Chapter 49
Unwanted Witness
After Walters had given the news to Fred and Joel he told Whitehead and they walked across the street to Whitehead’s office to discuss the ramifications of what had happened in Canada. It had been a cold rainy day in LA and the streets were still wet. Neither of the men seemed to notice the cold as their minds were still trying to get around the bizarre events of the day. Before they went into the Federal Building they stopped and got a cup of coffee from a street vendor.
“A cold front must have come through. It wasn’t this cold this morning when I came to work,” Whitehead remarked.
“It arrived right after noon,” Walters said. “It was starting to get when cold when I went to lunch.”
“Lunch? You got lunch? You’re a lucky guy.”
Walters shrugged. “Well. It was a working lunch. I ate but I did a lot of work too.”
After they had their coffee they went inside and got into an elevator. Whitehead pushed the button for the 9th floor. Several other people got in and each pushed the button they wanted. The door closed.
“Killed by a freight train. Can you believe it?” Whitehead said, shaking his head.”
“Yeah. Go figure,” Walters replied.
The door opened onto the 9th floor, they stepped out and began walking slowly down the hall.
“You said he had $228,000 with him?
“That and some change, according to Harper. It was stashed in a duffle bag they found in the coat closet of his sister’s house.”
“And you sure it’s from the bank heist?”
“Yes, we read off some of the serial numbers on the new bills to the new cashier at the San Bernardino branch and they were a match.”
“So, where’s the other $6.5 million?” Whitehead asked.
“He must have stashed it somewhere between here and Canada. He just kept out some spending money.”
They made it to the U.S. Attorney’s office and went inside. The receptionist nodded and smiled when she noticed them walk through the front door. Whitehead ignored her and went straight for a big oak door with his name on it. He opened the door to the spacious office, walked over to his desk and picked up a stack of phone messages. He went through them, pulled out one and threw the rest back on his desk.
“What about his sister? Does she know anything?” Whitehead asked.
“She claims she had no idea her brother had been involved in a bank robbery and didn’t know the money was in her closet.”
“Does Harper believe her?”
“He thinks she probably knows more than she’s admitting, but apparently Sam showed up unexpectedly, so she probably had no part in it.”
“He might have told her where he hid the rest of it,” Whitehead said. “Or maybe he wrote it down somewhere. Did you find anything in his personal things?”
“No,” Walters said. “He didn’t have much. A toothbrush, underwear and couple T-shirts is all.”
“Guess he figured he had plenty of money to go shopping.”
“Right.”
“Well, this isn’t good but it could be worse. I think it should be fairly obvious to the jury that there had to be at least two or three accomplices. It is clear that Sam Stewart was one of them and Fred Fuller another. I doubt either of them was the mastermind, though.”
“No,” Walters agreed. It had to be orchestrated by someone inside who was more knowledgeable about the bank’s operations, but who that would be, I don’t know.”
“If he hadn’t been bound and gagged and left in the vault I would have picked Harvey. He certainly had a motive.”
“Yes, but he couldn’t have tied himself up. So, Fred or Sam must have done it.”
“Well, without evidence to the contrary that’s what we are going to have to argue to the jury tomorrow,” Whitehead concluded. “But I’m sure Roberts will have a long list of other potential accomplices and some of them will even have motive and opportunity.”
“Like Marilyn Hamlin or one of the bank officers,” Walters suggested.
“Exactly. . . . Okay, if you learn anything helpful between now and tomorrow morning call me. I’ve got to tweak my closing arguments a bit since we have this new evidence. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Walters left and Whitehead opened his briefcase and pulled out a file that contained a draft of his closing argument. He opened it up and started reading the pages making changes as he went along. When he was done he looked at his watch and saw it was after 11:00p.m. Then he remembered the telephone message he’d looked at earlier and stuffed in his shirt pocket. After retrieving it he dialed the number and after a minute a woman’s voice came on the line.
“Hello?”
“This is Sam Whitehead. I’m sorry I’m calling so late, but your message said it was urgent.”
“It’s okay. I was reading. I hadn’t gone to bed yet.”
“Let’s see. According to this message you are Paula Dupree?”
“That’s right.”
“How can I help you, Paula?”
“I just got back in town and I have been catching up on the Fred Fuller case. I understand you are getting close to the end.”
“We are, yes. We’re down to our last few witnesses and then we’ll have closing arguments.”
“Well, I just wanted to tell you that there was somebody at the bank that day that nobody has mentioned, so I wanted to be sure you knew about it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Go on, I’m listening.”
“I work at Savon drug store next to the bank and I was there on the day of the robbery.”
“You were? I don’t recall your name on the list of potential witnesses?”
“I went on vacation the next day, so nobody interviewed me.”
“I see, continue.”
“I also do my banking there and know the tellers and Mr. Hamlin, so I pay some attention to what’s going on there.”
“Understood.”
“Well, after the bank closed on the day of the robbery and everyone had left except Harvey, who is always the last to leave, well another car pulled up. It was a bank messenger car, a white Impala, and a short young man with a crew cut and wearing jeans and a white T-shirt got out and went into the bank.”
“Was it Fred Fuller?”
“No, and it wasn’t Santa Claus either.”
Whitehead laughed.
“Okay, so what did you observe this messenger do?”
“He was in the bank for quite a long time and when he came out he loaded a lot of messenger bags into the trunk of his car.”
“How many?”
“At least two or three and they were bulkier than the ones they usually take in and out of there.”
“I see. So what else happened?”
“Nothing. He left and I went home and packed for my vacation. I didn’t hear about the robbery until I got home yesterday.”
“Okay. I’m going to have an officer come by and take your statement tomorrow. He might bring a sketch artist.”
“All right.”
“Thanks for calling me. . . . Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”
He wanted to tell her not to mention this new information to anyone, but restrained himself. If she did tell her story to anybody it would probably be too late to help Fred Fuller.
“No, I just realized you didn’t know about this a few hours ago.”
“You did the right thing calling me. Thanks again.”
Whitehead took down Paula’s name and address and then hung up the phone. After staring at the piece of paper for a long moment he opened a drawer and tossed it inside angrily. Would anyone believe he forgot about this 11th hour witness? No, they wouldn’t. He couldn’t believe his luck. Now he’d have to hand Joel Roberts evidence, on a silver platter, that might tip the balance enough so that Fred Fuller might walk.
He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. He had to think of a way to keep this witness off of Joel’s radar until it wa
s too late for him to call her. But he had to be very careful or he might have trouble if the case were appealed. He dialed information and got Joel Roberts’ office number. The operator connected him but it was after hours so nobody picked up. He left a message that he had called but didn’t say why, knowing that he wouldn’t be going into his office before the trial resumed in the morning. When Joel returned the call, Whitehead wouldn’t be there and nobody in his office would know where he was or why he had called.
Uncommon Thief Page 49
