“Martin, I got a call from a Hollywood client last night who wants to withdraw $11.89
million of assets.”
The reality was that Jamie had $7.1 million after my investment losses the past few years,
so the difference would have to come out of somebody else's funds. A few more sizeable
customer withdrawals, and PLH would ordinarily be facing meltdown. That's why the $40
million that Julio left in the pooled assets was so critical, a nice cushion for a rainy day.
After much thought from the night before, a decision had been made: it didn't matter if I
was telling Martin something he already knew, I just didn't want to be viewed as withholding key
information like the first customer withdrawal since the cartel took over PLH. That said, I didn't
want to give up Jamie's name if I didn't have to, because there was a chance that Martin had not
tapped my home line.
“You better be sure this guy wasn't talking with Brad Dellan.”
I didn't like that question and did my best to steer the conversation away from Martin's
suspicions about those poking their noses into PLH.
“Nothing like that, Martin,” I said. “Funds needed for a home purchase, that's all. Hey,
the afternoon of January 16th is all clear for me, just let me know when Julio wants to meet. I'll
probably need to meet him in the city, right?”
I glanced down at the yellow sticky note that I had written to remind myself to call Nick
Johnson.
“No, I think he plans to spend a day out in suburban NJ, take your family out for lunch
kind of thing.”
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Great, this guy now wanted to meet the family. How was I going to explain that to Claire
and the kids? I didn't think I ever had taken the family on a business event. We all did go to
Disney World five years ago. That trip coincided with an investment management conference in
Orlando that I attended for a day, but business and family still didn't mix on that occasion.
“That would be lovely, Martin,” I said as sarcastically as possible.
“Personally, I think it's a bad idea for Julio to meet your family,” Martin said. “There
really is no upside.”
Boy, I couldn't have said that better myself. Did Julio want to play with my mind, as if he
hadn't done that enough already?
“Well, keep working on him,” I replied. “I think it's a terrible idea. What, are going to
start exchanging Christmas cards or something?”
Martin laughed softly. That was one of the few times I had heard that man laugh. I had
never seen it, only on the phone.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I am switching men to watch over you, just a scheduling
adjustment, that's all,” Martin said. “You shouldn't experience anything different.”
I breathed heavily into the phone. “That's good, because I have hardly noticed anybody
watching over me.”
And that was the truth. Yeah, I saw him follow me to work and back home every day, but
he parked away from the house, near some woods, so no neighbors would complain or become
suspicious. Most importantly, my family didn't notice. That would be bad.
Martin said his goodbye, telling me that he'd be calling me later.
My call to Jamie Lyons lasted maybe thirty seconds. It felt weird to call Jamie back on so
many levels.
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First, I should have been talking to his attorney, not him - I had no idea why Jamie fired
his longstanding attorney and I didn't want to pry – since most celebrity clients of mine never
talked business with me. Steven Angle was the exception, of course, yet maybe that was a
reflection of him simply being older and wiser. Or maybe not.
Second, Martin quite possibly considered Jamie to be a threat to PLH and I was helpless
to warn him of that.
So, there I was on the phone with Jamie, telling him that I would be wiring the $11.89
million at the end of the day.
Darryl leaned in his head into my office. “Metrogroup has confirmed Mr. Lyons's
transaction and they're sending over the documentation right now.”
Darryl had an interesting weekend. Apparently, someone was following him and
Jonathan. I did my damndest to act clueless while he was telling me his story but it wasn't easy
because I was fuming inside.
They noticed the same man four times in a few hour span midday Saturday. Twice in the
flea market, once outside the shoe store – Darryl needed some new penny loafers - and finally,
during the drive home. Jonathan noticed the man two cars behind him and made a few quick turns
to let the man know he'd been spotted. They were so spooked that they cancelled their Saturday
evening plans for dinner in the city. Instead, they hunkered down in their home all night. Jonathan
and Darryl had not seen the man since. Taking the 5:45 a.m. train into Manhattan for his attorney
job every morning, Jonathan spent the entire Monday looking over his shoulder.
Martin had told me that Darryl was off limits, but this made me nervous. Julio had been
known to change his mind, even in the short time that I had known the man, so this could be
serious. I cared for Darryl and if another person close to me got caught in the cross hairs of the
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cartel, I just might have lost it. As Darryl was finishing up the story, I made a mental note to call Martin after lunch about this mystery man.
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Tuesday, November 12th
6:05 p.m.
Darryl ran his fingers over the new black granite countertop he and Jonathan had installed
in their kitchen three weeks before. The granite still felt cold and slick to the touch, a feature that Darryl found quite endearing. The couple was actively looking for new appliances to match the
new countertop.
Darryl had just arrived home, roughly ninety minutes before Jonathan. He cracked open a
Miller Lite and stood against the 30-year old stove that was a week or two removed from the trip
to the junk yard. Darryl and Jonathan lived at 34 Maple Drive, ten minutes away from PHL.
The couple had agreed to take a nice vacation to Aruba before using most of last year's
bonus money on fixing up their home. They had the place re-roofed, windowed, and sided. Only
recently had set their sights on the interior. The wood floors were re-finished last month, a
process that inspired one of the worst fights ever for the six- year old couple.
