There it was again, the annoying sound of glass hitting glass. Every time I heard it, it made me cringe and I would look for a crack in the glass covering the large maple conference table. That weasel T.G. was probably doing it just to annoy me. There was a coaster right in front of him but he wouldn't use it. His real name was Raymond Holmes but everyone at work called him T.G., which was an acronym for techno geek, in deference to his position as computer systems administrator. He was a total screw-up and should have been fired long ago as far as I was concerned. Comax was probably keeping him only because computer people must be hard to come by these days. I hated the little weasel.

I thought about interrupting the meeting to politely order T.G. to use a damn coaster but decided against it for the time being. The branch manager was too far into his presentation to be interrupted. Today's topic was budget cuts; this made it more treacherous to risk some faux pas during the meeting. Maybe I could pass Tony a note and Tony could get T.G. to knock it off with the coffee mug. Tony was a nice guy and had a gentler way of getting people to do things than I did. Tony was also the only person in the meeting that I actually trusted.

As soon as the branch manager finished, the discussions from the group managers would be all too predictable. I could easily interrupt the pissing and moaning that would occur and get T.G. to use a coaster like any other decent person. Most of the supervisors would deliver anecdotes about how overworked their groups already were. This was standard procedure to protect their employees and was typically followed by lobbying for layoffs in someone else's group. I didn't have any intention of coming up with some sob story about how cutbacks would decimate my group. On the contrary, I saw budget cuts as a way to get rid of the weak and bring in stronger performers. In fact, today I would announce that two projects in my group were seriously over budget and that I was monitoring them closely to try to get them back on track. It would seem inexplicable to the other line managers to bring up a problem on one of your projects at a management meeting. It was even worse to bring it up during a meeting that included a discussion of budget cuts. That's because they immediately would become defensive by offering up excuses and hoping for the best. I wanted to be in control of the situation. Put two problems in front of management and somebody will eventually try to solve both with one simple solution. If we have a budget overrun on two projects and we're making department budget cuts; we lay off whoever is responsible for the project problems and be done with it.

As a result, they would lay off two people in my group who were competent and hard working but would never be superstars. Getting rid of them would give me a chance to bring in some younger, brighter staff with more star potential. Too many people in a company like this think they are helpless victims of corporate politics. You just have to identify the key decision-making factors and control the situation.

It took the executive committee five days to come up with a reduction in force list that, predictably, had both Annette Andrews and David Shiller from my group on the list. I decided to plan ahead by lining up some help on my projects when Andrews and Shiller got the boot in a week. The first person to see would be my friend Tony.

"Tony, we've got deadlines coming up on this CTAN project a couple weeks after we lay off Annette and Dave Shiller. Do you have anybody that can help short term after next week?"

"Maybe a day or two. How long do you need help?"

"I need help for months but I really just need some help until I can hire a couple of people."

"Bill, you're going to lay off two people next week. How can you plan to hire people to work on their projects?" Tony asked.

Tony amazed me sometimes with how naïve he was. "H.R. says there's no problem as long as the job descriptions are different."

"But you're going to have them work on Dave Shiller's and Annette's projects."

"It's legal to hire new people at a lower salary to do the same job. Just use a different job description and never mention age."

"Those two were competent, experienced people. If we need them, why are we letting them go?"

Being naïve was one thing but I was getting tired of having to lay everything out in the simplest terms for Tony. "That's the way companies work these days. You have layoffs to get rid of people with higher salaries and you hire other, as in younger, people with lower salaries. What's the problem?"

"Honesty, fairness, something like that," Tony offered.

This wasn't getting anywhere. "We're having a party a week from Friday at my place. It's a morale-boosting sort of thing for all the survivors from Thursday's layoffs. I'm going to keep it mostly to mangers, though. We've got these Hawaiian caterers coming in for a luau type thing. It's going to be great."

"Thanks, I'll let you know," Tony responded.

