Missing Banker

by Curry, Edna

  She smiled and reached out a long thin finger and traced it along his arm. “A caterer does the cooking and cleaning up. Are you hinting for an invite? I might be able to swing that. A nice looking, big guy like you would add some fresh meat to the mix.”

  “Mix?” Chance pulled back out of her reach.

  “We have some interesting playtimes after our dinners,” she said with a coy smile. “You’re not wearing a wedding ring. We’re here alone. Lou won’t be home for hours. We could practice a bit, have a little fun. I could check out your package to see if it’s up to my standards.” She reached under the little table and ran a long fingernail along his thigh.

  Chance was tempted to go to her party, just to see who went to these parties and might have had a reason to kill John. But the idea of having sex with people he didn’t care about turned his stomach. Surely it was also above and beyond the reasonable scope of his job. He stood and closed his notebook. “I don’t think that would fit my standards.”

  “Too bad,” she said, pursing her red lips in a pout.

  A car motor sounded and then a door slammed nearby. “Ah, here’s Carl, now. He usually comes to our parties. But then, he’s not as prissy as you are.”

  A tall, muscular man came around the side of the house carrying a sack of fertilizer and dropped it into a wheelbarrow. She waved and grinned at him and Carl grinned back. They were obviously on friendly terms. Did she hit on every man she met, even the help?

  Obviously, June knew what she was talking about when she’d described the sex parties.

  Chance bit his lip, fighting back his urge to say what he really thought. “Good day, Mrs. Bales. I’ll find my own way out.”

  He nodded to the gardener as he passed him on the way to his car. A strong wave of musk aftershave met his nose. The same scent June said had been left by her burglar.

  It was a common scent, he thought as he drove back to town. Many men besides Carl probably wore it. Still, maybe he should find a way to question Carl. Without Melanie there to supervise, of course. Unfortunately, Carl’s wearing musk wasn’t reason enough to bring him in for questioning.

  ***

  Chance stopped for coffee at the Cozy Corner Café. He took a seat at the counter.

  Ardis, the tall, dark-haired woman who managed the day shift and was a good friend of Cassie, saw him come in and immediately came to wait on him. “What’ll you have, Chance?”

  “Coffee and a cinnamon roll, if there are any left.”

  “Coming right up. What’s Cassie up to today? I haven’t seen her lately.”

  “Keeping busy, I guess. We had dinner last night.”

  “Oh, yeah? That’s good.” She grinned at him and went to get his order.

  He’d barely downed the roll when his cell phone rang. It was Sheriff Ben.

  “Head over to the south side of Aspen Lake. Some kids found a car underwater.”

  “Anyone in it?”

  “Nope. Kids said they dived down to check. It’s only a few feet under the water.”

  “On my way,” Chance said. He gulped the last of his coffee and pulled out cash to cover his order.

  “Gotta go, Ardis,” he called, giving her a wave.

  Aspen Lake was about ten miles away. When he arrived, a tow truck was already hooking up a car. Some teens were standing off to one side, watching curiously. He stood talking to the sheriff while the tow truck pulled it out. In a few minutes a red Acura appeared, water gushing from every open window.

  “Funny nobody noticed it before now.”

  “Maybe it hasn’t been there long.”

  Something about that car rang a bell with Chance. He walked closer to check the license plate. “Ben, I think that’s John Wattmore’s car.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled out his notebook and paged through it. “Yeah, it’s his.”

  “Well, I guess that blows the theory that he took off on his own,” Ben said.

  “I think so,” Chance agreed in a grim voice. “Though I’m surprised he wasn’t in the car. Let’s have it taken to our garage and get the lab guys from the BCA to go over it. I’m thinking we may have a murder case on our hands.”

  Ben groaned. “Oh, no. Not again. Do you attract them to our county or what?”

  Chance sent him a nasty look and grumbled, “Hey, I took this job thinking I’d get away from the grim and gritty stuff. Might as well have stayed in Minneapolis where I got a better salary for it.”

