asked the man how much I owe. He said they don’t know. They think it’s a considerable whack of money. But then he said something or other about all themoney I’ve had going in and out of the country makes things rather confusing.”
“What money have you had going in and out of the country?”
“I have no idea.”
“Into
the country I understand, maybe. Being in the film business you probably have some foreign income.
Out of
the country I don’t understand. Do you have any investments abroad?”
“Not that I know of. Why should I?”
“Well, it’s possible Steve had you invested in French perfumery or something.”
“He never mentioned it. You haven’t heard the worst. I was greatly upset. I called Steve, and that made me more upset. He was distinctly dodgy, Fletch. On the telephone. He said,
Not to worry, Not to worry,
I was about to start principal photography on a film and I should keep my mind on that, he’d take care of everything else. I was so upset I screened
Being There
three times and
Why Shoot The Teacher?
twice.”
“Say, you were upset.”
“I called Steve back and told him I was taking the next plane to New York. He squacked and gobbled. By the time I got to the apartment in New York and called him, he’d been called away to Atlanta, Georgia. On business.”
“While we’re speaking of that, Moxie…”
Her eyes widened at the interruption.
“… You do live pretty well,” Fletch said. “You have that big place in Malibu, on the beach, with a pool and screening room. You have that real nice apartment in New York—”
“Look who’s talking!” she exclaimed. “A two-bit reporter with a gorgeous place on the Italian Riviera—”
“Oh. That again.”
“—who’s spent years on a book about some artist—”
“Edgar Arthur Tharp.”
She grinned wickedly. “How’s the book coming, Fletch?”
“Slowly.”
“Slowly! Have you started Chapter Two yet?”
“There have been a lot of distractions.”
“I need the house in California, Fletch, for my work. I live there. I need the apartment in New York. For my work. I live there. Neither place is a sun-and-sport
palacia
in Italy!”
“Well, I’ve had my troubles with the Internal Revenue Service, too.”
“No more of your sympathy, thank you. I do believe the Internal Revenue Service, in this case, is right. In New York, I go over to Steve’s office, even though I’ve been told he’s not there. Everybody recognizes me, of course. They’ve been dealing with my stuff for years. I request a quiet office and all the books, all the figures which relate to me and my affairs.”
“They had to give them to you.”
“They did.”
“But why did you ask?”
“Why not? I had to.”
“Moxie, there is no way you can understandsuch books and figures, as you call them, without training. You needed a professional accountant.”
“I could understand enough.”
“You could understand nothing.”
“For years Steve has been telling me I must borrow money, I must borrow money, being in debt was good for me, paying interest greatly improved my tax situation. I hated the whole thought of being in debt. He explained to me it was just paper debt. So every time he shoved papers in front of me, I signed them. Fletch, I discovered that he had borrowed millions of dollars in my name.”
“Entirely possible. Probably right… I think. I don’t know either.”
“Fletch, what’s a tax shelter?”
“It’s a little stick house where you go to live once the Internal Revenue Service is done with you.”
“He had borrowed money in my name from foreign banks. Geneva, Paris, Mexico City.”
“That seems odd. I really don’t know.”
“He bought stock with my money, all of which seemed to diminish rapidly in value.”
“Bad luck.”
“Real estate in Atlantic City. A horse farm somewhere, film companies…”
“Moxie, the figures mean nothing to you. They wouldn’t mean anything to me either. The way these business
“What money have you had going in and out of the country?”
“I have no idea.”
“Into
the country I understand, maybe. Being in the film business you probably have some foreign income.
Out of
the country I don’t understand. Do you have any investments abroad?”
“Not that I know of. Why should I?”
“Well, it’s possible Steve had you invested in French perfumery or something.”
“He never mentioned it. You haven’t heard the worst. I was greatly upset. I called Steve, and that made me more upset. He was distinctly dodgy, Fletch. On the telephone. He said,
Not to worry, Not to worry,
I was about to start principal photography on a film and I should keep my mind on that, he’d take care of everything else. I was so upset I screened
Being There
three times and
Why Shoot The Teacher?
twice.”
“Say, you were upset.”
“I called Steve back and told him I was taking the next plane to New York. He squacked and gobbled. By the time I got to the apartment in New York and called him, he’d been called away to Atlanta, Georgia. On business.”
“While we’re speaking of that, Moxie…”
Her eyes widened at the interruption.
“… You do live pretty well,” Fletch said. “You have that big place in Malibu, on the beach, with a pool and screening room. You have that real nice apartment in New York—”
“Look who’s talking!” she exclaimed. “A two-bit reporter with a gorgeous place on the Italian Riviera—”
“Oh. That again.”
“—who’s spent years on a book about some artist—”
“Edgar Arthur Tharp.”
She grinned wickedly. “How’s the book coming, Fletch?”
“Slowly.”
“Slowly! Have you started Chapter Two yet?”
“There have been a lot of distractions.”
“I need the house in California, Fletch, for my work. I live there. I need the apartment in New York. For my work. I live there. Neither place is a sun-and-sport
palacia
in Italy!”
“Well, I’ve had my troubles with the Internal Revenue Service, too.”
“No more of your sympathy, thank you. I do believe the Internal Revenue Service, in this case, is right. In New York, I go over to Steve’s office, even though I’ve been told he’s not there. Everybody recognizes me, of course. They’ve been dealing with my stuff for years. I request a quiet office and all the books, all the figures which relate to me and my affairs.”
“They had to give them to you.”
“They did.”
“But why did you ask?”
“Why not? I had to.”
“Moxie, there is no way you can understandsuch books and figures, as you call them, without training. You needed a professional accountant.”
“I could understand enough.”
“You could understand nothing.”
“For years Steve has been telling me I must borrow money, I must borrow money, being in debt was good for me, paying interest greatly improved my tax situation. I hated the whole thought of being in debt. He explained to me it was just paper debt. So every time he shoved papers in front of me, I signed them. Fletch, I discovered that he had borrowed millions of dollars in my name.”
“Entirely possible. Probably right… I think. I don’t know either.”
“Fletch, what’s a tax shelter?”
“It’s a little stick house where you go to live once the Internal Revenue Service is done with you.”
“He had borrowed money in my name from foreign banks. Geneva, Paris, Mexico City.”
“That seems odd. I really don’t know.”
“He bought stock with my money, all of which seemed to diminish rapidly in value.”
“Bad luck.”
“Real estate in Atlantic City. A horse farm somewhere, film companies…”
“Moxie, the figures mean nothing to you. They wouldn’t mean anything to me either. The way these business
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