The Eden Effect (2 page)

Hold your horses, I'm coming, I'm coming.' The man's voice could be heard behind the closed door, a note of irritation in the voice which grew louder as he approached. Standing outside the door, having knocked repeatedly was Arthur Fromm, a balding, be speckled man in his mid-fifties. He was wearing a dark blue suit which had seen better days, a white shirt with a frayed collar and tie loosely knotted and bright green in colour, not at all matching the blue suit.

The front door opened to reveal a strikingly handsome, tall man with a shock of blond hair, dressed in white from head to toe. White shirt, white tie, white jacket, white trousers, white shoes and socks. The man stared quizzically and said nothing. Arthur Fromm was taken aback momentarily but quickly regained his composure.

‘I'm Arthur Fromm', he offered. When there was no reply he added ‘The new assistant, you know, from Centrelink, Work for the Dole program.' The blond man continued to stare for a few more seconds and then with a broad smile extended his hand and said. ‘Sorry, I clean forgot you were coming today. Come in, come in. I am Martin, Martin Brophy. Come and sit down, let's talk.' And with that Arthur Fromm was ushered into a cluttered lounge room, directed to sit in a rather tatty leather armchair.

Arthur was clutching a leather briefcase which contained papers from Centrelink and his lunch: a ham, cheese and tomato sandwich on wholemeal bread which he had hastily prepared that morning before setting out from home on what turned out to be a two hour drive to the small town of Eden, one hundred and thirty or so kilometres to the north of Melbourne.

‘Would you like coffee, tea, a cold drink?' asked Martin.

‘A coffee would be great. Black, no sugar.' Martin, who had not yet sat down, was off to the kitchen from where Arthur could hear the sound of the boiling kettle and coffee being made. Minutes later, they were both sitting, Arthur drinking his coffee and Martin an orange juice, munching on a chocolate wafer, which Arthur had declined.

‘You found the place okay?' asked Martin. ‘Did you come up from Melbourne this morning?'

‘Yes', replied Arthur. ‘Had a great run on the freeway. All the traffic was coming the other way.'

‘You will find that's one of the good things about Eden. Not many visitors. Not many strangers in town. We like it that way'

Then followed an awkward silence which Arthur filled by sipping his coffee rather more loudly than he would normally do. Martin continued eating the chocolate wafers, finished the last one, put his orange juice down, stared straight at Arthur and said, ‘Ok, let's have it, what's your story.'

Arthur was momentarily taken aback by the question but he knew quite well what Martin meant. Martin wanted to hear his story. More particularly, he wanted to know what a man in his fifties, dressed in what was once a very expensive imported Italian suit, a man who had been a senior partner in a prestigious Melbourne accounting firm was doing here, in Eden about to start a new position as the assistant milkman at the local dairy.

‘Do you want the long version or the shorter version?' Arthur asked.

‘I've got all day mate. Fire away.'

It was a story worth telling and the long version was mandatory to do it justice. Arthur Fromm had graduated at the top of his class in Commerce at the University of Melbourne. He was immediately snapped up by Lowe and Brown, one of Melbourne's leading boutique accounting firms. It was not by chance that Arthur topped his class at the University. He was bright, exceedingly so. His rise at the firm was meteoric and by the age of thirty two he was made partner, the youngest ever to do so.

Along the way he married Marie, Marie Lowe, the boss's daughter and only child. Marie dutifully bore him two children in quick succession, a son named David and a daughter Helen. As a wedding gift Harold Lowe had purchased for his daughter and her new husband a four-bedroom mansion in Toorak, complete with swimming pool and tennis court, as would be befitting the rising star at Lowe and Brown. And Arthur did not let his father in law down. Although new to the firm, he managed to transform what was already a top tier accounting firm to be the second largest in the country, with an abundance of high net-worth clients and quite a few large public companies.

And then the roof fell in.

Brilliant and successful as he was, Arthur could not do it all on his own. He had a staff, dedicated, sharp young accountants, who dutifully carried out his commands and worked till all hours of the night to ensure that Lowe and Brown and particularly their rising star Arthur Fromm continued to thrive.

It has been said that any organisation is only as good as its weakest link. And at Lowe and Brown, in the office of Arthur Fromm the weakest link was Louis Field. It's not that Louis lacked intelligence or accounting skills. He had those in abundance. What Louis lacked was morality and honesty, two traits most essential in the world of finance.

For a long time afterwards, Arthur would wonder how he missed the tell-tale signs. It would plague him well into the early hours of the morning. But miss the signs he did, as did the others on his staff, as did the rest of the firm, the firm's auditors and the firm's solicitors. What they all missed was the fact that over a two year period, Louis Field managed to embezzle two million dollars of client's funds. Managed to siphon the funds to untouchable offshore accounts. Two million dollars is not an inconsiderable amount of money and one would have thought that its loss would have been easily detected. But Lowe and Brown were dealing with extremely wealthy clients and that amount of money spread over a dozen or so clients went completely unnoticed.

That is until one day, during a routine audit, one of the client's bookkeepers noticed a small irregularity in his client's accounts. And being meticulous, obsessive and tenacious, as bookkeepers often are, pursued the matter and after six months of incredibly complex detective work the whole scam was revealed.

By then Louis Field had fled. He left his wife and four children, left his beautiful home and shiny Mercedes and disappeared. It was later discovered that he had flown out of Melbourne airport to Hong Kong but beyond that there was no trace of him.

He left behind a scandal that left the firm of Lowe and Brown reeling. He also left behind dozens of documents, many signed by Arthur Fromm which were related to the embezzled funds and which appeared to have originated from Arthur or at least done with his knowledge.