Jonathan hated the new color of the floors once the final stain had set into the wood and
wanted to call the contractor with demands for a major fix. Darryl couldn't disagree more, mainly
because he feared a long dragged out battle with the contractor but also because he had already
tired of not being able to use the downstairs. The refinishing was into the third week.
The two didn't talk for 36 hours until Jonathan's mother got into the middle by
suggesting some large area rugs to blend in the wood color. His mother never seemed to have an
issue with Darryl, and his father was already dead by the time they met. Darryl's parents were
another story, having only recently seemed more comfortable with their son's sexual state.
Darryl's four brothers were only mildly less intolerant than his parents, though the prior
Thanksgiving dinner at Darryl's parents' home was the warmest it had been in years. This was
the first relationship that both Jonathan and Darryl announced to the world.
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Darryl's cell phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I'm hopping on the train right now, but I wanted to tell you that this company you
gave me, United Enterprises, doesn't exist…I mean they're several of businesses with that name
but none of them acknowledged having an account with Metrobank, and, frankly, none of them
seemed to be remotely successful enough to have that much cash sitting at Metrobank.”
Darryl had called Metrobank on Monday, asking for a list of all PLH accounts and the
account names. Darryl expected to be told that there was just one account for PLH at Metrobank,
namely the account Peter used to pool all investor money.
But there were two accounts, and, when Metrobank faxed the list over, Darryl saw the
name United Enterprises. That night, Jonathan agreed to do some legal searches on the name to
see what came up.
“What the hell is going on?” Darryl shouted. “Should I talk to Peter about this?”
“No, we need to do some more digging,” Jonathan said, starting to fade out. “Let's talk
when I get home. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
Darryl hung up and opened the refrigerator. He was the one to cook dinner every night
and was thawing out some Cajun steaks. Jonathan tried to do most of the cooking on the
weekends, yet both of them acknowledged that Darryl was much better in the kitchen. A honey -
mustard dressing for the salad would be nice, thought Darryl.
The arm came around his neck as Darryl closed the refrigerator door and, before he could
even try to pull away, a sharp object penetrated his neck.
“In a few seconds, you'll be dead,” the voice whispered to Darryl. “Just relax.”
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Darryl fell to the floor, dropping the plate of steaks, and leaving quite a surprise for his
beloved Jonathan.
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Tuesday, November 12th
7:40 p.m.
Jonathan closed the garage door and walked into the pantry area which served as a large
coat closet with tiled flooring. Hanging up his coat, he placed his briefcase up onto the cedar shelf the couple had purchased the weekend they moved into the house two years ago. Jonathan didn't
have any office work to do that evening but did pull out his United Enterprise folder from his
briefcase.
“Darryl, hon, I'm home!” Jonathan yelled while opening the door to the main hallway of
the home.
The television was off, which was strange because Darryl adored the evening news.
There was no smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen, though the kitchen and front foyer lights
were on.
Jonathan put the United Enterprises folder on the front foyer chest that belonged to
Darryl's grandmother, and walked into the kitchen.
Jonathan's heart leapt against his chest as his eyes fell upon Darryl collapsed and dead on
the wood floor. Jonathan swooped in for mouth to mouth for thirty seconds before realizing that
he needed to call 911.
Fifteen minutes later, the EMT team whisked Darryl away, but Jonathan knew Darryl
was dead. And all he could think about was the man that was following them last weekend. In
Jonathan's eyes, his soul mate was murdered and someone was going to pay.
Police officer Will Roberts had arrived shortly before the ambulance. He was trying to
calm Jonathan down.
“Jonathan, let's wait for the coroner's report because I didn't see any damage to the
outside of Darryl's body; no gunshot wound, strangulation marks, nothing like that.”
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Jonathan's mother ran into the house and hugged her son. “I am so sorry, sweety,” she
sobbed. “What happened?”
Her son explained everything including his suspicions, just as he had told Officer
Roberts.
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Tuesday, November 12th
8:15 p.m.
Fropogil is a wonder drug, most commonly used in hospital settings for outpatient
surgeries. A sedative, Fropogil will knock people out in seconds after injection, and even five
minutes of sedation can make the recipient feel like they've had a full night's rest. This
characteristic makes the drug highly addictive to students crashing for exams and medical interns
on 48-hour shifts.
It also makes the perfect weapon for killing. A forty milligram injection will cause the
heart to arrest within ten seconds. Also, with a half-life of less than ten minutes, coroners don't
stand a chance to catch the drug during autopsy. Eduardo would have used it on Brad Dellan but
he couldn't get his hands on the drug with such short notice from Julio. For Darryl Ludsten,
though, Eduardo had plenty, and he had spent the past two days observing Darryl and Jonathan.
He learned on Monday that Jonathan arrived home at least an hour after Darryl, so that
was Eduardo's opportunity. Since the drug acted so quickly, there wasn't any need to do anything
fancy or engage in a heated struggle. One clean shot to get the injection in – that's all Eduardo
needed. He broke the lock on the basement sliding glass door and positioned himself in the house
at 4:00 p.m. Once Darryl arrived two hours later, Eduardo listened for him to enter the kitchen
from his position in the dining room. The refrigerator door was open long enough for Eduardo to
move in from behind. It was remarkably easy.
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Wednesday, November 13th
7:15 a.m.