Chapter Seven – Chris Morgan
1267 Words
Chapter Seven – Chris MorganFive Days Before
Chris Morgan had been at home and constantly worried for five days before they called him to schedule a time for him to meet with the investigator. When he first told her what had happened, Connie had just looked at him, silently appraising, conveying that he had let the family down without saying a word. He had assured her that he had done nothing wrong and everything would be all right. She nodded, but he was not sure that she believed him.
Since the day he had been suspended, Chris had been obsessing about what was going on. Was someone out to get him? And how would they pay the rent and buy food this month? They had nothing in the bank and nowhere to go for money. They had borrowed from her parents and owed plenty already. He was feeling trapped and had far too much time on his hands, most of which was spent replaying the suspension and trying to determine what policy he had allegedly broken.
Now that the day of the interview was here, Chris could hardly wait. He wanted to hear what he had been accused of and to make it right. He wanted to put this all behind him and get back to work. He drove downtown and pulled into the parking lot of California Bank's corporate headquarters. He parked, taking the ticket the machine spat out at him so that he could have it validated. He signed in with security in the lobby and rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor as directed. The receptionist took him to a small conference room where no one waited, flicked on the light, and told him to take a seat and the investigator would be with him shortly.
He straightened his tie and took deep breaths to fend off the nervousness. After about ten minutes, the door opened and a short-haired woman in a business suit stepped inside. She looked about forty years old, was slightly overweight and had a serious expression.
“Mr. Morgan?” she asked.
“Yes, ma'am.”
She took a seat across the small table and said, “I am Roberta Fisher, an attorney and investigator for the bank.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Mr. Morgan, I am here to ask you questions about accusations that have been made against you at the bank. I have to let you know that depending on what we find, you could face discipline or termination. Your job is just to answer my questions truthfully and completely. We want to get to the truth. We will attempt to keep all of this quiet and only those within the company who have a need to know will be kept informed. Any questions?”
Chris's head was spinning. He couldn't think of any specific questions, so he said, “I don't think so.”
“All right, so let's begin. Do you work with a teller named Amy Cooper?”
“Yes, sure.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Amy?”
“Good. We are just coworkers, but we get along fine.”
“Did you tell Amy that she looked really good in what she was wearing?”
“I might have, I don't know. If I did, I was just complimenting her.”
“Did you tell her that a certain outfit made her ass look great?”
Chris froze. It had happened once about a year ago. “Well, it was a year ago and I was only telling her how hot she looked.”
“So you did say it?”
“Yes, one time. Like I say, it was a year or more ago.”
“Chelsea Wilkins is another teller who works with you regularly, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Chelsea Wilkins that she had great t**s?”
“No, no, I never said anything like that.”
“Did you stare at her breasts?”
“No.”
“Did you ever put your hand on her buttocks while she was bent over a file cabinet?”
“No way.”
“Did you talk to Chelsea about her boyfriend?”
“Depends what you mean. She talked about him, so I would like ask how he was and how they were doing.”
“How they were doing as a couple?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you need to know that?”
“I didn't need to know it, I was just being social, asking how it was going with her and her boyfriend. She talked about him a lot, so I would just ask how they were doing.”
“How often?
“I don't know. Occasionally.”
“Did you ever tell her that you wanted to f**k her brains out?”
“No, never. I wouldn't say that to a woman.”
“Ever ask her to show you her t**s?”
“No, never. I do not talk like that to any woman.”
“You ever touch her breasts?”
“Never.”
“Mr. Morgan, can you think of any reason that either Chelsea or Amy would want to lie about such things?”
“I have no idea. I can only say that I did not do the kind of things you're asking about. I never would.”
“Did you ever ask Amy if it was hard to take her jeans off?”
“What? No, I…” He stopped when it occurred to him that they had a conversation about jeans a couple of years ago. “I can't believe we are having this conversation,” he said. “This is really not right.”
“What do you mean,” Fisher asked him.
“A couple of years ago we talked about our favorite jeans. She said she liked Trend Brand, and I told her I tried them but I didn't like them because they were too hard to get on and off. That was the end of that conversation.”
“Did you ever go over to a co-employee's house?”
“One time, yes.”
“Whose house did you go to?”
“Amy's.”
“Why?”
“She left her coat at work on a Friday night. She called and asked if it was there because she wasn't sure where she left it. I told her I could drop it off on my way home.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Here's your coat.”
“And what did she say?”
“Thanks.”
“Any more to it?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Did you make any comment about her appearance that night?”
“What?”
“Did you say anything about the way she looked?”
Chris sat back in his chair and thought.
“What was she wearing?”
“A dress.”
“Did you comment on it?”
“I might have said she looked pretty.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Fisher regarded her notes for a few minutes and then said, “Okay, that's all I have. Is there anything you would like to say?”
Chris drew in a breath and said, “Only that I love my job and I respect women. I would not say s****l things to the women I work with, so none of this makes any sense.”
She nodded and made a brief note. “Okay, we are all done here, Mr. Morgan. We will get back to you when the investigation is concluded. It will likely be within the next few days.”
Chris stood and shook her hand. “Okay, thank you.”
“Will you guys validate parking?” he asked.
“Yes, sure. See the receptionist out front and tell her I said we would do it.”
“Thank you,” Chris said. He walked to the receptionist and she put a stamp on his parking ticket. As he walked to the car, he replayed the interview in his mind. He wanted to think that this was all behind him soon, but he was worried. He couldn't believe that he had been accused of behaviors like that. He asked himself why they would do that, but could come up with no answer.
As Chris drove home, the questions were spinning around in his mind and he tried to replay them as accurately as possible. The people that he worked with every day and liked—they thought he was a harasser? It just couldn't be right. He would tell Connie everything that happened and she would help him make sense of all this. Nausea rose up in him like a wave and he had to pull over to the side of the road to vomit. It was a nightmare.
- Writer
