The Paper Files
Jeffrey Grimyser
Rich came in for the all-staff meeting first, as always. He sat on one side of the conference table. He lurched over a chair, wrapping his long fingers around the headrest and glaring down with beady eyes, like a perched vulture.
Upon arriving, Gretchen crossed her arms, Gina checked her phone, and Pete pretended as if he wasn’t late. All three sat on the other side of the table. Anthony took the chair in the corner, beside the trash and recycling baskets. Detective Taylor stood behind Mr. Lee, at the center of the table.
“You’re all here, people,” Mr. Lee said, “because someone stole files from my office last night after I left.”
Rich clapped his hand over his mouth. The others stayed silent, except for Anthony, who gasped.
“I want them back, now,” Mr. Lee said. “Anyone know who did it?”
No one answered.
“So be it,” Mr. Lee said and turned around. “That’s why I hired her, Private Detective Taylor. You’re all going to sit with her and answer questions. Understood?”
Everyone mumbled “Yeah,” except for Rich who answered “Yes.” But they all inspected Detective Taylor, either with a direct frown or a side-eyed glance.
“Detective,” Mr. Lee said, “need anything before you start?”
“No,” Detective Taylor said.
“Good. Who goes first?”
“How about the order they came to this meeting?”
“Fine. And people, let me say this.” Mr. Lee pointed at everyone. “If I find out one of you is hiding something from me, even if you didn’t do anything, you’re getting fired too.”
Detective Taylor found Rich in his office with his back to the door. He was reclining in a leather chair, sipping carbonated mineral water, and reading a business management book.
“Mr. Rogers,” Detective Taylor said. “Please come with me.”
Rich scratched his neck, a nervous habit he’d developed as an unpopular teen, then followed her into the conference room.
Before sitting, Rich checked his watch and sighed. He was thin and big-nosed, with an Italian suit and curly wet hair and designer vintage glasses.
“How come you’re not upset by all this?” Detective Taylor said.
“I am upset,” Rich said, “that I am being interviewed by you, Miss.”
“It’s Detective Taylor. And from what Mr. Lee tells me, only you two have keys to the front door. That true?”
Rich smiled when he felt the keys in his pocket. “Would you like some of my homemade oatmeal cookies?” he said. “I must lose weight.”
Detective Taylor wiped her clammy forehead. Rich kept the room hot.
“Answer my question,” Detective Taylor said.
“No one to my knowledge,” Rich replied.
“Not the three associates or the assistant?”
“Again, no one to my knowledge.”
“Any other way inside the firm besides the front door?”
Rich rolled his eyes. “Perhaps someone teleported through the walls.”
“Mr. Rogers,” Detective Taylor said, “the theft occurred after the firm was closed, there’s one door, and only you and Mr. Lee had keys. Maybe you should start cooperating.”
Rich began to sweat. “Is there a question?”
“How could someone have gotten inside?”
“I am unsure, but then again, I lack the deductive reasoning training of a police detective. Are you not one?”
“Let’s back up,” Detective Taylor said. “Walk me through your day yesterday.”
“I opened the firm at 6 am and left at 5 pm.”
“And last night?”
“I was rehearsing for a play. I am Hamlet, the lead, if you are unaware.”
“And after?”
“My wife and I went out for white truffle pasta.” Rich rubbed his forehead. “Would you like her number to confirm my whereabouts?”
“No. So the next time you came back to the office was 6 am this morning?”
“Correct. The associates might require extra time to complete their work, but I do not.”
Detective Taylor examined her notes. “What would happen if Mr. Lee’s files were never found?”
“He may have trouble retaining his clients. Mr. Lee preferred to keep paper documents, despite my advice.”
“What if he loses too many clients?”
“Perhaps he might retire. He is of that age. But that would be a worst-case scenario.”
“Okay. Let’s say that happens. What happens to the firm’s profits?”
“They would be divested to any remaining partners.”
“How many are there besides him?”
“Only me,” Rich said.
“So that’s pretty good for you, isn’t it?”
