Imperfect Defense

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "He said she was a clever old lady. Her filing scheme was systematic, as if she thought someone might be looking."

  "The telephone records for her landline show multiple completed calls to Dyer's office number and numerous ones going the other way."

  "Not unusual for a client and her broker, or in this case, annuity representative." Deg turned into the parking lot behind the office building housing South Florida Secure Financials.

  "True enough." Ray pointed to another Taurus with a couple of men standing close. "The DIF guys are here."

  Deg pulled into an adjacent space just as Evans, the consulting forensic accountant, parked on the other side.

  Ray exited the vehicle, walked to one of the investigators, and introduced himself. He nodded toward Deg, who had joined him. "My partner, Detective Deglin Lewis." Then he introduced Evans.

  "Stone. Lewis. Evans." The tall, thin man offered his hand. "Chuck Kline. I'm happy you're here."

  "How do you want to handle it?" Ray said. "We have a warrant for Dyer's personal financial information. This all started in conjunction with a murder investigation, so we'll also be looking for additional work records relating to his relationship with the victim."

  "So I understand." Kline held up a hand, asking everyone to wait. "On the down side, Silebi has gotten word of the warrant. He's been in contact with the mayor and the governor. Neither agreed to intervene. I expect he'll have counsel waiting to contest this visit."

  "And?" Deg said.

  "Silebi doesn't have a leg to stand on. The false financials you uncovered were prepared under the auspices of Secure Financials. We're solid."

  The five investigators made their way to the offices upstairs.

  A red-faced Franco Silebi, flanked by two men, met them at the door.

  Kline extended his warrant, which was taken by one of the men with Silebi. "We have a duly authorized warrant to conduct a thorough investigation of South Florida Secure Financials, Inc. and its parent company Silebi Mortgage, Inc."

  "This is an outrage," Silebi yelled, his face flushed. "You have no right. Do you know who I am?"

  Kline said, "We do, sir. You're the principal for both of these concerns. Now step aside, please."

  Silebi looked from the tall man on his right to the short one on his left. "Counselors?"

  "Franco," the tall lawyer said, "remember you have no choice. Stand back. I recommend you assign someone to assist them with getting into your financial software."

  Deg moved to the front of the group. "We need to talk to Rodney Dyer as well."

  Silebi turned to the receptionist. "Get Dyer."

  Dyer appeared, looking a bit disheveled with his wrinkled shirt and loose tie.

  Ray wondered if he'd worked all night, or maybe gambled all night and come directly to work. He made a mental note to ask him that question.

  Deg said, "We'll use your office so the DIF officers can work here."

  "Oh, hell," Dyer said, "let's get this over with."

  ***

  "Mr. Dyer, have a seat on the visitor side of your desk, please," Ray said. He waited for Dyer to sit, then handed him papers. "We have warrants for your personal work records as they relate to Millie Peers—"

  "Wait a minute. You've already done that." Though Dyers didn't raise his voice, he sounded angry.

  "Actually, we haven't completed the review. We do have your file copies of Mrs. Peers' accounts, which could be different from your work records. We also have a warrant for your personal financial records, both here and at your residence."

  "Shit. You think I'm a suspect. Is that it? Well, I didn't hurt Millie. It's true she had issues with one of her investments, but we were working on it."

  Evans moved to the file cabinet and pulled the handle on the top drawer. It didn't open. "Unlock this, please."

  Dyer did as requested and returned to his chair, moving it a bit away from Deg, who had taken the chair beside him.

  "Tell us how you were servicing your client with a fund that doesn't exist." Ray settled into the chair across from Dyer and opened the top right desk drawer.

  "That's not exactly true." Dyer looked toward the ceiling. "The fund exists, but I manage it privately."

  Ray clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he mulled over Dyer's answer. "I think you need to explain. Near as we can determine, the so-called fund has a phony website and phony financial information." Ray used his fore and middle fingers to page through the contents of the desk drawers, occasionally extracting a file and putting it on the desk. "Evans, I'm making a stack for you here, too."

