Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when Ben arrived back at his house. Despite the hour, he was not tired at all. In fact, he was elated and riding a natural high. He wanted to wake Kyle and tell him everything that had happened, but instead he ran down to the basement to count his loot.
He accessed the hidden passageway in the fireplace and ran down the corridor to the secret room. He quickly punched in the ten digit code, which he had by now committed to memory, and then entered the room. Like a kid coming home from Halloween, Ben dumped the contents of his bag all over the floor. A mound of cash and jewellery spilled out in a pile around his feet. Ben had not seen so much money before in his life. He got down on the floor and began rolling around in the money, swiveling his arms and legs as if he were making a snow angel. With both hands, he pinched wads of bills and threw them up in the air and watched them rain down on him. In that moment, he could not have been happier.
After he was done wading in the loot, he gathered it all up along with all the jewellery in a big messy pile and began to organize the money into neat stacks. When he finished counting it all, there was a total of $8,130.00. As for the pile of gold jewellery, he did not know exactly how much it was worth, but given his recent experience in selling gold, he estimated the value to be over a thousand dollars.
After a long and exciting night, he was now coming down from his high. Almost instantly, his exhaustion kicked in and depleted any desire he had to stay awake. He let out a big yawn before getting up and exiting the room. He locked the door behind him and trudged upstairs to bed.
In the morning, Ben was woken by a loud knock on the door. He ignored the first few, but after persistent knocking, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. Peering through the peephole, Ben noticed two well-dressed men. Judging by their suits and long trench coats, he knew they were not the city building inspectors. Still groggy, he opened the door.
“How may I help you gentlemen?” he greeted them, rubbing his eyes.
“Are you Ben Owen?”
“Yes.”
“We’d like a word with you please,” the two detectives said as they flashed their badges.
“What’s this about?” Ben asked, trying to suppress his nerves.
“May we come in?”
Ben hesitated a moment, but then complied.
“Sure, come on in?” he said as he swung the door open and stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter.
The two detectives entered the house and followed Ben into the living room where they could all sit down and talk. One of the officers looked around, while the other one took a seat on the couch.
“So, what’s this about?” Ben asked.
There were a few reasons why two detectives might be at his house, none of which would produce favourable outcomes for him.
“Where were you yesterday at 3:00 p.m.?”
“Yesterday?” he repeated. “I was… I was nowhere.”
“You weren’t at the bank on 12th Avenue at 3:00?”
“Nope, not me, wasn’t there. Why do you ask?”
One of the detectives opened up a folder, took out a picture, and showed it to Ben. “Is this you?”
The photo showed Ben peering through the window. Although the quality of the photo was not perfectly clear, it was unmistakably him. In fact, Ben was wearing the same outfit he had on in the picture. Ben looked down and took notice of his attire, as did the detectives. They shot him a look as though it was foolish for trying to deny it. Ben handed the photo back to one of the detectives and said, “No, this isn’t me. This is just a blurry image of a guy peering through a window. That could be anybody.”
“Did you rob the bank on 12th yesterday?” one of the detectives asked bluntly.
“How dare you come into my home and accuse me of robbing a bank.”
“Nobody accused you, Mr. Owen. My partner simply asked if you robbed the bank.”
“Listen, if I robbed the bank yesterday on 12th, then you would have a picture of me robbing the bank, but you don’t. All you have is an image of some guy who shares my likeness, standing outside the bank.”
“You’re getting awfully defensive, Mr. Owen. Are you sure you don’t have any information you’d like to share with us?”
“Of course I’m getting defensive. I’m an honest guy and you’re suggesting I had something to do with a bank robbery. You have no proof I even stepped foot in the bank yesterday.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll tell you what we do have. We have surveillance footage of you waiting outside the bank and making physical contact with the robber, then watching the robbery through the window. After that, it appears as though you waited for your partner across the street and then followed him onto a bus a block away. So, what’s it going to be Mr. Owen, are you going to talk now, or do you want to contact your lawyer?”
Ben had to admit, on the surface it did not look good for him. Even though they did not have any substantial proof connecting Ben to the bank robbery, they had enough circumstantial evidence to convict him as an accomplice.
“Okay, okay. Look, you’ll have to forgive my outburst earlier. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Hypothetically speaking, suppose I was at the bank yesterday, and this is me peering through the window. I know it may appear I was an accomplice to the robber, but I had nothing to do with any bank robbery. Still speaking hypothetically, I may have been going to the bank yesterday to seek out a small line of credit when I was bumped from behind by a man wearing combat boots and a military jacket. Those two pieces of apparel inside a nice bank like the one on 12th Avenue would have aroused the suspicions of most people. Now, if it was me, not saying it was, but if it was, I probably would have stayed outside and observed through a window at a safe distance.”
“What about following the robber onto the bus, was that a safe distance?”
“That was purely coincidental… I mean, not saying I did that or anything, but if I did, then it would be a mere coincidence. I probably had no idea I was getting onto a bus with a bank robber.”
“Another surveillance footage we obtained shows you two sat right next to each other, you’re saying that was purely coincidental.”
“Could be, who knows? Like I said, I wasn’t there.”
The two detectives continued their questioning until they had extracted everything they needed to know from Ben. For every question, Ben provided a valid response. After a while, the detectives seemed satisfied with Ben’s story — he had become a dead lead. They got up to leave and handed Ben their cards.
“Call us if you remember anything else, Mr. Owen.”
Ben accepted the card and looked at the name — Detective Barry Todd.
The Secret Manuscript Page 27