“No. Your scenario implies a loss for the firm, of which I own 25 percent.”
“Is it true Mr. Lee is the founding partner and you’re just the junior?”
“I believe you know the answer to that question.”
“You two ever disagree over how to run the firm?”
“No. He and I may have discussions about how to increase our profits, but a discussion is not a disagreement.”
Detective Taylor nodded. Rich smirked as if saying, nice try.
“Detective, my current possession of the keys is circumstantial evidence.” Rich steepled his fingers. “Do you have anything else to support what is obviously an allegation of my guilt?”
“Hm. That sounds like deductive reasoning. I don’t think I have the training for that.”
“I did not take Mr. Lee’s files. He is like a father to me. That will become abundantly clear to you once you begin your investigation.”
“What should I investigate then?”
“Gretchen. She has always carried a vendetta against me. Interrogate her.”
Gretchen was by far the oldest associate and looked it, with a wrinkled face that only seemed to grimace and dyed black hair that didn’t hide white roots. In her black jacket, shirt, pants, and boots, she sat in the conference room without saying hello or making eye contact.
“I heard Rich stole the files,” Gretchen said.
“There’s a rumor about it?” Detective Taylor said.
“I don’t like rumors.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me where you were last night?”
“Not here.”
“Where then?”
“I don’t have to answer that,” Gretchen said. “You’re not a cop. You can’t file criminal charges.”
“Well, Mr. Lee hired me to investigate.”
“If Mr. Lee wants to know about my personal life, then he can ask me himself. All you need to know is that I was with two friends who can verify, if necessary.”
Detective Taylor sat down. “Why would Rich steal the files? He’s a partner, so wouldn’t that hurt him too?”
Gretchen snickered. “Rich gets more control.”
“Care to explain?”
“Losing the files makes Mr. Lee look incompetent. His clients will likely get new representation. Rich then has more of the firm’s clients. Hence, more control.”
“But there’s a huge risk if Mr. Lee finds out.”
“Which is why I bet Rich is pissed you’re here.”
The corner of Gretchen’s mouth raised slightly.
“What do you think of Mr. Lee?” Detective Taylor said.
“He stays out of my way.”
“And Rich?”
“The opposite. Everything is about him. He thinks clients love his charm. It’s actually because we’re the only firm in town.”
“Could you see someone else stealing the files?”
“Maybe Gina. She argues with Rich about the firm’s expenses. We’ve all heard it.”
“Would you benefit if Rich were gone?”
“No,” Gretchen said. “I’m 64. I’ll never make partner.”
“Maybe there’s no financial reason, but what about personally if you knew Rich would get blamed for it?”
“Says the younger woman.” Gretchen looked at Detective Taylor for the first time. “You know how much harder I’ve had to work than the average man? How often I’ve been talked down to because of my gender? How many times they’ve been promoted over me for no reason? Every step of my career. But you know what’s not happening? Me losing my damn retirement benefits.”
After a moment, Gretchen said, “Are we done? You and I both have work to do.”
The firm had no cameras but an alarm system for the front door. The unusual thing Detective Taylor noticed was the only person who ever logged into the system was Gina, an associate, not Mr. Lee.
Detective Taylor pulled out a chair but Gina refused to sit. She was a short woman with a layered bob, a crimson suit, white heels, and a beautiful yet fake smile. She was a pleasure to look at, at least.
“Have you contacted the authorities?” Gina said. “Our firm will be damaged if you do.”
“That’s your primary concern?” Detective Taylor said.
“Money? Yes. It’s why I assume someone would do your job.”
“What time did you finish working yesterday and what were—”
“My activities after?” Gina said. “I left at 5 pm and then I went rollerblading with my family.”
“Tell me about them.”
“I have four kids, a stay-at-home husband, and his two elder parents living with us. I also have a dog if you’re interested.”
“Seems like quite a household to support.”
Gina tapped her nails on the table. “It is,” she said.
“You’re in charge of the firm’s security?”
“Yes. And I’ve told Rich many times to spend more on it, instead of gifts for clients, but that’s all he cares about.”
