The Other Side of Caroline Short Story Collection

Normally on the 19th floor of the Whittaker Tower, the chaos that erupted when the elevators opened was because of money.

Stocks growing into the heavens and crashing into the bowels of hell. Sometimes you could control the bull. Some days it stabbed you straight in the face with its gold and silver horns.

You win some, you lose some. It was the name of the game and everybody at Kellan and Bishop Investments knew this.

Most days were pretty mundane when it came to earnings-breaking even meant you could keep your job for another few hours. But don’t let it be your new norm or you’d be out the door faster than you could say vote for Reagan.

You had to make money or you were a liability and KBI did not do liabilities.

So yeah it could be a bit competitive.

A lot competitive.

It was fine because at the end of the day what was the job without a little healthy competition.

Being top dog came with so many perks. A nice corner office. Company car. Paid vacation under the guise of business travel. And the most important part-the bragging rights.

For years the top earner position of the company belonged solely to one man.

Dennis Harrison-Trevor.

The dick with the three first names as he was called behind his back. Dick Head Trevor they mutter under their breaths. Or just plain ol’ Dick. Or Smug Asshole. Or a number of derogatory things said about him over the years. He knew it all and didn’t care a single bit. He wasn’t the most attractive man or even the smartest but he was charismatic. He had a knack for telling people what they wanted to hear in a way that benefited him. His talent and prowess spoke for themselves and led him to where he was.

The rest of the pissants and peons could yap all they wanted but they’d never compare to him. His power and influence in the company. He was more than the top dog.

Dennis was thee golden boy. He could do no wrong in the bosses’ eyes but his coworkers believed there had to be a breaking point somewhere.

That was tested when just last year the man slept with Bishop’s wife. Word had gotten around the office like wildfire and everyone was sure he was going to get the axe after that. Bishop and his wife had been together for almost twenty years and he loved her deeply.

To everyone’s shock, Bishop divorced his wife and Dennis stayed put at the company. 

Rumors of blackmail swirled for quite a time but ultimately died by next quarter when once again Dennis reigned supreme as the top earner. He was bulletproof and it was cemented after that. There wasn’t anything anyone could say or do. So life went back to its regularly scheduled chaos. 

Money. The incessant ringing of phones. The cacophony of voices yelling over each other.

Buy this. Sell that. Hold on for a just a while longer.

Until today. May 28th.

The Monday was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was there.

Everyone except Dennis Harrison-Trevor. His office was noticeably empty, a very strange and out of the ordinary view.

Dennis was always the first one there in the morning.

Feet propped up on his desk, casually taking calls away from the noise of the Bullpen.

Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected with his loose tie and sleeves rolled up.

“Where the hell is DHT?”

The question was raised by one of the junior bankers, Elizabeth Stevens. A series of murmurs flowed across the room, looking to answer the inquiry.

But no one had a good enough response.

Couldn’t be traffic. He got in before the morning rush.

He never overslept. The bumps of cocaine he snorted like clockwork wouldn’t allow for that. But then that went into the thought that he might’ve overdosed. That trail fell through too. Dennis was only thirty-three and folks had seen him do enough coke to take down an elephant and still close above his metrics.

Further hypotheses were interrupted by the phone in Dennis’ office ringing.

Several pairs of eyes landed on the bright red telephone, somehow expecting Dennis to materialize and answer it with that smooth baritone of his.

Then it rang again. Dennis really wasn’t here. He never let the phone ring more than once. Said every ring was a thousand dollars getting flushed down the toilet. Before it could go a third time, a pair of heels clicked over and answered.

“Dennis Harrison-Tucker’s office, this is Candice speaking.”

Caroline was Kellan’s prim, proper, and pretty little thing of an assistant that Dennis had been trying his hardest to poach. She did fantastic work and the man had tried every tactic to get her on his side but she stayed with her boss. Whispers of harassment followed behind their interactions but nobody would speak up to defend her. She seemed capable of handling herself but also…no one wasn’t going to step up against Dennis. They didn’t care about her that much.

The Bullpen watched as she nodded to whatever was being said, writing on Dennis’ notepad as she listened.

“Unfortunately Mr. Monroe Dennis is currently unavailable but I can get someone else that is just as capable to take a look over your portfolio. Yes of course, one moment.”

