Getting glimpses of him in his world.
Which was also her father’s world, she reminded herself.
“Basically, what we’re looking at here is a pattern day trader. Someone who makes a certain number of day trades over a set period of time. Four or more in five days, for example. Day traders can trade with a large enough margin to buy and sell with less in the account than is actually being spent. But a pattern day trader has real advantages in that, for him, the margin is larger. He can trade for up to four times the cash value in the account, which about doubles the normal margin. That gives him what’s called ‘day trader buying power’ and is a measurable leverage.”
She got enough of what he was saying to nod with some confidence.
“Someone in Owens Investments is using my broker license, basically signing in as me, to make trades that rose to pattern day trader status. The log-ins were from various computers in the building—any of which I could have accessed, and all in secure areas out of view of surveillance cameras. They were made at various times throughout the day.
“The trader was using monies from an account I set up for charitable donations,” he explained, “without ever really withdrawing money.
“Whoever it was would make four day trades in a four-day period, meaning they bought and sold in one day, all small trades that lost nothing, but gained little, so no withdrawals were made. Then, on the fifth day, he’d use the day trader buying power to buy and sell for enormous profit.”
Howard paused to take a breath as they approached the turn into the upscale neighborhood where she’d grown up.
“At the beginning and the end of every day, the account looked just as it always did, with no visible withdrawals or deposits. One of the things about pattern day trading is that accounts can’t be held overnight, so there was a guarantee of ending the day the same way it began.” He took another deep breath before adding, “We presume the daily profits went into an offshore account. But we’ve been unable to trace it due to a complicated computer trail and legalities being different from country to country.”
“What happened when he—or she—made a losing trade? Was the money put back?”
“That didn’t happen.”
“This person traded every day without a single loss?” It meant this trader—or traitor, she thought wryly—had to be damned good.
Signaling the turn, Howard shook his head. “There were only a handful of weeks this was done. Money was made with the use of Owens Investments’ funds, but there’s no accounting for that cash. It looks like I made a considerable amount of money I didn’t report.”
Her heart was thudding in her chest. “Can you go to jail for that?”
When he shook his head a second time, Tamara almost cried with relief. “We’ve already submitted corrected tax returns,” he said, “claiming an oversight and paying all appropriate taxes and fees.”
“On money you never had.”
“That’s right. There’s a lot more to it, of course. I’m giving you a vastly simplified version. But you’ve got the gist. The only other thing we found were those expense reports, splitting bills. They were always split between various brokers and me. Basically, someone was tagging me onto various expense reports, from every broker in the house, over the past year.”
“Someone was turning in expense reports in your name?” she asked, incredulous.
“That’s right.”
“What happened with the money?”
“I have all my expense-report checks deposited directly into the charitable donation account.”
They’d turned into the long circular drive, pulling up to the fountain in front of her parents’ home. That fountain had been the site of family photos commemorating just about every meaningful event in her life—including each time she’d come home to tell her parents she was pregnant.
They’d taken one when she’d left to move to Boston, too. She’d been sick to her stomach that day. And felt like throwing up now, too.
“Who in the company knows you don’t keep expense monies reimbursed to you? Who knows you deposit them?”
“Any number of people. My top management, of course. It’s a tax write-off. I offer the option to all my managers. But others know, too.”
“Which traders know?”
He shrugged but his glance was filled with sadness as he said, “Any of them could, depending on whether or not the people I’ve told have talked about it.”
“Have you ever told any of your traders directly?”
Her stomach in knots, she knew what was coming. She knew why her father suspected Flint Collins.
“One,” he said. “Because he mentioned at the Christmas Charity Fund Auction a couple of years ago that he wanted to give back to the company by way of charitable donation. So I told Flint Collins and offered to have his monies deposited into the account.”