“You need something in writing, Pat. The next time, send Samantha an e-mail, explaining what she did wrong and what will happen if she does it again.”
“The next time?”
“The next time. Give Samantha one more chance, and spell it out in an e-mail.”
Then I told her about the murder the night before.
“My God!” she cried. “Not another murder.”
“And in the alley behind my office.”
“You were in your office when she was killed?”
“No. I was at the opera.”
“You said Riza knew Dean. She was his client?”
“She wasn’t a client. I don’t know what the connection was.”
“Mr. Monaghan was a man of many faces. He was very good to Samantha, and he had business with her brother-in-law who engineered the hospital scam. And it looks like he had business with this Riza, who was murdered behind your building.”
Ilona paused to sip her wine. “Enough of that for now. Tell me about the opera, dahlink. What opera did you see?”
“Cosi Fan Tutte, the first time I saw it. It was wonderful.”
“Who did you go with?”
“A client. Ben Cordova.”
“Aha! This Ben Cordova must be very special, because you keep your distance from male clients.”
“I…well…”
“You are blushing, my dear.”
The waiter arrived with our main courses. By the time he had ground pepper over our plates and poured more wine into our glasses, I had come up with a reply.
“Ben is one of those men you have no time for, Ilona. Arrogant, controlling, the star of his own show.”
I realized as I said it that I was exaggerating.
“You find those traits in men from the old country. This Cordova, where is he from?”
“He’s Canadian.”
She gave me a stern look. “In that case, show him what you are made of. He will respect you for standing up for yourself, and you will reach a middle ground.”
I tried telling her that Ben was my top client, and I wouldn’t be going on any more dates with him.
She waved a hand dismissively and tucked into the food on her plate.
“The late Riza Santos,” she said a few minutes later. “How did you know her?”
“Riza had been running a rental scam in cottage country,” I said. “She’d post photos of lakefront cottages on a rental website, have would-be renters wire her their money, and send them off on their vacations. The renters would discover they’d been swindled, and the cottage owners were terrified when strangers started showing up at their doors. When the police realized that Riza was behind the scam, she dropped out of sight.”
Ilona tilted her head to one side. “She was quite a character, wasn’t she?”
After a slice of hazelnut torte and a shot of pálinka, I told Ilona that I was ready to head home.
“You have no stamina, my dear,” she said as we waited for our taxis at the door. “The night is still young.”
I insisted that she take the first taxi that pulled up.
She opened a window when she was inside the cab. “Give Mr. Cordova a call when you get home. Tell him how much you enjoyed the opera.”
If she only knew how annoying Ben had been the night before.
But on my ride home, I wondered if my evening with him had been all that terrible.
***
The phone rang as I was stepping out of the shower. I grabbed my bathrobe and headed for the telephone on my bedside table.
“You did enjoy the opera.”
“Ben? It’s late to be calling.”
“Any free time this weekend? I know you have your family to look after, but I thought you might have some time for yourself…and me. Tomorrow night? Sunday afternoon? We could drive to my home up north.”
“Thank you, Ben, but my weekend is all mapped out.”
“No free time at all?”
I was tempted, but I pushed that thought aside. “I’m afraid not.”
It occurred to me that Ben might have known Riza. “Ben, did you ever meet Riza Santos? I ran into her in cottage country last summer, then again this week. She told me she knew Dean.”
“Riza, the little Filipina. What’s she up to these days?”
Riza’s murder had been on the news that day. Hadn’t he heard about it? “She was murdered last night.”
“No! Riza lived close to the edge but…”
“She always landed on her feet. Well, not this time.” I paused. “How did you meet her?”
“I met her twice in Dean’s office. The second time, the three of us went over to the Hart and Hind for drinks. Riza was a lot of fun.”
“She wasn’t Dean’s client.”
“I assumed she was a client. If there was another connection, they never mentioned it.”
“Think back, Ben, and see if anything comes to mind. They were both murdered.”
“You think the murders are connected?” he asked.
“They could be.”
***
Tossing and turning in bed that night, I wondered which of my clients would follow the Ramsays to the Monaghans’ new business.
And had I said too much to Ben about Riza and Dean? What did I really know about Ben and his friendship with Dean Monaghan?
And where had he found my unlisted home telephone number?
Chapter Twenty-six
I did another search for Michelle Blake’s file the next morning, and came up empty-handed again.
Sam shook her head when I asked whether she’d seen it. “Dean handled the client files,” she said. “He took Michelle on…” she frowned, as if trying to remember “…must’ve been six months ago. Wrote down appointments in the office planner, and went to her home for meetings. That’s, like, all I know.”
“She was with him for six months, and he never created a file on her?”
She shrugged. “If there isn’t a Word document titled Blake, Michelle, he didn’t create one.”
So I set up a Word doc, and called it Blake, Michelle. I typed in her age, address, telephone number, that she had a physical disability that affected her mobility, and what little she had told me about her investment holdings. That was all I knew about Michelle.
