2020-07-17 - No Accounting for Taste

If you got some time after this, pencil me in, Rhys had said, and now that 'class' is dismissed and Pez has been duly and more respectfully than generally eaten and the gym has emptied out, the accountant's hung back to snag Joey for that discussion. In private. Not that he doesn't trust all the various underlings, but information's meant to flow upward from the others and then out as appropriate, not everywhere willy nilly where you don't know who might do what with it. ...and also he doesn't trust all the various underlings. Not with a rival organization trying to move in on them.

Joey nods Rhys to follow him noting he's got things for him to take back with him anyways. "Yeah I have a drop off and didn't want to move it through Dahlia. Then Felix has to come back out here and I'd rather shit just get deposited for his sake. You good with that cause I'l let him know we took care of it." Into the back he goes to the boiler room/interrogation space/makeshift apartment of sorts when he's too tired to head home.

The shower curtain in drop shower #2 is nothing more than cinder block painted and sealed in the way they did in the '40's. It's not glorious but it's also not used for a shower either. The safe he uses for other business is there, and laying a hand on it he tells it to open. The door yawns just slightly and two fingers swing it open. Inside are bags, books, a couple guns. Things he needs. He crouches and goes through what he's looking for. "talk to me, Rhys."

"'course," Rhys replies, with a small shrug, "and I'll let him know too, if I see him first." If the casino's not on today's agenda, it's almost certainly on tomorrow's. He follows on back easily enough, a comfortable stroll, eating another piece of Pez on the way. Weirdly moreish, that stuff. Even without a dispenser.

He's seen that shower and its contents before more than once, so little note's taken of anything but whether there've been changes; he's seen the safe used as well, but while the contents are usual, the method... the method always feels... weird. Somehow it slips his mind between times, but seeing it again, feeling that faint sense of something maybe being somehow off, reminds him that it's been that way before. It makes his brow furrow a bit before he shakes his head and shakes it off. "Never worry someone else's gonna get into that thing?" he asks, conversational. He knows Joey wouldn't be careless with Felix's money, after all. But it's still a bit confounding to see it open with no apparent deference to the combination.

It is, however, not the point here, in any case. He leans up lightly against the wall, watching Joey poke through things, and absently eating another Pez. Orange. "Revenue's dropping," he says, flatly. "And taking a look, well, we've got some naughtiness developing," he continues, lifting a brow. "People we're protecting trying to hide that they're not paying us their whole share. Importers 'losing' more product than fits the predictive margin. You know the sort of thing." He shakes his head. Really, people ought to know better, right? And everything's just nicer when all he has to deal with is math.

"So I followed the money. Like ya do. And I found me." A tiny pause. "Well, I found what I'm pretty sure's someone's me-equivalent, anyway. Her name's Annabelle Trudeau. Tax accountant. Moved here about half a year ago -- which is slightly less long ago than when I figure things started, by the way. Small and subtle, fitting within the margins 'til recently, or I'd have seen it sooner." He's still faintly annoyed not to have, but... income fluctuates. Patterns take time to form.

Joey arches an eyebrow "No one's making it a foot from my safe and still breathing after." The implication is he will shoot first and work out why while dumping the body later. He brings the large sum over the desk, pulls out the chair hooking his ankle around the chair and pulling, and sits. The deposit bag is unzipped and the sums taken out and recounted with Rhys to go through it. He loves protocol on a clean hand off. Keeps assumptions out of the equation.

"Naughtiness? I am guessing we ain't talking nuns with dirty bibles." He lets Rhys continue narrowing his eyes a bit. There's a vague nod indicating he's following while running off stacks while counting. "Alright. First thing we do is make a list of who these people specifically are." Looking up to Rhys he says flatly, "Good job. what took you so long?" knowing damn well he already put them on a list they do not want to be on. Rhys is proactive like that. "Let's get on them. The time of leniency is done. I'm a give this list to a couple people I trust on this. Let them know bullshit day is over."

With a sigh he asks, "What do we know about her? You have ID scanning at the Casino. You use it to try to ID her at all? Record? Anything?"

Oh yes, there's a list, all right. Rhys could almost certainly recite it right here and now, and for a moment looks as though he might -- but the details of that side can wait a moment. He's claimed his seat as well, pulling a pair of very thin gloves from his rear pocket and drawing them on before getting to counting cash. Fast and accurate, unsurprisingly like someone who's done this plenty of times before. He has his method. It barely takes any brain cycles.

