Shell Game (Stand Alone 2) (32 page)

“I want to see those cards,” Folsom demanded.

“All in good time,” Carruthers answered, smiling.

It was a bit after 4:05 p.m. when Gail Moskowitz called Kelly Loughridge back. She had a man named Henry Rentz on the line with her.

“Ms. Loughridge,” Moskowitz said, “Mr. Rentz is the Division Superintendent for Asset Acquisitions in the Middle Atlantic Region, which Pennsylvania is part of. I’ve briefed him on our earlier conversation and on the conversations I’ve had with Paul Sanders.”

“Thank you for taking time to talk with me, Mr. Rentz. I’m sure, with all of the bank acquisitions the FDIC is making, you’re a very busy man.”

“It’s a difficult economic environment, Ms. Loughridge. We’re doing what we can to stabilize the economy.”

“How does putting bank clients out of business help stabilize the economy?”

“What are you talking about, Ms. Loughridge?”

“Your investor of choice in the Philadelphia area, to whom you handed Broad Street National Bank on a platter, is intentionally putting unnecessary pressure on companies like BGT Automotive, Robin Healthcare, Swisstack Foods, and Winter Enterprises and driving them out of business. I can name another dozen companies getting the same treatment at Broad Street National Bank.

“This is despite the fact not one of these businesses has ever missed a loan payment; every one of them has at least forty percent equity in the real estate they put up as collateral, even at today’s reduced values; and every one of them has ten percent or more of their loan balance in cash deposits at Broad Street National Bank. The bank has either started or threatened to start foreclosure action against every one of these companies, and has frozen or offset the companies’ deposits against the loans, in effect starving these businesses to death.”

Rentz laughed. “I think you’ve either received bad information or are exaggerating the situation, Ms. Loughridge. Neither the FDIC nor our investor partners would ever treat our good bank customers in such a manner.”

“So, you agree that, if my information is correct, treating bank customers as I described would be wrong?”

“
If
your information is accurate, then I would say such treatment would be more than wrong. It would be a violation of the agreement we have with our investors, and would be a violation of the public trust.”

“Okay, then let’s move on to Gerald Folsom, the investor who bought Broad Street National Bank from the FDIC. Are you aware he has been charged with beating his wife?”

Rentz cleared his throat. “Yes, but the last time I looked we were still a nation that believes in innocent until proven guilty.”

“That’s terribly high-minded of you,” Loughridge said. “Perhaps you’d think differently if you saw the photographs of his battered wife. I’ve seen those photos and they are not pleasant. But that’s another matter. Have you had the opportunity to review the transactions Folsom has done with the FDIC?”

“Yes, Ms. Moskowitz showed the list to me before we made this call.”

Playing dumb to honor her promise to Gail Moskowitz, Kelly asked, “Is it an extensive list?”

“Where is this going?” Rentz said.

“As to the transactions I
am
aware of, Mr. Rentz, I understand Donald Matson, your former Philadelphia Area Supervisor, managed every deal made with Gerald Folsom and his firm, Folsom Financial Corporation.”

“That isn’t surprising. That was Mr. Matson’s job.”

“Have you reviewed the terms of the deals Folsom Financial Corporation received versus the terms of other deals Matson managed?”

“No, why?”

“Ms. Moskowitz, would you care to characterize any difference between Folsom’s deals and those of other investors?”

Moskowitz coughed. Her voice squeaked a bit as she started to talk. “I would have to say that Folsom Financial Corporation received dramatically more favorable terms than any other investor with whom Donald Matson worked, and than any other investor in transactions I am aware of in other regions.”

“And what happened to all of the banks Folsom took over from the FDIC?” Loughridge asked.

“I don’t have that information,” Rentz answered.

“Ms. Moskowitz?” Kelly asked.

“Most of them were liquidated within four years of Folsom taking them over.”

“In other words, those are no longer operating as banks?” Kelly said. “Folsom bled the assets and then closed down the banks?”

“Other than the ones he bought in the past three years,” Moskowitz offered.

“Give Folsom time,” Kelly said.

“Where is this going?” Mr. Rentz demanded.

“Let me put it this way, Mr. Rentz. I believe there is sufficient evidence that Gerald Folsom and Donald Matson were operating against the best interests of the FDIC, bank shareholders, bank customers, and the general public. The story we are writing will focus on just that.”

“You’ve raised a lot of points here, Ms. Loughridge,” Rentz said. “I would like to assign a committee from my staff to investigate these matters. I assure you if they find anything criminal has occurred, I will take immediate and appropriate action.”

“Mr. Rentz, is there a manual in Washington, D.C. that tells you people how to speak. I’ve heard that bullshit phrase so many times I’ve got it memorized.”

“I resent that, Ms. Moskowitz. You’re way off—”

“One more question, Mr. Rentz. Are you aware an informant has told the Philadelphia Police Department that there are two valises in a vault in Gerald Folsom’s home that hold somewhere just over $2 million, and that these valises also hold notes signed by Donald Matson? Two of these notes indicate Matson put the money with Folsom for safekeeping. Another note lists dates and amounts when Matson received and spent cash.”

“I don’t get the point, Ms. Loughridge.”

“The point, Mr. Rentz, is every one of the dates I have from the cards matched dates on which the FDIC and Gerald Folsom executed a transaction.”

Rentz gasped audibly.