“And the alarm never went off last night?”
“Yes. I checked it this morning.”
“Anyone else understand IT around here besides you?”
“Pete. He somehow logs in remotely to make it look like he’s working from home when he’s not. He’s fishy like that.”
“What do you think of Mr. Lee?” Detective Taylor said.
“He’s a smart businessman, building this firm from the ground up. It’s more than I can say for others.”
“That a reference to Rich?”
“No, I was just speaking generally. But Rich does act like he owns the place, even though he became partner only six months ago.”
“Is he good at his job?”
“He works hard, but he spends all the firm’s capital on gobbling up local clients, sometimes even Mr. Lee’s. I want to expand.”
“Sounds like you and Rich have a—”
Gina stopped tapping. Her face turned bright red. “Detective,” she said with a frown. “I want to become a partner, not piss one off.”
“Okay, Gina. You can go.”
“I hope this was as pleasurable for you as it was for me.”
“Why were you at the firm after hours yesterday?” Detective Taylor said.
“Whoa, whoa,” Pete said. “I was finishing up a case.”
“And then what’d you do next?”
“I’d rather not say.” Pete’s eyes shifted around. He didn’t look like much with floppy gray hair, a polo covering a belly, jeans, brown tennis shoes, and sleepy eyes. But the firm’s timesheets showed that he, an associate, was the last to clock out yesterday.
“Look,” Detective Taylor leaned closer and said, “whoever stole the files might get arrested. If you were somewhere else, it’s in your best interest to tell me.”
“All right, man, relax. I went to a dispensary. That’s it.”
“Can anyone validate that for you?”
“Not really, I guess,” Pete said. “But I for sure wasn’t here when the files were stolen.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I love Mr. Lee. He tell you about all the times him and me got beers?”
“Listen, Pete, you seem like a nice guy, but you were the last one in the building. So, and think clearly before answering this, did you notice anything unusual at the office yesterday?”
“Sorry, I just did my job and went home, you know?”
Detective Taylor dropped her notepad on the table, which startled Pete.
“So who could’ve stolen the files?” Detective Taylor said.
“I don’t know.”
“Take a guess.”
“All right, if I had to pick someone, I’d say Rich. Probably.”
“Why?”
“He was the only one with keys and he’s like always trying to steal clients.”
“Is Rich too demanding?”
“I guess a bit, but he’s not too bad. May I ask, why you ask?”
Detective Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Yeah, I didn’t do it. If you think I did, you must be missing something, no offense.”
“And what might that be?”
Pete shrugged. “Isn’t that like your job?”
In his cubicle, Anthony, the office assistant, was stapling papers and humming to an old radio. He was a small, shy, patchy bearded young man who had on what looked like hand-me-down clothing. Minutes ago, Rich had told Anthony to call in his lunch order.
“Simple question to start,” Detective Taylor said. “Where were you last night?”
“I’ll tell you, ma’am,” Anthony said, “but please don’t repeat this to anyone.”
Detective Taylor nodded.
“I was at a boy bar. I’m gay,” Anthony said while slouching. “But no one here knows that, and I’m afraid Rich might say something . . . He’s made comments before.”
“Understood. Tell me about the associates.”
Anthony gave his thoughts. About Gretchen: “She knows everyone’s secrets.” About Gina: “She’ll tell off anyone.” About Pete: “He does only the minimum.”
“You think any of them stole the files?” Detective Taylor said.
“Possibly. But, and I’m just a secretary, but I don’t think they become partners if that happens, right?”
“What about if one of them wanted to frame Rich?”
“Uh, I’d say no.”
“Why?”
“If Rich gets fired, the firm loses money. Then Gretchen’s retirement benefits would get delayed, no way Gina would make partner anymore, and Pete would have to take on some of Rich’s workload.”
“So you must think Rich stole the files?”
Anthony checked the door.
“You can be honest with me,” Detective Taylor said.
After a moment, Anthony said with a lowered voice, “Yes.”
“Because it only helps him?”
