Uncharted Waters

by Rosemary McCracken

  Zach frowned. “His son works at my branch. Lukas.”

  I told Zach about Lukas’s outburst at his mother’s home on Saturday, and his visit to my office.

  “That sounds like Lukas. All bluster and no substance.”

  Our sandwiches arrived. Melt-in-your-mouth smoked meat and lots of it. Vinegar slaw and a fat dill pickle on the side. Fabulous comfort food.

  “How is Lukas faring at Optimum?” I asked when I’d demolished half my sandwich.

  “I nearly fired him last week,” Zach said. “Instead, I gave him a good talking-to and another chance.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’d rather not get into it.”

  “He’s pulling his weight?”

  “Are you kidding? Lukas is lazy. He brought in about $70,000 in commissions and fees last year.”

  After the firm had taken its cut, that wouldn’t be enough to live in the style Lukas would no doubt like to be accustomed to. But his father’s business wouldn’t have put him on easy street either.

  “How did he get on with his dad?” I asked.

  “No idea. I had heard of Dean Monaghan, of course. He was one of the pioneers of fee-only planning. But I didn’t realize he was Lukas’s father till last Thursday when Lukas asked for time off.”

  “Did you ever meet Dean?”

  “Not in person. I heard him talk at the Financial Planning Symposium a few years ago, and he was impressive. Impressive enough to make a dyed-in-the-wool commission guy like me have second thoughts about what I was doing.”

  I asked Zach about his own family. He filled me in on what his four sons and his current wife were up to, and I updated him on my kids. We had ordered coffee when I ran the name Gabe Quincy by him.

  “The guy behind the patient records scam in Lomanville? Yeesh!” Zach shook his head. “People like Quincy make me ashamed to be in my line of work.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, and I don’t want to. Why?”

  I told him about Gabe’s correspondence with Dean. “Gabe lost his licenses, so they weren’t trading tips about serving clients,” I said.

  “He lost his licenses, and he’s been permanently banned from the industry. Good riddance.”

  I pulled an envelope from my briefcase and showed him the printouts of the e-mails.

  Zach looked them over, and blew out a long, slow whistle. “I would have thought Monaghan and Quincy were an unlikely match.”

  “If you hadn’t seen these e-mails.”

  He nodded, then banged his fist down on the printouts in front of him. “Monaghan and Quincy were up to something, and it wasn’t selling Girl Guide cookies. Have you shown these to the police?”

  I nodded. “I sent them off last night.”

  “Maybe the cops can find out what was going on. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  There were so many parts to this puzzle, and none of them seemed to be connected. “Would Lukas have killed his father to get his business?”

  Zach looked surprised. “I’m sure he’d like a business of his own. But I don’t put him down as a killer. Doesn’t have the balls for it.”

  “Was he at his work station last Wednesday afternoon?”

  “Last Wednesday? Ah, the day Dean was killed. Lukas was at a client’s home. He had a 2 p.m. appointment.”

  Lukas could have made two visits that afternoon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Catherine Monaghan was the last person I’d expected to see when I returned to the office. She was chatting with Sam in a chair beside her desk, but stood up as soon as she saw me. It struck me again how elegant Catherine looked. It wasn’t just her well-cut gray suit that brought out the silver in her hair, her flawless makeup, or the manicured hand she held out to me. It was the way she carried herself—with the confidence of a queen.

  “I wanted to speak to you again, Pat,” she said.

  She declined Sam’s offer of coffee, and I took her into my office.

  “Lukas told me he came by here on Saturday,” she said, taking the chair facing my desk. “I understand the two of you had words.”

  The expression on my face must have confirmed that the visit hadn’t gone well. “Lukas had to develop a tough exterior,” she said. “At times, he can come across as belligerent.”

  “Lukas is belligerent,” I said. “And he shouldn’t have come up here on Saturday. We weren’t open for business.”

  Her brown eyes assessed me. “He has what it takes to do well in your line of work. Make him a partner.”

  Had I heard her correctly?

  “Lukas is determined and persistent,” she went on. “He won’t take no for an answer. Those are valuable assets in the work you do.”

  The way she was lecturing me, you would have thought I was one of her former students.

  “Not taking no for an answer may be an asset in some parts of the industry,” I said, “but that’s not necessarily true for fee-only advisors. My clients want to work with people who are good at listening. Who take the time to get to know them, and determine what their needs are.”

  “Your clients?” she said scathingly. “This is your first day in this office. How do you know what my late husband’s clients want or need?”

  I glanced at my watch. “I have a meeting in five minutes.”

  “Lukas will put in half of the money you paid for my husband’s business.”

  Recouping half the money I had spent would have been a godsend with the right partner. But not with Lukas.

  “That got your attention, didn’t it?” Catherine said.

  I’d had enough. “This is a small practice, and I don’t need another advisor right now. But if I did, Lukas would be the last person I’d consider working with.”

  I stood up. Catherine didn’t.

  She lifted her chin. “In that case, my son and I will start our own business. We’ll go after all my husband’s former clients. They thought the world of Dean, and I’m sure they’ll want to work with his wife and his son.”

