afternoon.
Berger was prompt, arriving at the Club just a minute or two after Charlie. They found comfortable chairs in one of the lounges and Charlie went for coffee and pastries. After giving Berger her coffee and offering her some pastry, Charlie got down to it.
“I won’t waste your time. I can’t quite credit the idea that with your responsibility to your mother you really planned to quit your job and start the Ph.D program next Fall. Frankly, I can’t help wonder if you what you were really interested in when you talked to me was the Kelsey and McDermott case.”
Berger sipped her coffee and looked like she’d be a great poker player, giving nothing away. After what seemed to Charlie like several minutes but couldn’t have been more than a few moments, Berger put down her coffee and spoke.
“I do want to begin a doctoral program. And I did think I could on a scholarship until I learned better. I even investigated the possibility of doing it part-time and learned only in the last few days that even though I could do the program part-time, I still can’t afford to do it. I do intend to apply, and very much want a letter from you, but I can’t apply for this coming September. But aside from the doctoral program, I did want to learn what you might know about McDermott. He was a client and I oversaw or handled a lot of his trades. When he was killed, I was concerned that if he was into something illegal it might reflect on me at Raymond, Teller.”
Berger then surprised Charlie by putting a different spin on his suspicions.
“It occurred to me when you emailed me today that you might be thinking it was McDermott who swindled my mother and that I may have had something to do with his murder. I haven’t a clue about who did swindle my mother. I checked the little information she had and got nowhere, even using Raymond, Teller resources. And that, I’m afraid, is all I can tell you.”
“How was your mother swindled?”
“A close friend told her of a great opportunity and she contacted someone going by the name of Ernest Simpson who told her she could beat bank interest if she moved her savings into what he described to her as an investment account. He told her that her friend had done so. What he didn’t tell her was that the friend only put in five thousand dollars. My mother foolishly transferred everything she had in two savings accounts, some eighty thousand, to this Simpson. She did it with certified checks, so there was no accessible bank information at his end as there’d be on a cancelled personal check or transfer. The two banks that issued the certified checks wouldn’t tell my mother or me where they were deposited without a court order. All that my mother had in hand was a worthless receipt and a so-called prospectus about the nonexistent investment account. She was left without a dime and had to sell her house to cover debts and living expenses for nearly five months. She didn’t own up to what happened for that long. I thought she was selling the house to down-size.”
“Did your mother’s friend know anything?”
“Same story, except that she only lost a fraction of what my mother lost.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“Of course, but it was useless. They sent me to some department dealing with such scams but all I got was a lecture about the credibility of the elderly. They had other complaints about Simpson, but though they tried to sound like they were on to something I don’t think they had anything at all. We heard from them a couple of times, but only reassurances that they were still on the case.”
“On the other matter, in strictest confidence, can you give me a ballpark figure of the sort of money McDermott dealt with in his account? I need to know to compare with some figures the investigating detective gave me.”
“The most I recall seeing in his account, both in cash and stock holdings, was a bit over twenty-eight thousand. He did very well; he only started
Berger was prompt, arriving at the Club just a minute or two after Charlie. They found comfortable chairs in one of the lounges and Charlie went for coffee and pastries. After giving Berger her coffee and offering her some pastry, Charlie got down to it.
“I won’t waste your time. I can’t quite credit the idea that with your responsibility to your mother you really planned to quit your job and start the Ph.D program next Fall. Frankly, I can’t help wonder if you what you were really interested in when you talked to me was the Kelsey and McDermott case.”
Berger sipped her coffee and looked like she’d be a great poker player, giving nothing away. After what seemed to Charlie like several minutes but couldn’t have been more than a few moments, Berger put down her coffee and spoke.
“I do want to begin a doctoral program. And I did think I could on a scholarship until I learned better. I even investigated the possibility of doing it part-time and learned only in the last few days that even though I could do the program part-time, I still can’t afford to do it. I do intend to apply, and very much want a letter from you, but I can’t apply for this coming September. But aside from the doctoral program, I did want to learn what you might know about McDermott. He was a client and I oversaw or handled a lot of his trades. When he was killed, I was concerned that if he was into something illegal it might reflect on me at Raymond, Teller.”
Berger then surprised Charlie by putting a different spin on his suspicions.
“It occurred to me when you emailed me today that you might be thinking it was McDermott who swindled my mother and that I may have had something to do with his murder. I haven’t a clue about who did swindle my mother. I checked the little information she had and got nowhere, even using Raymond, Teller resources. And that, I’m afraid, is all I can tell you.”
“How was your mother swindled?”
“A close friend told her of a great opportunity and she contacted someone going by the name of Ernest Simpson who told her she could beat bank interest if she moved her savings into what he described to her as an investment account. He told her that her friend had done so. What he didn’t tell her was that the friend only put in five thousand dollars. My mother foolishly transferred everything she had in two savings accounts, some eighty thousand, to this Simpson. She did it with certified checks, so there was no accessible bank information at his end as there’d be on a cancelled personal check or transfer. The two banks that issued the certified checks wouldn’t tell my mother or me where they were deposited without a court order. All that my mother had in hand was a worthless receipt and a so-called prospectus about the nonexistent investment account. She was left without a dime and had to sell her house to cover debts and living expenses for nearly five months. She didn’t own up to what happened for that long. I thought she was selling the house to down-size.”
“Did your mother’s friend know anything?”
“Same story, except that she only lost a fraction of what my mother lost.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“Of course, but it was useless. They sent me to some department dealing with such scams but all I got was a lecture about the credibility of the elderly. They had other complaints about Simpson, but though they tried to sound like they were on to something I don’t think they had anything at all. We heard from them a couple of times, but only reassurances that they were still on the case.”
“On the other matter, in strictest confidence, can you give me a ballpark figure of the sort of money McDermott dealt with in his account? I need to know to compare with some figures the investigating detective gave me.”
“The most I recall seeing in his account, both in cash and stock holdings, was a bit over twenty-eight thousand. He did very well; he only started
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