At noon, I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror on my office wall, and took a taxi to Michelle’s condo.
“I’m here to see Michelle Blake in suite 2305,” I told the young man at the reception desk, who showed no sign of remembering me. “My name is Pat Tierney, and we’ve scheduled a meeting.”
He punched buttons on his phone. “No answer in 2305.”
“But she expects me.”
He still had the phone to his ear. “Sorry, ma’am, no one’s answering in 2305.”
I was thoroughly ticked. I had set aside the afternoon for Michelle, and the woman who rarely left her home didn’t have the courtesy to tell me that something else had come up. I punched her phone number into my cell. She didn’t pick up.
I considered waiting for her in the lobby, then decided I wasn’t going to waste any more time. Michelle wasn’t a child; she was responsible for keeping her appointments.
It was another fine fall day. I sat on a bench outside the building and called for a taxi. I left a phone message for Michelle, asking why she hadn’t been at home for our appointment, and told her to call me to reschedule.
Then I stopped trying to fool myself. Michelle hadn’t neglected to tell me that something had come up. She’d never intended to meet with me again, and I wanted to know why.
A message from Kimberley Wilson popped up on my screen. Kimberley was the single mother I’d spoken to when I was looking at buying Dean’s business. She’d liked the idea of working with an advisor who was a single mother like herself. Now she wanted me to call her.
I punched in her number at work.
“Catherine Monaghan called me this morning,” she said after I introduced myself.
My
heart sank as she described Catherine’s pitch. “Has she told you whether she and Lukas will be fee-only advisors?” I asked.
“I assumed they will be.” She paused for a few moments. “I have to tell you, Pat, that if the Monaghans run a fee-only business, I’ll be joining them. I loved working with Dean, and Catherine and Lukas are his family.”
“Find out how they’ll be compensated. Fee-only planning was one of the things you liked about Dean. And why you wanted to work with me.”
I disconnected, wondering whether I’d be having this conversation with every one of my clients. Then I stood up and kicked the bench. Damn Catherine Monaghan and her son! I kicked the bench again, then realized I wasn’t doing my new Gucci loafers any favors.
I called Zach Rosen on the off chance that he’d be up for a late lunch.
“I don’t have time for Yitz’s today,” he said, “but how about the coffee shop on the ground floor of my office building? As soon as you can get here.”
A taxi pulled up at the curb. I told Zach that I was on my way.
***
Zach held a booth at the back of Lenny’s Lunchbox while I got us toasted tuna salad on brown and coffee.
“What’s up?” he asked, as I set the tray on the table. “Problem with the business already?”
“Problem with the Monaghans.” I slid into the seat across from him, and told him about Catherine and Lukas’s plan to set up a business. And that they’d already stolen two of my clients.
Zach blew out a long whistle. “Lukas hasn’t told me he’ll be leaving.”
“He wants a foot in both camps.”
“Even Lukas knows it doesn’t work that way.”
“You’ll bring it up with him?”
“You can count on it. And if he doesn’t give me the right answers…” Zach paused. “He’s not the strongest player on my team, but I need to know where everyone stands.”
“What are Lukas’s areas of expertise?” I asked. “I looked him up on Optimum’s website, but there wasn’t much about him.”
Zach gave me a wry smile. “Blowing his own horn is what Lukas is best at. But he has his insurance license, and this year he finally became a certified financial planner. Getting the designation was the condition under which I hired him, but it took him twice as long as he said it would. And it hasn’t improved his performance. Maybe he’s more suited to a fee-only model.”
I bristled at that. “Being a dud at sales doesn’t mean he’s cut out for fee-only planning.”
Zach grinned at me, and I realized he’d been joking.
“I’m not sure how he and his mother intend to be compensated,” I said.
“Here’s our man.” Zach was looking across the room. “We’ll ask him.”
He waved Lukas over.
Lukas looked surprised to see me. “Hey, boss!” he said to Zach. “I didn’t know you knew Pat Tierney.”
Zach didn’t ask him to sit down. “Pat and I are old friends. She tells me you’re starting your own business.”
“I, uh, I was thinking…”
Zach stared at him. “Only thinking about it, Lukas?”
“Roz and Philip Ramsay will want to know if you haven’t made up your mind,” I said. “Kimberley Wilson, too.”
Lukas lifted his chin. “My mother and I are starting a business. But we haven’t decided when we’ll launch it.”
“A fee-only or a commission-based business?” I asked.
“We’re still discussing that.”
“Because if you plan to steal any more of my clients, you’d better let them know what you can deliver.”
“Steal?” he said. “Those were my father’s clients.”
“And I bought his business, so now they’re my clients.”
“When did you plan to give me notice?” Zach asked him.
Lukas’s face turned beet red. “I, uh, we haven’t decided…”
“You stole the Ramsays and Kimberley Wilson from me, and they’re in limbo until you get your act together,” I said.
“We didn’t steal them. They wanted to work with Dean’s wife and son.”