  "Fine," Evans said.

  "That's not it at all," Dyer said. "Clients expect a web presence, so I provided it. The funds are doing well." He picked up a folder Ray had put on the pile for Evans. "Here, let me show you."

  Ray and Deg looked on as Dyer explained the investments and the profitability of the F. Fodrum account.

  "So, Millie's heirs could liquidate the fund today without an issue. All of the money is present and accounted for?" Deg said.

  "Well—"

  "Perhaps we'll let the DIF investigators make the determination since that's the reason they are here," Ray said.

  Dyer looked pale.

  "Mr. Dyer, you look like you had a hard night." Ray pointed to his wrinkled shirt and slacks.

  "I don't think it's your business."

  "All night gambling. We always make that our business when we're following a money trail."

  "I don't gamble a lot. You know I take an occasional junket to Vegas, but that's about it."

  "I saw you drop big bucks at the casino on Sample Road on Saturday night."

  "So?"

  "Someone who manages money for other people probably shouldn't be into loan sharks for gambling debt."

  Dyer didn't respond.

  Evans, having finished pulling files from the cabinet, joined the men at the desk. "Here is a receipt for the files we're taking with us."

  "We'll be taking your personal computer. There." Deg pointed. "We'll take your desk unit and trust the state guys to bring us any work files from the mainframe."

  "How am I going to work?"

  "Not my problem," Deg said. "Who worked with you on Mrs. Peers' accounts?"

  "No one."

  Ray raised a speculative eyebrow.

  Dyer said, "That's not entirely true. Gabe Silebi, the boss's son, works in this office. He services clients for me in addition to doing sales calls for new business."

  "How do I tell which clients the kid is involved with?" Deg said.

  "It's noted on the top of the cover sheet. Sometimes there are additional notes on the back of the sheet as well, if maybe I asked him to attend to a particular issue."

  "Does Gabe know the F. Fodrum account is a fake?"

  "Listen, he's the boss's son. Franco would have my neck if he thought I involved his boy in anything that wasn't one hundred percent legit."

  "Did you?" Ray said.

  "I just had him call on Millie once in a while. I never told him about the F. Fodrum account being my creation. She was becoming high maintenance. Wanted to roll her funds to another firm, that sort of thing." Dyer took a deep breath. "Now, that would have been her right, but it would have been uncomfortable for me. Franco watched the overall balances very carefully."

  Deg leaned closer to Dyer. "Does Franco know about the F. Fodrum funds, or doesn't he approve of Ponzi schemes?"

  "He doesn't know."

  "Are the fund balances—and I use that term loosely—included in the business balances?"

  "Um. No. Well, not exactly."

  "How exactly?" Deg sat back a little, his eyebrows slightly raised.

  "I'm not answering any more questions without a lawyer."

  "Fair enough." Ray stood. "I'll call for a patrol car to take you to your place. After we're done there, we can go to the station, you can call your lawyer, and we'll finish this. The DIF agents can talk to you there."

  ***


  It took over four hours to search Dyer's apartment and return to the police department. Ray and Deg dropped Dyer's home laptop on Farber's desk, then headed down the hall to join Dyer and his lawyer in an interrogation room.

  While Deg read Dyer his rights, Ray thought about the small apartment they'd searched. Though the place was clean and tidy, it was old, the furniture threadbare. Not the digs of a successful financier.

  "How long have you lived at that address?" Deg asked.

  "Since my mother died," Dyer said. "I decided to live there rather than try to sell it. I'd just gotten divorced and needed a place to live, so it worked fine."

  "I'll tell you, I expected something more lavish," Ray said.

  "It meets my needs. I don't need lavish."

  Deg opened the bank statements and a page of notes containing questions Evans had suggested. "Tell me about these large deposits and withdrawals."

  Dyer glanced at his attorney, who nodded. "The truth is I'm a heavy gambler. These deposits represent my winnings, the withdrawals are the losses." He pointed to several entries and explained the circumstances.

