Family Money(27)

“This was last minute,” I explained, noticing a clear change in her affable demeanor. “I scheduled this with him personally yesterday.”

“Oh, well, it’s just . . . Can you give me just a moment, Mr. Bagley?”

“Certainly.”

Maggie left her reception desk with a concerned look on her face and headed around the corner. I wondered why she suddenly seemed frazzled. I went over in my mind what I would say upon seeing Ethan in a few seconds. I knew I’d have to get straight to the point. Once he found out who I really was, he might tell me to get lost again and turn back around. But I was prepared to cause a scene if he refused to answer my questions. I needed to know why talking to me about the investment money was dangerous.

A few seconds later, Maggie returned, along with an older gray-haired man in a blue suit and red tie who was not Ethan Tucker—based on the profile page I’d been looking at on their website yesterday. He came right up to me with a forced smile. “Mr. Bagley, my name is Ted Ashton. I’m the managing partner here at Lone Star Financial.”

We shook quick hands.

“Do you mind if I speak to you in private?” Ted asked me.

“About?”

“It will just take a moment. Right over here in our main conference room.”

“Okay.”

I glanced over at Maggie, who had a bit of deer-in-the-headlights look about her, and then I followed the man into the glass conference room. Again, I wondered what the hell was going on. I was starting to get a bad feeling about showing up here without an appointment. Had Ethan Tucker put out an alert to be on the lookout for any unexpected visitors who might come to see him? That seemed highly unlikely. I wasn’t threatening him. Plus, something like that would have probably put me in front of a buff security guard and not the firm’s managing partner. So what was the deal? Ted shut the glass door behind us and offered me a seat at the end of an expansive conference table.

I politely declined sitting and asked, “What’s going on, Ted?”

“I’m afraid I have difficult news to share and wanted to be as sensitive to the situation as possible. You see, Ethan was tragically killed late last night.”

My mouth parted open. “What?”

“It’s awful, really. He was shot during an apparent mugging in our parking garage. We’re all reeling this morning. His assistant was supposed to cancel all meetings that were on his calendar today. I’m very sorry you were not contacted. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

“No, it’s . . . fine.” My head was starting to spin. “A mugging?”

“Yes. Building security says there’s video of it. But police haven’t caught the guy yet, so it’s got us all on pins and needles.”

I was stunned. Ethan Tucker had been shot dead just hours after saying it was too dangerous to talk to me about Joe. That was not a coincidence.

“Did you have a long-standing relationship with Ethan?” Ted asked me.

“No, we actually only spoke on the phone one time.”

“Well, if our firm can still help you, please let us know. Again, I apologize that you came here only to receive this kind of terrible news.”

Before stepping back into the elevator, I returned to the receptionist. Maggie looked guilty about our exchange a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry about acting so weird earlier. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say when you showed up and asked for Mr. Tucker. It caught me off guard.”

“I completely understand. Did you know him well?”

“Not really. I just started here a couple of months ago.”

“Me, neither. But I’d still like to send flowers over to his house. Can you possibly get me his home address?”

“Of course.” She typed on her computer, scribbled down an address on her notepad, and then handed it to me. “That’s real nice of you.”

“It’s the least I can do. Can you remind me of his wife’s name?”

She again looked at her computer. “Sheila.”

“Thanks. One more quick thing, Maggie, if you don’t mind. Part of why I was here to see Ethan today was to talk about my father-in-law’s financial situation. I was wondering if you could tell me how long Joe Dobson has been a client of this firm?”

She typed in her computer and squinted at her screen. “Dobson?”

“Yes.” I spelled out the last name.

“Sorry. I don’t see his name on our client list.”

“Okay, maybe I was wrong. Thanks for checking.”

As I got into the elevator, I pulled out my phone and again brought up Ethan Tucker’s profile page on the firm’s website. His professional bio said he’d been with Lone Star Financial for more than a decade. If Joe was not an official client of the firm, how did they know each other? Why was Ethan the one to wire the $5 million to my father-in-law three years ago? I had another stop to make before going home.





SEVENTEEN


I drove straight to Ethan Tucker’s home. He lived in a massive redbrick Colonial in an affluent neighborhood called University Park. Several cars were parked out front in a bush-lined circular driveway. I felt uneasy about knocking on the door of this home the morning after the man had died. His wife and family would be in a state of disbelief and grief that I knew too well. But Joe had said Ethan was an old friend. I had to see if Sheila Tucker also knew my father-in-law and could provide me with some insight. Holding a vase of flowers that I’d picked up on the way over, I stepped up to the front door, knocked, and shifted my weight back and forth while trying to figure out exactly how to approach this. I wanted to be sensitive to their situation.