Page 55 of Wild Fever
Edward said, "Elias has a bold vision for the future of the company, and I think we will be in good hands. But I need to go on record and say that Vanessa has been doing an outstanding job in the limited amount of time she's been here.” The way he talked about her, I suspected he might have had a small crush. Maybe not so small. He was a handsome, yet slightly nerdy guy in his late 20s with curly dark hair, brown eyes, and a trim figure. He stood about 5’11” and wore a light gray suit and navy tie.
I asked Edward about the confrontation with Frank Bledsoe.
His eyes flared, and he made a face. "That guy was pissed. For a moment, I thought he was gonna pull out a gun and start shooting. You never know these days. I felt bad for the guy. I think he just lost his wife or something. I don’t know. I'm not sure what the board was thinking, putting so much of their fund in a high-risk investment strategy, but people get greedy. They do stupid things.”
"You manage a lot of portfolios for pension funds around here?"
Edward nodded. “Pension funds, university endowments, other institutions, nonprofits, sovereign wealth funds, high net worth investors, you name it.”
"Was there a lot of tension between Elias and Lance?"
Edward hesitated, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. He had his own office, but that didn't mean his officewasn't bugged. In a place like this, upper management might want to know everything everyone is doing.
"I think there were disagreements about strategy at times. But nothing major. We all have differing opinions, and we’re all passionate about our views. At the end of the day, we come together as a team to make the best investment decisions for our clients."
"What was the tone around here when Lance decided to go into stasis and handed the business over to Vanessa?”
Edward hesitated again. "Anytime there's a change, it brings uncertainty."
It was a canned response. I didn't expect anything else.
"Can you elaborate?"
He shrugged and held his breath for a second. "I think that's all I should say."
I had given each of the employees a card. I gave one to Edward and told him to get in touch if anything else came to mind. I figured the employees might be more open to talking outside of the workplace.
We said goodbye to the cute receptionist as we left, then took the elevator down to the lobby. As soon as the doors closed, Jack said, "What do you think about Elias?"
"I think he’s getting exactly what he wanted.”
34
Isent Isabella a text and asked her to look into Elias Thorne.
JD and I hopped into the Porsche and set out to find Frank Bledsoe. He was worth looking into, though it seemed like a bit of a stretch.
Frank lived in the Coral Sands apartments on Victory Boulevard. At the edge of Jamaica Village, it wasn’t the greatest location. The dingy coral building wasn’t much to speak of—a grimy stucco two-story box with 16 units. A few palm trees swayed overhead. The lawn was patchy but trimmed. A few withering hedges lined the building.
Jack found a place to park on the street. We hopped out and made our way up the buckled concrete to unit #8.
I knocked on the door.
Sounds from the TV spilled down the foyer.
Footsteps shuffled close, and the peephole flickered. A gruff voice barked, “What the hell do you want?”
I flashed my badge to the lens.
Frank pulled open the door, and his tired eyes flicked between the two of us. The retired firefighter was 73 years old and looked every bit of it. Once a strapping man, he was now frail and weak. A nasal cannula fed his nostrils and hung around his ears. The tube connected to a rolling oxygen tank.
In his day, Frank stood about 6’1”. Now, with the hunch, he was closer to 5’10”. His puffy blue eyes had seen a lot in his time. Most of his hair was gone except for wispy tufts of brown and gray on the sides. He had a bulbous nose, sagging jowls, and quite a few sunspots. "You sure as hell don't look like cops."
I laughed. "We get that a lot.”
"What do you want?"
"We just have a few routine questions for you," I said.