Arthur of course, had no involvement in the matter and no foreknowledge of it whatsoever. Yes it was his signature on those documents, but he signed so many. He relied on his staff's efficiency and honesty and often signed documents which went out in his name, even though staff members had done the work. This was common practice and not at all out of the ordinary.

The other partners did try to rally around Arthur. No one had really believed he was involved, or at least no one said so.

But the whole affair had taken on a life of its own. The clients were furious. There was talk of lawsuits. Lowe and Brown repaid every penny from their own funds, but that was not enough.

The police were called in, ASIC became involved and for all intents and purposes the work of Lowe and Brown had come to a halt. Clients threatened to leave, some actually did and it looked as if the prestigious and so highly regarded firm would fall like a pack of cards.

Something has to be done. Someone had to pay and it did not take long to work out who that someone was. As fond as he was of his son-in-law, Harold Lowe had a greater obligation to his partners, the firm, to his other employees and clients and to his own personal wealth.

Arthur Fromm was dismissed from the firm of Lowe and Brown without notice, without severance pay or any entitlement. He was warned not to make a fuss or otherwise legal action could be taken against him. The beautiful Toorak house, the wedding gift from Harold Low was in fact held in a trust controlled by Lowe and nowhere on the title did the names of Arthur or Marie Fromm appear. Arthur had always known this but it did not seem to be an issue. He, Marie and the children lived in the house, maintained it and paid all the rates and expenses as if the house was theirs. But it wasn't. And with forty-eight hours' notice they were out. Harold would have preferred to kick Arthur out and leave Marie and the children in the house but the legal advice was that this complicated matters and could lead to Arthur having a claim on the house which Harold wanted to avoid at all costs.

These things were done with a heavy heart by Harold Low but they were nevertheless still done. Done for the greater good. And Harold was right. ‘Excising the cancer', removing the purported cause of the scandal worked. The money had been repaid, the guilty had been punished. Clients stopped leaving, some even came back. The firm survived.

But the relationship of Arthur and Marie did not survive. Yes they were in love, perhaps not so much as in those early years, but still in love. Yes, they had a good marriage, not great but good. It was not enough. The family was by now living in a three-bedroom rented flat in East Malvern. The leased cars were gone. Arthur had no job, no income. Who would employ him in the world of finance or for that matter anywhere in the business world?

Their lifestyle had been lavish, their expenses horrendous and as a result the money in the bank was not nearly enough. They made a brave go of it for a while but it did not last. The atmosphere at home became intolerable for both of them and within three months Arthur had left. A cousin who was divorced and living on his own took him in. Arthur survived on the dole and for a while consoled himself with bottle after bottle of Scotch, Johnny Walker red not the single malts that he was used to.

Marie and the children, well, after Arthur left they were taken in by Harold for a time. He was a widower, alone in a large house and there was plenty of room. Before long another
Toorak house was
found, a new car leased and for Marie and the children life continued unchanged, at least in the material sense. Marie was forbidden from seeing Arthur, not that she necessarily wanted to. Arthur saw the children for one day every second weekend. He had little to offer them apart from his love, not even a bed for them to be able to sleep over. Arthur, at the insistence of Centrelink continued to look for work. He has given up looking at anything in the area of finance but had not yet accepted the prospects of a job in a factory or behind a bar. But Centrelink kept pressing and pressing. He had to find work. And finally, after countless job applications and interviews he was in the town of Eden, about to start a new career as the assistant milkman in the towns' dairy.

‘That's the long version Martin,' Arthur said.' It exhausts me just talking about it.'

That's a story Arthur. Not the worst I've heard, not the best either, but it's up there.'

There was a moment's silence. Arthur was unsure whether he was expected to say anything but before he could decide, Martin continued.

‘Everyone has a story Arthur. We all have, you've got one, I've got one. Don't worry I'm not going to burden you with mine. I want to make some observations and I want you to understand some rules.'

Arthur remained silent, waiting.

‘As you no doubt realise, you are not the first assistant sitting here and you won't be the last. I am a realist. I know that this job is not anyone's dream job but is not a bad job.'

Martin paused for a moment and then continued.

‘Do you know the average duration of employment of an assistant milkman in the town of Eden, Arthur?' Martin asked. Arthur was about to reply when Martin continued.

‘Don't bother trying to answer. I will tell you. The average is one month. The shortest was one day. The longest was six months which probably brought the average up. I said this is not the worst job you can have and it's not. The work is not difficult. Sure, we start early. But we finish early. You have most of the day to yourself. Just in case you are wondering what I mean by early, we head off at 5.30 am, you therefore must be awake no later than 5am. You look a bit pale Arthur, they're not accountant's hours but that's what it is. We finish early, by 9.30 am, 10 at the latest.'>

Martin paused briefly again.

‘I am a good boss Arthur. Do right by me and I will reciprocate. Someone of your intelligence could do this job in their sleep. In fact I suspect you will be doing it at least half asleep. They've told you the pay. Not the pay of a partner in an accounting firm but more than the dole and there are few expenses Board is free. Food here is relatively cheap, you don't need a car and there is not much to spend money on in Eden.'

Arthur was nodding, seemingly in agreement although he was not sure what he was agreeing to.

‘I'll be fine Martin,' he said.' I can't promise you that I will stay a lifetime but I can promise you that you can rely on me to do the job. I suppose you will eventually tell me what the job is.'

‘It's not rocket science Arthur', was Martin's reply.' We deliver milk. I drive the van. You ride in the van next to me. I stop the van. You get out. You take the milk out of the van and leave it at the doorstep. I will show you the system I set up. I'm quite proud of it. It is automated and almost fool-proof. I drive onto the next address. You then do the same thing. And so on and so on and so on. Then we come back here. You change into your own clothes and the time is yours until 5am the next morning. Did I mention that's seven days a week? It's just you and me Arthur, no one else.'