  ***

  That evening, Chance and Cassie sat on her couch, enjoying popcorn and a rodeo on TV. He’d brought take-out Chinese food for dinner, since they’d both had a busy day and neither felt like cooking.

  Now, as Chance muted the ads on TV, he told her about finding John’s car.

  “Huh,” she said. “Guess that pretty much throws out the theory that he just took off on purpose, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Chance said. “So now, I’m focusing on figuring out who wanted him dead badly enough to kill him.”

  “But if he’s dead, you’d think his body would have been in the lake, too, wouldn’t you? I mean, if somebody went to the trouble of driving his car into the lake, why hide the body somewhere else?”

  Chance shrugged, thinking as they watched another bronc rider hit the dust and limp off to the sidelines without a score. “Maybe he was killed somewhere else and the killer didn’t want to move him.”

  Cassie nodded. “Or maybe he’s not dead and drove it into the lake himself.”

  “Huh? Why would he do that?”

  She shrugged. “His car is unusual and would be easy for the police to find. He’d know June would report him missing and the police would be looking for him. Maybe he wanted to make it harder to be found.”

  “That’s possible,” Chance said. “Then when we find the car, it’s about a month since it disappeared, so nobody really remembers the details of when or where John or his car were last seen.”

  “What do you do now?”

  He shrugged. “Legwork, same as always. Try to figure out if he’s still alive. Can’t be sure unless we find a body. Dig around into the lives of all the people who might have had a reason for wanting him gone. I’ll start interviewing more of them in the morning. Some for the second or third time. Maybe I’ll learn something new. And check the pawn shops again for that Rolex watch he was supposed to be wearing. If he was killed, I can’t imagine the killer leaving that on the body. It was probably worth a lot.”

  Cassie grimaced. “So was that almost new car, but that was ruined in the lake. You’d think they could have sold it for cash. Or John could have, if he did it.”

  “Maybe they thought it was too easy to trace. License plates and registration with the state, paying sales tax on the transfer of title and all that, you know. They need to give the VIN number.”

  “True. But couldn’t they have taken it to another state? Or hidden it somewhere for a year or so until the heat was off?”

  “If he was killed, the heat would be on for a lot longer than that. State computers could easily red flag it. And remember, the killer might not be someone with underworld connections. He or she might not know how to cash it in without it being traced.”

  “I suppose. Do you think the bank closing had anything to do with his disappearance?”

  “I’m beginning to think so. That was one dysfunctional business partnership.”

  “Yeah. One missing, one rich and throwing sex parties, one beating up his wife.”

  Chance’s head swerved to stare at Cassie. “Who beat up his wife?”

  She blanched. “Maybe I’m talking out of turn here.”

  “Out with it, Cassie. What have you heard?”

  She sighed. “You know my friend Darcy is an RN and works at the hospital.”

  “Yes, of course. So?”

  “She’s not supposed to tell me stuff.”

  “If she suspected abuse, she’s supposed to report it,” Chance said with a frown. “So, gi
ve.”

  “Well, she said Roy Lonn’s wife, Irene, came into the ER with some broken ribs and a black eye a while back. She claimed she tripped and fell down the stairs.”

  “But Darcy didn’t think so?”

  Cassie shrugged. “Darcy and the doctor thought it looked more like somebody’s fists did the damage.”

  “Hm. Didn’t they just get a divorce?”

  “Yes. She filed soon after the so-called fall.”

  “Does your newsy grapevine know why?”

  Cassie smiled. “Don’t you hear what the grapevine says just as soon as I do?”

  He frowned. “No, I don’t. I’m still considered an outsider, you know.”

  “I suppose. Well, the grapevine says he was jealous of her at the sex swap parties. What was sauce for the gander apparently wasn’t okay for the goose.” Cassie grinned at him, then jumped to attention as another bronco rider scored high. “Look at that! He’s going to win the top prize money, I’ll bet!”

