Detective Zwerling frowned. “He didn’t mention a girlfriend?”
“No.” Jake wondered if Voloshin had a girlfriend, because the detective’s tone sounded surprised.
“There was no talk of providing for anyone?”
“No, no beneficiary or anything like that.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange, since he had told you he had a son, and an ex-wife?”
“No, because as I say, he didn’t give me much information at all. He played it close to the vest, and I pitched him.”
Detective Zwerling pursed his lips as he took notes. “So he didn’t say anything to you about a woman.”
“No.”
“Did you see what kind of car he drove?”
“No.”
Detective Woo shrugged, glancing again at Detective Zwerling. “Give it up. I’m telling you, I’m right.”
“Give what up?” Jake sneaked a glimpse of the credenza clock—10:59.
Detective Woo answered, “One of the tenants heard Voloshin arguing with a woman last night and saw a brunette leaving his—”
“Richie,” Detective Zwerling interrupted. “Enough.”
Detective Woo fell silent, and Jake remembered that Kathleen’s mother was a brunette. Maybe she had found out that Voloshin was stalking her daughter. But he didn’t know why she would kill him.
Detective Zwerling returned his attention to Jake. “To move on, Voloshin was never married. He had no ex-wife. No kids either. This isn’t confidential, it’ll be in the newspapers.”
Jake faked a confused frown. “But he said he was watching his son at the basketball game.”
“That wasn’t true.”
“So he’s not a dad? He doesn’t have a kid on the team?” Jake recoiled in fraudulent shock. The clock read 11:00. Either the transfer was stopped, or he was dead. The realization stressed him to the max. His heart beat wildly, throwing itself against the inside of his chest, as if it were trying to escape his very body.
“You say that financial planners don’t set up offshore accounts?” Detective Zwerling set down his notebook, laying his pen on top.
Jake tried to recover. “No.”
“So why did he want to meet you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought we did, mistakenly.”
Detective Zwerling narrowed his eyes, making his crow’s-feet look even deeper. “But you said he didn’t ask you if you did.”
Jake felt his mouth go dry. “Maybe he decided against it, after he saw the offices or something.”
“But why did he come to you, in particular?”
“Because we met at the game.” Jake struggled not to choke on his words. “I pitched him. I wanted him to come in.”
“Then why would he lie to you about the son, and the ex-wife? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know. Maybe to fit in, to make himself seem more normal, more like one of my clients?”
“But why? Why you? Did he go to the game to meet you?”
