Dead Broke (Lana Denae Mystery Series Book 1)

by Bruce A. Borders

Nodding, Lana said, “According to our information, all six of them held short term, high-yield investments with Cascade Global.”

  Devin Holloway, somewhat recovered from the unsettling news, was already staring at his computer screen. Without looking up, he said, “I can confirm that all six are indeed clients of Cascade Global Investments, and it looks like all of them bought into the AI-GLIS Fund, a hybrid money market account CD. The fund offers a quick return with a nice payout but comes with a substantially high risk.”

  “I’d say,” Jamie commented dryly.

  With a quick glance toward the detective and a hint of irritation in his voice, Mr. Holloway said, “I meant high financial risk.”

  “So all six were invested in the same fund?” Lana asked.

  “Yes. I would have to pull up each account individually to see how much each of them had invested and the amount of expected return, but all of them definitely had money in this fund.”

  Lana, busy writing notes, didn’t say anything.

  “May I ask when these murders took place?” Holloway said.

  “The dates are listed beside the names on the sheet I gave you,” Lana told him.

  Studying the paper, Holloway’s gaze drifted back and forth from the computer to the paper. Several silent minutes passed before he finally offered a simple, “Interesting.”

  “What’s that?” asked Lana.

  “Well, not one of these investors is listed as deceased. And, I haven’t checked them all yet but the date of maturity for the first two on the list is exactly two weeks from the time of their murder.”

  “And why is that significant?”

  “One of the risks associated with this type of account is the potential demise of the investor,” Holloway explained. “If the investor dies before the date of maturity, there is no payout.”

  “So, what happens to the money?” Jamie asked. “Your company keeps it?”

  “We don’t keep all of the money. A large portion of the initial capital that was invested is returned to the estate.”

  “And your company then gets the payment at maturity?” Damien said.

  “That is correct.”

  “I don’t want to accuse you of anything underhanded,” Lana said. “But, in effect, aren’t you gambling that investors die before the maturity date?”

  Holloway didn’t seem to take offense at the allegation. “While we can profit from such a situation, that is rarely the case. First, very few of our investors die while holding this type of account. Even if that were the case, like I said, we return the majority of the initial investment to the estate and in some cases that could be a substantial amount. What this means is we now assume the burden of the investor and must wait for the CD to mature before recouping our loss. In the couple of cases I’ve checked, that is only two weeks but odds are if an investor dies, it will be a substantially longer time until maturity. There are also other costs involved; transfer fees, filing fees, and so forth. So, it’s not like we sit here all day waiting for our clients to pass on. We much prefer they remain alive and healthy, which we hope will lead to repeat business.”

  “Sorry,” Lana said. “I didn’t mean to imply you or your business practices were unethical in any way.”

  “Quite all right.” Holloway sounded as if he were used to explaining things of this nature.

  Lana continued. “Based on what you’ve told us, in the event of the death of a client, it would be in your best interest to know of that immediately, correct?”

  “Yes, of course. Particularly, if that person’s investment is close to maturity.”

  “But your computers show no information on the deaths of these clients?”

  “None.”

  “How do you determine that a client has passed away?” Damien asked. “And how soon do you receive that information?”

  Holloway sighed. “Ideally, we would be linked to the Office of Public Health, and would know instantly when one of our clients had been entered into the health records as deceased. Realistically, we do not rank that high on the food chain. We do eventually get that information, but not in a timely manner. So, we are left to determine the passing of investors through alternative means. Still, this can sometimes take weeks.”

  “And how long does it typically take to close an account, or transfer the account, once you learn of an investor’s death?” Lana asked.

  “Two to three weeks, usually.”

  Lana scribbled some more notes. “And what about for a payout to be made once the maturity date is reached—if the investor is not deceased?”

  “Payment is initiated the first business day following maturity. But it can take a couple of weeks or longer to work its way through our system.” As Holloway finished speaking, a puzzled look spread across his face. A look that soon turned to a worried crease in his brow. “I wonder...”

  While the man intently studied the screen again, Lana and the other two detectives looked on patiently, content to hear only the click of the keyboard as they waited for Holloway to clarify his unfinished statement.

  Frowning then, Holloway shook his head. “Payment for the first two has already been made.”

  “Can’t you stop the payment?” Jamie asked.

  “Not once it is in someone else’s account.”

  “So someone discovered how to rig the system,” Damien said.

  “If someone rigged the system, that would be fraud?” Jamie pointed out. “In which case, you should be able to get your money back.”

  Holloway nodded. “We can file the necessary papers to get the money back. Problem is, by the time our claim is investigated and settled; most of the money is spent. Or at least hidden in some other account that we can’t touch.”

  “Were the payments made by check or automatic transfer?” Lana asked.

  “By check, and both have been cashed, but... Well, that’s odd.”

  Again, they waited for the man to elaborate.

  “Each of these online accounts has been accessed after the death of the investor.”

