Her business knowledge was unrealized until she read an article about a company under investigation by the SEC, Securities Exchange Commission. Claire remembered hours of discussion about that same company. Some of the issues that, according to the article were just brought to light had actually been debated ad nauseam years before.
Amber found her information very intriguing. After Amber pulled up more details on the company, Claire was shocked to realize she actually knew, or at least recognized, the names and faces of many prominent players. They were people Claire had been responsible for entertaining at business dinners. She’d met them, talked with them, and dined with them. Her knowledge base was much broader than she’d previously expected.
Settling into a comfortable chair, feet on an ottoman, wrapped in her warm robe, Claire began rereading documents. Anthony was obviously surprised by the use of his name, Anton Rawls. He flat out denied it. Well, he called it a ridiculous story. She didn’t directly ask if he was once Anton Rawls. She only asked him if he sent her the box. That he categorically denied.
Claire decided to start at the beginning: Nathaniel Rawls, born 1919. Served in U.S. Army, WWII deployment, returned to USA 1943. Married Sharron Parkinson Rawls 1943. Began working for BNG Textiles in 1943. 1944 Samuel Anton Rawls born. 1953 BNG Textiles became Rawls Textiles. The company expanded. 1975 Rawls went public, traded on the NYSE. At this point records are easier to obtain. The biggest problem was lack of technology in 1975.
Today a wealth of information was available on every publicly traded company: assets, liabilities, ownership equity, profit and loss sheets, management analysis and much more. The same information was presumably available in 1975 but not at a click of a button. Claire debated traveling to New Jersey to access microfiche files. The woman on the telephone told her they should have it. However, the state of New Jersey does not have the inclination, time, or manpower to track the old information. She invited Claire to come and investigate the bowels of their storage. Although a lovely invitation, Claire hadn’t decided if it were necessary.
January 1986 rumors involving Rawls Corp resulted in a drastic drop in stock price. Investors wanted their money returned. 1987 Nathaniel Rawls was convicted and incarcerated at Camp Gabriels, a minimum security state prison, located in northern New York. He was sentenced to thirty-six months, one of the heaviest penalties dispersed for a white collar crime. 1989, twenty-two months after conviction, Nathaniel Rawls died of a heart attack.
Harry found a list of civil cases involving Nathaniel during his incarceration. He said it wasn’t uncommon for prisoners to be sued. Many wronged investors want blood from a turnip, so to speak. Claire hadn’t read the various cases. Harry admitted he’d only scanned them, but believed many stemmed from rumors Mr. Rawls hid money prior to his incarceration. Although he may have had the opportunity while remaining outside of prison, on bond awaiting trial, the allegations were unproven. Judging by the lengthy list of plaintiffs, there were many bidders for a piece of his hidden bounty.
Claire read a blurb suggesting his money was hidden outside of the United States. However, those closest to Mr. Rawls, vehemently denied this, stating Nathaniel was known for his American bravado. They speculated he’d never trusted foreigners with his money.
After hours of reading, and not finding anything she hadn’t read before, Claire decided to move on to Samuel. Reaching for his stack of information, she noticed the faint sunlight leaking from around the blinds. Refocusing on the clock at the corner of her laptop, she saw it was almost seven thirty.
Claire decided to table – or bed -- the Samuel reread and opt for a shower. She wasn’t sure, after the way she left Harry last night, but he usually came over for coffee about eight. She moved stiffly from the soft chair and lifted her empty coffee cup. If she were to survive her incredibly long day, Claire needed more caffeine.
Feeling almost human after another cup of coffee and shower, Claire decided to dress causal, wearing yoga pants, a camisole, and an oversized t-shirt. Not wanting to be busy with the hairdryer when Harry arrived, she combed her wet hair back into a low ponytail and managed a little mascara, lip gloss, blush, and perfume. Claire wasn’t the stunning model from last night, and although she wanted to tell him she was sorry, if he walked in and saw her dressed to the nines for coffee, he’d rightfully be suspicious. She wasn’t sure of her daily plans. However, as her bare feet padded along the wood floor of the cavernous condo, she smiled at the sunshine streaming through the unblocked windows.
Some research, coffee, warm shower, and fog-free blue skies did wonders to put her life in perspective. Claire’s dinner with Tony momentarily sent things off-kilter, but all was neutralizing again. She needed to focus on her mission involving Tony. And that mission wasn’t sex! It was retaliation. He may not have sent that box, but her research continued to validate its contents.
As Claire set her laptop on the kitchen table she typed in Newsweek. Like so many other publications, Newsweek required a subscription in order to access previous editions. That was fine, she thought, Phillip Roach can have fun figuring out why I’m suddenly so interested in news magazines.
Starting the coffee maker for another high octane injection, she typed 1975, the year Rawls went public. She remembered a magazine article with a picture of Nathaniel and his family in front of a house like Tony’s. She wanted to find that picture, to verify – if only to herself -- that Tony was indeed Anton Rawls. If it wasn’t in Newsweek, she assumed it must be Time. She had an online subscription to that publication, too.
