennessy after five minutes of small talk. There was no warmth, or any emotion, in her voice.

“We’d like to talk about the Foundation,”

Hennessy said. “How long have you been CEO?”

“Five years. Ever since my stupid father died.”

She glanced at the men and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak about him like that. He immigrated from Germany and brought his family here just after I was born. My mother missed home, but my father saw this place as a way to succeed. He started as a car salesman before he opened a chain of dealerships across the east coast. He made tens of millions, not that anyone would know it. He pinched money so hard it would squeal. Wouldn’t spend a cent on anyone. One of my earliest childhood memories was I remember him complaining about my mother buying a bottle of ketchup when the other one wasn’t empty yet. This guy was worth millions of dollars and was arguing over money spent on a ketchup bottle.”

“He left the money to a worthy cause,”

Lockett said. “That’s honorable.”

“And not a cent of his estate was left to me,”

she scoffed. “Not a cent. He even wrote in his will that his house had to be sold, and the profits would go into the Foundation. The only thing the stupid old man left me was this job. He wrote in his will that I had to run the Foundation, and I got the ‘privilege’ of earning a decent wage. And he knew what he was doing. He didn’t want me to have a cent of ‘his’ money. He wanted me to work for it.”

“That may be true in the beginning, but the board of directors has kept you on.”

“Because they know there’ll be legal challenges if they don’t. My father’s will directly states that I’m to be CEO of the Foundation and earn this wage. If not, the estate can withdraw their funding, and the money will go to another cause.”

“And who would choose that different cause?”

“The executor of the will.”

“Which, I assume, is you?”

“Correct.”

Hennessy glanced at Lockett. Their silent exchange was heavy with understanding. “When did you discover that some of the funds were missing?”

“When the police called me and said they were investigating Palin Accounting for fraud.”

“You didn’t notice it before then?”

“No!”

she snapped. “Why would I? That’s what I employed the accounting firm for. They even told me how much to pay and where to transfer it. I never had a reason not to trust them. I signed the checks, gave the money away, and moved on to the next thing. I didn’t have the time to waste on numbers and spreadsheets.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but Hennessy figured that was par for the course whenever Melissa was around. “Are you involved in the day-to-day activities of helping the children?”

“No. My job is to distribute the money to the children’s charities. I have nothing to do with them. I had one son who ended up being a drug addict, and that was enough dealing with children for me. My assistant, Maxine, deals with the day-to-day activities around here. She’s lovely but much too emotional.”

“And you don’t interact with the families or the children?”

“No.”

Hennessy looked at Lockett. They exchanged a nod.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Stevenson. You’ve been very helpful.”

Hennessy stood and shook her hand again. As he reached for the door, he turned back to her. “If you could receive more money from your father’s estate, would you claim that money?”

“Of course.”

She glared at Hennessy. “These little brats are getting my inheritance.”