No one likes to lay people off but it never bothered me like it did some other people. In a way, I enjoyed the drama and tension. It was a good test of a manager's control under pressure. With Annette, I knew the layoff would go smoothly and it did. She accepted the whole situation with dignity and didn't get emotional. Shiller was different. I started out going through a rehearsed explanation of why we were laying people off and the mechanics of the layoff.

"Do you want to tell me why I'm really being layed off?" Shiller asked me in condescending tone.

I wanted to tell him he was being fired because he is such a loser but it wouldn't be worth the shouting match and recriminations. "It's not going to do anyone any good to go over any problems now. The decision has been made based on a need to reduce costs and it should be left at that. You need to get through this today and move on."

"I plan to move on. Of course, about three minutes ago I still had a career here. What about severance pay and am I going to get a good reference?" Shiller asked.

"Company policy is to not give references and unfortunately, the company is not giving severance pay to anyone in this reduction in force. You need to clean out your desk and turn in everything on this list within the next twenty minutes."

"Why the rush? I've never done anything to give this company reason to believe I would sabotage something."

"This isn't personal. This is just the protocol for all the lay offs," I explained.

"You're an asshole, you know it. You transferred costs from your own pet projects to the ATN project and then you blamed me for being over budget."

"We're not here to discuss the ATN project," I said flatly.

"And you charged all of your own labor that you could to the ATN project to make yourself look better."

"None of that is true," I reacted automatically. The real answer was that I was charging my labor to his projects but most of the other mangers in the office were probably doing the same thing to projects in their groups.

Shiller stood up and slowly moved toward me. I tensed, expecting Shiller to grab me or throw a punch. "You're not worth the trouble," he spat out defiantly. With that, Shiller went back to his office to pack; hopefully, I wouldn't have to see him again.

That evening, I had to make sure Carol was getting things ready for the party tomorrow. If I didn't stay on her, she would let things slide. Carol lacked the drive to do things well. If I let her, she would settle for just getting by in everything. I went for the best and it was frustrating to have Carol settling for less all the time.

"Carol, did you remember to pick up the extra chairs at Arneson's?"

"No. I'll do that tomorrow when I go to the bank."

"Why are you going to the bank?"

"They wanted me to pick up those loan papers for signing."

Here we go again. She was letting someone like those incompetent imbeciles at the bank walk all over her. "No. I told you they have to bring them to us at our convenience. They screwed it up. Well, first you screwed things up but then they screwed things up even worse so they need to make an effort to pay for their mistake. Did you tell them how many minutes I waited for the loan officer."

"They understand it was their mistake but it will go faster if I pick up the papers?"

"That's not what I asked you. Did you tell them how many minutes I waited." When I confronted Carol with her shortcomings, she had a habit of trying to avoid the issue. She tried to find something to fuss with in the kitchen now to avoid the question but I pressed her. "Did you tell them? The point needs to be made. Also, you need to let them know that if I come down to the bank again over these loan papers, there will be hell to pay. I have a training session that is supposed to last almost all day tomorrow."

She nodded.

Joanne Durham's head was all you could see sticking through the back door of the training room. She was gesturing for me to come over to the door so she wouldn't have to conspicuously interrupt the training session. The morning session had only been going for about an hour. I glared at her at first to let her know she better have a good reason to interrupt me. She led me back to my office where the branch manager and T.G. were watching my computer screen. Larry, the branch manager, had a habit of getting this forlorn look where his eyelids drooped down whenever thing were going bad for him. He looked moderately droopy now.

"What's going on, Larry?"

"I'm having T.G. go over your computer. Bill, did you send out any E-mail messages this morning?"

"No."

"Well, somebody logged onto your computer and sent out an E-mail to the entire office with your name on it. Take a look at it."

T.G. pulled up an image showing a photo of the branch manager's head on a chicken's body, kissing the CEO's butt and saying 'When you lack ability, you must seek other interfaces to succeed in executive management.' It had to be T.G. but it might not be a good idea to openly accuse him without proof in front of the branch manager.

"That's sick and pathetic. Somebody should get fired over this," I announced loudly.