Amber found her information very intriguing. After Amber pulled up more details on the company, Claire was shocked to realize she actually knew, or at least recognized, the names and faces of many prominent players. They were people Claire had been responsible for entertaining at business dinners. She’d met them, talked with them, and dined with them. Her knowledge base was much broader than she’d previously expected.
Settling into a comfortable chair, feet on an ottoman, wrapped in her warm robe, Claire began rereading documents. Anthony was obviously surprised by the use of his name, Anton Rawls. He flat out denied it. Well, he called it a ridiculous story. She didn’t directly ask if he was once Anton Rawls. She only asked him if he sent her the box. That he categorically denied.
Claire decided to start at the beginning: Nathaniel Rawls, born 1919. Served in U.S. Army, WWII deployment, returned to USA 1943. Married Sharron Parkinson Rawls 1943. Began working for BNG Textiles in 1943. 1944 Samuel Anton Rawls born. 1953 BNG Textiles became Rawls Textiles. The company expanded. 1975 Rawls went public, traded on the NYSE. At this point records are easier to obtain. The biggest problem was lack of technology in 1975.
Today a wealth of information was available on every publicly traded company: assets, liabilities, ownership equity, profit and loss sheets, management analysis and much more. The same information was presumably available in 1975 but not at a click of a button. Claire debated traveling to New Jersey to access microfiche files. The woman on the telephone told her they should have it. However, the state of New Jersey does not have the inclination, time, or manpower to track the old information. She invited Claire to come and investigate the bowels of their storage. Although a lovely invitation, Claire hadn’t decided if it were necessary.
January 1986 rumors involving Rawls Corp resulted in a drastic drop in stock price. Investors wanted their money returned. 1987 Nathaniel Rawls was convicted and incarcerated at Camp Gabriels, a minimum security state prison, located in northern New York. He was sentenced to thirty-six months, one of the heaviest penalties dispersed for a white collar crime. 1989, twenty-two months after conviction, Nathaniel Rawls died of a heart attack.
Harry found a list of civil cases involving Nathaniel during his incarceration. He said it wasn’t uncommon for prisoners to be sued. Many wronged investors want blood from a turnip, so to speak. Claire hadn’t read the various cases. Harry admitted he’d only scanned them, but believed many stemmed from rumors Mr. Rawls hid money prior to his incarceration. Although he may have had the opportunity while remaining outside of prison, on bond awaiting trial, the allegations were unproven. Judging by the lengthy list of plaintiffs, there were many bidders for a piece of his hidden bounty.
Claire read a blurb suggesting his money was hidden outside of the United States. However, those closest to Mr. Rawls, vehemently denied this, stating Nathaniel was known for his American bravado. They speculated he’d never trusted foreigners with his money.
After hours of reading, and not finding anything she hadn’t read before, Claire decided to move on to Samuel. Reaching for his stack of information, she noticed the faint sunlight leaking from around the blinds. Refocusing on the clock at the corner of her laptop, she saw it was almost seven thirty.
Claire decided to table – or bed -- the Samuel reread and opt for a shower. She wasn’t sure, after the way she left Harry last night, but he usually came over for coffee about eight. She moved stiffly from the soft chair and lifted her empty coffee cup. If she were to survive her incredibly long day, Claire needed more caffeine.
Feeling almost human after another cup of coffee and shower, Claire decided to dress causal, wearing yoga pants, a camisole, and an oversized t-shirt. Not wanting to be busy with the hairdryer when Harry arrived, she combed her wet hair back into a low ponytail and managed a little mascara, lip gloss, blush, and perfume. Claire wasn’t the stunning model from last night, and although she wanted to tell him she was sorry, if he walked in and saw her dressed to the nines for coffee, he’d rightfully be suspicious. She wasn’t sure of her daily plans. However, as her bare feet padded along the wood floor of the cavernous condo, she smiled at the sunshine streaming through the unblocked windows.
Some research, coffee, warm shower, and fog-free blue skies did wonders to put her life in perspective. Claire’s dinner with Tony momentarily sent things off-kilter, but all was neutralizing again. She needed to focus on her mission involving Tony. And that mission wasn’t sex! It was retaliation. He may not have sent that box, but her research continued to validate its contents.
As Claire set her laptop on the kitchen table she typed in Newsweek. Like so many other publications, Newsweek required a subscription in order to access previous editions. That was fine, she thought, Phillip Roach can have fun figuring out why I’m suddenly so interested in news magazines.
Starting the coffee maker for another high octane injection, she typed 1975, the year Rawls went public. She remembered a magazine article with a picture of Nathaniel and his family in front of a house like Tony’s. She wanted to find that picture, to verify – if only to herself -- that Tony was indeed Anton Rawls. If it wasn’t in Newsweek, she assumed it must be Time. She had an online subscription to that publication, too.
