The Planner Trilogy

By James Knaus

Investment advisor Tim Barnett gets more involved in helping the authorities nab some bad guys than he anticipated, encountering tasks beyond his usual expertise. His romantic interests, likewise, shift in unexpected ways as he wrestles with ethical dilemmas in each segment of a trilogy. From corrupt city officials to untraceable drugs to murderous teens, Tim is enmeshed in activities he somehow escapes, mostly unharmed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781684981137

Book preview

Graft

The Incident

Gliding across I-96 in mid-Michigan in his silver Lexus, Tim winced as he reflected on his most recent challenge. His financial-planning practice had flourished under his direction, growing to a solid team of six professionals and three staff persons. Yet he felt extremely uncomfortable with a potentially huge new investment management account.

Tim Barnett and his company, Matrix Advantage Advisors, prepared comprehensive financial plans for a fee and managed investment portfolios, also on a fee basis. The company enjoyed a sterling reputation in the upscale suburb of Bloomfield Hills. But now, he was troubled by a confluence of events that tempted his pristine ethics.

Mostly lost in thought on this sunny and warm day in May, Tim hadn’t paid attention to his speed. The red flasher on the Michigan State Police car snapped him back.

License and registration, sir.

Tim produced the documents almost mechanically.

Sir, do you know how fast you were going?

No, sir, haven’t got a clue. Totally distracted.

Step out of the car and put your hands on the top of your balding head, smart-ass! insisted the cop.

I’m sorry, sir, did I offend you in some way?

Yeah, ninety-two in a seventy is beyond offensive, the officer retorted abrasively.

Now Tim began to feel his composure slip as he carefully and softly said, Precisely what species of insect crawled up your ass this morning?

All right, hands behind your back! I’m cuffin’ your skinny wrists!

Tim retreated vocally, saying, Sir, let’s work something out here. I’ve been engrossed in thought—business crap, you know…

Are you trying to bribe me? The officer placed the cuffs on Tim with a metallic crackle.

No, sir, that’s not it at all. I thought we could discuss it so you’d have a better perspective.

Directly challenging Tim again, the cop asked, Have you been drinking?

No, sir, haven’t had a drink for over twenty years, Tim responded somewhat proudly.

You’re coming to the station. We’re going to administer some tests.

At the state police post, Tim—wondering what in hell was going on—underwent blood, urine, and breathalyzer tests—all negative. His background check came up clean. He sat and waited for about fifteen minutes, alone, anxious to be released.

I’m officer Jane Paletz. You’re free to go. I’ll take you back to your vehicle.

Where’s the guy? Officer…

Officer Stupak. He’s back on patrol. I’ll get you back.

Ma’am, do you mind telling me what this was all about?

We thought you might have been someone else. Our mistake.

What about the speeding ticket?

Officer Stupak just gave you a warning. Slow it down, sir.

On the way back to his Lexus, Tim graded Officer Paletz 7 on the 10-point scale. Probably forty years old, about five years younger. Cute, no ring. Decent eye contact.

Tim interrupted a bit of silence, I’d like to send Stupak a note. What’s the address?

You don’t want to do that, sir.

Actually I do. I want him to know his attitude sucks. And I’ll leave it at that. I don’t want to go higher, just let him know I thought he was over the top.

I’ll tell him. Skip the letter. Jane smiled somewhat coyly.

And how can I be assured he gets the message? Should I follow up with you?

You can call me, and I’ll tell you his reaction. Here’s my card. Fair enough?

Tim glanced at the card.

Jane Paletz

Special Officer

Michigan State Police

Lansing Post 11

7119 N. Canal Rd.

Lansing, MI 48913

[phone]

Fair enough, on the condition you have coffee with me, Tim said softly.

Jane smiled and looked at Tim. I know you’re single, Tim—a widower. I checked the file. Let me think about it.

Tim felt a sensation he hadn’t experienced for years, not really sexual but a mild palpitation of sorts, as if he were at a high school dance. He was ready to reconnect.

Now back in his Lexus, Tim again pondered his dilemma. Do I keep my purely ethical business model or switch to the dark side? And I thought pay-to-play referred to inadequate funding for school sports!

Pay-to-play had been endemic in the city of Detroit, and many observers suspected rampant corruption; but up to that point, nothing had surfaced to implicate anyone. Now Tim had a chance to manage several million dollars of retirement funds.

There’s no net cost to me to pay to play, he muttered to himself.

