Page 74 of The Big Puck

“Dad’s as computer illiterate as a monkey—no, I take that back. Monkeys know more than him about operating a computer.”

I look back at his desk. The computer’s screen is dark, but I notice a light blinking on the CPU. “I think he left his computer on and turned the monitor off.”

She snorts. “It wouldn’t surprise me. But honestly, I’d bet on the desk.”

“I checked it, but—wait a minute. He’s a sneaky guy, right?” She nods. “One of these drawers is smaller than the other on the inside when you pull it out. Do you suppose he might have a secret compartment?”

Her eyebrows go up, and she grins. “It would be exactly something he might have.”

Pulling the left drawer out again as far as it can go, I remove all the files, and kneeling on the carpet, I examine the back panel. “Well, what do you know… It looks like there’s a latch—” I pop it, and the false back panel slides open, revealing a neat stack of file folders.

“Score!” I stand with the pile of documents and lay them out on the desk. “I think we might have a hat trick here, T.” I hold up a folder labeled Partnership, then flip through the pages.

It’s the contract spelling out the terms of the deal her dad made with his silent partner. But that was the only document in the folders.

“Good, because there was nothing in the safe,” Tina says, her face all business now. I see a glimmer of her father in her, but I brush the impression aside. She’s not him. Not by a long shot.

Flipping through the partnership terms, I skim the pages and summarize the important bits. “It says your dad gets fifty percent ownership with the CEO responsibility, with the stipulation that he maintains a profit of ten percent the first year. There’s also a stipulation about charitable causes and minimums to be raised.”

“Then we definitely need the financial documents that include the initial costs,” she says.

“We’re still missing the NHL franchise documents.” I look around as if they’re going to pop up and present themselves to me.

Tina looks closer at the open desk drawer. “What’s that in the bottom of the drawer?” Tina reaches down in the drawer and pulls out a good old-fashioned flash drive.

I’m not much of a techy, but Tina knows her way around data, and we open some electronic files showing the financials—and how much money they’re losing money, and the projection is a loss of over a million dollars by the end of the year. Unless they do something drastic—like win the Stanley Cup. That income would save the team, but it’s a pipe dream, right?

How could he get away with losing a million dollars this year without the team going to his silent partner. “Something’s not making sense. We’re missing something,” I say, scrolling down the list of contents in the contract folder.

“How about this one? We haven’t looked at it yet, and I bet it’s important.” Tina taps her hot pink fingernail on the file named TS.

“Let’s take a look—but it’ll have to be quick.” I check the time on my phone. “Shit. We’re running out of time.” I check the NHL streaming app on my phone to see that we’re in the middle of the third period. “Shit. We have to get going.”

“Let’s print it out and take it with us.” She double-clicks the icon and sends the document to the printer. I spot the printer in the corner whirring to life, and I run over and gather the pages as they endlessly pour out of the machine, stuffing them into a manila envelope. Then I tuck them under my jersey inside the waistband of my jeans. “It’s a good thing I lost a few pounds recently.”

Tina throws herself at me in a hug. “You’re the best. Let’s get out of here.” She shuts the lights and pulls the door closed behind us, and then we run—fast—down the semi-dark hallway of the corporate offices to the elevators.

“Promise me you’ll have a lawyer look at the documents—for a professional opinion.”

“Where do I find a lawyer—one that doesn’t do business with Daddy?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find someone. Someone very trustworthy, who doesn’t know a thing about your father and will keep their mouth shut.” I think for a moment and wonder if there’s some rule about a lawyer being required to report a crime. “We’ll redact the documents first.”

“Redact? What does that mean?”

“We cross out all the names or identifying information so they won’t know who is involved.”

“Perfect.” We do a high five and giggle like guilty maniacs—at least my giggle is from guilt-nerves—as the elevator door dings open.

“One thing, Tina. Remember I said my motive is to help Spence?” She nods her head. “As soon as we get a legal opinion that shows a way your father can either be removed as CEO or is guilty of something, I’m going to Spence with it.”

“Honestly, I knew you would. I’m glad because I think he’ll be able to do something about Dad, and I don’t think I can.”

* * *

Back in our seats, I check the game highlights on the streaming app again and wave at Spence when he turns our way and notices us in our seats. Shit. He’s going to know we were gone because, despite his super hockey focus, he notices me. He watches out for me, and he likes that I’m here in the seats behind him. I can tell.

Chapter 27