“Again, you didn’t ask?”
“No. I don’t want to come off as prying, too early in the relationship. I never begin a relationship with a new client by asking them about their assets, because as I say, they regard it as prying. I give them my sales pitch and explain how we can tailor their portfolio to meet their investment goals.” Jake gestured at Detective Woo again. “As I told you, the truth is, it doesn’t matter how much money someone may have. I know I can grow it over time, no matter how much it is, and that’s the point I make at the outset.”
Detective Zwerling didn’t seem impressed. “Did he tell you where he kept his money? What his bank was?”
“No.”
“You didn’t ask him that either?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Same deal.”
Detective Zwerling lifted an unruly eyebrow. “Let me get this straight. When you talked to Mr. Voloshin, you had no idea if he even had the money to invest?”
“Yes that’s right.” Jake stole a glance at the credenza clock—10:54. He began to sweat under his starched shirt.
“How do you know he wasn’t wasting your time?”
“I don’t, but most people don’t come in if they don’t have the money or close to it. In any event, I think long-term. They may not have it now, but they could someday.”
“Did Voloshin seem wealthy, to you?”
“I never make an assumption about how much money anyone has by their appearance or their manner. My assistant Amy calls it paydar, and my paydar is terrible.” Jake smiled when Detective Woo did, though Detective Zwerling didn’t. “Mr. Voloshin wasn’t an ostentatious man, but I know from experience that someone like that could have a fortune socked away, or they could be a waiter.”
Detective Zwerling frowned again. “You mean a waiter, like in a restaurant?”
“No,” Jake answered, grasping for purchase on the terra firma of shop talk. “In my profession, a waiter is somebody who’s waiting for an inheritance. They live on the interest of trusts during most of their adult life and many of them live very frugally. They tend to look and act like Mr. Voloshin.”
Detective Woo clapped his hands together, smiling. “You mean they’re waiting for their parents to die? Oh, that’s cold.”
Jake flushed. The clock read 10:56. “I didn’t make up the term. We all use it. I guess it is harsh.”
“Waiters!” Detective Woo laughed.
“Enough, Richie.” Detective Zwerling pursed his lips. “To get back on track, Jake, did Voloshin tell you that he expected to be coming into money?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Did he ask you about setting up an offshore account for him?”
“No, he didn’t. In point of fact, we’re not a bank, so we don’t set up any bank accounts, offshore or otherwise. We’re an investment company and we invest our clients’ money in stocks, bonds, and the like.”
Detective Zwerling hesitated. “We did find evidence that would suggest Voloshin had set up an offshore account, himself. We’re trying to understand where the money to fund it would be coming from. Do you have any information about where Voloshin was getting the money?”
“No.”
“None at all?”
“None.”
“Where do your clients usually get money from?”
“What about inheritance?” Jake shrugged, casually.
“Don’t think so. He has a mother and we notified her as NOK, or next-of-kin. But she’s upstate in a nursing facility, with insurance footing the bills. Did he mention anything to you about a girlfriend?”
“No.”
Detective Zwerling frowned. “He didn’t mention a girlfriend?”
“No.” Jake wondered if Voloshin had a girlfriend, because the detective’s tone sounded surprised.
“There was no talk of providing for anyone?”
“No, no beneficiary or anything like that.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange, since he had told you he had a son, and an ex-wife?”
“No, because as I say, he didn’t give me much information at all. He played it close to the vest, and I pitched him.”
Detective Zwerling pursed his lips as he took notes. “So he didn’t say anything to you about a woman.”
“No.”
“Did you see what kind of car he drove?”
“No.”
Detective Woo shrugged, glancing again at Detective Zwerling. “Give it up. I’m telling you, I’m right.”
“Give what up?” Jake sneaked a glimpse of the credenza clock—10:59.
Detective Woo answered, “One of the tenants heard Voloshin arguing with a woman last night and saw a brunette leaving his—”
“Richie,” Detective Zwerling interrupted. “Enough.”
Detective Woo fell silent, and Jake remembered that Kathleen’s mother was a brunette. Maybe she had found out that Voloshin was stalking her daughter. But he didn’t know why she would kill him.
Detective Zwerling returned his attention to Jake. “To move on, Voloshin was never married. He had no ex-wife. No kids either. This isn’t confidential, it’ll be in the newspapers.”
Jake faked a confused frown. “But he said he was watching his son at the basketball game.”
“That wasn’t true.”
“So he’s not a dad? He doesn’t have a kid on the team?” Jake recoiled in fraudulent shock. The clock read 11:00. Either the transfer was stopped, or he was dead. The realization stressed him to the max. His heart beat wildly, throwing itself against the inside of his chest, as if it were trying to escape his very body.
“You say that financial planners don’t set up offshore accounts?” Detective Zwerling set down his notebook, laying his pen on top.
Jake tried to recover. “No.”
“So why did he want to meet you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought we did, mistakenly.”
Detective Zwerling narrowed his eyes, making his crow’s-feet look even deeper. “But you said he didn’t ask you if you did.”
Jake felt his mouth go dry. “Maybe he decided against it, after he saw the offices or something.”
“But why did he come to you, in particular?”
“Because we met at the game.” Jake struggled not to choke on his words. “I pitched him. I wanted him to come in.”
“Then why would he lie to you about the son, and the ex-wife? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know. Maybe to fit in, to make himself seem more normal, more like one of my clients?”
“But why? Why you? Did he go to the game to meet you?”
“I don’t know. I am one of the top ten independent financial planners in the region, rated by Barron’s. The other top guys are in Philly and Pittsburgh.”
“So why not just come to your office, like any other client? Why make up some story and meet you at the game?” Detective Zwerling shook his head, his dissatisfaction evident.
“Maybe he didn’t want to wait until Monday.”
“But how does he even know you’ll be at the game?”
“My son’s a well-known high-school basketball player, in the newspapers all the time. It’s a logical assumption I’d be there.” Jake didn’t elaborate. He wanted to keep Ryan’s name out of it altogether.
“Do you go to his games?”
“Not all of them, but this was the playoffs. I go then.” Jake saw a way out. “So maybe Voloshin made it a point to run into me. Maybe he thought he’d feel me out at the game, then he listened to my pitch and decided to come in, but saw that we don’t do the kind of thing he was interested in.”
“Why didn’t he ask you about it then?”
“An offshore account? Would you, if you saw this place?” Jake gestured at the conference room. “We’re obviously not the kind of place that deals in shady offshore accounts. We don’t even breathe that word around here.”
“Hmph.” Detective Zwerling paused. “Anyway, so he expected to come into money. But I don’t know where he expected to get it from. Do you have any idea?”
“No.”
“In your practice, or whatever you call it, how do clients generally come into money?”
“Inheritance, gift, stock windfall. He could’ve even won the lottery. I have two lottery winners among my clients.”
Detective Woo’s face came alive. “The lottery? Whoa! That’s incredible! What’s it like to win the lottery?”