Keep Quiet(72)

“No, I don’t mind at all. So how can I help you?” Jake hadn’t anticipated the meeting would be recorded, but his answer appeared to be moot anyway.

“We have a few questions.” Detective Zwerling clicked the back of his pen with a chubby thumb. “Jake, just tell us something about yourself. Family? Residence?”

“I’m married, and we have one son, in high school.” Jake didn’t supply any names, to keep them out of it. “I live in Concord Chase.”

“For how long?”

“Twenty years, and I’ve had the business the past five.”

“You own it?”

“Yes.”

“Good enough.” Detective Zwerling took notes. “Tell me how you came to meet with Mr. Voloshin.”

“I was at my son’s basketball game at North Mayfield, last Sunday afternoon. He sat next to me.”

“You’re a big guy, Jake. Did you play hoops in high school?”

“No.”

“College?”

“No. I worked.”

“Okay.” Detective Zwerling took notes. “Why was Voloshin at the game, do you know?”

“Yes. He was with North Mayfield and was watching his kid, a sophomore.” Jake decided to stick with the story Voloshin told him, because it was too risky to improvise. He didn’t want the detectives to know that he knew Voloshin had lied about his name, family, job or anything else. He doubted the police had asked Amy any questions, because she knew Voloshin as Deaner, and he doubted the police would go find the tiara moms.

“Did Voloshin tell you what he did for a living, at the game?”

“He was a freelance writer.”

“How long did you speak with him?”

“About five minutes.”

“That’s all?”

“You know how these games are. You end up sitting with people, trying to make conversation or drum up business. Network. I told him I was a financial planner, I gave him a business card, and he said he’d come see me.” Jake heard himself volunteering too much, out of nervousness. “To make a long story short, he came by my office Monday morning and we met.”

“Where, here?” Detective Zwerling took more notes on his pad.

“Yes, but not in the conference room. In my office.”

“For how long did you meet?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“So, short?” Detective Zwerling took another note.

“Yes.”

“Is that typical?”

“No.”

“Why did it end so soon?”

“He seemed like he’d heard enough.” Jake swallowed hard. “He ended it.”

“Did you make notes during the meeting?”

“No.”

“Do you, usually?”

“No.” Jake sneaked a look at the credenza clock—10:40. He could hear it ticking in his brain.

“What did you talk about?”

“I told him about the company and our investment philosophy, like I do with any new client.”

“You were hoping to get his business?”

“Yes, I was hoping to sign him.” Jake kept his answers short. He wasn’t about to take any chances, in case the detectives had somehow seen the photos or video.

“What do you mean, sign him?”

“We have an agreement that new clients sign, called an Investment Advisory Agreement.”

“Did he sign it?”

“No, I didn’t offer it to him. We didn’t get that far.” Jake remembered that he ought to mention his phone call to Voloshin, to preempt any suspicion when the police found Voloshin’s phone records. “By the way, I called him on Monday night, to see if he had any questions or if I could help him further, but he said no.”

Detective Zwerling made a note. “What time did you call him?”

“About nine o’clock or so.”

“After business hours?”

“Yes.” Jake tried not to look at the clock and to keep his focus on Detective Zwerling, in a natural way.

“Is that typical for you to call a client, a prospective client, outside of business hours?”

“Sure, especially if I want his business.” Jake wasn’t lying. “I’m self-employed, so I work all the time.”

“But he turned you down, so why did you call him?”

“To follow up, to make sure.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was thinking it over.”

“I see.” Detective Zwerling made another note. “So then why were you calling him at home, this morning?”

Oops. “I’m persistent.”

“Did he tell you how much money he had?”

“No.”

“But you still tried to sign him, as you say?”

“Yes.”

“You tried that hard to sign him, but you didn’t even know how much money he had?”

“Yes.” Jake could see he wasn’t buying it.

“You must really have wanted his business.” Detective Zwerling frowned so deeply, three lines creased his brow.

“I really want everybody’s business.” Jake could see he had to convince him. “To be frank, five years ago, I lost my job. It turned out okay, I founded Gardenia, but I never want to go back there again. It’s a mentality.”