  “Can you check to see if the accounts were accessed in the days leading up to the day of the murder?” Lana asked.

  “Sure,” Holloway answered. It took him only a moment to confirm that all of the accounts in question had been accessed just days before the murders.

  “Any information changed?”

  “None that I can tell,” Holloway said. “Looks like they just logged in and stayed on each page for a few minutes before moving on. What is the point of that? Not even the bank account numbers were switched.”

  “They didn’t have to. Whoever logged in wasn’t trying to steal the account. They were simply mining data and doing it the old-fashioned way, by reading it and writing it down.” Lana explained.

  “And what are they using the data for? You don’t need data to kill someone.”

  “Identity theft,” Lana replied confidently. “Steal the identity of someone, in this case, your clients, and they now control the client’s personal business, including investments. That’s where most thieves usually stop. Our guy took it a step further.”

  “By killing the ones whose identity he stole and then collecting on their investments,” Damien finished.

  Jamie nodded. “And probably a lot more—securities, bonds, life insurance policies too, if they had those. The total take could wind up being a million dollars or more.”

  “The question is, how did this person gain access to the accounts?” Holloway wondered aloud.

  “There’s no way you can tell where the login originated? ISP or computer ID?” Lana asked.

  Mr. Holloway shook his head. “I can’t, but my IT guy probably can. I’ll have him take a look and get back to you.”

  Lana nodded and continued writing her notes. “Who else has access to your computers and these accounts?”

  “Just my staff, which is pretty small; we’re not a big company. There’s Angela, my secretary; Denise, the accounts manager; oh and Don, the sales rep. And then of co
urse, there's Davie, our IT guy. That’s it, besides me. We do have other employees but they wouldn’t have access to the accounts.”

  Lana was scribbling in her notepad. “Your computers are connected to the Internet, I assume?”

  “Not the Internet, I mean, not what everyone else uses, but they are linked to a network.”

  “So they could be hacked.”

  “Not easily. We’re running Pentagon grade encryption software. But theoretically, it would be possible, I suppose.”

  Lana raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s safe to say we’re beyond theoretically, at this point. Unless, of course, it was an inside job. I know you probably trust your employees but in order to do my job and eliminate all possibilities, I’ll need that list of the names you just rattled off—along with their contact information.”

  “I understand,” Holloway said.

  “I’ll also need a list of names for anyone else who has invested in this AI-GLIS Fund whose maturity date is coming up. Our killer may have more ‘investing’ of his own planned.”

  Holloway nodded.

  “It might be a good idea to monitor those accounts as well,” Lana said. Handing Holloway a business card, she added, “Give me a call as soon as anyone logs in. Our department doesn’t have the manpower to provide constant protection to them all but if we have reason to believe one of them could be the next target, we can assign a twenty-four-hour surveillance team.”

  Holloway assured the detectives he would do as they asked. Reaching to the shelf behind him, he retrieved the paper that shot out of the laser jet, handing Lana the printout of the employee and client contacts. “If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.”

  “We just might take you up on that,” Lana said as she and the other two detectives headed for the door.

  Chapter Eight

  “I got those background checks you wanted,” Ray announced the moment Lana walked into the precinct.

  Earlier, upon returning from her visit with Devin Holloway, Lana had given Ray the list of those with access to the Cascade Global Investment accounts, asking for a full report on each of them. “And don’t forget Mr. Holloway.”

  I’ll have them for you in an hour,” Ray promised.

  “Take your time. I won’t be back until late afternoon. Something I’ve got to take care of.”

  Ray started to ask if she wanted him to call if he discovered anything useful, then he remembered the date—the anniversary of the day Lana’s partner had been killed. Stifling his words, he merely nodded.

  Every year, Lana made the trip out to Pioneer Cemetery in Hillsboro, a city a few miles to the west of Portland, to visit Brent Daniels’ grave. He’d been killed in the line of duty during a shootout, as they were about to make an arrest in their case. Though she was in no way responsible for his death, Lana felt compelled to honor his memory and pay homage to the man who had taught her to be a critically thinking detective. No matter how busy she was, no matter how important the case, she always took the time to pay her respects. It was a time of reflection; a time of inspiration. A chance to renew her commitment to herself to be the best detective she could be—and then push it a little bit more.

  Knowing how important the visit was to her, Damien and Jamie had agreed to finish questioning the tenants in the Rose City Apartments, as well as the other building, without her; allowing Lana the time to make the short journey.

  They were still gone when Lana returned at four thirty that afternoon. She’d been ready to give the two a call to see how they were progressing when Ray had spoken up saying the background checks were complete.

  Slipping the phone back into her pocket, Lana asked, “Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “No criminal record. They’re all clean, including Mr. Holloway. We’re talking government type security-clearance clean.”

  “Makes sense. They’re dealing with millions of dollars of other people’s money on a daily basis.”

  “Yeah,” Ray agreed. “Probably helps if they’re trustworthy.”