"T.G. thinks someone may have stolen your password," Larry said.

"I change it every month. I don't see how anybody could have my password." I watched T.G., checking for any reactions that might give away his involvement but he kept working on the computer without any reactions to the discussions.

"The text of the E-mail also accused you of insider trading and transferring funds between projects to make yourself look better. You're not involved in insider trading, are you?" Larry asked.

The answer to this question had to be no but I had to be careful not to get caught in a blatant lie. I shook my head. "No, of course not. I mean I've bought and sold stock but it wouldn't be considered insider trading." That was the best I could come up with on the spot. It wasn't insider trading if you didn't have a problem with selling ahead of a bad quarterly earnings report and buying back later on a merger rumor.

The branch manager offered a weak reassurance as he left. "As long as you haven't done anything wrong, I'm sure it will turn out fine."

Now I could turn my attention to T.G. "You better not be involved in this. Because when I find out who used my computer to send that message, I'm going to first get them fired and then kill the son of a bitch. In fact, I'm calling a lawyer right now to find out if I should take some action to protect myself."

Several secretaries had gathered in the hallway outside my office to feign shock and express appropriate indignation over receiving the somewhat obscene E-mail with my name on it.

"Do you want me to leave all three gigabytes of this pornography on your hard drive?" T.G. asked in a voice loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

"There is no pornography on my computer," I stated clearly for all to hear.

"Well, I don't want to get into any First Amendment discussions here so we'll leave all your, ah, social files alone. I just thought we could probably fit a couple business programs on here if we took off some of the group sex stuff," T.G. said.

"Just do what you are supposed to do here and finish up, asshole," I demanded as the secretaries in the hallway feigned more shock and indignation.

"Right away," T.G. responded sarcastically. "Oh, by the way, thanks for the invitation; I wouldn't miss your party tonight."

"You're not invited. Don't come," I shot back.

"Your wife, Carol, invited me."

"It must be a mistake. You can't come."

"Too late, I already promised her I would be there. See you tonight," T.G. vowed.

I was about 20 minutes late getting back to the training session after lunch. Almost immediately, Joanne Durham's head reappeared at the back door of the training room, nodding at me.

"Bill, someone says your car looked like it had been scratched in the parking lot," she said.

We both headed outside to check. Sure enough, the side of my 98 Mercedes E230 was not only scratched but dented. "Damn it," I yelled. "You can't even leave your car in the god-damned company parking lot without out some moron bashing into it."

"Bill, it looks like something is leaking in the front," Joanne croaked.

I didn't see how the car could be leaking so I started the engine to check it out. The engine immediately began making a grinding noise as if a bucket of ball bearings were being pushed up and down against the inside walls of the engine. In addition to the grinding noise, a loud roar and blue smoke was coming from underneath the car, probably from the muffler or exhaust pipe. A sick feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't believe it; the car was fine this morning.

"It sounds bad," Joanne stated the all too obvious.

It took the police and a tow truck about half an hour to get there. The tow truck driver emerged from below the car where he was hooking up the tow bar. "The bottom of the back bumper is all tore up like somebody was towing something with a chain hooked underneath."

I looked disgustedly at the uneducated, immigrant grease monkey. "This car has been in the parking lot all day. What the hell happened?"

I pulled Tony out of training to give me a ride home for the party. As we approached the house, we could see Carol in the front yard with a group of three overweight women in Hawaiian shirts. The three women in Hawaiian shirts immediately approached the car like a herd of trained water buffalo as soon as it turned in the driveway. "There's a problem with the pig," one of the fat women blurted out before I could get completely out of the car.

I was beginning to assume that the catering company had stuck me with some overweight rejects. "Don't you have the half pig for the luau like you are supposed to?" I asked.

Carol stepped in to act as their spokeswoman. "It's a whole pig and it's alive in our back yard. It's tearing up the flowers and the yard. It's filthy," she stated flatly.

