"Is there any other way?" Pauline Kent asked me.
Earlier that day I had taken a phone call from her. I was a senior manager at a large investment advice company and the call from our Catering Manager had me intrigued, why the heck did she want to speak to me.
She had been with us for about ten years and did a fine job ensuring all the staff ate well and the many hot beverage machines were kept stocked and in working order.
She had attended some our staff parties; the management team were always keen for all our workers to feel they were important to the company.
Pauline was late forties, long wavy light brown hair, quite tall, a bit toothy but with full lips and a shapely figure. I'd heard of various attempts to get her to fool around but evidently no-one had succeeded, she danced with enthusiasm but that was all.
New suppliers and contracts had to be authorised by me so our contact was regular and she was always friendly and cheerful when we met.
"Hi Pauline, Dave speaking, what can I do for you?"
I could hear her sobbing.
"Can you come and see me at home, please I'm desperate."
"I suppose so, what is wrong Pauline?"
"I can't say over the phone but I'm in trouble" more sobs.
"Give me half an hour, I'll see what I can do."
I hung up and checked her address from the company database, I was fairly sure she was quite local from past conversations. I was right, just a couple of miles from the offices on a modern estate I drove past regularly.
I told my secretary I would be going out for a while, as a senior manager I could come and go pretty much as I pleased as long as I did my job well, finishing the data I was working on didn't take long and I was soon heading for my car.
The house was easily located, a semi-detached bungalow at the end of a small cul de sac. She opened the door soon after I knocked, her face tear stained and worried.
"Pauline what the hell is wrong?"
"Come into the living room, I've got myself in a real mess" she answered and led me into a small but cosy room with a view of the fields on the edge of the estate.
She seated herself in an armchair, motioning me to a settee opposite her.
"Read this Dave." She picked up some papers from a table beside the chair.
It was a letter from the company's health insurers, depending on seniority of position and the length of service we provided low cost or no cost insurance for all our workers. At Pauline's level they got the basics, receipts submitted for dental or approved physiotherapy meant they got most of the cost refunded. My department managed the records and confirmed the level of cover when a receipt was submitted.
The letter said she had submitted a fraudulent claim and the matter may be passed for legal action; a colour scan of the receipt was enclosed.
I held out my hand "Receipt" I said.
Tearfully she passed it to me, it was for physiotherapy treatment and had obviously been altered. It was for £180 except the 1 was a different shade of blue ink to the 80 and was slightly out of line.
"For god's sake Pauline did you seriously think they would not notice!" I snapped.
"I'm so sorry, I was desperate, we just always seem to be skint. Bill spends all our money at the pub. I just didn't think, can you help?"
"Can you make me a coffee while I think about how we can fix this mess?" I asked.
"Yes sure." Pauline said and she disappeared for a couple of minutes.
I looked at the letter again, it was signed by Mike Barrett, General Manager. I knew Mike quite well he was a member of the same golf club and part of the same group that socialised after the golf. I reckoned I might be able to help her. I took off my jacket, the room was warm.
She reappeared with a coffee for each of us, placing the cups on the small table between us.