  “Could be,” Chance said, turning back to the TV and trying to concentrate on the rodeo. But he couldn’t help thinking about the missing banker and his business partners. Everything seemed to come back to those sex swap parties. He shuddered at the memory of Melanie’s long fingernails tracing his thigh and her offer to check out his package. He shifted, his cock and balls shrinking in revulsion at the very idea of group and random sex. He liked to at least care about his partner before he got naked with them. Unlike this group of people.

  Was that why some had ended up hurt or dead?

  Chapter 5

  I woke up rather late the next morning. Chance wasn’t in bed beside me, but I could smell coffee. I hurried through my shower, hoping he was still downstairs.

  The kitchen was empty, but he’d left a note on the counter saying he’d gone to work and would pick me up at six-thirty for the chamber dinner tonight. I grimaced. I’d almost forgotten that. I hated dressing up for those, but as a small business person in town, I needed to put in my appearance and Chance had offered to escort me. Good public relations for both of us.

  I made myself a couple of eggs and toast, then headed off to my first job of the day. Lois at Johnson’s Realty had made an appointment to have the outside door locks changed on the Old Town Bank building, which had now been empty for a month. She apparently had someone interested in buying it.

  She and her client were waiting at the front door when I arrived. Lois was a tall, thin woman about forty years old. She had blonde hair pulled back in a barrette at the back of her head and wore a neat blue business suit. She introduced me to the man with her. “Cassie, this is Harold Simms, who’s interested in this building to see if it will work for his office project. Cassie’s our local locksmith, Mr. Simms.”

  I returned his greeting and handshake, then asked Lois, “Did you bring the keys?”

  She flushed and stammered, “Well, you see, that’s our problem. It seems all the partners had to turn in their keys when the regulators did their work. And then the new bank had control until everything was moved. Somehow, in the mix-up, all the keys went missing. So, I need you to open it for us.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “All three partners claim they don’t have a key?”

  She shrugged. “Well, John Wattmore is missing and his wife says she never had a key. Lou Bale and Roy Lonn say they never got their keys back. No one at the new bank seems to know who has them. But June and John own the building, and she wants to sell it as soon as she can locate John, since they no longer have it leased. And without John’s salary, she can’t afford the mortgage on it, you know.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, we need to get inside so I can show it today.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll try to pick it. If I can’t, we may have to drill it open.”

  Lois smiled. “Whatever it takes. I need you to change the locks today, anyway, okay?”

  “Sure. Just the back and front doors? Or are there other outside doors?”

  “I think those two are it on this building,” Lois said.

  I set to work with my picking tools. Picking a lock is not as easy as the TV shows make it look. Luckily, I had it open in a few minutes. They went inside, while I set to work taking out the door locks and going inside to a small table in the lobby where I began re-pinning the locks.

  I heard her begin her sales pitch about the building. She explained the central heating and air-conditioning systems. I heard her opening various office doors as she led Mr. Simms around the area, showing him the offices, breakroom and restrooms. “These offices are quite small, but you could easily change these dividers to make the rooms any size,” she told him.

  Then they went downstairs and I could only hear an occasional murmur.

  I finished the front door lock and put it back in, then began working on the back door. I’d just taken it apart to begin the re-pinning when I heard loud screams in the basement.

  I dropped the lock pieces on the table and dashed to the stairway, wondering if Lois had fallen or was being attacked. As I opened the basement door, the horrible odor hit me and I knew what all the screaming was about. I’d smelled that very distinct stench before and I knew it could only be one thing--a dead human. Still, I called down the stairs, “What’s the matter?” as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  “Oh, my God!” Lois screamed up at me. “There’s a dead body in the vault! Call 9-1-1!”

  “I’m on it,” I yelled to her, then stood back as a white-faced Lois and Mr. Simms rushed up the stairs.