I complained to the fat women in the Hawaiian shirts that they were supposed to provide a butchered half pig. They in turn claimed that I was supposed to provide a half pig ready for cooking and they knew nothing about a whole live pig.

"If I shoot the pig, can you cook it?" I asked the women. After some discussion, the women decided they couldn't butcher and cook the pig. I took charge. "Alright, you get rid of this pig and get some other meat over here for tonight." The women agreed to get a replacement for the pig but still claimed they knew nothing about the live pig in the back yard and had no intention of going near it. Maybe I could get Tony to handle it. "Tony, I need to get ready for the party. Can you stick around to deal with this pig situation?" Tony nodded but not with any enthusiasm.

I headed for the backyard with Carol, Tony, and the water buffalo herd in Hawaiian shirts several steps behind. "What the hell is that smell? Is that the pig?" I cried.

Carol remained calm and factual. "That's not the pig. The neighbors got a load of manure," she answered.

"Those idiots. Get them to move it or at least cover it," I ordered to no one in particular. "Why does the neighbor's roof have colored spots on it?" I asked.

"It's a mystery to me," Carol shrugged.

"Idiots," I repeated. Looking over the fence, I didn't see a pig. "Well, where is it? I don't see a pig."

Carol calmly observed, "Well, it looks like he's eaten the garden, destroyed about half the shrubs, rooted up part of the grass, and now he's in the Jacuzzi."

"Get out of there," I screamed. "I will shoot it. Carol, go get my gun." The thought of that animal getting dirt and God knows what other foul slime in my Jacuzzi incensed me.

"You don't want to get arrested, Bill. We'll get someone to haul the pig away," Tony advised.

"If we turn on the heat in the Jacuzzi, it might get too hot for the animal," Carol added.

"Okay, I'm going to take a shower. Somebody deal with the pig and the manure and we can still pull this party off."

As soon as I adjusted the water and began washing my hair, orange water started coming out of the shower. I tried turning it on and off but orange water still came out of the hot water. I used a wash cloth to wash the orange out of my hair and off my skin as best I could. Tony was still on the phone about the pig when I got downstairs. "All of a sudden, colored water started coming out of the shower. Did I get all the orange off?"

Tony shook his head. "You look like you have an orange tan."

"Alright, I'll go back and just use the cold water; it's not colored. Have Carol get the plumber over here, now."

The orange tint would not come completely off my face and arms. The pig was back to roaming the back yard when I went out to hose down the Jacuzzi. Apparently Carol turned up the heat too much for his liking. I found a flashlight with dead batteries in our shed. I took out the batteries and threw them at the pig as it was eating our Japanese garden. The batteries didn't seem to have much effect. The manure smell seemed to get stronger as the wind came up.

"Are you sure you want to go ahead with this party," Carol whined.

This was becoming a matter of principle with me now. "We'll just keep everyone inside."

"There's an odor in the living room," Carol announced.

I quit spraying the Jacuzzi and headed for the house. "It's gotta be the manure. Close all the windows and turn on the central air," I directed.

"The air conditioning is on and I don't think the smell is manure," Carol stated glumly.

"Damn you, Carol. You were supposed to have everything ready for this party. It's a big party for management and you've got nothing ready," I berated her. "You can't even turn the air conditioning on." She offered no defense.

"I found a farmer who will come and take the pig in a few hours," Tony informed me.

"I don't want some farmer. I want Animal Control or the caterer before this party starts," I demanded.

"It's not the caterer's pig," Tony reminded me.

"Get Animal Control then," I told him.

It only took the plumber about 10 minutes to come up with his appraisal of the situation. "You've got orange stuff in the water heater and cheese in your air conditioning."

"What do you mean cheese in the air conditioning?" I asked.

"That's why your house stinks. You've got cheese on the motor of the central air conditioner."

I stared at the plumber, hoping he would start to make sense soon. "Now, how would cheese get on the air conditioner? And what the hell is orange stuff?"

"Damned if I know," was all he would say.