The Retirement System’s director, Tony Brancaleone, had made a veiled suggestion a couple of weeks ago, and yesterday was a bit more specific. "Tim, you’re a good man, and you’ll get the business anyway. But we have to take care of some inequities here. If you saw what was goin’ on, you’d agree. It’s just not right. So we need to rectify an injustice. You get what I’m sayin’?"

Not really. I’m sort of naive that way.

"Listen, all you have to do is kick up your initial consulting fee from $60,000 to $75,000. You get the bid anyway. Then you deliver 15K to rectify. Capisce?"

Yeah, but let me think about it.

Do that. Of course, you can’t say anything about this to anybody. It’s you and me. You blow that, you blow your deal.

I understand. Let me call you in a couple of days.

Noting his speed, Tim set his cruise control for seventy-five. He continued to his appointment in Grand Rapids. His client had investment management accounts totaling over $3 million, and Tim’s annual fees justified the trip. Most of the client’s wealth was derived from legal fees he took as an attorney on a contingency basis.

Litigators weren’t Tim’s favorite brand of attorney; he preferred estate planning lawyers and elder law specialists. But this attorney, his client Harry Simkow, conducted his practice with integrity and a definite passion for justice. Tim occasionally wondered if a contingency-fee arrangement was possible for himself. Two years ago, he helped a client save about $43,000 in income tax by using a little-known but perfectly legal section of the Internal Revenue Code that supported his position. A one-third contingency fee would have generated over $14,000; not bad for a two-hour commitment.

It’s also obscene, Tim murmured, and it comes close to a commission, which is against his fee-only business model. Can’t do it.

In Tim’s meeting with Harry Simkow, Tim suggested several changes in the investment portfolio to reduce volatility and lower internal-fund fees even further. Harry was pleased and gave his assent, even though Tim had full authority. Harry had delegated full investment management authority to Tim, as had virtually all of Tim’s clients. But Tim was sensitive to those situations where the client wants to participate to some extent in the process.

When the meeting agenda had been mostly completed, Harry asked Tim, How are you doing? You seem a touch distracted. You okay?

I suppose my trip over here was more eventful than I would have liked.

What happened?

Tim proceeded to explain the incident with the state cop.

Was that Officer Stupak?

Sure was.

That guy’s got an emotional disturbance that needs some attention by a professional.

How do you know him?

I’m not at liberty to discuss that right now, Tim. Let’s just say I’ve had some experience with him. Leave it at that.

I understand, don’t want to press you.

Anything else on your mind, Tim?

Yeah, a hypothetical. A friend of mine told me about a possible arrangement involving kickbacks to certain officials in a particular city. How serious is that? Like…penalties?

Tim, your friend would be well advised to avoid the temptation. In addition to jail time, restitution, and humiliation, your friend’s business would suffer irreparably.

On his way back to his Bloomfield Hills office in midafternoon, Tim enjoyed the emerging greenery on a typical Michigan spring day. He had already decided to forego the Retirement System opportunity. He felt a sense of relief. Harry Simkow was right on target.

Now Tim contemplated his next maneuver. How would he proceed to expose the corruption?

The Announcement

Tim woke to his alarm at 5:30 a.m. as usual, immediately jarred as he reflected on the prior day’s events. If he refused to pay to play, he’d also lose the annual revenue stream from managing over $20 million of retirement funds. Even at his proposed grandiosely reduced fee of 0.4 percent (forty basis points, as the insiders say), the annual fee would be $80,000. That would provide decent cash flow to the firm. Matrix Advantage Advisors would have to add dedicated staff, but the margins were still attractive.

As he was shaving, Tim examined his reflection in the mirror. A handsome guy and still athletic at forty-five, Tim still ached for his wife’s comments. You look delicious! She had been killed in a car accident by a drunk driver, just over five years ago. His eyes glistened from the sting of her memory.

Since her death, Tim had wrapped himself in work, no children to deal with. Not an absolute workaholic, he nonetheless filled his days with activities. He was fully engaged. Despite being around people most of the time, he was quite lonely. He whispered softly, but audibly, to himself, At the end of the day, it’s just me. Loudly now, "God I hate that expression—at the end of the day."

Tim observed the subtle gradual change in the support he received from friends since Joan’s death. In the three months after her funeral, Tim was almost smothered with attention. Meals were generally the focus. The married women he knew were anxious to share single or double portions of various specialties. Eat one tonight, freeze the other.

His male friends made sure he was included in foursomes for golf and invited to occasional Tigers, Lions, or Wings games. He always felt a touch out of place, even with just the guys—all married men.

As the frequency of contact with friends diminished, Tim didn’t engage in self-pity but merely saw the difference and smiled with understanding.