  I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Ilona had talked about including a non-solicitation clause in the purchase agreement, but I’d waved her off. I was convinced that Dean wanted to retire and wouldn’t try to win back his clients. At this point, the clients I’d acquired didn’t know me. They might very well decide to take their business to Dean’s widow and son.

  I steadied myself with a hand on my desk. Where would that leave me? I’d need to buy another business, but I’d depleted my emergency fund. And I’d taken out a loan to cover the shortfall.

  “I didn’t realize you had your financial-planning licenses,” I said.

  Catherine smiled, displaying cosmetically whitened teeth. “My son has the licenses. I’ll run the office, and he’ll look after the clients.”

  Her smug expression strengthened my resolve to hold my ground. I gave her a tight smile. “Good luck,” I said.

  She rose from the chair, lifting her chin even higher. “You’ll regret not taking Lukas on.”

  I followed her into the reception area. She left without saying goodbye to Sam.

  “A problem?” Sam asked as Catherine descended the stairs.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” But my brave words belied my feelings. I had my work cut out running a new business. I didn’t have the time or the energy for a war with Catherine.

  “Well, I have good news,” Sam said. “Our phones, computers, and the television are working, and we have a new security code.”

  “That’s great news. Now you can set up our e-mail, and program our voice-mail message.” I handed her a printout of what I’d come up with.

  She glanced at it. “Tierney Financial. That’s what you’re calling the business?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It lacks…sass.”

  “Our clients aren’t looking for sass,” I told her. “They want sound financial advice. We’ll go with Tierney Financial.”

  She shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

>   I shook my head. What would she have called the business? Money Is Us?

  I listened to the voice-mail message when Sam had finished. It was good, very good. She had a pleasant, well-modulated voice. Could have had a career in radio.

  “E-mail’s set up,” she said. “I’ll be heading out in a few minutes.”

  I’d forgotten that her workday ended at 2:30. “Do you have the names and contacts of the clients Dean visited at home?”

  “Wrote them down…put it somewhere. Ah, here it is.” She handed me a sheet of paper.

  I had to give Sam full marks for being organized.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Minutes after Sam left, Barbara and Ed Simpson arrived for their first meeting with me. We discussed their concerns about moving into retirement over the next several years, then we looked at printouts of the financial plan Dean had created for them. I suggested a few changes.

  When they were ready to leave, I walked the Simpsons to the top of the staircase. Then I locked the door to the suite and turned on my new computer. It was the first time I had worked on a Mac, but the machine was easy to navigate. I spent the next two hours at my desk creating documents and organizing computer files.

  I was getting ready to head out when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Wondering who I would have to deal with now, I opened the door at the top of the staircase and came face-to-face with Ben Cordova.

  “I got Sam’s message about a portfolio review,” he said.

  We agreed on a time to meet the following week. He jotted something into a notebook.

  “Place looks great. Clean and bright,” he said, walking around the reception area and poking his head into the doorway to my office. “Keep your street door locked and get yourself a door phone. Dean was talking about getting one.”

  And then he was murdered, I thought. Someone walked up those stairs and murdered him. “That’s at the top of my agenda,” I told Ben.

  “You’ve got your coat on, so you must be calling it a day,” he said. “Care for a drink in the pub down the street?”

  He was my top client, and I couldn’t think of a way to refuse.

  ***

  The Hart and Hind was packed with after-work revelers. Ben raised an arm, and a woman came out from behind the bar and led us to a tiny snug off the main room. Ben had clearly been in this pub before.

  “Back when ladies couldn’t be seen drinking in public, they enjoyed their wee tots in rooms like this,” Ben said when the waitress had hurried off to fill our orders.

  “And rooms like this were where men met their fancy ladies,” I countered.

  He smiled, and I had to admit he had a lovely smile. “How’s it going? Under the circumstances, it can’t be easy trying to get to know your new clients. And Sam is probably more of a hindrance than a help.”

  “Sam is pretty efficient.” I wasn’t about to tell him that Dean’s wife and his son intended to set up their own business and go after Dean’s former clients. Catherine had asked Ben to speak at Dean’s memorial, so he would be the first client they would pitch to.

  I smiled my thanks to the waitress as she placed a glass of chardonnay in front of me, and gave Ben another smile. “It’s a small business,” I said, “so I should be able to meet all the clients in the next few weeks. Those I’ve met or spoken to on the phone have been welcoming.”

  “To your success.” He clinked my glass with his beer stein. “Are the police making any progress with the murder investigation?”

  “If they are, they haven’t told me.”

  “What’s your take on it? You’ve met some of the key people in Dean’s life. You must have some ideas about who killed him.”

  “I have enough on my plate right now without playing sleuth. I’ll leave the murder investigation to the police.”

  I tried to turn the conversation in another direction. “What about those questions you had?” I asked. “About how I’ll run my business, and what I can do for you?”

  Under the table, his leg brushed against mine. I moved my leg away.

  “I’ll get my answers by spending time with you,” he said.