I didn't trust this guy but I didn't have much time to deal with him. Normally I could tear these guys apart. I told him to get the hell out and I would pay a quarter of what he wanted to charge me for the emergency house call. He grumbled something and left.

T.G. was one of the first guests to arrive. "Did you know it stinks in your yard. It smells good in here, though."

"That's burned cheese, you moron," I pointed out.

"I don't mind it a little burnt," T.G. replied.

"It's on the air conditioner motor," Carol quietly informed T.G.

"Oh. I had something like that happen once. Bill, did you try some do-it-yourself at home tanning job? That is the most orange tan I have ever seen on a human being. It must be fast, though, because you had no tan this morning."

I cut him off before he could go any further with his blather. "If you're going to stay at this party, shut up and don't cause trouble. Got it?"

"Those parties can be fun, too, where everybody shuts up and doesn't cause trouble," T.G. said.

Two Animal Control officers arrived shortly after the first guests. Tony went into the back yard to deal with them while I stayed in the house to entertain the guests. After a 10-minute chase in the yard, Tony came back in, covered with dirt and sweat. "Bill, we need some help. That pig is fast and probably weighs more than 200 pounds. Let's get some of these guys to help trap him and hold the pig down."

I escorted Tony back to the kitchen. "Are you nuts? I'll look like a fool, bringing all the mangers into my backyard to wrestle with a pig. What's wrong with those Animal Control guys? Can't they take care of one pig?"

"Bill. It's big and fast and it bites. Let's wait for the farmer to get here."

"Alright, I'll take care of it myself," I told Tony as I strode toward the back yard. I grabbed a two by four from the garage and immediately began chasing the pig toward the corner of the yard by the pool and Jacuzzi. "I'll smack him in the head and stun him. Then you can drag him to your truck," I told the Animal Control officer nearest me.

"You can't do that. Put that board down," the officer yelled back.

Sensing that the stakes had been raised, the pig jumped on a redwood bench and over the fence into the Jacuzzi area which, by now, he was familiar with. I opened the gate, two by four still in hand, and closed in on the Jacuzzi. The pig leaped into the Jacuzzi and began a horrendous squealing like it was being gutted alive. It swam to the other side and climbed out. I swung at the pig and hit him but not solidly. He tore off towards the pool with me chasing him. I got off a few swings but didn't connect. The pig raced for the far end of the pool enclosure but panicked and fell into the pool when he saw Tony closing in from the opposite direction. The pig began swimming around the pool with the Animal Control Officers trying to get a noose around his neck whenever he came near the sides. Finally, they got the noose around him but the pig struggled mightily as the two officers, Tony, and I tried to pull him from the pool. Each time we got him up, he kicked furiously and we couldn't hold him. One of the Animal Control officers fell into the pool during the struggle. The loud squealing and our yelling brought a group of managers out to watch.

This was getting embarrassing. I tried to downplay the events for damage control. "No problem. Some practical joker put a pig in my backyard and we're having some trouble getting him out of my pool."

The senior Animal Control officer called for the fire department on his radio. I forced a weak smile and herded the group of managers back into the house. "No more excitement until the fire department gets here," I smilingly told the group.

Frank Montgomery, the 54 year-old purchasing manager stopped me. "You need to attach a rope between two pulleys and then use a sling attached around the middle to pull him up in the air." I resisted the strong initial inclination to declare him a total idiot.

"Keep this pig and get some more pigs," T.G. offered. "Then you'll have a herd of pigs and with the manure over there, you're well on your way to opening a little farm here."

I didn't have time to respond because somebody was calling out that two police officers were at our front door. I immediately started the conversation. "Oh, good. You guys are here to help with the pig. You just go through that gate to get to the backyard."

The officers didn't move toward the gate. "We're not here about a pig. We're here because we had a complaint that someone has been firing paint balls at your neighbor's house. The roof and sides have more than twenty paint spots. They seem to think it's you."

"That's crazy. No, I didn't do that."

"Have you had some disagreements with them in the past?"

