Jay Giles by Blindsided (A Thriller) Page A

confident. “I think you and I need to talk about Joe Jesso’s stocks.”
          The smile lost a little of its amusement. “I’m listening.”
          “Over the past couple of days, I’ve learned it might have been your money Joe invested with me.”
          No reaction.
          “If that’s true, I can understand why you’d be upset. What I came here to tell you is I didn’t know it was your money and there’s nothing I can do to help you get it back.”
          The smile lost any remaining amusement. The eyes glared. I thought he might come across the desk and throttle me. When he spoke, however, his voice was calm.
          “Listen carefully. It was not my money. It was my depositors’ money. They are demanding an accounting. They don’t want to hear your excuses. They want their money back. If you do not give it to them—” he shrugged his shoulders. Amusement returned to his smile. “Well, I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.”
          I had the feeling his depositors weren’t Mr. and Mrs. Joe Lunchbox of Sarasota . “That money is part of his estate—”
          He shook his head. “These stocks are under your control.”
          “I can’t take assets out of his estate. I’d go to jail.”
          He laughed. “You think I care if you go to jail?”
          “I’m sure you don’t, but there’s no way I could transfer those stocks into your name that the money couldn’t be traced. You’d go to jail, too.”
          “No one will ever trace it to me. I know how to move money so it disappears.”
          “You can’t make it disappear when the N.A.S.D. is watching.”          His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why would the N.A.S.D. be watching my money?”
          I laid it out for him. “Joe’s new wife brought charges against me with the National Association of Securities Dealers so she could have me removed as executor of his estate. Now that I’m no longer executor, she has control of that money.”
          D’Onifrio’s face registered disgust. He sat back in his chair, rubbed his chin with his hand. “That may be, but you know the cusip numbers. All I need are those numbers. I can do the rest.”
          “Won’t work. With the N.A.S.D. watching those stocks, they’d have us both arrested for securities violations.”
          Anger flushed his face. His hands balled up into fists.
          “But I know how you can get your money, and it will be perfectly legal.”      
          “Tell me,” he barked.
          I took a breath. “Right now, that money belongs to Joe’s wife, Janet Wakeman. Janet’s a gold digger who marries older men for their money. That’s why she married Joe.” I watched his face. “So if one of your associates married her, that money would be joint property. You could take it without a problem.”
          D’Onifrio burst out laughing. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would I do that?”
          “For one reason only. It’s legal.”
          He threw up his hands in a dismissive gesture. “I want my money now. I don’t want to play some game to get it.”
          “Why risk having a bunch of regulatory agencies breathing down your neck so you can have it now. You haven’t had that money for two years. What’s a month more to get it back without any complications?”
          He picked up a pen, tapped it against the desktop, threw it down, studied me. Silence. Again I noticed the irritating hum. “I’ll think about it.” He stood.
          I remained seated. “Thinking it over doesn’t work for me. You killed my dog—”
          “I am sorry about that. My associate should not have hurt your dog.”
          “I appreciate your saying that, but it won’t bring him back. I don’t want to end up dead because I gave you time to think it over.”
          “I assure you that