Chapter Thirty-three
“My God!” Jake couldn’t process it quickly enough. It should be good news, but it didn’t feel that way. His blackmailer was dead. His troubles should be over. Relief flooded his system, but it left him shocked. He was stunned. “But he wasn’t old. How did he—”
“Actually, Mr. Buckman, he was murdered. We’ve notified next of kin, and it should be public.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night. Mr. Buckman, what company did you say you were with?”
“Gardenia Trust.” Jake forced his brain to function. The police were at Voloshin’s apartment. Photos of him and Ryan on Pike Road were in Voloshin’s phone and undoubtedly his computer. The police might have seen them. If so, the police had proof that Ryan was guilty of the hit-and-run. Fear crackled through Jake’s body like electricity.
“Gardenia Trust? Is that local?”
“Yes, in Concord Chase.” Jake tried to sound normal. He told himself maybe the cops hadn’t seen the photo and videos yet.
“Where?”
“In the Bates Mill Corporate Center.”
“We’d like to see you, Mr. Buckman. Would you be available in half an hour?”
“Sure, yes,” Jake answered, because anything else would be suspicious. Why would the cops want to meet with him, if they hadn’t found the photos and video? Would they arrest him in the office? Would they take Ryan at school?
“Mr. Buckman, we’ll see you then.”
“Okay, thanks.” Jake hung up, stricken. His heart thudded in his chest. His first thought was of Pam. He had to tell her about Voloshin. He scrolled to her cell number and pressed CALL, but it rang, then went to voicemail. He left a message, “Honey, call me as soon as you can. It’s very important. I love you.” He hit END and considered calling her chambers, but remembered the court was sitting this week and she would be on the bench.
He rose and began pacing, trying to collect his thoughts. He told himself he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe the police hadn’t collected the phone and laptop for evidence yet. Or maybe Voloshin had password-protected his phone and computer, and the police hadn’t looked through them yet. He didn’t know what time Voloshin’s body had been found or when the police had started investigating.
He paced back and forth. His temples throbbed. He considered calling a lawyer to represent him when the cops came, but it would only make him look guilty. Still it made sense to get some legal advice. He thumbed through his phone log, found Hubbard’s phone number, and pressed CALL. The phone rang, then went to voicemail, but Jake hung up, telling himself to remain calm. He had seen enough TV shows to know he shouldn’t volunteer any information.
He resumed pacing. He remembered that he had called Voloshin last night from the house. He’d have to make sure to mention that to the police, before they got Voloshin’s phone records.
Suddenly Jake stopped stock still, his pacing ceased. If the police had found the photos and the video, then discovered the wire transfer, they could figure out that Voloshin was blackmailing Jake. The police might even suspect Jake of murdering Voloshin. His mouth went dry. His thoughts raced, threatening to run away with him. The blackmail gave Jake a perfect motive for wanting Voloshin dead, and Jake’s only alibi was that he was home with Ryan, who was implicated in the same crime. The police could be coming to question him in connection with Voloshin’s murder.
Jake realized he had to stop the wire transfer. His gaze flew to the desk clock—9:59. The police would be here in no time. He had to get ahold of Harold and reverse the instructions. He raised his phone and pressed Harold’s cell number. The call rang once, twice, then three times and went to voicemail.
Jake heard the beep and left the message, “Harold! Change of plans. Don’t send the money to the account. Do you understand? Call me as soon as you get this message, but in no event should you send the money to the account.” Jake wanted to make sure Harold got the message, so he scrolled to the text function and typed: Harold, Major change of plans. Do NOT send the wire transfer. Call me ASAP. He hit SEND, but still wasn’t satisfied. He pressed the number for Harold’s office at the bank.
The call was answered, “Hello, this is Pennsylvania National’s Wealth Management Group. I’m Marie DiTizio, how can I help you?”
“Hi Marie, it’s Jake, and I have a problem.” Jake knew Marie but he didn’t know if she had been told about the transfer. “I need to reach Harold. He called me this morning, and I know he’s in a meeting. You know where he is?”
“Yes, of course, but our clients are confidential, as you know—”
“I don’t care who the client is. Call him for me. Not on his cell, but at the client. Somebody has to put a note in front of him right away and tell him to call me. It’s very important.”
“Interrupt his meeting?”
“Yes, Marie, I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t an emergency.”
“May I help you instead?”
Jake hesitated. “Did Harold discuss anything with you about one of my accounts yesterday or this morning?”
