“You’re damn right, something is wrong. I want you here when I make the next call. Maybe you should make it. While you’re doing that, I’ll call that ice witch to ask her what kind of game she’s playing.”
Forty minutes passed with both brokers getting sicker by the moment. Arden’s hands were shaking so badly she had to clasp them together to stay calm. The phone rang. They looked at one another before Arden finally picked it up on the sixth ring. “Arden Gillespie,” she said.
“What? Sara! Sara Whittier! Well, yes, Roland and I have been trying to find you. Why were we trying to find you? Because…because Roland would like to make amends to you for what you went through. I should have said, Roland and I want to make amends…How kind of you to say it isn’t necessary but it is necessary…You want to come to my apartment this evening? Let me see if Roland is free.” She looked over at Roland and widened her eyes. She mouthed the words, should I say yes? He nodded. “Roland said that would be fine. Then I guess we’ll see you around nine or so. Oh, you’re leaving tomorrow. How nice.”
Arden leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “What’s happening here, Roland? None of those brokers have called me back. Sara calls us now!”
“Then go straight to the source. Call Ellen Markham. Let’s get this settled right now. Demand to speak to Miss de Silva.”
Arden licked at her dry lips but she did as instructed. She frowned at the strange voice on the other end of the phone. Must be the housekeeper. “This is Arden Gillespie. I’d like to speak to Ellen Markham, please.”
“I am sorry, madam, you must have the wrong number. There is no one here named Ellen Markham.” Her eyes frantic, Arden looked down at the number on the file. In a voice she barely recognized as her own, she said, “Then I’d like to speak to Miss de Silva.”
“Miss de Silva has gone into town. She won’t return till later in the evening. Do you care to leave a message?”
“Damn right I care to leave a message. Where is the oriental girl? I’ll talk to her.”
“There is no oriental girl here, madam. Do you care to leave a message?”
Her voice trembling with fright, Arden said, “Ask Miss de Silva to call me please, either at home or at the office.” She rattled off both numbers before she hung up.
Roland jumped off his chair. “What the hell was that all about?” His panic matched Arden’s.
“The woman said no one named Ellen Markham lives there and there is no oriental woman there either. De Silva has gone to town and won’t be back till later tonight.”
“Call one of the brokers back,” Roland told her.
Arden made call after call to every broker on her list and was told the same thing. “Miss de Silva did not authorize any accounts to be transferred. Miss De Silva said she never heard of the firm of Gillespie and Sullivan. She said she is subjected to things like this all the time and it is just a nuisance someone like her has to put up with.”
Arden could barely get the words out of her mouth to repeat the phone conversations to Roland. He looked like he would collapse any moment.
“Bring up the escrow account at Virginia State Trust,” Roland croaked in a hoarse voice.
Arden was so nervous she kept hitting the wrong keys. It took her five tries before she was able to log onto the site that would give her the balance in the escrow account. She stared in disbelief at what she was seeing. “It’s gone, Roland. The account is closed.”
There was no mistaking the panic in Roland’s voice now. It transferred itself to Arden who could barely stand erect. “Maybe you made a mistake. Try it again.”
“Roland, I did not make a mistake. Look, it’s the Gillespie/Sullivan/de Silva account. The account number is correct. It says right here the account was closed at two o’clock this afternoon when all the money was wired out of the account.”
“My God, what are we going to do? We’re on the hook for all that money.” A vision of himself selling shoes in some discount store flashed in front of him. “We were set up!”
Arden started to cry.
“Shut up, Arden, this was all your idea. Now look what’s happened. This is what your greed has gotten us into.”
“You went along with it. No one is that smart. Think about it, Roland. Who has the smarts to set something like this up? I’ll tell you who, that goddamn Sara Whittier, that’s who. How very convenient that she called just an hour ago. How goddamn convenient. And you want to pay her off? When pigs fly.” Arden was screeching now, her voice ricocheting around the luxurious office.