She put the phone on hold and held the receiver to her shoulder before looking out at the crowd. “Does anyone want to take this call while Dennis is indisposed?”

No one stepped to the plate. The last person that tried to take one of the man’s clients was fired as soon as he hung up the phone. Last anyone had heard from him, he was working in some crap shop selling cheap shoes in Brooklyn. His career in investment banking was dead with no hope of revival.

With that image in mind, no one wanted to cross Dennis-indisposed or not.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Caroline grumbled under her breath.

She rolled her eyes and was about to hang up the call when someone finally stepped up.

“I’ll take it.”

Caroline passed the phone to Mr. Perpetual Number Two: Kevin Williams. The man with a one sided rivalry with Dennis.

He took a seat in the man’s chair and took the call. The crowd scattered but kept their eyes out just in case Dennis came in. They didn’t want to be implicated but they did want to see the fireworks show when the man arrived.

Luckily for Kevin and unfortunately for the rest of the office, Dennis didn’t show and Kevin got to scurry back to his desk without any fuss.

They were confused and mildly concerned but then phones started ringing off the hook and their day truly began. All day long they worked like the well dressed and smooth talking people they were.

And all day Dennis’ office remained empty. The phone would ring, Caroline would answer and Kevin would take the call. Rinse and repeat until eventually others would grab calls too.

By lunch, people were starting to bicker and fight over the phone, trying to one up each other. Dennis wasn’t there and for once there was an opportunity for someone else to emerge at the top of the hierarchy. The lack of Dennis was causing a power vacuum. But also that was just the dynamic of the company. There wasn’t any loyalty there and if you thought there was, you’d learn the contrary rather quickly. You might have a partnership or an uneasy alliance for a time but it would never last. And when it did inevitably implode, just like now, it would be pandemonium.

Then 3:30 came. The elevators opened and out walked three men.

Three cops and a panicked Kellan, yelling on the phone behind them.

Everyone that was able looked at the scene, wondering what was going on. Especially since it didn’t look like they were coming for them and Bishop wasn’t with them.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this!” the owner yelled. “Because there’s no way what you’re saying is true!”

They were heading to Kellan and Bishop’s offices, located on the other side of the floor separated from the Bullpen. Silence fell over the office, like even their clients could tell something was amiss in their space.

“Wha-”

The words died when the men came back around. Caroline was with them, in handcuffs and in police custody. Her face gave away nothing, mouth cast perfectly straight. Kellan was still on the phone while also yelling at the men.

“Caroline it’s FINE! I have Gregory on this! Don’t say a single fucking thing to them!”

He was right on their heels. Until one of the men split off from Caroline’s escorts and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Get your fuc-”

“Sir I’m going to ask you to refrain from finishing that sentence or you’ll be in a cell next to your assistant,” the cop threatened quietly.

The boss’s demeanor shifted as he directed his attention to Caroline, the woman now by the elevator.

“I’m going to take care of this farce,” he told her, with a reassuring smile. “Just hang on.”

With a small nod, Caroline was pulled into the elevator and the doors closed on her.

“I’m going to need to interview you.”

Kellan brushed off the man’s hand, his smile growing condescending. “Of course Detective Lester.”

He then motioned towards the rest of the Bullpen.

“Feel free to interview the rest of my employees too,” he snarked. “I’m sure we’d all love to tell you where and what we were up to this weekend.”

Kellan moved away from Detective Lester to address his employees.

“Everyone this is Detective Nathaniel Lester,” he was dryly introduced. “He’ll be pulling some of you to ask a few questions but before anyone speaks to him, our lawyer will be involved as well.”

The Bullpen glanced around at each other, wondering who’d be the one to ask the question. But Kellan spoke up first.

“Dennis Harrison-Trevor was found dead in his apartment this morning.”

He folded his arms across his chest with a scoff.

“And apparently he and his crew of crackpots think Caroline killed him.”

Normally on the 19th floor of the Whittaker Tower, the chaos that erupted when the elevators opened was because of money. But for once, it was over murder.

Dennis was dead. Apparently Caroline killed him. 

But did she actually kill him? And if not her then who?

More importantly though-

Who was going to replace him as the Top Dog?