Page 31 of The Wives of Murder Club
Imogen ripped the sleep mask from her face and leapt out of bed, stumbling as her legs tangled in the twist of sheets she’d wound around her body. “Mark! Don’t answer the door, Mark!” she yelled, rifling frantically through her bedside table. That useless man was probably going to let them in, but she couldn’t spare a second to go down and try to stop him. As usual, her shit was a mess, but she knew that what she was looking for was buried deep under the feminine detritus of empty birth control packets, loose painkillers, tissues, and capless lip balms. Her fingers closed around the item and she snatched it from the drawer.
In four steps she was at the large dresser holding the overflow items that didn’t fit in her walk-in closet. Jewellery, scarves, lipsticks, and chargers littered its surface, scattered amongst the glut of sterling silver picture frames showcasing the glitteriest moments of her life. Imogen plucked the lone handmade frame from the bunch, a Popsicle-sticks-and-buttons monstrosity crafted for her by Ari several years ago that she hadn’t gotten around to replacing with an upgraded version. She yanked the photo out, jammed the slim rectangle in, and then covered it up by reinserting the snap of her daughter pulling a goofy face. The voices were inside now—stupid Mark!—and there were footsteps on the stairs. Imogen put the frame down and grabbed her robe from the floor. She’d just tied it around her waist when the door to her bedroom flew open and a female officer burst into the room.
Imogen pulled the robe around her body even more tightly. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? How had they messed up? She racked her brain but couldn’t figure out what could have gone wrong, unless . . .oh god, they found her body.
But then the officer identified herself as Detective Kelsey Ramirez with the Serious Fraud Office, and informed Imogen of the charges against her. It took a few seconds for Imogen to understand that this had nothing to do with Celeste, and that should have been a relief, but there was no space for relief because this wasbadbadbadand it was all happening too fast. Imogen momentarily lost the ability to speak, which was probably a good thing, because Detective Ramirez was giving her a spiel about her rights and telling her that anything she did or said could be used as evidence.
Imogen took a long breath in and let a long breath out. “May I please put on some clothing?” She gestured down at herself—she was wearing a skimpy sleep set under the silk robe. “I’m not decent.”
Detective Ramirez looked as if she wanted to say no. Frowning, she hesitated, but then agreed to let Imogen change under her supervision. Once she was dressed, the detective led her out into the hallway, where they passed two officers who entered the bedroom behind them. Imogen overheard one of them say to the other, “Yeah, Ramirez said we gotta bag the pricey shit—designer clothing, bags, shoes, jewellery, anything that could be proceeds of crime.” Down the hallway, Imogen could see that her home office was under siege; a swarm of uniforms had invaded the room and launched an assault on the filing cabinets and electronic devices.
“Excuse me,” Imogen said as Detective Ramirez led her down the stairs. “Shall we go to the kitchen and speak there? I can make you a coffee if you’d like. I definitely need one. But my daughter’s coming home from a sleepover soon, and I don’t want her to be upset by all of this. Could you please tell me how long it’s going to take?”
Detective Ramirez didn’t even look at Imogen. “My team’s going to take as long as they need. They may be here all day. But your husband isn’t under arrest—he’s free to make arrangements to meet your daughter. I’ll have to pass on the coffee, because you’re coming with me to the station.”
Imogen let out a sharp bark of laughter. “No, I’m not. I think you’ve been misinformed . . . I run a legitimate business. Ask any of my clients, they all make great returns. All my tax filings are up to date, and I’ve never even been audited! So there’s no need for me to go to the station, we can talk without all this formali . . .” She petered out as Detective Ramirez unhooked a pair of handcuffs from her belt.
“Look. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Heads-up: The hard way involves these puppies. Whichever way you choose, youarecoming with me.” Detective Ramirez escorted Imogen—who found herself emitting a staccatohuh-huh-huh, laughing at the absurdity of her situation—outside and into the back seat of a waiting cruiser.
As they drove away from her home, Imogen’s jerky laughter turned into sobs.
37
FILTHY FUNDSS6E01: A BIG BLANKET ALLEGEDLY
LEO:Welcome to Season Six ofFilthy Funds! I’m Leo Tremblay, and I’m joined by my co-host, the effervescent, luminescent Ms. Claudia LeBlanc.
