Skunk's Revenge

"I don't care what you say, the law firm of Dew, Ditch, and Plant will not be associated with an account for a wine producer which uses a skunk on it's label!" Robert Dew rarely lost his temper, but his son was pushing him to the limit.

"But the quality of their product is not the issue." Brian Dew knew his father could be persuaded to take the case if only he could find the right argument.

"Then exactly what is the issue?"

"For starters, there's the matter of the way the firm has been hemorrhaging money. If we don't put a bandaid on our expenses, we may as well close the offices and run away to join the circus."

The elder Dew let a grimace of pain cross his face. People who did not know him as well as his son might have thought it was a strange grin, but Brian knew his father was not inclined to grin, especially when the firm's finances were being discussed.

Robert Dew studied Brian's face as he considered his words. Part of him found the idea of running away to a circus very enticing. When he was a youngster, he had spent a summer visiting his grandfather on his farm. He found the time he spent with the animals relaxing, especially when he was allowed to groom his grandfather's prize stallion, Blacky. Maybe he could get a job taking care of a giraffe. Or, he could always go to clown college and hide behind the grease paint and red, rubber nose. No, with his luck, he would end his first day feeling the fangs of a tiger sinking into his neck.

"Alright, Brian. Get that pencil pushing accountant in here and let's see if we can figure out how to use a skunk to subtract some of the red ink from out books."

When William Bone entered the office, Robert Dew looked like he had just eaten something that didn't agree with him. He hated the obese accountant, and bile rose in his mouth as he watched the man open his laptop and finger the keyboard as he brought up a spreadsheet.

"Excuse me a moment." Brian watched his father leave his desk and go into his small private bathroom. Minutes later, familiar sounds could be heard. His father had been so upset by the whole situation he had to gargle to clear the bad taste from his mouth. He deserved a badge of honor for the way he refrained from firing the obnoxious accountant.

Brian had spent the last two years working side by side with his father in the corporate law firm his great grandfather had founded. Over the years, other partners had added their names to the door, but even though the name remained, only Dew still came to the office every day. That was one of the reasons the firm was in trouble. The semi-retired partners were still drawing their percentages, but Robert Dew couldn't bill enough hours to pay the overhead. Very slowly, they were going bankrupt.

The wine account would be financially substantial. Brian knew once his father saw the numbers, he would let himself be convinced the account wouldn't detract from the firm's reputation.

Mr. Bones had the spreadsheet on the screen when the senior Dew returned to the office. He placed the laptop on the desk, swiveling it so the older man could see the mass of numbers. Robert Dew sat in his chair, the laptop centered in front of him on his huge mahogany desk. Mr. Bones stood to his right; his body pressing so close the other man felt he was being suffocated. If the man weren't the son-in-law of Carlisle Ditch, another senior partner, he would have been terminated years ago. As it was, Ditch insisted he be kept on the payroll, paying his salary out of his own pocket.

"Brian, explain this to me." Brian moved around to his father's left side, ignoring Bones who seemed to want to reach for the laptop himself. Brian pulled the computer closer and studied the screen carefully. It had been a long time since he had studied accounting, but he thought he could handle it.

Everything looked just like Bones had explained it to him. As he pointed out various expenses to his father, explaining the increases in certain areas, the minor decreases in others, he couldn't help but notice the sums the semi-retired senior partners were drawing each month.

"Mr. Bones, I'm sure we can handle this on our own. Why don't you go back to your office. We'll call if we have any questions." Brian wanted to get the man out of the office before his father exploded.

"But, my laptop!" The man looked flustered.

"Take an early lunch. You can stop back for it later." Richard Dew didn't care where the man went as long as he went.

When Bones had left the office, Brian clicked a key on the computer, bringing up another screen, this one showing the yearly expenditures rather than the monthly statement. As his father watched dumbfounded, Brian clicked through screen after screen, making notes on a legal pad, his fingers moving faster and faster as he worked.

"Dad, I think we can forget the skunk, and I think I can offer you another surprise, too."

"What is it? What did you find?" For the first time in a long time, Richard Dew looked alive.

"I'm not absolutely certain, but if I'm reading these numbers correctly, your favorite account has been working with his father-in-law to rip off the firm to the tune of almost $10,000 a month, and it's been going on for the last eight months, maybe longer."

"Son, I think it's time to call the auditors. Then get me Personnel. I want Bones out of here before he comes back from lunch. And while you're at it, give our lawyers a call. While the prosecuting attorney is sending those two to prison, I think we'll be filing a civil suit against Ditch and Bones."

"Right away, Dad." Brian reached for the phone but was stopped by his father.

"And son, when you finish all that, see if you can find someone who can sell us a circus."