  As he finished speaking, the door opened, letting in the raucous sounds of a festive carnival nature. Lana smiled faintly. “The boys are back.”

  “Yes, we are,” Jamie said as the two swaggered into the room. “By popular demand.”

  Lana rolled her eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to ask us what we found during our afternoon of conducting our stellar interviews?” Jamie asked.

  Still not feeling that cheerful, Lana said with a lackluster enthusiasm, “Sure. What did you find?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Nothing? Then what was all the whooping and hollering for?”

  “Oh, that was because I won our bet,” Jamie told her.

  “Not really a bet when only one person is betting,” Damien scoffed.

  Lana said, “What was the bet?”

  “Whether or not I could beat Damien from the car to the door,” Jamie answered. “I did.”

  “I didn’t even run,” Damien said.

  Jamie nodded. “Which is why you lost.”

  Shaking her head, Lana gave him an apathetic stare and said, “So you questioned all the tenants?”

  “We did, and it didn’t take that long,” Jamie told her, all business now. “The other building only had a handful of residents so it was mainly those at the Rose City Apartments we needed to talk to. Then, the murders were around four a.m. and, oddly enough, it turns out most people are sleeping at that time of night.”

  “So, in other words, you’re telling me you gained no new information regarding this case?”

  “No, nothing,” Jamie said.

  “You left out our first mission,” Damien reminded him. Turning to Lana, he said, “We went to visit Holloway’s Bank, or Cascade Global Investment’s bank, and found that whoever cashed the payout checks from the victim’s accounts used one of those check cashing stores.”

  “Did you get a picture?” Lana asked hopefully.

  “No.” Damien frowned. “The store’s cameras weren’t working, haven’t been for a couple of weeks, including the days in question. That’s not surprising, judging by the crumbling decor and ramshackle building.”

  “No one could recall who cashed the checks either,” Jamie added. “So, that was another lead that didn’t pan out.”

  “What about traffic cams?” Lana said. “If we have the date and time this guy visited the check cashing center, we could pull footage from all the cameras in the area.”

  “We thought of that,” Damien told her. “But the store the guy used is located on a side street way out east, off Burnside; there are no traffic cams out there.”

  “Did you try private property owners?” Lana pressed. “Maybe they caught something on their surveillance.”

  “Not too many businesses around; a run-down bar and one of those rinky-dink Buy Here, Pay Here car lots. Neither of which have cameras.”

  “Why all the questions?” Jamie asked. “And why do I get the feeling we’re working for you now?”

  “Probably because you are,” Lana said. “This is my case.”

  “As of the present, these are still two separate cases.”

  Lana frowned. “I think we have pretty well established that the two are one and the same. And as senior detective...”

  Jamie laughed out loud. “You've been here exactly a week longer than either of us.”

  “Which makes me the senior detective,” Lana continued right on. “As such, I’m the lead investigator. And as soon as I speak to Captain Hayden, I’m sure he will agree.”

  “I thought you’d already done that.” Damien said.

  “Not yet.”

  Jamie gave her a sideways look. “You don’t really intend to talk to him do you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, you’ve been saying for three days that you need to talk to him.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “No, but that’s becaus
e–”

  “Because you don’t want to talk to him,” Jamie finished.

  “I don’t have a problem talking to the Captain,” Lana insisted.

  Damien spoke up again. “You just don’t want to deal with him trying to persuade you to take a partner.”

  “The Captain knows my position on having a partner and he knows I work best alone,” Lana said. Then with a thoughtful frown, she added, “’though he does try to push the idea every now and then.”

  “And you are afraid to tell him of the progress we’ve made on the case because he might think we work well together and then you’d be stuck with us, right?”

  Ray piped up then, reminding everyone he was still there. “You guys do work well together. All three of you.”

  “We do,” Lana acknowledged. “But, no offense guys, I just wouldn’t want to do it on a permanent basis.”

  “No offense taken,” Jamie said. Then with a mischievous look, he added, “What makes you think we would want to permanently work with you?”

  “Do I get a vote?” asked Ray. Without waiting for an answer, he said. “I vote no. Otherwise I’d hear this constant bickering every single day.”

  “What bickering?” Jamie said. “We’re not bickering.”

  Ray shook his head. “Bickering is what you guys do best.”

  Lana shrugged. “Amicable bickering maybe.”

  “Still bickering.”

  Damien had been silent, listening until he had something worthwhile to contribute. “Some say bickering is a sign of a healthy relationship.”

  Three sets of eyes turned in unison. All of them stared as if trying to bore a hole into Damien’s head to see what would make him utter such things.

  “Who says that?” Jamie asked.

  Damien shrugged. “I don’t know. Just what I heard.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Lana warned.

  “Or repeat it,” Jamie said.

  Smiling, Damien gave a short nod. “True. But in this case, I think the bickering thing is probably right.”

  From their expressions, he expected a chorus of comments telling him why he was wrong. When none came, he realized they were waiting on him to explain.