· · ·
At the office the next morning, Marvin went to the bank website. It was a lot of what he already knew and had been told by Frankie and Mrs. Craver.
The old bank had once been scheduled to be torn down. It had been sealed off as soon as it was closed, and for about two years the new bank was in a larger rented building on the other side of town. The plan was to destroy the old bank and build a new, larger, more modern one on the site. Instead, property next door to the old bank opened up and was purchased for the new bank. It was decided the old bank would be used for storage for awhile, and when the new bank was built, it would be torn down and that area would become a parking lot.
The storage plan never materialized. The new bank was built next to the old one, and the old one was saved by the city’s historical society.
Later, the new bank expanded even more and the old one was connected to it and was turned into a tourist attraction, which garnered money for the town with its simple tour and gift shop. Hanson thought about all that, decided there was nothing there that helped him much.
The notes from the private detectives offered a little more. An armored car that delivered money to the bank came up missing for a couple of days, was later found down in the Sabine River bottoms. The two drivers were there too, but they had bullet holes in their heads. No money was in the truck at the time, and therefore nothing was stolen. Odd.
And odder yet, the bank manager Frankie said was dead, was indeed that. But not of natural causes. He had been murdered a month after Tom disappeared. Marvin thought it odd that Frankie hadn’t mentioned that. One of the private investigators had thought this might be important, said so in his notes, but apparently, whatever that importance was, he had never been able to link it up.
From the notes, no one at the police department had ever spoken to Tiffany Miller, the teller. Only the private detectives, and they didn’t really have anything of value from her in the notes.
He looked her up in the phone book. He called and she answered on the first ring.
“Excuse me. Is this Tiffany Miller?”
“It is.”
“Who used to work at the bank?”
“I did. Who is this?”
“My name is Marvin Hanson. I’ve been hired by Mrs. Craver to look into the disappearance of her son.”
“Again. I talked to private detectives about this before.”
“I know. It’s probably just old hat, but I wanted to speak with you. We can do it over the phone, or in person if you prefer.”
“I’m bored. How about I meet you somewhere?”
“My office okay?”
“Do you have good coffee?”
“No.”
“Starbucks?”
“When?”
“Now. Like I said. I’m bored.”
· · ·
They met at Starbucks. Hanson, who had already had morning coffee, ordered decaffeinated with soy milk and two artificial sweeteners. He bought Tiffany’s drink, which looked to be something chocolate with whipped cream and colored sprinkles on top.
Tiffany, one hot fifty year old blonde who looked to have only minimal surgery on her face, sat at the table and crossed her legs, which were long and smooth and clothed in high heel shoes. Marvin thought: Who wears high heels in the middle of the day to go to Starbucks? But, he didn’t mind all that much, and since he assumed she sat the way she did so she could show him her legs, he let her.
She smiled at Marvin. He was sure it was a smile that had melted many a male heart and made many a female mad. It was doing something to him as well, though the area it was effecting was somewhat lower than the heart.
“I don’t know I can add much to help,” she said. “All I know is Tom came up missing and no one has found him, and that he came into the bank that day and spoke with Frankie. She was cute then,” she said. “Though I think time has been somewhat rough on her.”
“Not financially,” Marvin said.
“No. Not so bad in that department.” Tiffany said all of this between sips of her drink. “She endures.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about that day?”
“Tom came in and spoke to Frankie at her desk, and they argued a little, and then he left.”
“Did you hear anything they said?”
“No. Not really. I think it was over money. He wanted some, and she didn’t want to give it to him. I think they were not really together by then. He just hoped they were. And I don’t think it was for love. I think it was money, because his mother wouldn’t give him anymore, and he thought his wife might. I think Frankie and her mother-in-law were close.”
“Still are,” Marvin said.
“Okay. But it wasn’t love. It was her money, and the money he thought he might get from his mother by way of his wife.”
“How do you know it wasn’t love he was after,” Marvin said.
“Because he had hit on me before, right after he got out of prison.”
“He came in before that?”
“He came in three or four times,” Tiffany said. “He’d walk around and look the bank over, and act like he was interested in the place. You know, it was still the old bank in that day, and it had a kind of pioneer feel about it. It was old and small. It’s a museum now. You should have a look at it.”
“I will.”
“He liked to look around and see the bullet holes in the wall. The bank had been robbed in the early nineteen hundreds, old cowboy style, except the robbers came with a car instead of a horse and got shot to death before they left town. They were shot with some kind of big gun. Shot so much it knocked one of them out of his boots. The car had a flat, you see, and the law caught up.”
“But you didn’t hear anything odd between Frankie and Tom?”
“If I did, I’ve forgotten it. I just remember it was an argument and money came up, and that was it. I really didn’t mean to hear that much, but it was hard to help, you know. Small bank.”
“Did Tom talk to anyone there besides her that time, or for that matter, the time before?”
“Just hit on me. Oh, I guess he chummed it up with everyone. He was a real glad hander. A bullshitter, you might say. Excuse my language. TV has ruined the way I talk.”