“I’m going home,” Arden said suddenly. “Are you coming?”
Roland thought about the question. He closed his eyes and nodded.
His shaky hand on the doorknob, Roland whirled around when the phone rang. He looked at Arden, stark fear in his eyes. Neither made a move to answer it. Finally, Arden retraced her steps and pressed a button. When she heard the voice of Hiram Peacher, she closed her eyes. “This is Arden Gillespie.” She listened, her knuckles turning white on the edge of the desk. She didn’t say good-by, she simply clicked off the button and sank to her knees, her hands still clutching the edge of the desk.
“What? For Christ’s sake, what?” Roland shouted.
“Our presence is required at the Virginia State Trust immediately. The bankers will keep the bank open until we get there. Miss de Silva is already there. He…he said…he would wait until tomorrow to…to…to call the SEC boys.”
Roland ran his fingers through his already messy hair. He finally found his voice. “Then I guess we better be on our way and not keep the bankers at Virginia State Trust waiting. Get up, Arden, it’s too late to cry.”
“We could run away. We could…”
“Shut up. Go wash your face and comb your hair. The least we can do is look presentable.” Roland’s voice was almost calm when he said, “I wonder if this is how Sara Whittier felt when we brought her world crashing down around her when she didn’t do a thing to deserve it.”
“Will you shut up about Sara Whittier already! I can’t stand to hear her name!” Arden screamed at the top of her lungs.
“You better get used to it, my dear. I think we’re both going to hear that name a lot from here on in.”
Arden screamed again and again as she headed for the washroom where she splashed cold water on her face. She dried herself off with a paper towel and was stunned at the haggard-looking reflection glaring back at her from the mirror.
Chapter 25
Anna de Silva paced the confines of Hiram Peacher’s office. She decided it didn’t look all that much different from the old days. The draperies and the carpet were new but the furniture looked the same, possibly reupholstered. She knew it was the same because of the carved pineapples on the wooden arms. So long ago. She smiled at the bowl of all day suckers sitting on the old man’s desk. Today they called them blow-pops. Hiram had explained that there was bubble gum in the middle of the suckers. Annie laughed again as she accepted the sucker Hiram handed to her. She unwrapped it and stuck it in her mouth. “Ah, grape, my favorite. You remembered?”
“I remember everything about my favorite customers. I must say, Anna, you are taking this all rather well.”
“I’m used to it, Hiram. People try to scam me all the time. Fortunately, I have very good people who watch over me. It will all be taken care of.” Anna looked at her watch. “How long before they get here?”
“A half hour. It really depends on the traffic. The guard will bring them around to my private entrance.”
Anna sucked on the lollipop, enjoying the sweet taste. “Have you given any thought to them skedaddling?”
The old banker roared with laughter. “Now that’s an expression that dates us both, Anna. They’ll be here because they simply can’t believe this has happened.
“I remember the very first day you came in here with your daddy. I had just started working here. I was all of twenty years old and you were ten. I remember how our fathers talked about us like we wer
en’t even there. And, here we are again. Amazing, when you stop to think about it.”
Anna opted for a little fib and said, “I remember that day, too. You look to me, Hiram, like you want to smoke a cigar. It’s a nice balmy evening so why don’t we go outside so you can fire up that stogie.”
“Ah, a lady after my own heart. Yes, let’s do that. Let me tell Jackson where we’ll be when our banditos arrive.”
Her body quivering, Arden looked around the bank’s parking lot. Two shiny Mercedes Benz’s were parked side by side. A nondescript Ford was parked at the far end of the lot. “I don’t see any police cars,” she whispered.
Roland snorted. “And I suppose you think that’s a good thing.” He looked up when he felt a raindrop hit his cheeks. Rain was good for the spring flowers, he thought inanely. Patsy always used to say that in the spring when she planted the first flowers of the year. He wondered what she was doing right this minute. He wondered why he was so calm all of a sudden.
“Don’t you?”
