Caught in a Bind

by Gayle Roper

  “Cash?” I was surprised. “They walked into the dealership with eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars on them?”

  “In her purse. In fact, they had about five thousand dollars more because they weren’t certain how much the car they finally decided on would cost.”

  “And you think Tom just kept this money?” Edie’s voice shook with outrage.

  William’s craggy face was impassive. “The register was closed for the evening by the time the deal was concluded. Policy in situations like this is to seal the money in an envelope, have it initialed by the salesman and the manager and lock it in the cashier’s drawer until morning when it can be entered into the record appropriately.”

  “And Tom didn’t follow procedure?” I asked.

  “He did,” William said. “That’s how we know about the money.”

  “You mean that if he hadn’t had the manager initial the money, no one would have known?” I was intrigued. “He would have been able to walk off with the money?”

  William nodded. “At least no one would have known until the monthly inventory of cars on the lot, and one was found to be missing. Or until the couple brought the car in for servicing, and there was no record of the sale or the service warranty.”

  “But surely if Tom wanted to steal the money, he wouldn’t have gone to the manager,” I said. “He’d have pocketed the money and walked out the door.”

  William flipped his notebook shut. “The manager says Tom didn’t get the chance to just walk out because he was passing by as Tom took possession of the money. Together they prepared the envelope as soon as the couple left.”

  “So it’s Bill Bond’s word against Tom’s.” Edie eyed William.

  He nodded.

  “Now there’s a tough call.” Edie was derisive. “Bill Bond is not the most stable of men.”

  “Why do you say that?” William asked.

  “Tom’s told me lots of Bill Bond stories. One day he’s fine, the next he’s not. One day he’s your friend, the next he’s out for your hide. He’s difficult to work under, very egocentric. Not that he does anything illegal. He just likes to ride awfully close to the line. Obviously he has finally crossed it.”

  William said nothing.

  “What?” Edie asked. “Don’t you believe me?”

  “Edie,” William said gently. “Bill Bond is here to talk to. Tom isn’t.”

  THREE

  Tears sprang to Edie’s eyes as William made his pronouncement, and next thing I knew, I was patting her shoulder.

  When in doubt, pat.

  “I’m sorry, Edie.” William looked sad but stoic. “I have to consider the facts, not feelings or instincts. Bill Bond may not be the world’s most charming man, but he hasn’t disappeared.”

  Edie looked resigned. “I know. It’s just that Tom is such a good man! He’d never take eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars. It isn’t even logical. Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars isn’t worth ruining your life over.”

  “What if he wanted to disappear? Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars would be a good starting point.”

  “But why should he want to disappear?” Edie obviously found the idea incomprehensible.

  “People disappear all the time. They want to get out of dead-end jobs, dead-end towns.” He looked at her carefully. “Dead-end relationships and marriages.”

  Edie’s head jerked like William had slapped her. “Never! We have a wonderful marriage. And believe me, because of past experience, I know good when I see it.”

  William nodded noncommittally.

  “It’s true, William. It’s true! Tell him, Merry.”

  “It sure looks like a good marriage to me,” I said, glad that this time I could answer the question.

  William listened politely to me, then turned back to Edie. “Tell me about Tom, please.”

  Edie took a deep breath. “He’s wonderful, caring, encouraging. He’s gentle—”

  “Not character traits,” William said. “His history, family background, things like that.”

  Edie became engrossed in studying her fingernails. I thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer William. Of course, she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, at least not without a lawyer present. I wondered briefly what old Mr. Grassley of Grassley, Jordan and McGilpin would think about being called out in the middle of the night.

  Then Edie spoke, and Mr. Grassley was allowed to sleep.

  “I really can’t help you, William.” She glanced up from her nails, her face grim. “All I know is that Tom didn’t like to talk about his past. He said it was too painful.”

  Too painful? Or was Tom harboring secrets? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like a traitor.

  Edie studied her nails again, picking at a piece of frayed cuticle. “I know about painful pasts, so I’ve never pushed him.”

  “You don’t even know where he was born? Where he lived before he came to Amhearst?”

  “He was born in Philadelphia and lived in Camden, New Jersey, before he moved here.”

  William smiled, the furrows of his face going through a seismic shift in the process. “See? You know things about him. When was he born?”

  “He just celebrated his fortieth birthday on February 15.”

  I waited to see if William would ask for his Social Security number and his mother’s maiden name. With that information, Tom’s name, birthplace and birth date, he could find out anything he wanted to know about Tom.

  Then it occurred to me that Bill Bond could supply the Social Security number from the dealership’s financial records and that he’d probably do so with great enthusiasm. He wanted that money back.

  Again I felt guilty because I was assuming Tom had the money. I was forgetting innocent until proven guilty. I determined to remember that a reporter is supposed to be unbiased and a friend is supposed to believe.

  “Has he always been a car salesman?” William asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “When did he move to Amhearst?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where does his family live?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who are his friends?”

  Edie’s head came up and her shoulders straightened. “Me.”

