had a call from your daughter, Erin. She has an emergency of some kind. Wouldn’t say what on the phone—said it would take some explaining. I told her to come right in. Since it could be about your granddaughter, I thought you might want to be there.”
Erin was waiting when they walked into the building. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and holding a briefcase in one hand. Osborne recognized the look in her eyes: grim determination. Could she have found the boy who frightened Mason?
“Erin, you look ready to send someone to the state pen,” said Osborne, half joking.
“This isn’t about Mason, Dad—but some disturbing news about C.J.’s husband.”
“Oh,” said Osborne, “if you’re referring to the incident on the boat yesterday, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up but we had enough going on. Wouldn’t you say it’s really a personal issue for the couple?”
As they walked down the hallway to Lew’s office, Erin said, “When Mason told me about Calverson being so nasty to his wife, I thought it might be wise for me to take action on something involving Curt Calverson that I’ve been working on for the last two weeks. It’s not about his relationship with his wife, Dad. It’s even more serious.”
“Come in, come in,” said Lew as they entered her office. “Let’s sit over there.” She pointed to the seating area under the windows facing the courthouse lawn where a sofa, two chairs, and a coffee table made it easy to talk. A light breeze carried the scent of mock orange in bloom. Erin opened her briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers and what appeared to be direct mail brochures.
“Chief Ferris, you know I’ve decided to do Legal Aid work until Cody is in first grade because they let me set my own hours?”
Lew nodded, so Erin went on. “Well, I was approached several weeks ago by an elderly woman from Tomahawk, Dolores Rotier. She was convinced someone had stolen money from her bank account because she couldn’t use her ATM card to make a withdrawal. That wasn’t the problem, really. Dolores didn’t understand there was a limit to what she could withdraw in a day but even so, the amount she was allowed to withdraw was so small that I thought the situation was worth looking into.
“I learned that for the last eighteen months, she has been paying on loans from Calverson Finance.”
“As in Curt Calverson?” asked Osborne.
“Right, Dad, it’s a finance company run by C.J.’s husband. Dolores told me she is one of several elderly residents she knows who got a brochure like this in the mail last year.” C.J. waved one of the brochures. “She called the number in the ad and was told that Calverson Finance would give her a good deal on a loan if she agreed to have her $550 monthly government aid check deposited directly into a new account with them.
“So she did. She agreed to the direct deposit and then applied for a loan of $204.84 for a couch. The whole set-up sounded fishy to me and Dolores is certainly no financial wizard, which is why I decided to investigate further. That’s when I discovered that the finance company also charged her $75.00 for death and dismemberment insurance and an additional $10.00 insurance fee. Add interest charges to that and it seems she now owed Calverson Finance $360.00, which she had agreed to pay in monthly installments of $72.00.
“That’s not all. Six months ago, she gets another loan of $167.00 because she had surgery and extra bills. This time Calverson Finance adds a car-club membership for $90.00. But Dolores doesn’t own a car, she can’t drive and she never knew she was buying the membership. Also, she is never told that there is an additional monthly fee of $4.99 just for the direct deposit.
“When she came to me, she thought she had two small loan payments. That’s why she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t withdraw some of her government aid money—enough for groceries—with the ATM card the bank sent
Erin was waiting when they walked into the building. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and holding a briefcase in one hand. Osborne recognized the look in her eyes: grim determination. Could she have found the boy who frightened Mason?
“Erin, you look ready to send someone to the state pen,” said Osborne, half joking.
“This isn’t about Mason, Dad—but some disturbing news about C.J.’s husband.”
“Oh,” said Osborne, “if you’re referring to the incident on the boat yesterday, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up but we had enough going on. Wouldn’t you say it’s really a personal issue for the couple?”
As they walked down the hallway to Lew’s office, Erin said, “When Mason told me about Calverson being so nasty to his wife, I thought it might be wise for me to take action on something involving Curt Calverson that I’ve been working on for the last two weeks. It’s not about his relationship with his wife, Dad. It’s even more serious.”
“Come in, come in,” said Lew as they entered her office. “Let’s sit over there.” She pointed to the seating area under the windows facing the courthouse lawn where a sofa, two chairs, and a coffee table made it easy to talk. A light breeze carried the scent of mock orange in bloom. Erin opened her briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers and what appeared to be direct mail brochures.
“Chief Ferris, you know I’ve decided to do Legal Aid work until Cody is in first grade because they let me set my own hours?”
Lew nodded, so Erin went on. “Well, I was approached several weeks ago by an elderly woman from Tomahawk, Dolores Rotier. She was convinced someone had stolen money from her bank account because she couldn’t use her ATM card to make a withdrawal. That wasn’t the problem, really. Dolores didn’t understand there was a limit to what she could withdraw in a day but even so, the amount she was allowed to withdraw was so small that I thought the situation was worth looking into.
“I learned that for the last eighteen months, she has been paying on loans from Calverson Finance.”
“As in Curt Calverson?” asked Osborne.
“Right, Dad, it’s a finance company run by C.J.’s husband. Dolores told me she is one of several elderly residents she knows who got a brochure like this in the mail last year.” C.J. waved one of the brochures. “She called the number in the ad and was told that Calverson Finance would give her a good deal on a loan if she agreed to have her $550 monthly government aid check deposited directly into a new account with them.
“So she did. She agreed to the direct deposit and then applied for a loan of $204.84 for a couch. The whole set-up sounded fishy to me and Dolores is certainly no financial wizard, which is why I decided to investigate further. That’s when I discovered that the finance company also charged her $75.00 for death and dismemberment insurance and an additional $10.00 insurance fee. Add interest charges to that and it seems she now owed Calverson Finance $360.00, which she had agreed to pay in monthly installments of $72.00.
“That’s not all. Six months ago, she gets another loan of $167.00 because she had surgery and extra bills. This time Calverson Finance adds a car-club membership for $90.00. But Dolores doesn’t own a car, she can’t drive and she never knew she was buying the membership. Also, she is never told that there is an additional monthly fee of $4.99 just for the direct deposit.
“When she came to me, she thought she had two small loan payments. That’s why she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t withdraw some of her government aid money—enough for groceries—with the ATM card the bank sent
Similar Books