  “It was okay until I opened the vault door and now it smells horrible down there!” Lois exclaimed, holding her hand over her mouth as she ran to the bathroom.

  I stared at Mr. Simms. “What did she mean, she opened the vault door? Wasn’t it locked?”

  “No,” he said, grimacing. “We were talking about how I could have the vault removed if I wanted to, and she just pulled on the door handle and it came open. And there he was! And the stink!”

  By the time Lois came back out, still looking pretty shaken, several police cars had arrived, Chance among them.

  He did not look pleased to see me. “Must you always be involved in my cases?” he asked, a scowl on his face.

  “Hey, I didn’t find the body this time,” I said, knowing he was referring to the body in the antique trunk that I’d found a while back. “Lois and Mr. Simms did.” I waved a hand at where they stood with Sheriff Ben, already answering his questions.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Chance,” I said, waving a hand at the table full of lock parts and tools in front of me. “You know Lois Wilks, of Johnson’s Realty, don’t you? She called me to get her and her client inside this building so she could show her potential buyer the office space. I stayed up here changing locks.”

  Chance scowled. “But you called it in, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. “Lois and Mr. Simms had gone to see the basement. She was screaming and told me to call. She got sick and ran to the restroom to vomit, I guess.”

  “I see. Well, stick around, we may have more questions,” he said, and moved to Sheriff Ben. They talked a bit, then headed to the basement.

  I asked Lois, “You still want the locks changed, I assume?”

  “Ah, sure. We don’t have keys to the old locks, so go ahead and finish. Though I suppose now, you’d better make some extra keys. We’ll need to give the police a key until they finish their investigation.”

  “Okay. I can do that. The BCA guys will probably want one, too.”

  “BCA?”

  “The Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. They do the forensics stuff.” I sighed and went back to my little table to finish.

  “I think I’ll go. I’m no longer interested in buying this building,” Mr. Simms said, mopping his dripping brow with a white handkerchief.

  “No, you can’t go yet,” I said hurriedly and Lois nodded agreement. “The detectives will have more questions and they’ll want you to
sign a statement, too.”

  “Oh,” he said, and sank into a nearby chair in the lobby. He looked pretty green, like he’d definitely rather be somewhere else.

  I glanced at Lois. She looked dejected as well. She was probably thinking about the lost commission on this sale.

  Soon the forensics team from the BCA arrived. Finally, Chance came back upstairs and, using one of the offices, separately questioned first Lois, then Mr. Simms. I was last.

  Before Chance could blurt out the first question, I repeated I only knew secondhand information because I hadn’t been to the basement. He squinted and asked anyway, so I answered as best I could. Curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask. “Do you know who the dead person is?”

  Chance looked uncomfortable. “I can’t be sure until the Medical Examiner makes his report.”

  I frowned at him. “It’s John Wattmore, isn’t it?”

  Chance shrugged. “I think so. The body’s very decomposed.”

  “No ID?”

  “No. No billfold, watch, rings, nothing.”

  “Maybe a robbery, then?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Sheriff Ben went to tell June we think it’s John, but have to wait for the official report to be sure.”

  I closed my eyes, remembering June’s sad face when I’d changed locks for her the other day. “She’s going to be so upset.”

  “I suppose, but it can’t be helped. It’s better for us to tell her than to let her find out over the TV or the grapevine. Let’s go over this one more time, okay?”

  By the time we finished, theM. E. had arrived. It was almost noon, so I handed Chance and Lois keys and headed off for my lunch date with my friend, Darcy.

  ***

  The grapevine had already been active, since several police cars racing to an empty business building is obviously a sign of something unusual happening in our little town. Canton, Minnesota, doesn’t have all that much excitement, so anything like that sends the gossip flying around town, from one cell phone to the next.

  When I arrived at The Flame restaurant, Darcy had already secured us a back table and a pot of coffee.

  “You’re still in your nurse’s uniform?” I asked, dropping into the chair opposite her.