He played the part well, a mild-mannered accounting professor with arched brows set over penetrating brown eyes. He even had the trappings of the profession -- a Casio calculator watch and breast pocket stocked with a black leather calendar, gold steel-rimmed glasses and a Cross pen and pencil set.
Only his fedora hinted at another side -- indeed, the inverse of ledgers, margins and units. Under that gray felt hat hid the imaginative creations of dead bodies, wealthy clients and drug-money laundering schemes.
Forgione. Dana A. Forgione. By day, associate professor at the Robert G. Merrick School of Business at the University of Baltimore. By night, author of paperback mystery novels whose hero is, by the way, an accounting professor.
But the plot thickens: Mr. Forgione's first work of fiction, "Costly Reflections in a Midas Mirror," co-authored with a Texas A&M; professor, is not simply a thriller. It's a lesson in accounting shrouded in a tale of murder most foul. And, it's required reading in his "cost accounting" course.
"I was pleasantly surprised," 26-year-old Matt T. Williams remarked as he strode into class this week.
"You mean, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be?" the professor shot back.
So goes the ongoing battle to put the death to the notion that exciting accounting is an oxymoron. The war, however, isn't won yet. Enrollment for accounting majors continues to dip nationally, despite salaries ranging from $30,000 to $300,000.
"I tell my students that the reason salaries are high for accountants is because relatively few people subject themselves this much hard work and boredom," Mr. Forgione said. "So the supply stays limited and the price stays high."
That could change, however, if educational pulp fiction like Mr. Forgione's lures more adherents to the accounting fold.
With 4,000 copies in the market, the professor's 173-page yarn ++ of intrigue represents a beginning. Thomas Horton and Daughters, an Arizona publishing boutique, has carved out a small niche in creative educational novels; Mr. Forgione's is only one in a series, available for $9.95 at the university bookstore, or directly from the publisher.
"If somebody came up with a TV series called 'The Accountants,' we'd be game for a contract," he said.
The show would star an introspective professor hired by a wealthy entrepreneur to investigate his granddaughter. The accountant suspects embezzlement, but finds murder, then fraudulent art work being used to launder drug money. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be solved with break-even analysis -- or by whispering sweet debits into somebody's ear, for that matter," surmises Professor Lenny Cramer, the hero of "Costly Reflections in a Midas Mirror."
Mr. Forgione is under no illusions about his novel. Even if it sells out, he stands to make just $2,000 -- maybe, he said, after doing the math on his Casio watch. In his other life as an accounting fraud examiner, he earns up to $150 an hour.
The book serves another purpose. "It lets students know we have a sense of humor, despite the green-eye shade" stereotype, said Karen A. Fortin, the university's accounting department chair.
Sometimes, however, levity is in short supply, at least in anvil-like course tomes, such as "Cost Accounting." Page 561, for example: "Contribution margin per unit is the difference between the selling price per unit and the variable production, selling and administrative costs per unit."
And then there is Mr. Forgione's way: "One person controlling the books -- typical small business," says the fictitious Professor Cramer. "Inwardly, I shook my head. The first principle of internal control is separation of duties. Never let the same person safeguard the cash and keep the books."
The critics in Room 221 at the Robert G. Merrick School of Business seem to approve.
"I think I learn more from the textbook, but from reading the novel, I would think about what it means," said Stephanie L. Jackson, a junior majoring in accounting. "When I read the text, I just wrote down the formula."
For Mr. Forgione, the novel was an exercise that stretched his own thinking.
"It originally was about a pornography ring, but I didn't think that was suitable for class, so I changed it to drug-money laundering," he said. "I don't know if that's any better." Mr. Forgione, however, imposes limits on just how racy it gets. The hero gets to kiss the leading lady, but that's it.
Without the romance of cloak-and-dagger, the 41-year-old Ph.D. from Massachusetts has worked on several major cases, assisting the Texas attorney general's office in a $300 million health care lawsuit and looking into an alleged case of embezzlement at an association of military retirees.
Evidence of his trade is in ample view in his university office: His bookshelf includes such enticing videos as "The Corporate Con" and "Cooking the Books" and a binder entitled, "HOW TO TELL IF SOMEONE IS LYING."
But the true measure of his gift for separating fact from fiction lies on his sheaf-scattered desk: three rubber balls, red, green and blue. "I tell my students they have to juggle three straight minutes, plus identify the colors, then I'll listen to their plea for extra points," he cracked.
The professor himself would have gladly tossed the balls when he was a college student struggling to find his calling. His grandfather, "Poppy," used to say, "Study business administration," although he hadn't, and managed quite well as a Greek immigrant importing tea. That, plus "there was no language requirement," drove Mr. Forgione to accounting. Poppy was right. Mr. Forgione seems to relish the life of an accountant, and it shows.
"Any time someone had to dig into the corpse of records, I was available," the fictitious Professor Cramer reveals. "Super accountant Cramer! Maybe I should get a special cape to wear like Superman. Or was that Batman? I pack an HP 12-C pocket calculator."