This was heading in the wrong direction. "Well, yes. They started some trouble over a dog barking."

"They say you shot a paint ball at their dog."

"It wouldn't shut up. It was 2 o'clock in the morning.

"Do you have a paint ball gun in the house?"

I lead the officers to the garage but couldn't find the paint ball gun. While I searched, the officers wandered around the garage. "Are these some kind of targets, sir?" Two large pictures with scattered paint spots on them were posted on the wall. One poster had a picture of our next door neighbor and his wife and the second poster had a picture of Janet Reno. Circles with numbers were drawn around the pictures like point values on a target.

"No, I don't know. Crazy things have been happening around here. Somebody is trying to set me up for all kinds of things. They put a pig in my yard, somebody hacked my computer and sent out a nasty cartoon, my car was vandalized in the parking lot, the water heater has got orange stuff, and there's cheese on the air conditioner. The paint balls are probably the same sort of thing. Somebody got into my house and office and set me up for all this. It's probably a guy named Dave Shiller. You should go over and question him. I definitely want to file a complaint."

"What are these boxes marked Comax, sir?"

"I've never seen them before tonight," I declared.

"Is this personal equipment or company equipment that you are using in your work?"

"I don't know."

"Do you mind if we look in the boxes?" The officers began looking in the boxes while I continued to look for my paint ball gun.

Frank Montgomery and T.G. came into the garage, looking for me. "Bill, there's more policemen here to see you about your car." Montgomery moved over to where the officers were going through the boxes. "Say, this looks like some of the office supplies that have been disappearing over the last couple weeks."

"You know, I had a cow that mooed when you turned it over, disappear from my desk. Check and see if it is in there, " T.G. told Montgomery.

I quickly left the garage to find the newly arrived police officers, hoping desperately that they found the low life that damaged my car. On my way to the front door, the branch manager stopped me. "I need to use your phone right away, Bill. I just got a page from Nick Springer in New York. He was copied on your E-mail." I quickly lead the branch manager to a phone in my den and then moved to the entry foyer where the second group of police officers was now talking to Carol.

"Any luck finding out who damaged my car?" I asked.

"No, sir. But we suspect your car may have been used in an incident at the Northgate Bank around 12:30 today."

I wondered what emotion my face should be showing now. For the first time today, I probably showed some apprehension. Characteristically, Carol was unfazed, standing with her arms folded, listening intently. "What kind of incident?" I asked.

"A car matching your description was used to partially tear the roof off an ATM building in the Bank's parking lot. It looks like a chain was hooked to a corner post and a car matching your description pulled it loose. Did you know your car has some damage to the rear bumper area where a chain may have been hooked to it and there is a chain in your trunk?"

I nodded numbly, recalling the tow truck driver's remarks. As soon as the officers began asking detailed questions about what I had done that day, my mind started trying out different alibis for my lunch hour. Which alibi would be believable and couldn't be proven to be a lie? With Carol standing here, I couldn't admit I was continuing an affair that I told Carol had stopped four months ago. Plus, it was Northgate Bank where I had complained about the branch manager to his corporate office. I tried giving them a vague description about going to lunch with someone from work but not giving a name.

"So you went to lunch with someone, left your car in the parking lot, and as far as you know, the car never left, " the officer recapped.

"Yes," I stated with conviction.

"Was the car in the same spot where you parked it in the morning and was it still locked in the afternoon?"

"Yes."

"The ignition does not appear to be tampered with and the car was still locked in the afternoon. Who else had a key or had access to keys?"

"Just Carol and I." The police didn't look like they believed any of this and I couldn't do much to help my own cause because I didn't understand how it could have happened.

The two officers from the garage along with Frank Montgomery and T.G. joined the group after exchanging greetings with the officers questioning me. The older officer from the second group investigating the car incident seemed to be the senior officer. He was a crusty, overweight cop; he looked like a real donut lover. Late arrivers to the party pushed past the group of us in the entry foyer. Carol and I waved meekly and directed them to the living room. "Sir, the purchasing manager, Mr. Montgomery here, has confirmed that those boxes in your garage contain equipment and supplies that were reported stolen from Comax."

