Chapter 45: Parent Teacher Negotiation

Chapter 45: Parent Teacher Negotiation

At Saint Drogo's School an argument was breaking out in the office of the recently deceased principal. Upon checking her records it became apparent that she had been embezzling a truly staggering amount of money from the school. Approximately three quarters of the funds that were supposed to get them through the upcoming year were gone.

There was no way around it. They were going to have to tighten their budgets, condense some classes, and disappoint a few parents. It was never pleasant telling people that their children wouldn't get to attend such a prestigious place of learning. But there were systems in place for just such an occasion.

Right now they were going down the list and deciding who would get to go and who could stay. The highest donors would of course be exempt from any culls. Unfortunately Ms. Kitch had doctored those records. (She had also general medicined, herbal remedied, acupunctured, and even osteopathed them too for good measure.)

Ryan, the acting principal, tapped his finger on a name. “Sorry kiddo, you probably wouldn't have been happy here anyway.” He crossed it out and went on to the next one. And the next one after that. And the next one after that.

***

“So I take it this meeting isn't about the advanced placement classes I requested for my daughter.” Bill Sharoth said as he sat down in the Principal’s office. There was a gloom in the air and worse yet, the candy dish was missing.

Acting Principal Ryan Thomas was a thin reedy man with thick aviator style glasses and a weak handshake. This was his tenth meeting of the day and he was already getting tired of it.

He cleared his throat. “Actually we are going to have to restrict the amount of new students we can accommodate this year. And unfortunately as she is not a legacy or a continuing student we will not be able to join us.” Ryan made vaguely apologetic noises.

Bill stood up, at his full height he was over six feet tall. “That's alright. I will of course be requesting a full refund of my grant. I did get in writing that it was contingent on my daughter's enrollment.”

“Of course.” Ryan was not surprised. “Such a small amount should be relatively easy to reimburse.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Generally when someone has to cough up over a hundred thousand dollars they at least flinch a little.” Bill smiled warmly. “I originally pledged a smaller amount but Ms. Kitch was very persuasive.”

Ryan flinched and his voice cracked. “A hundred thousand dollars?” He asked hoarsely.

“In writing, yes. I did keep the receipts. But that would be a hundred thousand dollars plus penalties.” Bael patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry. I know you're good for it.”

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“Any rumors of impropriety are-”

“Unfounded and malicious, yes I know.” Bael cut her off. “I also know that the unfortunate Ms. Kitch met her end in a brand new Porsche with silver paint and a tan leather interior.”

Lisa pursed her lips. “What do you actually want, Mr. Sharoth?”

His answer surprised her. “I want to help. I'm good at making money and I want to make sure everyone who wants to go to school gets to. It's obvious that funds have been mismanaged. I aim to make sure that never happens again.”

“That's a noble ambition, if you're sincere about it.” Lisa admitted. “Do you have any particular reason for this crusade of yours?”

Bill winced at the word “crusade” but answered her question. “When I was conscripted I could barely write my own name. Schools are important and I was told that this one was the best. If keeping it that way means I have to roll up my sleeves and get to work, well then that's what I'm about to do.”

Lisa looked him over. He was of the right age to have fought in Vietnam and he seemed sincere enough. “The other members of the board aren't going to like it.”

“I don't mind singing for my supper as long as it doesn't fall on deaf ears.” Bill countered.

“Don't worry, if they say no you can always just pay me the hundred and twenty thousand dollars and I'll be out of your hair.”

“I will arrange the meeting.” Lisa said.

“Good. Now, I'd like to take a look at your records.”

“Our records?” Lisa was thrown by the request.

“Yes. All of them. I need financial records going back at least five years.”

Giving him access to their records would probably break any number of laws. But if he told anyone about the missing donations the school was finished anyway. “What are you looking for?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled. “Money.”