Bitch Slap Read Online Free PDF Page A

had joined the Register’s staff shortly after I’d bought the paper. Though she had now worked side by side with Glee Savage for four years, none of the older woman’s fashion sense had rubbed off on my mannish second-in-command.
    As I stepped into the room, the others stood and turned. The two men who had been waiting for me were Perry Schield, chief executive officer of Quatro Press, and Tyler Pennell, the accountant from Green Bay who was performing due diligence in preparation for the merger with Ashton Mills. “Gentlemen,” I said, shaking hands with both of them, “what an unexpected pleasure.”
    â€œMark,” Perry acknowledged me, returning my handshake and bobbing his head of thinning, silvered hair.
    â€œMorning, Mr. Manning,” said Tyler, pumping my hand in an earnest, down-to-business manner. A generation younger than Perry, not yet thirty, Tyler might have passed as the older man’s son.
    They were cut from the same cloth—literally, wearing dark blue wool business suits that appeared identical, except that Tyler’s jacket had an extra button, four instead of three, and Perry wore a starched linen handkerchief in his breast pocket. Tyler was a nice-looking man, in a conservative sort of way. Perry, at sixty-two, looked more distinguished than attractive; a note of fatigue in his bearing hinted that he had passed his prime.
    â€œMark,” said Lucy, motioning that our guests should resume their seats at the table, “Mr. Pennell has raised some concerns with Mr. Schield, and I thought you’d want to talk to them.” The tone of her
voice, coupled with her uncharacteristically formal use of mister, signaled a matter of some importance. Was something wrong?
    â€œThanks, Lucy,” I said through a leery squint as she stepped out of the room. Sitting, joining the two men at the low table, I asked, “What can I do for you?” With an air of nonchalance, I crossed my legs, instinctively trying to lighten the heavy tone I sensed in the room. But I suddenly felt out of place—in my own office, no less—because my casual posture and khaki suit were in such sharp contrast to the staid manner and appearance of my visitors.
    â€œActually, Mark,” said Perry, clearing his throat, “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do for us—not yet. We just wanted to make you aware of a discussion we’ve been having. We wanted to alert you to a, well … a development.”
    Tyler raised a few fingers. “I’m not sure development is exactly the right word. Let’s just call it a ‘concern’—a preliminary concern.”
    I uncrossed my legs and sat upright. “You’ve certainly piqued my interest.”
    Perry cleared his throat again, preparing to speak—an annoying habit that had come to nettle me during board meetings at Quatro, which typically lasted three hours. As the company’s CEO, he had lots to say at those meetings, punctuated with nonstop hacking. “I’m not sure where to begin,” he said, looking agitated.
    I suggested, “Perhaps Tyler should explain.”
    Perry nodded, unfurling the handkerchief from his pocket and covering his mouth for a deep, phlegmy cough.
    Tyler said, “This concerns the due diligence for the merger, Mr. Manning.”
    â€œYou’re welcome to call me Mark.”
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    I cringed. His deferential politeness made me uncomfortably aware of my age. Though my years were midway between his and Perry’s, I was sure that in Tyler’s eyes, I was already in the same creaky boat.
    He continued, “I’m not certain what to make of this—it may be nothing—but I’ve discovered some accounting blips while examining the books at Ashton Mills.”

    â€œBlips?” I asked.
    â€œInconsistencies. Nothing major, nothing alarming, but nonetheless unexpected. Something doesn’t quite