“Yes. Either Mr. Lee quits because he loses his clients and Rich is the only partner, or Mr. Lee stays and fires Rich but then he’s got the files to steal Mr. Lee’s clients.”
“That’s a bold accusation.”
“Rich always thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, trust me . . . Heck, he even calls me stupid to my face. And I know he feels that way about Mr. Lee too.”
“Interesting. Rich referred to Mr. Lee as a father figure. That’s not how you see their relationship?”
Anthony sniggered. “Not exactly.” He pointed at the firm’s ‘Lee & Associates’ logo on the conference table. “Rich might like Mr. Lee as a person, but he’ll stop at nothing to get his name here.”
“What happens to you if Rich gets fired?”
“My goodness. I can’t even imagine. There’d be so much extra work to do, like start a hiring search, answer questions from clients, advertise to stop any bad press. I’m begging you, please find Mr. Lee’s files.”
Suddenly the conference door burst open. Rich was standing there. “Printer is jammed again,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers,” Anthony said and rushed out of the conference room.
Rich walked over to Detective Taylor. “The investigation is coming to a close soon, I hope,” he said.
“It’s ongoing,” she said and hid her notebook.
“Indeed. Though I must tell you, as the associates’ boss, I could be quite the judge of character for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you please.”
Anthony returned, and Rich left without thanking him.
“A few more questions,” Detective Taylor said. “You notice anything unusual this morning?”
“Mr. Lee’s door was open when I arrived,” Anthony said.
“Okay. Last one. Is there another way inside besides the front door? Maybe a back door? Or an opening to the roof?”
“Sorry, but that’s the only entrance.”
Mr. Lee entered the conference room with Rich, looking sullen and nervous. Mr. Lee told Detective Taylor he wanted to ask a few questions himself.
“Rich,” Mr. Lee said, “what did you do yesterday, moment by moment, from the start of your day until the end?”
For fifteen minutes, Mr. Lee grilled Rich. His answers were essentially the same as those given to Detective Taylor, except for one detail: after leaving the office last night for rehearsal, Rich had returned because he’d forgotten his cell phone.
“Do you have anything against how I run this firm?” Mr. Lee said.
“What?” Rich said. “No, of course not.”
“Do you agree with how I spend our money?”
“Yes, Mr. Lee.”
“Even the golfing with my clients?”
“The goal is to keep them happy,” Rich said while scratching his neck. “You taught me that.”
“Answer my question.”
“I would say our resources could be better spent elsewhere. However, you cannot possibly think that this would lead me to steal your files. Your loss would be mine. You must see that.”
Detective Taylor stood and asked, “How come you didn’t notice the door to Mr. Lee’s office was open this morning?”
Rich glared at her.
“Good point,” Mr. Lee said. “It might not have a lock, but I make sure to close it every night.”
“I don’t know,” Rich said. “But honestly, why would I ever notice that? My job is to manage clients, not doors.”
“Maybe,” Mr. Lee said, “but someone’s at fault for this, and that someone will pay.”
Rich stepped forward, so Detective Taylor was behind him. “Mr. Lee,” Rich whispered, “are you truly alleging I did this? There’s no tape, no witnesses, no fingerprints. Not to mention, if I had wanted to steal from you, I could have done it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Why now?”
“Richard,” Mr. Lee said, “sit.”
Mr. Lee waited until Rich sat.
“Now,” Mr. Lee said, “do you have any evidence to show you’re innocent?”
“How can I prove something I was not involved with?” Rich said.
“Others seem to think you did it.”
“That’s because the associates want me fired. It’s a conspiracy.”
“A what?”
“Think about it,” Rich said. “Gretchen is half my age, I will not let Gina diversify us, and I actually hold Pete accountable. They all have a reason to do this because I am a partner and they are not.”
Mr. Lee leaned back in his chair. “I guess then the only thing left to do is to ask the expert.”
“But no evidence has been brought against me. Where is the due process?”
“I don’t need due process,” Mr. Lee said. “I hired her instead of calling the police so I could figure out who did this and immediately fix the problem myself.”