“No, Arden, I don’t. This is a sort of come to Jesus meeting. They’re going to give us a chance to put the funds back. Tomorrow is when the shit will hit the fan.”
“We didn’t take the money,” Arden hissed.
“Prove it,” Roland said, heading for the bank entrance. Arden had to run to catch up with him.
Jackson Petrie, the guard, watched the couple approach. He knew something serious was going on but it wasn’t his business. His instructions were to allow them to enter and that’s exactly what he was going to do. Before he opened the door, he buzzed Mr. Peacher’s office. He asked for I.D., scrutinized it carefully through the door before he opened it. Satisfied, he motioned the couple to walk across the lobby and down the hall. He kept his hand on the butt of the gun at his hip. Well, he would have something to tell his wife of twenty-five years over breakfast in the morning.
Hiram Peacher opened the door and nodded to Jackson. The door closed the moment Arden and Roland stepped over the threshold. He indicated two chairs flanking a square table filled with magazines. His voice colder than ice, he made the introductions. “Even though you know each other, allow me to make the introductions again. Anna de Silva, Arden Gillespie and Roland Sullivan.”
Arden looked at Roland, not comprehending what she was hearing. Finally she was able to say, “Did you say this woman is Anna de Silva?”
Anna stood up. “I was Anna de Silva when I woke up this morning. As a matter of fact, I’ve been Anna Ryland de Silva most of my life.”
“Then who was that woman we met at your house who said she was you?”
Anna reared back. “My dear woman, you or the gentleman with you, were never at my house and there is no one in my house impersonating me. Who are you people?”
Arden struggled for words. “Then who was Ellen Markham and that oriental girl named Sumi something or other?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hiram, you really should have called the police.”
“But you signed all the contracts. I have them right here,” Arden said, making a clumsy attempt to open her briefcase. Her eyes pleaded with Roland to step in.
“You okayed everything, Mr. Peacher,” Roland said. “We submitted everything you asked for. You said you verified everything. Obviously, if this is really Anna de Silva, you have some explaining to do, too. We acted in good faith. How could we know the woman we met at her home wasn’t Miss de Silva?”
Anna stood up and looked across the desk at Hiram Peacher. “I want to prosecute. To the fullest extent the law allows. That is not my signature on those documents. I never set eyes on either one of you before this moment. I do not know anyone named Ellen Markham or Sumi something or other. Hiram, I expect you to make this right.”
The old banker pierced Arden and Roland with a steely gaze. “This IS Anna de Silva. This is her current passport. This is her birth certificate. These are her finger prints. Miss de Silva was still in Spain when you say you met with her. Her passport verifies this. I regret to say you were duped but that doesn’t change the situation.”
“Return the money and I might reconsider and drop the charges,” Anna said. “If you don’t return the monies, you will be held accountable. I really must go, Hiram. I’m having dinner with my very good friend, Judge Cornelia Easter.” She totally ignored the two brokers.
Arden and Roland sat in stupefied amazement while the two old people discussed Judge Easter and other pleasant memories while their own lives crumbled at their feet.
When the door closed behind Anna, the old banker looked at the two miserable people sitting across from where he was standing. “You weren’t very clever, either one of you. Did you really think you could get away with this?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Arden cried. “We never touched the monies in that account. You have to prove we did. We’re guilty of stupidity, but that’s all we’re guilty of. Someone framed us.”
“And who might that person be, Miss Gillespie?”
“I don’t know,” Arden wailed. “Roland, for God’s sake, say something. Make this man understand we did not do what he says we did.”
Roland cleared his throat. “Mr. Peacher, neither my partner nor I had anything to do with the escrow account. She’s right, the burden of proof is on you.”
“This meeting is over,” Peacher said. “I’ve already notified the proper authorities. You can tell your story to them tomorrow at nine in your offices. My advice to you is, do not attempt to flee the area. It will go that much harder on you if you try something so foolish. Good evening, Miss Gillespie, Mr. Sullivan.”