  William looked at her for several ticks of the antique mantel clock. Edie held his stare. Then he gave a little smile. “Thanks for talking with me, Edie. If Tom comes home, please have him contact me immediately.” He handed her a card.

  “When Tom comes home, he’ll call you immediately.”

  After William was gone, Edie curled up in the corner of the blue sofa, hugging herself like she was trying to warm the chill inside.

  “Where is he?” The tears she had controlled when William was here flowed down her cheeks unchecked. “Doesn’t he know how scared I am?”

  I watched Edie and struggled with what to do with the information we had just received from Sergeant Poole. The missing money definitely made the missing man a news story. In fact, it made Tom a major story in a small town like Amhearst.

  But Edie was my friend. How could I lay her pain before the whole county? But how could I not? I knew Mac would go with the story as soon as he became aware of it, and the fact that Edie was an employee of the News wouldn’t make any difference. In fact, it couldn’t be allowed to make a difference.

  And wasn’t it better that I write the story than—than who? There was Edie or me. Or Mac. Obviously this story wasn’t one Edie could write. And it was definitely better that I write it than Mac. Given his major grouchiness these days, anyone was better than Mac.

  “You know this is going to make the News,” I said.

  Edie nodded in resignation. “I know. You’ll write it, won’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Please. I want it to be you. I know you’ll be fair. You’ll make it clear that just because Tom is gone and the money is gone, they don’t have to be together.”

  I nodded and
sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I thought my days in the paper were over.”

  I looked at her, intrigued.

  She shook her head, obviously regretting her slip of the tongue. We sat in silence for a while. Then suddenly Edie started crying again. “Oh, Merry, where is he?”

  I had no answer, just useless sympathy. “Edie, why don’t you go to bed? You need some rest.”

  “Like I could sleep.” She looked at me through puffy eyes. “But you go on home, Merry. There’s no reason one of us can’t have a good night’s sleep.”

  I sat in the blue leather chair, my feet tucked beneath me so I wouldn’t slide onto the floor. “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “Pish-posh. I’ll be fine.”

  “Pish-posh? Now where did that come from?” If you aren’t patting, distracting is good.

  Edie gave a weak smile. “My father always said that.”

  “What was he like?” I asked, pleased that distracting was working. Maybe I should ask Mac about doing an advice column.

  “He was a professor at the University of Delaware, a charmer, a marvelous guy—when he wasn’t drunk.” She became very interested in the needlepoint pillow in her lap, picking at nonexistent loose threads. “He was a nasty drunk.”

  I made a distressed noise. So much for the efficacy of distraction.

  “Don’t let it worry you,” she said. “He’s dead now. And Mom and I survived.”

  I wondered what was involved in survived. “Where does your mother live now?”

  “Still in Newark.” She said it with the ark in Newark getting just as much emphasis as the New, unlike Newark, New Jersey, where the accent was definitely on the first syllable. “That’s where I lived until I divorced Randolph.”

  “That’s about an hour away. Randy must get to see him frequently. Wait. I’m assuming Randolph is still in Newark.”

  “He’s still there, but Randy doesn’t see him much. Randolph’s lack of interest is probably the main reason Randy fights with Tom and me all the time. A kid always wants what he can’t have. Greener grass, I guess. It’s an ego thing or a control thing or something. Or maybe it’s just as simple as a broken heart. He can’t do anything to make Randolph pay attention, so he takes out the pain on us because we’re handy and won’t turn him out.”

  “You guys are very good to him.”

  “Of course we are.” Edie looked surprised that I’d find that fact worth commenting on. “I’m his mother.”

  And that said it all.

  I watched Edie trace the pattern on the pillow she held. “Did you meet Tom in Newark or here? Or somewhere else?”

  “Here. When I moved here, I lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment and drove the oldest, most endangered car you’ve ever seen. Finally the car died, and I had no choice but to buy another even if I couldn’t afford it. I went to Hamblin Motors and the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiled softly to herself.

  “Love at first sight?”

  “At least serious like,” she said. “He asked me out as soon as I signed the sales papers. I found out later that the price was so good because he didn’t take his commission.”

  “Wow! That is indeed serious like.”

  “We were married in two months, and I’ve never regretted a day of it.”

  At least until last night, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

  The front door flew open, crashing into the hall wall.

  Edie sat straight up. “Tom?” The hope in her voice broke my heart.

  Randy stalked by the living room without so much as a glance in our direction. He continued down the hall to the back of the house. In a moment I heard him opening the refrigerator.

  Edie checked her watch. “It’s 1:05. No kid his age should be out this late, but tonight I’m just not up to the confrontation. All I can think about is Tom.”

  I nodded, thinking that Randy had been counting on just that and was taking advantage of her preoccupation. The kid was clever, a master strategist and champion manipulator. Usually that meant a keen intelligence. What a waste, I thought, to use your mind to wound and distress.

  “I just hope he hasn’t been with that adorable little Sherrie all this time. Too cute. Too many hormones.” Edie shivered.