“But this is my livelihood you’re talking about,” Rich said.
Mr. Lee slapped his desk. “No, these are my case files I’m talking about!”
Rich looked away but shook his head.
“Now then,” Mr. Lee said. “Detective Taylor, what is your final conclusion?”
Detective Taylor reviewed her notes. In theory, the files could have been stolen by Gretchen out of revenge, Gina out of greed, or Pete out of fear, but these were just theories. The strongest evidence was still who had keys to get into the firm. And now, with Rich lying about returning to the office, she was convinced.
“Well,” Detective Taylor said, “my best educated guess is—”
“See?” Rich said. “This is not a jury deciding guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. This is merely a best educated guess.”
“Dammit, Richard, shut it.” Mr. Lee took a deep breath. “Detective Taylor, your best educated guess?”
“The evidence points towards only one person,” Detective Taylor said. “Richard Rogers.”
“No,” Rich screamed.
“Then it’s settled,” Mr. Lee said.
“Who the hell is this woman?” Rich shouted. “Look at her. She has a coffee stain on her blouse. She has shown me no credentials, no expertise in anything. But yet she decides the entire fate of my career?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mr. Lee said coldly. “I just wanted to confirm.”
For several seconds, Mr. Lee stared at Rich and Rich stared at Mr. Lee.
“I didn’t fricking do it!” Rich yelled and stormed out of Mr. Lee’s office, slamming the door shut.
“Get back here!” Mr. Lee yelled and rushed after him, throwing the door into the doorstop.
Anthony peaked into the conference room. “Is it over?” he said.
“As far as I know,” Detective Taylor replied. “All I do is I give my opinion.”
“Do you enjoy doing this?”
“Only when I get it right.”
Rich was besmirching everything as he packed up his belongings. Everyone eavesdropped from their offices, except for Anthony, who offered to carry documents for Rich.
When Rich entered the hallway, Mr. Lee was waiting.
“I cannot believe you are doing this to me,” Rich said with watery eyes. “After all the profit I generated, all the meetings I covered for you, to get labeled a thief?”
Mr. Lee motioned towards the front door. Rich threw his keys at Mr. Lee’s feet. Mr. Lee puffed out his chest and rested his hands on his hips. Rich stomped ahead and ripped the door open, setting off the alarm.
“Now it works?” Rich said, with tears falling. “This piece of crap goes off now?”
“Get out,” Mr. Lee said. “I never want to see you again, unless you’re in a jail cell.”
Rich slowly turned around.
“You undeserving, lazy half-wit,” Rich said. “You will see me in court as I take all this firm is worth, which, by the way, is mostly because of me!”
Rich shouted obscenities until he was inside his SUV. He skidded out of the parking lot.
As Anthony picked up the keys and handed them to Mr. Lee, Detective Taylor noticed a hop to Anthony’s step. But then again, Gretchen was smirking, Gina was smiling, and Pete was giggling.
Eventually the associates finished their work and left for the day. Anthony and Mr. Lee were cleaning up Rich’s office when Detective Taylor knocked.
“Do you think I did the right thing?” Mr. Lee said.
“Morality is beyond my pay grade,” Detective Taylor said.
“Fair enough. Say, before I get my checkbook, you mind if I recycle some stationery? I can’t stand seeing Rich’s name on our letterhead.”
Detective Taylor followed Mr. Lee into the mechanical closet. He slid the stationery into the slot of the locked bin.
“How often does that get emptied?” Detective Taylor said.
“Every Wednesday morning,” Mr. Lee said.
It was Wednesday.
“So,” she said, “someone takes the bin outside, unlocks it, and gives the confidential papers to a waste management company?”
“Pretty much.”
“And who has a key to do that?”
“Just me and Anthony,” Mr. Lee said. “Why?”
Detective Taylor couldn’t believe it. She’d let her disdain for Rich deceive her. The files hadn’t been stolen. They’d been destroyed.
The closet door creaked open. A sneering head poked in. It was Anthony.