  "Looks to me like you came up many thousands of dollars short last year."

  "I did. There is no crime in that."

  "Where are you getting the money to cover your gambling debt?" Deg said.

  "I work for my money and have a right to spend it how I want."

  "True, unless it involves ripping off and killing elderly clients," Ray said.

  Dyer's face hardened. "I told you, I didn't kill Millie." He exhaled sharply. "In truth—"

  The lawyer held up his hand. "Rodney, don't answer any more questions." He turned to the detectives. "I think we're done here. Are you charging my client with anything?"

  "Not today." Ray stood. "Ask your client to tell you about the investigation at his offices. I suspect his story will be different when the state investigators finish their job."

  After Dyer and his lawyer left the interrogation room, Ray sat down. "That was a bust, information-wise."

  "Not really," Deg said. "We now have his cash flow. With the information from the office, we'll be able to match deposits into his accounts to the withdrawals from Millie's. I suspect he didn't use all of the fake premiums she paid for his Ponzi scheme, but diverted some of the cash to his own accounts to cover his debts. Evans and I matched a few of them during the search."

  "Doesn't bring us any closer to solving the Peers case."

  "That it doesn't, but I suspect it will give Dyer a lot to think about when he's cooling his heels in prison for financial fraud." Deg stood, headed to the door, then turned. "We know Dyer was ripping Millie off. He was not in town when she died. If it's his doing, he hired someone to do the work."

  "Franco would have the means to accomplish that as well, if he's involved in the scheme." Ray followed Deg through the door. "Maybe Dyer isn't alone, and Franco is diverting part of the take for his own uses, too."

  CHAPTER 29

  Sophia

  Sophia had a ten a.m. lawyer appointment on Tuesday morning. Since Ray left early, she had some time to herself.

  Roxy ventured into the yard through her doggy door, and Sophia, laughing at the dog's antics, went outside. The door from the house to the patio was set too high in the wall for Roxy, so she stuck her head through, looked around, then bounded like a deer, the flap slapping in her wake. The doggy door from the patio to outside was lower. She crashed through that one with abandon. Her next act was to run huge circles around the yard at breakneck speed. She stopped in front of Sophia with her wide tongue lolling, collected her rub, then went into the house for a drink.

  When the dog returned to the patio, Sophia was sitting at the table drinking her coffee. Roxy chose to go back into the yard and relax in a patch of morning sun, and Sophia took a chair and sat nearby. Being with her dog comforted her and took her mind off her self-inflicted troubles.

  They remained in their places until it was time for Sophia to leave. After Roxy was in her crate and munching a treat, Sophia grabbed her notes and left. It was a short drive to the attorney's office, and she arrived with minutes to spare.

  The office was a modest size, but furnished with style. The receptionist, who said she was the lawyer's mother, sent Sophia right in.

  The lawyer walked around her desk and extended her hand. "I'm Jody Frame." She stood less than five-feet tall and had a chubby figure. Soft curls framed her face. Sophia guessed Frame was in her mid-forties, and she looked familiar.

  Sophia shook her hand. "Sophia Burgess. Cynthia Nolan, the chief nursing officer at the hospital, referred me."

  "Cynthia called. Have a seat."

  "You look familiar," Sophia said as she dropped into the chair.

  "Sophia, I talk to you in the neighborhood when you're walking your little dog."

  Sophia's jaw dropped. "Jody." Her name and face dropped into place in Sophia's mind. Seeing Jody in the role of lawyer wasn't in context. She lived in a house on Sophia's dog walking route. Jody's mother filled the yard with beautiful flowers. Jody and Sophia had chatted in the street on occasion.

  "That's me." Jody laughed. "Now tell me what's going on."

  Sophia related the details about Ralph, her conviction that he'd been abused, and Melinda's subsequent behavior. Then Sophia added the details about the Silebi family, the hospital politics, and the abuse report. After Jody asked and Sophia answered several clarifying questions, she got to the issue. "Now she's filed a complaint against me with the Board of Nursing, which could get messy."