"Somebody is doing all this to make me look bad, I swear," I blurted out, hoping that somebody would believe it.

"Are you here about stolen property?" the crusty donut lover asked the officers from the garage.

"No. We're here about a paint ball incident."

"We found a paint ball gun in the trunk of Mr. Buck's car," the crusty donut lover responded in that knowing tone used by television detectives when they think the facts of a case are all coming together.

I interrupted quickly, "It's the same person doing all of this. It's got to be Dave Shiller.

"Sir, we're going to need a lot more information about your activities today. Is there some place we can go to talk right now?"

"I'm in the middle of giving an important party here," I complained.

Tony burst in to let me know the fire department had arrived. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of having several city agencies in attendance.

One of the police officers quickly asked, "Is there an emergency here?"

"There's a giant pig in our pool," Carol answered.

The officers nodded.

"Carol, why don't you go back to the party and I'll straighten things out with these officers," I suggested. I needed to get her out because it was apparent that I would need to give specifics about going to a motel with Jeanne Davis over lunch.

"Mr. Montgomery, are you planning to press charges on the stolen office property?" one of the officers asked.

Montgomery looked at me before answering. "I'll have to get our branch manager to make that call."

"If my cow is in there, I'm pressing charges," T.G. stated.

"It's not me," I reminded no one in particular.

The rest of the group went outside to check on the pig removal from the pool, while I went to check on the branch manager in the den. Larry was slumped in the leather chair behind my desk, looking moderately forlorn. "Nick Springer is not upset about my head on a chicken's body kissing his butt but he is upset about the reference to insider trading. He doesn't want the SEC investigating the company. Did you sell stock before the earnings came out last quarter and then buy back ahead of the merger rumor?"

"I didn't send the E-mail."

"You'd be incredibly stupid if you did since you potentially could be arrested. Apparently, T.G. found an erased remnant of a program on your hard drive that set up a window that was identical to our log on screen. It recorded your password and then transferred you through to the main screen so that you didn't realize you weren't using the actual log in screen."

"Well, that proves it wasn't me."

Larry nodded. "I don't think the SEC cares who is sending out embarrassing E-mails. Did you trade ahead of the bad earnings report last quarter?"

"I wouldn't interpret it that way but I did sell some stock and then bought it back?" Larry looked more droopy and forlorn now. Loud squealing could be heard from the back yard.

The group of officers along with Tony, Frank Montgomery, and Carol made their way into the den now that the pig was being loaded into the Animal Control truck. Tony was covered in mud for some reason. "I think the worst of it is over now," Tony asserted.

I noticed that two more police officers had joined the group to bring the total to six. "Did you decide to bring in more reinforcements on the case."

The crusty donut lover acted as the spokesman. "These two officers are here due to a complaint from a Mr. David Shiller about a paint ball shooting and other vandalism."

I knew Dave Shiller was behind all this. Finally, his name came up. "That's the guy who's causing all these problems. I fired him and now he's trying to get back at me. He must have shot his own house and my neighbor's house and claimed it was me. Let's get him over here and get some answers."

One of the new officers, who looked like Al Gore, interjected. "We have eyewitnesses that saw a 1998 Mercedes E230, license number MGMTPRO, drive across Mr. Shiller's lawn and shrubbery and strike two deer in Mr. Shiller's front yard. In addition, Mr. Shiller's house, his dog, two of his cars, and several locations on his house were also hit with paint balls."

"He set it up. He's got some trumped up liar for a witness. How the hell do you run over two deer in this city, anyway?" I asked.

Al Gore stoically described that there were several witnesses to the incident in front of Shiller's home including the wife of a city councilman and that the deer were made of concrete. I decided to remain quiet for a while until I had some other plausible explanations.

