“Where are we going now?” she asked.
“To check on some money.”
***
The internationally renowned investment house was large and distinguished and above reproach, or at least its marketing materials said so. Its Ocean View branch was housed in a granite building with marble floors and solid wooden walls and elaborate furnishings and other decorations. Oil paintings looked down upon Decker and White as they walked to their destination.
“Client commissions on the wall. Always does my heart good to see that,” said Decker.
“Capitalism at its finest.”
Julia Cummins’s personal financial manager was Stuart Jones. He ushered them into his large corner office and offered them tea, coffee, and water, all of which they declined.
Jones was a man of fifty with hair so carefully styled, Decker thought he could see the gel still gleaming among the whitening strands. The man’s suit was custom. His shoes looked expensive and no doubt were. His tie was a work of art. His teeth were too perfect to be real.
“It was awful what happened to Julia,” he said as he plopped into his leather chair. “Just terrible.”
“Yes it was. And we’re trying to find those responsible for it,” said Decker.
“And I wish you good luck and Godspeed on that,” said Jones heartily.
“I alerted you in my phone call as to what we needed,” said Decker.
“Yes, yes.” Jones sat forward and coughed into his hand. “I hope you can understand that client confidentiality is our utmost priority.”
“And I hope you can understand that finding who killed your client is our utmost priority,” replied Decker. “So I think my ace beats your king.”
Jones noticeably winced and looked down at his leather-topped desk. There wasn’t a scrap of paper on it. Decker strongly suspected that it, like the office, was mainly for show. He had the impression of a bank of computers with proprietary algorithms loaded in doing the work that people like Jones would later take credit for.
But honestly what do I know? I don’t have any money to invest.
“I understood from your phone call that you were thinking Julia was the target of some blackmail scheme?”
“She was wealthy. People are unscrupulous. That makes her a target.”
“So you need to know if she made any large or irregular withdrawals or payments?”
“Yes.”
Jones turned to a computer on his desk and started typing. “I would meet with her every quarter to go over her accounts. She was a very excellent investor and client. Her net worth was growing by leaps and bounds. It was so exciting.”
“Yeah, I’m getting all tingly just hearing you talk about it,” said White, the comment drawing a rare smile from Decker.
Jones continued, “For any truly large transfers she would have had to get on the recorded line and authorize it. That ensures there are no mistakes and the client intends for the transfer to happen.”
“And that covers your end, too,” said Decker. “No liability.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So you would know if she made any large transfers,” said Decker.
“Yes, but she could have done it through her checking account. I don’t monitor that as regularly. And after all, it is her money.”
He scrolled through some screens and shook his head. “I see nothing out of the ordinary. And I’ve gone back six months.”
“All right,” said Decker. “Are there any transfers of monies or checks written to Alice Lancer, Alan Draymont, or Gamma Protection Services?”
Jones typed a search request in and waited a few moments. “No, nothing under those names.”