Chapter 6 - The Boardroom Ambush
At 8:30 on Thursday morning, the boardroom on the third floor of Strickland Hat Company was thick with tension. The six senior directors of the family trust sat around a polished mahogany table, flanked by stacks of financial dossiers. Marcus Strickland, dressed in an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, sat at the head of the table, tapping a gold Montblanc pen against a leather folio. Beside him sat Tandy Reeves, wearing dark sunglasses to hide her swollen, sleepless eyes, nervously shredding a paper napkin under the table.
"It is now eight-thirty-five," Marcus declared, checking his platinum wristwatch. "Cullen has failed to convene this emergency session on time. Given the undeniable evidence of gross neglect regarding our historic real estate assets, I move that we invoke Section 4B of the family charter, suspend Cullen’s executive voting rights, and approve the emergency exterior restoration tender from Voss Architectural Glass."
"Seconded," Tandy whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
"Before we take a vote," a voice resonated from the double oak doors at the back of the chamber, "perhaps the board would like to inspect the final invoice."
The directors turned. Cullen stepped into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual boardroom suit. He wore a crisp Western button-down, dark jeans, and boots, his eyes blazing with absolute authority. Behind him walked Jolie Cantrell, carrying her worn spiral ledger and a sealed manila envelope stamped by the Amarillo Police Department.
Marcus sneered, leaning back in his leather chair. "Cullen, this is a closed fiduciary meeting. You can't drag your domestic cleaning staff into an executive proceeding. Have some dignity."
"Miss Cantrell isn't here as cleaning staff, Marcus," Cullen said, walking straight to the head of the table. He threw a stack of documents directly in front of his cousin. "She is here as the primary expert witness in a felony grand-larceny and corporate sabotage investigation."
Tandy gasped, recoiling into her chair.
Marcus's smug smile faltered. "What nonsense is this?"
"At two o'clock this morning, Detective Miller booked Donnie Reeves on multiple counts of criminal mischief, commercial property desecration, and conspiracy to commit insurance fraud," Cullen stated, every word falling like an anvil on the mahogany table. "Donnie gave a full confession on audio recording. He stated that Galen Voss supplied the hydrofluoric etching paste, and his mother, Tandy Reeves, provided the exterior security blind-spot schedule."
The room erupted into gasps. Director Vance, the oldest board member and Carl Strickland’s lifelong confidant, pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Tandy? Is this true?"
Tandy buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "Marcus promised me! He said Cullen was running the business into the ground! He said Galen would give Donnie a twenty-percent stake in the glazier union if we pushed the renovation contract through!"
Marcus stood up abruptly, his face pale as chalk. "She’s hysterical! You can't link me to any of this! Donnie Reeves is a low-level idiot trying to save his own skin! My investment in Voss Glass is completely passive!"
"It was passive until yesterday," Cullen countered smoothly. He gestured to Jolie.
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Jolie stepped forward, completely unfazed by the wealthy executives staring at her. She opened the manila envelope and pulled out a stack of bank deposit slips and cell phone records. "When Mr. Voss dropped his pry bar on the sidewalk last night, his unlocked phone was recovered by the police. At four-fifteen yesterday afternoon, Mr. Marcus Strickland wired forty-five thousand dollars from his personal offshore account to Voss’s commercial payroll account. The memo line read: Final Facade Preparation—Sixth Street."
Jolie looked directly at Marcus, her chin held high. "Glass remembers everything, Mr. Strickland. And so do paper trails."