“No, but if you update me, I’m sure I can help—”
“Then no, thanks. I need you to call Harold, get a note in front of him, and tell him to call me immediately. Have them write on the note that he should not do what we discussed. You understand?”
“I suppose I could do that,” Marie said uncertainly. “That he should not do what you discussed.”
“Yes, exactly.” Jake glanced at the clock, feeling time slipping away. The police would be here soon. “Call me right back after you’ve made the phone call.”
“Of course. I’ll attend to it right now.”
“Thanks, good-bye.” Jake pressed END on the phone and checked the clock—10:06. The police were on their way. Phone in hand, he hurried to his office door, flung it open, and hustled to Amy’s desk. “Hey, we had some terrible news this morning.”
“What’s going on?” Amy focused her warm brown eyes on his face, her concern immediate. She had on a funky multicolored scarf and dangling silver earrings with bright red stones.
“Amy, do you remember that prospective who dropped in yesterday morning? Lewis Deaner?” Jake leaned over, lowering his voice, even though the closest desk wasn’t within earshot. “I just got a call from the police, and he was found murdered in his apartment.”
“Oh my God.” Amy’s hand flew to her mouth. “That’s terrible.”
“I know, and the police are going to be here in about twenty minutes.”
“Here? Why?”
“I assume they want to investigate and ask what we met about yesterday.” Jake tried to remain composed. Over Amy’s shoulder, he spotted Ramon heading his way.
“How did they know that you met with him? Is that who you were on the phone with?”
“Yes.” Jake saw Ramon, trying to flag him down. “I called Deaner at home to follow up with him, and the police were there. They’re on the way over now.”
“So what do we do?”
“Will you make sure the big conference room is available? Obviously, we’ll keep this between us.”
“Sure thing.” Amy nodded quickly, so her curls bounced and her earrings swung. “Ramon has the Janoviches coming in this morning, but I’ll move them into the small conference room.”
“Good, thanks. Also please meet the police in reception when they come in and take them into the conference room. I don’t want them identifying themselves at the desk, in front of the clients.”
“I’ll be smooth.” Amy smiled, but Jake couldn’t.
“I’m expecting an important call from Harold at Pennsylvania National.” Jake glanced at her desk clock, a comical plastic cat—10:08. “I’m hoping he’ll call on my cell before they get here, but if he doesn’t, I want you to put him through to me immediately, even if I’m in with the police. Okay?”
“Gotcha.”
“Jake!” Ramon called out, reaching the desk. “Can we sit down and go over the Brady trust—”
“No, sorry,” Jake interrupted him. “I don’t have time right now.”
“But I can’t set up this trust without your approval and I can’t meet with them without the trust being set up. I sent the documents to you Friday, remember? I followed up on Sunday, when I didn’t hear from you.”
“Ramon, I’m busy,” Jake snapped, tense.
“But they’re coming in this afternoon to review the documents and sign the papers.”
“Then put them off.”
Amy pursed her lips, looking from Jake to Ramon like a child in a custody battle.
“I can’t do that.” Ramon shook his head, bewildered. “Brady is impossible to get a meeting with. He’s a surgeon, and you know how they are with schedules. If I don’t have the papers ready, he’ll be pissed.”
“Then he’ll be pissed!” Jake exploded. “I’m busy, how many times do I have to say it? I’m busy! Don’t you get it?”
Ramon’s dark eyes flared, and Jake stalled momentarily, taking in Amy’s tight expression, and the other assistants, frowning in surprise. They’d never seen conduct like it from Jake, and he edged away. He realized that what he was seeing in their faces wasn’t even a fraction of their reaction if they knew what he had done. That the police could arrest him for a hit-and-run, maybe even for murder. They could take him away in handcuffs this very morning.
Jake felt himself edge backwards. Gardenia would have to close. Some of his employees had been with him since the beginning. He would do to them what his old company had done to him. They would lose their jobs, this very morning. Their lives would turn on a dime, and so would the lives of their spouses, their kids, and the people who depended on them.
Jake turned on his heel and fled down the hall to the conference room, checking his watch on the fly. He’d prayed Harold or Marie called before the cops got here. He couldn’t take the call in front of them. That would take nerves of steel, which he was fresh out of at the moment. His cell phone waited in his breast pocket like a bomb ready to explode.
Jake hustled through the reception area and into the conference room, hiding from everyone.
Even himself.