In the short trip to his office that morning, the car’s gauge showed the outside temperature at sixty-two degrees. Wispy cirrus clouds wafted across the sky in gentle patterns. High today is expected to reach eighty-eight degrees was the report on WWJ-AM. Recalling his childhood, Tim yearned for the days when Michigan actually had a spring. Now it seemed typical that the season simply and abruptly changed from the harshness of winter to the brutality of summer.

Spring used to embody anticipation. Kids were restless in school, anticipating summer vacation. Clothing became increasingly more revealing as the girls’ outfits were skimpier. It was also the season for new romance back then. It seemed that everyone was trying to line up his and her summer love.

As he pulled into his parking lot, Tim’s face eased into a calm smile as he recalled his eye contact with Jane, the state cop.

Tim was greeted by two colleagues on entering the office, Joe Chambers and Sally Helm. How was Grand Rapids? inquired Sally.

The meeting was successful, and Harry promised to provide referrals. Overall, very positive. How’s everything here?

Nothing special, Joe offered.

Somewhat awkwardly, Tim suggested a quick meeting in his office. Joe and Sally followed Tim into his reasonably well-appointed office, and Tim closed the door."

This feels serious, Sally half-joked.

Tim started, We’ve got the City of Detroit Retirement System business if we want it. But there’s a wrinkle. It’s pay-to-play. We kick up the consulting fee to $75,000 and kick back $15,000 to our contact.

Joe nonchalantly remarked, What’s the problem?

Sally interjected, What’s the problem? It’s illegal, unethical, and plain stupid!

Joe retorted It’s pandemic in the city. Go with the flow. Standard practice. Nobody ever gets caught anyway.

Tim remarked, "Joe, would you like your last statement on the front page of the Detroit Free Press?

Hell no, Tim, but don’t be so naive. It’s small change to the retirement trust, no cost to us, and we get an increasing revenue stream.

Sally countered, The entire relationship would be tainted. And who’s to say our contact won’t come back for more?

Joe inquired, Who’s our contact?

Tony Brancaleone, Tim offered. As president of Matrix Advantage, I’ve already decided not to take the account. I just thought you were entitled to the rationale. This firm will not participate in deals like that. Period.

The Split

Sitting in his office after the impromptu meeting, Joe was still incredulous that Tim would walk away from such a juicy contract. He also recalled his affiliation with Tony Brancaleone early in his career, when both were neophyte agents at Prudential Insurance Company. Tony possessed keen insight into people and was able to perceive buying signals that others would miss. He made compelling arguments for the insurance he recommended, although sometimes rather crudely.

Tony also got caught rebating commissions, illegal in virtually all states. Prudential fired him and Tony sued. They settled the suit with a provision that his termination stood, but the reason was not to be disclosed. That’s when Tony used his connections to land a position with the City of Detroit Retirement System.

Making sure his door was locked, Joe placed a call to Tony.

Tony, Joe Chambers. How the hell are you?

Joe! I thought you died, you sick bitch!

I’m on the correct side of ground level, doin’ great at Matrix Advantage.

Tony responded, Hey, Joe, we’re inches away from awarding the contract for the consulting and investment management. Congratulations!

That’s why I’m calling. Can we get together for lunch? Downtown?

Sure. How about the Roma Café? You’re buyin’. Friday at noon okay?

Excellent. See you there. I’ll get reservations in my name.

As Joe finished the call, he heard the familiar ping on his PC. Incoming. As he opened the email from Tim to himself and Sally, Joe muttered, Of course. The email was a cryptic message:

Joe and Sally: I expect that you understand the confidentiality and sensitivity of our meeting this morning. Thanks for your cooperation.

Joe’s mind raced. Was this finally his chance to set up his own shop? He’d been doing most of the heavy lifting—behind the scenes—and would do the same for the city contract. Tony appeared unaware that Joe was even employed at Matrix Advantage. Either with or without Matrix Advantage, Joe would use his fixed-income expertise, deftly blending domestic and foreign corporate bond positions. But he couldn’t do it alone. A one-man practice was utterly impractical. The best and most logical choice of a partner in a new venture was Sally, who already knew the situation with the city and Tony’s insistence on pay-to-play.

Joe also knew he’d have to convince Sally to be somewhat more flexible in terms of her ethical posture. Was Sally as pure as she appeared in the brief meeting? Would she not compromise her ethics under any circumstances? Joe needed to be circumspect in his approach to Sally. Almost impulsively, Joe picked up his phone and called