“Oh, one other thing, before you get back to
stabilizing
the American economy. You earlier questioned the soundness of my information about customers of Broad Street National Bank, and you questioned my integrity by raising the possibility of exaggeration. Let me put to rest any doubts you might have: I have a recording of a conversation I had with a Broad Street National Bank senior officer, and I have a signed statement from that same officer, giving names, dates, dollar amounts, and so forth, concerning a long list of bank clients Folsom Financial Corporation is robbing blind. If you like, I would be happy to provide you with a copy of the first article before it hits the street tomorrow.”

“Hold on,” Rentz said, with more than a hint of panic in his voice. “Perhaps I should send some of my people to Philadelphia to look into this situation.”

“Perhaps? You think? When my series of articles runs about the FDIC, Folsom, and Broad Street National Bank, you’re going to be inundated with calls and letters from other members of the media, elected officials, attorneys of former shareholders of the banks your agency took over, attorneys for bank customers who have been damaged, and irate citizens who are already up in arms about an overbearing federal government.
Perhaps
, you should also give the other regional directors a heads-up.”

After terminating the call to Kelly Loughridge, Rentz stared at Gail Moskowitz in shock. “What the hell!”

“This can turn into a huge scandal. The last thing we need now is more problems at the agency.”

“Gail, I appreciate you trying to protect the FDIC, but don’t forget we work for the American people. If we have a rogue partner taking advantage of bank clients who deserve fair treatment, then we have a severe problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But something else concerns me. The FDIC steps in when a bank is in trouble, but it’s the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency that examines nationally-chartered banks and brings problems to our attention. The OCC would have examined Broad Street National Bank. The OCC would have determined loan collateral values and then required the bank to write down loans when applicable. When our agency came into Broad Street National Bank, our determination of the bank’s value was, in part, based on those write-downs.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I think you should check to see who the head of the OCC bank examination crew was at each of the banks Folsom purchased.”

The OCC examination crews have guidelines they’re supposed to follow.”

Rentz snorted. “You know damn well that examination crews are like mini-Gestapo teams. They can pretty well do whatever they want to do.”

Moskowitz said, “You realize if the same person was in charge of the examinations at each of Folsom’s banks, we’ve got a big red flag that could implicate the OCC too.”

“Especially if we can establish a relationship between Matson and the OCC examiner, or between Folsom and the examiner..”

“You sure you want to go down this road?”

“I thought I already made my position clear.”

“Just checking.”

Rentz stood and turned to leave Moskowitz’s office. He suddenly stopped and looked back at her. “One other thing. See if you can discover what is written on those cards Kelly Loughridge mentioned.”

Folsom fumed as the police counted the cash bundles. It took the police an hour and a half. Detective Carruthers marked down $1 million on an Evidence Affidavit, signed it, and then had Folsom countersign the document. He taped a copy of the affidavit to the valise, handed Folsom a second copy, and put the original in a folio. Folsom tried to see what was on 3” x 5” cards that had been pulled from the valise, but Carruthers replaced the note cards, safe in evidence envelopes, into the valise and closed it, sealing the handles with a plastic tie.

Counting the second valise took almost the same amount of time, but this time the count came to $1,055,000. Folsom knew there had been $10,000 more, but he knew where the missing $10,000 had gone: Matson, and ultimately to Toothpick Jefferson’s man. There was another card in the second valise, but, again, Carruthers didn’t allow Folsom to see what was written there. Carruthers documented and safeguarded the second valise in the same manner as the first one.

“Sign the Evidence Affidavit,” Carruthers ordered Folsom, who did as he was told.

“You said you saved this money, is that right, Mr. Folsom?”

Folsom felt a sour taste in his mouth. He’d told the police he’d saved the cash. But what if there was something on those 3” x 5” cards that proved otherwise? “I’m not saying anything else unless my lawyer says it’s okay.”

“I see,” Carruthers said. “We’re taking these cases down to headquarters. I’m sure you’ll hear from the D.A.”

Without another word, Carruthers and his crew of police officers took the valises and departed.

Folsom called his attorney, Jeffrey Rose, and told him what had happened as soon as the cops left.

“What was written on the cards they found?” Rose asked.

“I have no idea,” Folsom said. “The cops wouldn’t let me see them.”

“The cards were in your valises with over $2 million?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why don’t you know what’s on the cards?”

“I didn’t put them there,” Folsom answered.

“Jerry, this is like pulling teeth with you. I’m your lawyer; how about telling me who put the cards in the valises and where the valises came from?”

Folsom blew out a long breath and said, “The money belonged to Donald Matson, so I assume he put the cards in the valises.”

“Remind me who Donald Matson is.”

“He
was
the area supervisor for the FDIC. We worked together on a lot of bank and loan pool deals.”

“Why don’t you call him up and ask him what was on the cards?”

“That’s not possible; he was murdered recently.”

“Murdered?”

“Yeah.”

“The police arrest anyone for the murder?” Rose asked.

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Why don’t you explain to me how a government bureaucrat got hold of so much money?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Why did he leave the money with you?”

“He was a friend. He showed up here a little over a week ago, asked me to put the money in my vault, and then took off.”

Rose didn’t respond right away. He finally said, “That’s a good answer, Jerry. I suggest you stick with it when the police ask you the same question.”

“Uh, well,” Folsom said. “I originally told the police I’d saved the money.”

“Wonderful,” Rose exclaimed. “Fuckin’ wonderful.”

Katherine and Carrie left Wendy in the Marriott suite and drove to Winter Enterprise’s offices for a summit conference at 7 p.m. Edward, Betsy, Nick, and Paul were already there when the women arrived.

“Well, we missed the deadline today, so the bank can start foreclosure action tomorrow,” Edward said. “The only chance we have is if Paul gets a judge to issue an injunction against the bank.”