  Randy appeared in the doorway, a can of Mountain Dew in one hand and a bag of Chips Ahoy in the other. He had enough caffeine and sugar there to keep a small town awake for hours. He’d probably wolf it all down and fall immediately into a deep slumber.

  “No word from Tom-boy?” he asked his mother.

  She shook her head.

  He smirked. “Aliens, Mom. Or else he’s deserted you.”

  “Randy!” I couldn’t help it. He was being so unkind.

  He ignored me. “Just like you did Dad.” His smirk deepened. “I guess you’re finally getting what you deserve.”

  Edie sighed. “I’m not going to discuss why I left your father, Randy. You know that. He’s your father, and I won’t talk against him.”

  I watched Randy absorb his mother’s comments without any perceptible change of expression or posture. I concluded that Edie’s comments on this subject were as familiar and frequent as were his barbs. He turned to me without a blink.

  “That your car in the drive?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m getting a car in a couple of months.” He looked back at his mother and said, “My father is giving it to me.”

  Obviously he meant Randolph, not Tom.

  He laughed. “It’s a good thing because Tom wouldn’t get me a car if I was the last person on earth.”

  “And neither would I.” Edie’s eyes were unflinching as she looked at her son. “Things like cars and the trust to let you have one have to be earned.”

  Randy shrugged. “I guess I’m lucky that Dad doesn’t agree.” He turned to me. “Want to see my car?”

  I glanced at Edie, who raised her hand in a be-my-guest motion. I turned to Randy. “Okay.”

  He put his Mountain Dew on the glorious occasional table in the hall, and I could see Edie bite her lip to keep from reprimanding him about it.

  Randy opened the blue bag of cookies. He pulled out a handful to fortify himself while he showed me his dream car.

  I expected him to pull out a picture, but he didn’t.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s in the garage.”

  I glanced again at Edie.

  “Randolph can never remember Randy’s birth date,” she said. “He thought it was sometime in the spring, so he sent the car ahead so he wouldn’t be late.”

  Randy turned on his mother. “He knows my birthday! He wants me to have the fun of anticipation.”

  Edie shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “When is your birthday?” I asked.

  “July 13.” Randy scowled at me, daring me to make something of the midsummer date.

  I merely nodded. “Well, show me.”

  Still scowling, Randy led me down a level, through the family room, to the connecting door to the garage. He went through first and flicked on the lights. I followed and blinked at what I saw. I knew then that Edie and Tom didn’t have a chance.

  There, gleaming softly under the harsh overhead light, sat a silver, ragtop Porsche convertible.

  “It came three days ago.” Randy ran his hand lovingly over the sleek curve of one fender. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “That it is.” I began to circle the car. All I could think of was how inappropriate this expensive, classy, powerful car was for a novice driver. The potential for tragedy was incredible!

  I bent down to peer inside. I might as well study the upholstery before it was drenched with Randy’s blood.

  Someone had beaten Randy to it.

  Blood stained the passenger seat and floor, great quantities of blood, overwhelming quantities of blood. I knew there had to be very little if any left in the very dead man who slumped against the gray leather interior.

  FOUR

  I ma
de a noise halfway between a scream and a burp at the sight of the body. My first thought was that Tom had finally come home.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Randy demanded, ever sympathetic to a woman in distress.

  I couldn’t find my voice, so I pointed. He bent and peered in. Next thing I knew he was retching in the corner. So much for perpetual cool.

  I made myself look in the car again. I had to know if the corpse was indeed Tom.

  It wasn’t. First, the body looked too tall, even slumped. Tom was slight all over, and this man had wide shoulders and a paunch. Also, Tom wore his hair closely cropped, and this man had straggly hair that should have been cut weeks ago. And of course, this man had the wrong face, with strong, broad features instead of the narrow, almost delicate ones that typified Tom.

  I straightened from my quick second glance with a deep sigh of relief and turned to Randy, who by now was leaning weakly against the side of the car.

  “Get off the car! It’s a crime scene!”

  Randy, green around the gills, jumped and obeyed.

  “We don’t want to touch it and contaminate any evidence.” Randy nodded as he swayed.

  I gave him a push. “Back into the house. We need to call 911.”

  Edie took one look at Randy as we stumbled inside and surged to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a dead guy in my car!” Disbelief was Randy’s dominant emotion now that he was away from the scene. Feelings of outrage and violation would follow shortly. “And there’s blood all over!”

  Edie looked wide-eyed at me, seeking confirmation—or denial—of Randy’s comments.

  I nodded. “Where’s the phone?”

  They both pointed to the kitchen.

  I called 911 and returned to the family room just as Edie and Randy walked back in from the garage.

  Edie was white-faced as she looked back toward the garage. “I never saw him before in my life.”

  The police didn’t recognize the corpse either.

  “How’d he get here?” Randy demanded of anyone who’d listen, and that was usually me. “And why in my car?”

  Like I knew.

  “How long’s he been dead?” he demanded of the police. “How did he die? And why in my car?”