“Did you and Frankie socialize outside of the bank?”
“Usually just bank functions.”
“What about the bank manager?”
Tiffany was suddenly a little less light. “Jim was found dead, you know.”
“What did he die of?”
“Two bullet holes.”
“Oh,” Marvin said, as if he didn’t know. “How long after Tom disappeared did that happen?”
“About two weeks, I think. Yes. That seems about right.”
Marvin studied Tiffany. She looked not only less light, but he thought she looked teary.
“You were close to him?”
“Not really,” Tiffany said. “He was my boss, of course.”
“Did he get along with everyone at the bank?”
“Quite well,” Tiffany said. “Frankie, well…I think he may have gotten along with her too well.”
“They had something going?”
“I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. She and Tom were separated. But she did work for him. It wasn’t seemly, the way she carried on. It wasn’t that she was at anytime a great looker, so I don’t understand his attraction.”
“You said she was cute,” Marvin said.
“Like a Chinese Pug, but not pretty.”
“So, the boss liked her?”
“I doubt it was anything serious.”
Marvin sipped his coffee. None of this had been in the notes. And another thing not in the notes, and left unsaid, but seemingly said beneath the conversation, was the fact that Tiffany had had designs on the boss herself.
Marvin decided to come right out with it.
“Did you have interest in Jim?”
“Of course not.”
“A beautif
ul woman like you, and he didn’t notice?”
The beautiful woman line perked Tiffany up, but the glow faded quickly. “Oh, he noticed. He noticed plenty. It made Frankie mad, the way he noticed. It made her mad plenty.” Tiffany leaned back with satisfaction and drank her coffee. She licked at the whipped cream at the top of the straw like a cat licking milk.
“He just noticed?” Marvin said. “That’s all? Just noticed?”
“Yes. He just noticed. Are you looking into all of this again?”
This seemed like a stupid question, since that was why he had invited her to coffee, but he said, “Yes. I think the previous detectives might have missed something.”
“What would that be?”
“Don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out. They skimmed the surface. That’s what I get from reading their notes anyway. Me, I’m tenacious.”
“Are you?” she said.
“Very much so. It’s a cold day in hell when I quit.”
“I see. Well, that’s certainly a good quality in your line of work.”
“I like to think so.”
“Nothing else I can help you with, I suppose I should run along. I have a few errands to take care of.”
“If I think of something I’ve forgotten, would it be alright to call you up again?”
“I just can’t imagine having anything else to say on the matter. I’ve told you all I know. To tell the truth, I think Tom’s gone forever and no one will ever find him.”
“I’ve found people missing for years before,” Marvin said. “Sometimes they were even alive. So, you never know.”
She stood up with her drink in her hand. “Good luck to you, then.”
She stuck out her free hand. Marvin stood and shook it. The next moment she was out the door.
· · ·
Marvin drove by the bank. It was a pretty large building, and there were a number of drive-through outlets associated with it scattered throughout town.
It seemed to Marvin it hadn’t been that long ago when the old bank, which was a fifth the size of the new one, was the only one in use. But when he counted up the years in his head, he winced. Time flew quickly and was as merciless as a hawk.
The new bank was attached to the old one, but the old one was now a museum and could be entered only by the original front door. Marvin did just that. The old bank had a lot of exposed fine wood, and there was a huge red brick fireplace to one side, and there were teller’s desks, and at the back was a glassed-in section that had been the manager’s office. He remembered that from when he was a kid. He had lived in Houston at that time, but visited LaBorde often, as his aunt had lived here. Dead and gone now, he had tagged along with her a number of times as she did her banking. It made him feel good to do it.
There was a woman at the desk and she smiled at Marvin and he smiled back. She was a plump woman in a loud flower pattern dress, but she had a gorgeous brown face and short black hair.
“It’s a dollar to look through,” she said.
Marvin paid his dollar. He walked around. There really wasn’t much to see. The bullet holes had a frame around them and there was a placard there that said they had been shot into the wall by one of the robbers, Dog-face Fulton, just to show he and his two pals meant business. This may have let the people in the bank at that time know he was serious, but it also alerted the law, who took note of the getaway driver outside, and promptly chased them down and shot them to pieces. Fulton may have been dangerous, but he wasn’t smart.
Marvin was surprised to discover that the bank really was small. Even smaller than he remembered. As a child, it had seemed so imposing. He walked to the back and looked in at the glassed in manager’s office. It was claimed by another placard on the wall, that all the furniture in the manager’s office, and throughout the bank, was the original furniture in the same position, dating all the way back to the bank robbery. Probably was.
It seemed like the same furniture he remembered.
Marvin stopped at the fireplace. There was a placard there. It said the fireplace ceased to be in use after the bank closed, but at one time it was the only heat for the bank. He walked past the desk where the lady sat. He said, “So, the front door was the only way in when the bank was in use.”