"Couldn't find a pencil," he replies promptly for what-took-so-long, and nods once at the assertion that bullshit day is done. "Good. 'cause aside from owing us money, seems to me they owe us some information. This isn't just spontaneous greed. So they know shit they should be letting us know, too. I want to know the who and the when and the how, what angle've these assholes been taking with them?"

Neat stack to the side, next instantly forming. "Annabelle Trudeau," he says, and rattles off a string of little facts -- age, place of birth, current address, degrees, length of practice, and the like. "Not a spot on her record. Just like mine. No run ins with law enforcement, no serious debts, no drug habits, no gambling addictions as far as I can see. Divorced; husband and one son up in Vancover. As far as any record out there I can access, very ordinary. Very, very ordinary. Except that she showed up here half a year ago and half her local client list could catch a subway from their front door. The overlap with that list we're gonna be dealing with isn't just statistically significant, it's statistically striking."

His fingertips tap twice atop the stack he sets aside next, before he moves on. "I think we should get some eyes on her. Subtle and competent. And I'd personally like to get my hands on her files, preferably without her knowing about it, but I don't think we've got a suitable specialist right now." Annoyingly. "A quiet break-in and cloning her drives might work; slightly risky given I don't know how she has things set up. Regardless: she's a source of data, and I lean toward getting what we can without any of them knowing she's been spotted, to start with."

Joey listens and nods slowly. When Rhys gets up to cloning her drives Joey pauses and looks to him. "We are not going to build a robot to spy on her. That's not how drones work." And Joey is clearly not up on how computers work. With a sigh he says, "Can't we get a hacker to look at it and...hack?" Aggravatingly, they are on the same page.

He makes a mark in his ledger considering the hurdles. He pauses and looks to Rhys, blinks, and asks, "That Mac chick. The one Sparrow worked for that does the game shop that's now an ashtray. I dunno how good with computers she is but if I remember correctly might be damn good or might know someone." There's the businessman in him thinking. "We could give her an offer. She helps us get this information and when we collect we can have them pay back what insurance isn't covering on her store, blah blah blah lost wages and what have you because that's a shit thing to do. Really put her out for no fucking good reason and Sparrow says she's cool. I mean if we're gonna be taking back all our shit from these fuckers seems fair we steal back what they took from her. Should cover payment for helping us out. After? She walks free and clear. She wants to stay on? Eeeeh we'll move forward then."

Crime: Helping support the community. Don't ask how.

Rhys pauses, blinking once at Joey, then grins, shaking his head. "Not what I meant. Cloning a drive involves a human going in, hands on, and copying the entire drive to another one. Then bringing it back to me. Unless it's me doing it." But there's better people they know for a little light burglary these days. "Though now that you mention it, I wonder if we could make decent use of drones for keeping an eye on people from a distance. Possibly item transport. Hmm..." But that's not the current issue, really, and the hacker remark gets a sigh out of him, too. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking'd be ideal, but I don't think we still have one, do we? Competent and trustworthy doesn't grow on trees."

He's quiet for a good portion of a stack after Joey makes his suggestion, turning it over in his head. "I dunno if she hacks or she's just good at video games. First thing to find out, I guess. If she does... hm. Pretty decent offer, and if her insurance wasn't entirely shit, might work out mathematically. Gives her a chance to get back at the assholes probably behind it, that'd be enticing to me. Probably help if we can show the connection, though." A tiny pause, and sighs, "Which having the files might do, depending, but we're in the wrong order there. Bigger problem, any of us know her well enough to make the offer? Sparrow would, but I don't really want her any closer to any of this shit than knowing us makes her."

Tap tap, set aside, start again. He looks a bit pensive. "Haven't exactly mentioned the less standard parts of my job descriptions. When I was asking her what the cops wanted from Mac, I got the feeling she may've started wondering a bit. Not ideal." He's already passed on what she had to say, which alas wasn't really more than before: two cops, looking for info on some guy, Mac didn't say who. That she might ask her. And that of her options she'd definitely prefer gym receptionist, thanks. "I could probably make a good case to Mac, but so far staying fairly low-key is useful." Then again... having a hacker would be too. He hasn't ruled it out.