  "Do you know what it was for?"

  "Not officially, but she told my boss she filed a lack of professional conduct complaint based on what she says is a breach of confidentiality. She also alleges my call to the state abuse line was based on malicious intent rather than fact."

  "Let me make copies of your notes." Jody walked the file to her mother and returned empty handed. "I'll call the board. If they decide to pursue the complaint, we'll need to be prepared to respond. There's no reason to do more than ask questions at this point. If necessary, we can request the report of the abuse investigation from the state. The fact Adult Protective Services investigated and recommended a change of residence should settle things down for you."

  "That's reasonable."

  "I'd like you to talk to the physicians again and get any additional information. Let me know what you learn. Don't tell them about the complaint to the nursing board or that you've retained counsel. You'll scare them off."

  Sophia made a note in her iPhone. She felt certain she would remember, but writing it down gave her focus.

  "Another possibility is the Silebis may decide to take civil action. Once again, it doesn't seem as if they have much to stand on, but the suit would have to be defended."

  "The thought did occur to me. I have malpractice insurance. I suppose it will cover the costs." Sophia gave her the name of the company.

  "Excellent." Jody made a note. "Call your carrier and give them the information along with my name. I can either work with their counsel, manage the case—I have in the past—or let them handle it. It's their choice."

  "I'll do everything today."

  "At some point, you'll need to decide whether you want to sue for the damage they've done to your reputation and state of mind."

  Sophia squished her face in disgust. "Later. We'll decide about that later. I've never joined the lawsuit bandwagon. I guess I subscribe to the shit happens philosophy."

  "That's probably healthier in the long run."

  Jody reviewed a list of reminders of things to accomplish and information to obtain, and they said their good-byes. Sophia headed home, planning to complete her assignments there.

  As Sophia drove, her what-if sensation from the previous day returned. Millie's death at the hands of an unknown assailant made her hyperaware of the possibility of elder abuse with her patients, namely Ralph at the moment. But there was a similarity. Both were connected to Franco Silebi—Ralph by marriage, Mi
llie by investments. Sophia was certain Ralph was abused or neglected. Did the lack of respect for the elderly carry over to the clients of Silebi's firm? Was money sufficient motivation?

  Would Ralph's death enrich the Silebi family in any way? He'd survived his fall, but his wife, Lorraine, didn't. Maybe that angle warranted consideration. Ray would disregard Sophia's notion as farfetched. First, there was no accusation of abuse in Lorraine's death. Second, he would view the connection as circumstantial and remote. In truth, he would most likely be correct.

  As she continued to ponder the possibility, she pulled into the garage.

  After freeing Roxy from her crate, Sophia called the physicians, leaving a message for Dr. Nathan, but speaking with Dr. Bhaduri.

  "What's up, Sophia?" Dr. Bhaduri's friendly tone and light accent felt comfortable to Sophia.

  "Do you know the status of Ralph's case? Have you heard more from the state?"

  "An investigator called me yesterday, wanting to confirm Ralph's planned discharge and subsequent living arrangements."

  "And?"

  "I told them he'd go to rehab today. The facility is one with assisted living, too, and the Silebis have reserved accommodations for him there. I think the matter is concluded. I saw Ralph today, and he's delighted," Dr. Bhaduri said.

  "Is the state going to pursue the criminal matter?"

  "No. They consider it closed. The fact the family didn't fight the placement, selected a top-flight facility, and laid down the cash in advance to secure the room played a big part in their decision. I have to admit, I was a bit surprised the state didn't take the case to the next level."

  "I guess Franco Silebi's connections paid off in the end."

  "I'd say so. But it works for Ralph, and there is nothing more to be gained by pursuing charges."

  ***

  Late in the afternoon, Sophia's cell phone sang its tune and awakened her from a Roxy-cuddle-induced nap. "Hello."

  "Sorry I woke you. I can hear it in your voice." Connie plowed ahead in her typical fashion. "I have someone who wants to talk to you."