“No, you could come in from the back street,” the lady said, and pointed at a sealed door. “That door leads into the new bank, but it used to be an outside entrance. There was an alley there. Oh, and there was a storage room off to the left of the door. That’s gone too. It got incorporated into the new bank.”
It was funny that he and she both thought of it as the new bank. It was only new as compared to the museum.
“I see,” Marvin said, and thanked her and started to leave. But then he paused. He walked to where the old back entrance had been. There was a door there, but it was locked. He looked where the storage room would have been. He faintly remembered its location, and the doorway from the alley. Where the storage room had been located, there was only a wall. He went back to the desk. “So where the wall is there was a storage room?” He said as if he didn’t know better, hadn’t really listened to her.
The lady smiled the way you might for a little child who was easily distracted. “Yes, that’s right. But everything else is the same.”
“Everything?”
“All the desks, everything. Just like they were, all the way back to the robbery.”
“Like the placard says,” he said.
“Just like that,” she said, losing a tiny bit of patience.
Marvin didn’t blame her, but he thought it best to double check. His memory wasn’t perfect about the old bank, and he wanted to make sure the placards weren’t shining on their history a bit more than was true.
Marvin looked at the back door. If someone had walked out that way, they could easily have stepped into the storage room, if they were being clever, without being seen by anyone. Unless that person was sitting where this lady was sitting now.
Marvin said, “This desk is original?”
“Yes, it is,” the lady said, “as I said.”
“Is this its original location? I mean, was it sitting here back twenty-five years ago?”
“Wait a minute,” the lady said.
She pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of papers. She said, “This is a copy of the original layout…Yes, it looks as if the desk was here all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.” She pushed the paper across the desk toward Marvin. “See,” she said, “everything is pretty much the same. You can check for yourself.”
“May I have a copy of the layout?” Marvin asked.
“There are plenty. I suppose I should put them out here on the desk, it’s just that no one really seems all that interested in how things were laid out back then…I mean, you look around, and you can see that, how it was laid out. But if you’d like, certainly. Take one. Take two.”
“One will do,” Marvin said, took the sheet of paper, smiled, and went out.
· · ·
Marvin stopped by the police station. He was lucky. His friend the Chief of Police was in. He was invited into the office. The Chief was a cop named Drake who had been bumped up to the position recently. LaBorde went through Chief’s of Police like toilet paper for prune juice drinkers.
Drake was thin and black as night. He had a flat nose that was partly due to genetics and partly due to someone’s fist. He was leaning back in his chair smiling at Marvin. “There’s coffee, you want it.”
Marvin stopped at the coffee table and fixed him a cup, lots of cream and sweetener. Marvin sat down and took a sip. He said, “Man, who shit in this?”
“I do the shitting,” Drake said. “Every morning. It gives the stuff some bite.”
Marvin took the coffee to the trashcan and dropped it inside.
“You’ll make everything wet,” Drake said.
“There’s a liner.”
Marvin sat back down. He said, “Twenty-five years ago, a fellow named T
om Craver disappeared. He was never found. Know anything about it?”
“They don’t know where he is,” Drake said, and grinned.
“Thanks.”
“It’s a cold case. I know a little about it. I even looked into it once. Not very seriously, I admit. But it came up again when I was a cop, not a chief, and we have that cold case unit, which is two tired cops, one of which at the time was me, and a police dog without all his teeth and a surly attitude.”
“The dog helps on cold cases?” Marvin said.
“Not that I can see. He doesn’t even sniff drugs very well. But, can’t fire him. Union, you know.”
“Uh huh. So, nothing?”
“I don’t remember a whole lot about it,” Drake said. “Just that this guy Tom disappeared and they didn’t find him. He was at the bank one day. Spoke to his wife, or ex-wife. I forget the exact situation. Anyway, he spoke to her, went out, and no one ever saw him again.”
“I hear the bank manager turned up dead of gunshots,” Marvin said.
“Oh, yeah. I remember that. Sure. No connection that anyone could find, though this Tom had a record, you see, and some thought it was him. That he wanted to rob the bank, maybe by getting the manager to help him out at gun point. There was an argument, and he shot the manager and killed him in his car while it was sitting in the drive. Anyway, some thought this Tom was good for it, but we never found him. Tom, wasn’t he some kind of circus guy?”
“Carnival. He was a contortionist. Clown. That sort of thing.”
“Yeah,” Drake said. “I remember now.”
“Anything else curious?”
“Let me see. Hell, there was the guard and the driver.”
“Excuse me?”
“The armored car,” Drake said. “They delivered money to the bank, and a week later, them and their armored car were found in the Sabine River, some good many miles from here. They were both shot in the head.”
“How many times?” Marvin said.
“What? Oh. I get you. Twice, I think. We can get the files and look, to make sure, but I think it was twice. You’re saying it was the same as the manager?”
“I’m saying they both got shot twice,” Marvin said. “A bit of a coincidence. I’m assuming the armored car made deliveries and or pickups at the bank.”
A Bone Dead Sadness Page 2