The party broke up after the crusty donut lover and his helper took me to the police station to file charges. By the time Tony and Carol posted bail and brought me back home, it was 11:15 PM. We made a side trip past Northgate Bank to see the partially missing roof on the ATM building, which was surrounded by flashing barricades and caution tape. Tony and I collapsed on the sofa with a glass of wine while Carol went to check the phone messages.

"It's been a hell of a day, hasn't it?" I asked sarcastically. "My career is in shambles due to insider trading and stealing office equipment; I face several criminal charges; and I probably have a few civil lawsuits against me, all in one day."

"It could have gone better," Tony stated dryly. "You may have to give up that Buck corollary about bad things only happening to losers and winners developing an immunity to mishaps. My friend, you're not as in control as you may think you are."

"No, this is only temporary. Tomorrow, I start to get revenge. I'm going to hire private detectives to watch Shiller and lawyers to serve papers and ask nasty questions until he admits what he did. It'll all start going back to normal tomorrow. Shiller becomes the loser again and I am back in control."

"What if it wasn't Shiller?"

That had been going through my mind. "Maybe it was Shiller and that little weasel, T.G. I'll get both of them if it was."

I slumped further into the sofa as Carol entered the room. My skin still had an orange tint. "Carol, what messages did I have?"

"There were calls from your lawyer about the car incident, your other lawyer about the insider trading, the Bank's lawyer about the building, the neighbor's insurance company, the Bank's insurance company, Animal Control, the police have some more questions, a newspaper reporter from the Times, our car insurance company, our home insurance company, and Reverend Michaels."

"What the hell does Reverend Michaels want?"

"He thanked you for applying for the janitor position at the church rectory but you did not need to include a nude picture of yourself."

My eyes widened and I sat up. "I don't believe this guy Shiller."

When I looked at Carol, she had a distant look on her face.

"Are you alright, Carol?" Tony asked. "It's been quite a night."

"I'm fine," she replied almost nonchalantly. "And it wasn't Dave Shiller." The self-assured tone in her voice froze me; she didn't sound like she was speculating. My eyes turned to become transfixed on her. "Bill, you and I are getting a divorce." Before I could react, she continued. "I didn't know it before today but it's going to happen. I know about your affair with that woman at work. That's not the real reason, though. The affair is just a symptom of your attitude towards me. I can't stand being treated with disgust because I don't measure up to your standards."

We all sat quietly, contemplating what to say next.

Carol smiled faintly, "I enjoyed today. It was amusing to see so many things go wrong. The man that demands perfection had absolutely nothing go right for his big party to impress management."

Tony also smiled. "A hell of a lot of things did go wrong, didn't they?"

"Are you both nuts?" I blurted out. "How could anybody think today was amusing?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, Carol announced, "I did all those things to ruin your party and embarrass you but I don't know where that pig came from."

"But you didn't wreck my car and tear the roof off the bank," I said.

"I went too far there. It's just that when I saw you with that woman and followed you to the motel, I lost control a little. Yes, I wrecked your car and tore the roof off the bank."

"And the other stuff?" I asked.

Carol nodded. "I had some help at your office but I can't say who or how. All of it but I still don't know how a pig got into our back yard and destroyed it."

Tony broke into the conversation. "I know about the pig. It was supposed to be a practical joke but it got a little out of hand. The farmer got the pig out of his truck and into your backyard so easily. I had no idea how big a problem there would be getting the pig out of the yard. I wanted to see Bill get shaken up a bit. I didn't want to ruin the party. I just thought a practical joke might lighten the whole affair up."

"Now I know you're both nuts," I stated with disgust. "Carol, I hope it was worth it because you're going to lose it all."

"It was my way of getting back at you for all your incessant criticism. I want to be able to make mistakes without being verbally abused all the time."

At last things were on the table. I was starting to feel some control coming back. "Are you willing to admit publicly to everything that happened today to clear my name at the office and with the police?"

Carol gave me a half smirk that annoyed the hell out of me.

"Well, are you going to admit it?" I pressed her. "Give me a damn answer."

"Maybe."