Joey considers this math and nods slowly. Joey's not an idiot, but he lacks knowledge in a lot of areas which is why he knows who to go to. The details on Mac, Sparrow, the cops and all get mulled over. Finally he crawls in that thoughtful gravely tone,

"Tell her you know someone interested. As a casino owner upset by... such bad publicity you have a vested interest in aiding the apprehension of this person and as a concerned citizen and shit you give a shit her little shop was torched." He pauses and lets that green-glass stare put a hole of unspoken things on the number cruncher. "It should. Your city falls apart your revenue goes with it. You have to take care of your city." Criminal gangster 101. "I learned that from playing the Sims." Sort of. "And like every Jack Nicholsen film ever. So, reach out. See what we got. Even if she facilitates this? No skin off our nose how much the enemies lose. Fuck em. They're not talking away from this one anyways."

"Well, I do," Rhys says, shrugging faintly. "Like I told Sparrow, someone's in our territory, messing with our people, I'm pissed about it, and I want to find out who and why and how best to make them fuck off. Which is 100 percent true." One could argue it's not the whole truth, but it is nothing but the truth. Still, there's benefits to his relatively low profile, as there are to Joey's relatively higher one, and he doesn't take the trade-offs of potential adjustments there lightly.

He doesn't disagree one bit that they have to take care of their city, though. Gray Harbor is a well-balanced ecosystem, threatened by an invasive species. "I'll think on how exactly to handle it. But it's not a bad angle. If I can't sort out a decent framing here I'm really getting out of practice, I guess." Might be less fun than usual at present, though. A small pause, thumb brushing the edge of a stack to double-check it, "...yeah. I'll see about sounding her out." It sounds a bit as though some thoughts on his direction for it might be coalescing.

"Meanwhile.... who do we want watching the accountant? Phone records might be interesting. We could probably use a more specialised -- or I guess maybe I mean less specialised -- investigator than me taking a look at her." He knows a lot of people with knowledge and access in places he doesn't too, it's true, but leaving the lead to Joey on HR decisions here is a matter of respect. ...and practicality, given he doesn't necessarily know everything everyone's already been told to do.

Joey slides the portion of the pile over to Rhys. the drop off, and whatever he trusts the man not to fuck up. He's the money guy for two fine reasons. Tired, Joey runs the plan through his head and nods slowly. "Well I know you'll make the a call that's right at the time. What I'm letting you know is what options we're prepared to back and make good on if it comes to it. But yeah. Do that." There's a pause and the expression looks wryly amused, "What do you think we have you for? You understand the accounting. Now if you have someone you want trailing her physically? We can look into that. Honestly? Tor might be the best one. He's young and is a delivery guy. He is easily overlooked and can get in and out of about anywhere we need him to. Talk to him."

Rhys gives a small nod to the bit about backing options, an acknowledgement; the bit about what they have him for gets a light, similarly-amused snort, as he starts packing up the counted and verified cash. "Yeah, I mean physically. If we've got anyone who's gonna give me a run for my literal money on tracing transactions, they're hiding it pretty decent. But I don't have time to play stalker like in high school these days." Still a certain amount of 'courier', maybe, but that's the last remnant of his original slate of duties. Tor was only a year or two behind him in school, and all the town's less upstanding families have at least a passing acquaintance. Hell, almost all the town's families of any stature, really. It gets another nod. "He should do, yeah. I'll hit him up."

Joey stands taking the rest of the bankroll with him to put back in the safe. A hand slaps Rhys on the back and while it's not large like Andre's it's solid like an affectionate gesture from a block of concrete. "Yeah, he came through for me when I was being held at PD. If we can get him opportunity? Fuck. I like em. Let's make that happen. Good for relations with his family though too. Either way? It's right in his wheelhouse. Keep me posted." There that's easier than advertised. Sort of.

Rhys may be better-built than he looks at a glance, but he's still not a large man, and that solid thunk of the hand rattles him a bit physically, though not emotionally. He laughs once, and zips the bag, peeling the gloves off and secreting them into his back pocket again. "Plan, then. I'll let you know how things go. Let me know when you run into anything interesting, yeah?" When, not if. This town doesn't lend itself to 'if'. Especially right now.

But it's their town, regardless, and damned if some upstart outsiders are gonna waltz in and take it without a fight.