CLAUDIA:Thanks for that glowing intro! You look like a million bucks yourself, Mr. Tremblay. And to all the Fundies, thanks for being loyal listeners of the pod. We hope to compound your interest in the world of financial crime—
LEO:I see what you did there.
CLAUDIA:—so please don’t forget to rate, review, and subscribe! If you joined us last season, you’ll recall that we went back in time for an in-depth review of historic money laundering in Canadian casinos. Hours of research! International politics! We even read the Special Commission’s report.
LEO:We were so scholarly. Honestly, it was a lot. Some might say too much.
CLAUDIA:This time, we’re hoping that you’ll trust us with a totally new format. We’re going to be taking a very different approach and covering a developing story, a first for our podcast. Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a gamble—
LEO:Girl, gambling was last season!
CLAUDIA:—and it could backfire spectacularly. But we think this may be the new frontier in true crime podcasting, and you’ll never catchusbehind the curve.
LEO:So let’s tell the Fundies what to expect! Drum roll, please . . . This season we will be focusing on the investigation into Imogen Garron and the Inherit the Future Fund. We certainly won’t have access to materials and sources in the same way that we’ve enjoyed for our historic deep dives of seasons past, but a story like this is worth taking risks on. Plus, I don’t have it in me to read another million-page governmental report, so winging it feels like freedom to me.
CLAUDIA:We’ll be taking some unconventional information-gathering approaches this season—much more on-the-ground reporting. Think real-time updates as the police investigation progresses, and hopefully some interviews with persons involved in the case. We’re aware that there’s been a backlash against our brand of true-crime-as-entertainment reporting, but we will not be swayed! Our lovely listeners—thank you, Fundies!—know where we’re coming from, and that our hearts are in the right place, and that’s what really matters. We’ll do our very best to cover the story responsibly. For what it’s worth, I think that’s a better promise than you’ll get from certain media outlets.
LEO:So here we are, day one of our boots-on-the-ground era. We’re recording this episode in my car outside the home of Imogen Garron, which was, just last week, searched by investigators from the Serious Fraud Office. All the curtains are drawn and we haven’t seen anyone coming in or out. Apparently, the SFO obtained a warrant following a tipoff regarding a potential Ponzi scheme. In the past week, dozens of people have come forward claiming to have been scammed by Imogen, who has been posing as an investment expert. But her firm, the ITFF, never actually invested any money. Oh, I guess I should say that everything is still alleged at this point.
CLAUDIA:Yeah, let’s issue a big blanketallegedly. We’re not trying to get sued here. But factually, we are talkingmillionsof dollars that are currently unaccounted for.
LEO:Now, this is exactly the kind of story that we gobble up here onFilthy Funds, but usually we’d give it a bit more time to simmer before covering it on the pod. The reason this story has an aspect of urgency is that, this time, the money’s not the only thing that’s unaccounted for. Imogen Garron’s only employee, Celeste Sarkassian, has also disappeared.
CLAUDIA:Celeste and her friends, including Imogen, had been spending a long weekend on Massassauga Lake. Apparently, she took a kayak out and never returned . . . and this all went down only a few days before the authorities descended on Imogen’s business, the Inherit the Future Fund. Side note: Don’t you love how all these shady financial schemes have names that mean absolutely nothing? Like, everywhere in the world. Maliver out of Australia . . . MMM out of Russia . . . or my favourite hometown hero, Pigeon King International—oh, and check outScam Goddess’s coverage of that wild crime! But I digress. There’s no word yet as to whether the police suspect foul play in the disappearance of Celeste Sarkassian. But—my goodness, this timing—I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it is highly suspicious.
LEO:I think we can all agree on highly suspicious. Does Celeste know where the missing money is? Did she have anything to do with it, or eveneverythingto do with it? Or is her disappearance even more sinister? We’ll have to revisit the Celeste Sarkassian disappearance at a later date. For our first two episodes, we’re going back in time to focus on the woman at the helm of the ITFF, Imogen Garron. We’ve uncovered some facts about her background that will knock your socks off.
CLAUDIA:I think it’s fair to say that she got started on a crooked path from quite a young age.
LEO:One of the first things we can state definitively—and this doesnotneed the snuggly warm embrace of anallegedly—is that Imogen is nota Chartered Investment Manager, despite what her website says. Her entire brand, the foundation of the ITFF, is premised on the fact that she’s a certified money expert. But she’s not.