As Jackson arrived to escort them from the bank, Arden was crying and screaming that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Roland ignored her, his shoulders stiff as he made his way to the car. He didn’t bother opening the door for Arden who was still wailing as she climbed into the passenger seat. Roland stomped on the gas pedal before her door was closed and she was buckled up.
“I want to kill someone,” she screeched. She totally forgot that just hours ago she had been plotting Roland’s death. “It’s that damn Sara Whittier. I know it. I feel it. I can smell her goddamn smarmy perfume, that flower crap she used to wear. She’s behind this. Well, I’ll fix her ass when she comes to the apartment tonight. You better not weasel out on me either.”
Arden continued to screech. “Are you ever going to say anything, Roland?”
“They have to prove we transferred the money. The bank, I’m thinking, is on the hook, too. We need to make some calls when we get to your place. I want a lawyer with me in the morning. You’ll need one, too. I’m going to call Marcus Barclay. I have his home phone number. Who are you going to call?”
Arden wiped at her smeared tears. “That all female law firm in Georgetown. The one who started the firm. I think her name is Quinn, not sure if it’s her first or last name. I understand she’s the rainmaker at the firm. I fucking hate this, Roland. We did nothing wrong. We have to fight this and I mean down and dirty fighting. I am not throwing in the towel. Some goddamn thief stole our money. Ours and the bank’s. You’re taking this very well, Roland. Are you sure you didn’t have something to do with the wire transfer of that money?”
“I refuse to dignify that question with any kind of response. Let’s just get home so we can decide what we do tomorrow when the SEC boys invade our office. I also think we should cancel our meeting with Sara Whittier. Call her.”
Arden started screeching again until her face turned an alarming beet color. “Are you out of your mind? She’s at the bottom of this, mark my word. I can’t cancel even if I want to. She didn’t leave a number. We have to make two phone calls. How long is that going to take? Five minutes? I want to go over all those contracts again. I damn well want to see Anna de Silva’s signature. The real one. How did the bogus signature pass muster the first time? A smart lawyer will have to deal with all that. I’m not going down without a fight. You better be standing at my side, Roland, and yes, that’s a w
arning and a threat.” She flopped back against the seat as her tears started flowing again.
“For God’s sake, will you please shut up. I can’t stand that infernal sniffling. You need to get your wits about you.” What did he ever see in this woman?
The rest of the trip into the city was made in silence. Oddly enough, Roland’s thoughts were on his family and what they would say and think tomorrow instead of what was going to happen to him when he got to the office. He was rapidly becoming resigned to the inevitable: going to prison. When he got out, he would be lucky if a discount shoe store would hire him. What did Sara Whittier do when she got out of prison? He wished he knew if she had been able to get a job.
Was Arden right that Sara was responsible for their present plight?
Roland slowed and made a right turn into Arden’s apartment complex. He’d been here so often, he could make the trip with his eyes closed. “We’re here, Arden, get your things together. If I see one more tear, if I hear you sniffling, I’m leaving.”
“All right, all right. We forgot to stop at the store. That means I won’t be doing any cooking.”
“Food! You’re thinking about food! My God, how can you even think about food? Will you open the damn door already?”
“You are one ugly person, Roland Sullivan. Sniping at me isn’t going to do either one of us any good. We’re in this together. Actually, I was thinking about you in regard to food because you’re like a bear if you don’t eat on time. Fine, I will stop thinking about food and ask me if I care if you starve.”
She was right. He was a bear when he didn’t eat by seven o’clock. His stomach was rumbling but he ignored it.
Inside, with the door double locked behind them, Roland headed for the bathroom where he called his attorney on his cell phone. He could tell he had interrupted the attorney’s dinner but the man was still businesslike when he reacted to Roland’s dilemma.
“I’ll be there at nine. Do not speak to anyone and don’t say a word. Not even to your partner. Are we clear on this, Roland?”
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