  Not wanting to go any further with that topic, I returned to the Monaghans. I couldn’t steer clear of them indefinitely. Ben would be hearing from them soon—if he hadn’t already. “Catherine came by my office today,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “She wanted me to make Lukas a partner.”

  Ben looked surprised. “Why would you?”

  “That’s what I told her. I don’t need another advisor in the practice right now.”

  “Catherine is an admirable woman. She knows what she wants, and she goes after it. But she has a blind spot where her son is concerned.”

  He shook his head. “Dean tried to knock some sense into Lukas, but Catherine undermined him at every turn. She spoiled the boy, and now Lukas is an arrogant, self-centered man.”

  “Dean went out of his way to help Sam,” I said.

  “So why not his own son? Well, he did help him. Lukas had a learning disability when he was a kid, and Dean got him working with some top-notch reading specialists. Believe me, Lukas had every advantage.”

  I wondered exactly how Dean had tried to knock sense into his son. And whether Lukas had finally got his revenge.

  “Lukas wanted his father’s business,” I said.

  “Of course, he wanted it. And Dean knew he couldn’t run it.”

  I decided to see whether Ben could shed some light on Gabe Quincy. “I came across a name in Dean’s business correspondence. Gabe Quincy. Do you know him?”

  “Sounds familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  “He was a financial planner. A few years ago, he bribed a hospital worker to pass on patient records.”

  “Right, a hospital out in Lomanville. It was in the news at the time. What business did Dean have with him?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out,” I said. “Gabe lost his licenses, so he’s no longer working in the investment industry.”

  “He’s probably someone Dean knew earlier in his career.”

  Ben reached for his coat. “Finish up that wine, and we’ll get some dinner. Fancy a steak at Barberian’s?”

  “My daughter’s making dinner tonight.” I glanced at my watch. “I forgot to tell her I’d be late.”

  He placed his large hand on mine. “Is there a night you don’t have to eat with your kids?”

  I liked the warmth of his hand. So much so that I was tempted to call Laura and tell her to go ahead with dinner without me. But I knew she’d worked hard on the meal. The least I could do was show up and eat it.

  And I had to put a stop to further invitations from Ben. After-work drinks and cozy dinners with male clients were only courting trouble. And Ben was my top client. I had to be extra careful with him.

  I stood up and put on my coat. “I don’t do dinners with clients,” I said.

  He smiled. “We can discuss business. That would make it a business dinner.”

  I returned his smile “There’s nothing to discuss. We haven’t done your portfolio review.”

  On the street, he flagged down a taxi for me.

  When I was inside, he leaned into the cab. “A dinner won’t compromise your reputation, Ms. Tierney,” he said. “I have to eat, and I’d enjoy your company.”

  I pulled the door closed and gave the driver my address. Ben was an attractive man. I needed to get away from him before I changed my mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Early the next morning, I sent a message to Sam’s new office e-mail address. I told her to have the security company set up an audio door-phone system.

  On my way to work, I ducked into Giorgio’s Diner. I was paying for a bag of Danish pastries when I felt eyes on my back. Turning, I saw Riza Santos seated at a window table. I stared at the tiny Filipina in disbelief. She stared back at me.

  “Your change, Mrs. Tierney,” Giorgio said.

  I slipped the coins into
my pocket and went over to Riza. I had crossed paths with her a few months earlier when I was living in Ontario cottage country. I hadn’t trusted her then, and I didn’t trust her now. What was she doing in the diner across the street from my office?

  “My old friend, Pat Tierney,” she said as I approached her table.

  I sat down across from her. “You’re living in Toronto now?” I asked.

  “Just passing through.” She flashed me a cocky grin. “Got some business to attend to.”

  I signaled Giorgio to bring me a coffee.

  “You work around here,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

  I waited to hear what she would say next.

  She glanced at the window. “Dean Monaghan worked across the street.” She swept her blunt-cut black hair away from her weathered face and looked at me closely.

  I was surprised that she knew Dean. And where he worked.

  Giorgio placed a mug of coffee and two creamers in front of me. I nodded my thanks.

  “I bought Dean’s business,” I said to Riza.

  A slight nod told me that she already knew that. I realized it was no coincidence that she was in the diner. She’d been waiting for me. She wanted something.

  “Dean died last week,” I said.

  She didn’t even blink. “Yeah, he was killed. It’s been all over the news, even in—” She stopped short of telling me where she was living.

  I tried again. “You were his client?”

  She smiled. “Nope. Don’t need anyone taking care of my money.”

  “What was your business with him?”

  She pointed across the street. “Cleanup people are in there. That means the cops are finished with the place.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. She wanted to get into Dean’s office. For what? She wasn’t Dean’s client, and even if she had some other business with him, her name would have jumped out when I went through his messages.

  “Before you tell the police that you’ve seen me,” Riza said, “I have a deal to make with you.”

  “A deal?”

  I must have leaned forward in my chair, because she gave me a smile of satisfaction. “You keep quiet about me, and I’ll give you some intel about Dean Monaghan.”