“I need people who are giving me 100 percent, not setting up their own shops in Optimum’s offices,” Zach said.
“Lukas wants to have all his ducks in a row before he leaves,” I said.
Zach’s eyes flashed daggers at Lukas. “I want you gone by the end of the day. And if any of our clients leave with you…” He paused. “Understand?”
“You…you have to give me notice,” Lukas protested. “I’ll sue.”
“You want to go to court? Try me.”
Lukas didn’t look happy, but he remained silent.
“I expect your resignation on my desk by the end of the day,” Zach told him. “Clear out your work station, and I’ll arrange for a security guard to escort you out.”
“B-but…I…”
“Get out!” Zach ordered.
Lukas turned to glare at me. “I have you to thank for this,” he snarled. “You’ll regret it.” Then he headed for the exit.
Zach took the last bite of his sandwich and pushed his plate away. “Sometimes you need to play hardball to survive.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
After I left Zach, I walked down Avenue Road, then wandered through the Mink Mile, the concentration of high-end shops on Bloor Street West between Avenue Road and Yonge. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hardly noticed the designer clothing in the store windows. I gave myself a good shake in front of a mannequin dressed in an outfit I couldn’t afford, and headed west along Bloor to my office.
Sam looked troubled when I arrived. “Your new business cards,” she said, pointing to a package on her desk. “Courier brought them an hour ago.”
The package had been opened. “Are they okay? No typos or spelling errors?” I asked.
“They’re fine.”
“Then why the sad face?”
“Two of your Monday appointments have canceled, and neither gave a reason,” she said. “I can’t figure it out.”
It sounded like they had been talking to Catherine or Lukas Monaghan. But I just shrugged and told Sam that Michelle hadn’t been at home for our appointment.
“Michelle sounds like a flake,” Sam said, turning off her computer.
I bit back a smart remark about it taking one to know one. Instead, I told her to have a good weekend. “Any plans?” I asked.
“Dinner with my parents Sunday night,” she said. “Becca and Gabe will be there. Should be a hoot.”
I must have looked surprised because she said, “It’s been a long time since the five of us sat down to a family dinner.”
She gave me a wave, and headed for the stairs.
In my office, I listened to a voice-mail message from Tracy. Jamie’s mother wasn’t well, my daughter said, and Jamie had decided to visit her in cottage country that weekend. And Tracy planned to go with her.
Tracy picked up when I called her office. “Ronnie’s not well?” I asked. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“She had a bad cold this week. Jamie thinks she’s lonely and depressed.”
I had hoped Tracy and Jamie would come over for dinner on Saturday night. But Ronnie lived a three-hour drive north of Toronto, so they’d be gone all weekend.
“Safe driving,” I told Tracy. “Give Ronnie my best.”
My girls had their own lives now. I had to get used to it.
I called a taxi, then locked the office for the weekend.
***
I almost got cold feet at Catherine Monaghan’s front door, but I forced myself to rap the brass knocker. I needed to talk to Catherine in person. She didn’t have a business office, so there I was at her home.
A woman with white hair opened the door. I told her who I was and asked for Catherine.
“Katarzyna is in her study,” she said with a heavy European accent. She held the door open and motioned for me to come inside.
Catherine didn’t look happy to see me. “T
hank you, Mama,” she said to the white-haired woman. “I’ll take Pat into the front room.”
Catherine led the way to the room where Dean’s mourners had gathered the previous weekend. She offered me a seat, but I shook my head and remained standing.
Her dark brown eyes assessed me. “To what do I owe the honor of a visit from Pat Tierney?”
“You know why I’m here,” I said. “The business you and Lukas are setting up.”
“I told you we’d be doing that.”
“You did. And that you’d be taking my clients.”
“My husband’s clients.”
“I bought the business, remember? That makes them my clients. Two of them told me about the pitch you made. Neither knows how you’ll be compensated for your work.”
“Is that your concern?”
“As long as they’re still with me, yes, it’s my concern. They need to know what’s ahead of them if they leave.”
“But your real concern is that we’re asking my husband’s clients to join us.”
“That’s called poaching,” I said.
“Are you planning to sue us?” Catherine asked with a smile. “It would be a waste of your time and money. There was no clause in the sale agreement preventing Dean from soliciting his former clients. So what’s to stop Lukas and me from doing that?”
She was absolutely right.
“As for our compensation, which you’re so concerned about, we will be fee-only planners just like Dean. We will provide our clients with everything that you do, with the addition of the trusted Monaghan name.”
She smiled again. “You will receive letters confirming that the Ramsays and Kimberley Wilson are transferring to Monaghan Wealth Management. And letters will inform you about any of Dean’s other clients who join us.”
I couldn’t stop them from raiding my flock, but I was determined to have the last word. “Make sure you tell every client you steal from me when you’ll be up and running,” I said before stepping into the hall. “You can’t expect people to be in limbo while you get your act together.”
Uncharted Waters Page 13