Pradeep called from Delhi, saying what a wonderful time he had with her and how sorry he was they hadn’t hooked up before he left. Then came 2 rather tentative calls from her mom; she thought about waiting until she returned from up north but decided to check in.
“Mom? How you doing?”
“Joanie? Hello.”
“What’s wrong.” Silence. “Mom, are you all right?”
“Joanie — something happened.”
Her heart seized.
“What is it, Mother?”
“A man came to the house and said that I won a great deal of money.”
“Oh God.”
“Joan, please!”
“But when?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you — was he a scammer?”
“They think so. Yes. Please don’t be mad.”
“OK. OK. I won’t be mad. I’m not mad.”
Joan got the details, best as an agitated Marj could deliver, then made her read the phone numbers of Agent Marone and the bank officer so she could get in touch. She realized she’d been abrupt, and told her mother not to worry. She would ring back after making a few calls.
Shit.
There were 2 for Agent Marone, and she hoped her mom had gotten them right. She tried the 1st: voicemail. The 2nd was the antifraud division of the FBI. A woman asked if she wanted to be forwarded to his inbox but Joan declined, saying she’d already left a message on his cell. She thought twice and had them transfer, leaving word that she was Marjorie Herlihy’s daughter.
Then she called the woman at Wells Fargo.
“This is Cynthia Mulcahy.”
“Hi, Cynthia. It’s Joan Herlihy, Marjorie Herlihy’s daughter.”
“Hi, Joan,” said the woman, as if in condolence.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Have you spoken to Agent Marone?”
“I left a message on his voicemail.”
“You talked to your mom.”
“She wouldn’t tell me how much the guy stole.”
“About $550,000.”
“Oh my God!”
“I know,” she said, with a kind of warm yet steely sympathy. “A hundred thousand of that is insured by the FDIC. I’m not sure if your mother told you, but we got that back to her, and it’s resting in a special account. There’s no way that anyone — except Marjorie, of course — can get to it.”
“But how are you going to catch the guy? I mean, I’ve heard about this stuff and they never recover what’s…”
“That’s not entirely true, Joan. Agent Marone is very good at chasing money. I’ve worked with him before, and he’s got a great group of forensic accountants. And, as I said, the federally insured amount has already been credited to her account, which is unusual. Most of the time that process takes 90 days, but we have Ruddy to thank for that.”
“Ruddy?”
“Marone. That’s Agent Marone. Have you seen her yet?”
“No — I can’t. The timing is horrendous. I’m on my way out of town on what is probably the single most important business trip of my life. I’m not sure what to do.”
“I understand. If it’s any consolation, the banking industry is in the middle of a virtual pandemic in the area of geriatric fraud. And the people who took money from your mom are probably better at it than any group I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, great.”
“What I mean is, your mother is very sharp. From the conversations I’ve had with Ruddy, she was circumspect; you can’t imagine how skillful these men and women are at establishing trust. That’s what they do. But she is definitely of sound mind, and didn’t just give her money away. I know that sounds hard to believe when we’re staring at the results, but it’s important for you to keep in mind.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to say, Mrs—”
“Mulcahy. And it’s Ms—but Cynthia, please.”
“I appreciate it. She’s not senile. OK. She’s alone and vulnerable, and I probably have something to do with that.”
“Don’t go there, Joan.”
“But the money’s gone nonetheless. And it’s a lot.”
“I know. Look: everything that can be done is being done. Are you going to postpone your trip?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.”
“OK. If you do go, when will you be back?”
“I was just going for a few days, but I’ll cut it short. I can actually be back late tonight. It’s a presentation,” she added needlessly.
“All right. Why don’t you give me your email and cellphone number. You left it for Agent Marone?”
“Yes. But not my email.”
“I’m sure he’ll call within the next few hours. I don’t think there’s much you can actually do by being here, Joan, aside from hand-holding — which she definitely needs. The poor woman hasn’t had an easy time. There’s a lot of shame attached to this type of thing when it happens. I wish I could say I hadn’t been through it with other clients.”
“You’ve seen it before.”
“More than I wish! Many, many of our customers. And it isn’t just widows and widowers: it’s married couples, folks in their 50s, we’re generally talking about savvy, well-educated people. Baby-boomers! They become mesmerized—the groups preying on them are like — well, they’re just so seductive. Whether or not you postpone your trip is completely up to you, but you should take comfort that the agent in charge of your mother’s case is extremely competent. We’re keeping a close watch on Marjorie’s account. I am, personally. If you’re back tonight or tomorrow morning, I don’t see much difference. It’s your call. It’s an emotional call.”
“Do I need to get a lawyer?”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you come see me the minute you touch down — with or without your mom. I’m here all week. The Pico-Robertson branch. That’s Marjorie’s home branch. We can discuss all your options and I can give you a list of people — attorneys — you might want to get in touch with.”
Joan called her mother and said she’d spoken to the lady at the bank and had also left word with the FBI agent. She was leaving at 3 to give the final presentation of the Memorial, but would be in constant touch. When she broached the possibility of returning on the same night, Marj would hear nothing of it, which only made her feel worse, accentuating the offer’s hollow ring. (After speaking to the Wells Fargo woman she had pretty much settled on staying in Napa until the following afternoon, to get closure on whatever the hell was going on.) She patiently waited for her mom to get a pen and write down Joan’s cell number, asking her to repeat it back. She told her to keep the Nokia turned on as well (the old woman didn’t have the heart to say she’d forgotten her own mobile number — thank God Joan didn’t ask her to recite it — but didn’t think it made any difference, as long as she had it charged and ready), and not to leave the house or answer the door. If anything “seemed ‘funny,’ ” Joan said, “I want you to call 911 immediately, and then call the agent, and then Cora, and then me—in that order. OK, Mom?” Her daughter said it sounded like everyone was doing what they could, and not to worry. It wasn’t that much money in the scheme of things (the fuck it wasn’t)…you have your health, your children, and your house free and clear. These things happen to people of all ages. It’s a pandemic. (She hated parroting the woman from the bank and hated herself for wanting to soften things before they hung up. She had years of experience hanging up on her mother.) She tried to end on a cheerful note by bringing up the hundred-thousand dollars that Cynthia said had been deposited back in her account. They spoke another 5 minutes, but Joan was on autopilot, her head already in Napa.