"He suffered memory loss?" Charlie Sampson didn't look or sound injured or confused when he came to the agency.
"He was knocked unconscious and seemed a little confused and incoherent at the bank. I'll interview him again and see if he remembers anything new."
I contemplated whether or not to share my information with Jord. I wondered if it was good business practice. If Charlie wanted the police involved with the stolen item, he would have told them, but he didn't. He wanted the mystery item found quietly and discreetly. I suspected he used his injury as an excuse to avoid telling Jord anything. Yet, Jord was my brother and the detective assigned to this case. It made sense to cooperate with him, and not work secretly outside his view.
"Charlie Sampson hired us to find something," I told him.
Jord raised his eyebrows in unmasked surprise. "What does he want you to find?"
"We have no idea. He wouldn't tell us. We have no more information than you do. Maybe even less."
"And you took the case?"
"Solomon did."
Jord considered that. "Are you interested in sharing information?"
"I am."
"And Solomon?" Jord clarified.
"I'm sure he will see the benefits of working with MPD on this, although I have to ask you not to let Charlie know that you know he hired us. I have a feeling he doesn't want that kind of information floating around here."
"You think he has a problem with MPD?"
"No. I don't think he has a problem with you finding the robbers. All he wants is an item that was taken from the bank box returned."
"For himself or the owner?"
I straightened my back in surprise. That was something I didn't think of that added a whole, new dimension to the case. "I assumed for the owner but now that you mention it, he might want whatever it is for himself. Something he can reasonably claim was stolen and keep if it were found, especially if the owner won’t admit to possessing it. He claims not to know what's inside the boxes but now I'm not so sure."
Jord leaned forward and set his forearms on the desk, looking at me intently. "I'll tell you this, my main line of inquiry right now is: was someone at the bank in on the heist? And based on what you just told me, Charlie Sampson just shot to the top of my suspect list."
Chapter Eight
Solomon waited for me by the big doors to the bank, along with Lucas, our resident tech geek. "You're outside," I said when I approached. "It's always a surprise to see you away from your desk."
"It happens," said Lucas with a shrug.
"About as rarely as a blue moon."
"Nah. It's just rare you see me. I do have to travel to and from work and home somehow."
"I guess I thought you burrowed through underground tunnels, or perhaps emailed yourself as an attachment."
Lucas grinned. "If only."
"Any luck with your brother?" asked Solomon.
"Jord was assigned the case and had a very interesting theory to share." I looked around, checking there was no one to overhear but the sidewalk was clear of pedestrians. I waited for a truck to rumble loudly past before I said, "I told him Charlie hired us and he wanted to know if Charlie wanted the mystery item returned for himself or the true owner. We assumed Charlie wanted the item back on behalf of his customer or of his employer because that's what he implied."
Solomon and Lucas exchanged glances.
"What?" I asked. "Did you already consider that?"
"No. I should have but I didn't," said Solomon. "That is an interesting theory. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing the truth and seeing how unhelpful Charlie has been so far, I don't think we can count on him for a straight answer."
"So we persevere?" I asked.
Solomon nodded. "Plus, Charlie is paying us to find the item even if the check is drawn on the bank's funds. Our case ends the moment we hand it over. It's not up to us what he does with it."
"But he might be stealing something!"
"If that's the plan, and we figure out the identity of the true owner, we could tell them although I need to think about that. Our duty belongs to our client. If the law is being broken, it definitely changes things and could terminate our relationship. Right now, all I know is nothing is clear cut."
"Did you know the robbers closed these huge wooden gates? I don't ever recall seeing them closed before," I said as I stepped around Solomon and examined the heavy anchors that kept the gates open and in place. I tried to move one but it didn't budge and the depth of the wood spanned most of my palm. "Are they always padlocked to the wall?" I asked, noticing the heavy chain bolted to the wall.
"From what I remember," said Solomon.
"Someone had to unlock them," said Lucas. He lifted his chin, indicating the top corner of the entry. "There's a camera over the doorway but I'll need to examine the feed to see if it covers the padlocks specifically."
"All the robbers wore masks," I reminded them.
"Someone wearing a mask and unlocking padlocks might have been observed by a pedestrian. It would take a couple of minutes max to pick these since they're more ornamental than security, and move them to a closed position. Plus, I'm told a 'closed for maintenance' sign was out on the sidewalk, which explains why no one seemed to care that the original doors weren't in their usual, open position. However, a mask would definitely attract someone’s attention," said Solomon.
"I'm thinking one of their crew came ahead of the robbery and did the prep work in plain view. A crew of six can't have huddled together, masked and armed, in the entry while one of them put out a sign and unlocked the gates so they could seal the bank from view."
"Good thinking," said Solomon. "Let's see what we find."
The three of us walked in together, Solomon going slightly ahead with Lucas and me flanking him. "If we were in a movie, this would be a power walk scene," whispered Lucas.
"We'd all need to wear heels to carry that off," I whispered back.
Solomon flashed us a look and we hushed. I couldn't blame him. Heels would never suit him.
A few patrons peppered the bank and tellers sat at every window like nothing unusual ever happened. We walked past them to the small suite of desks opposite. One of the women seemed to be expecting us because she rose and walked over, shaking our hands. "You must be Mr. Solomon. I'm Patricia. Mr. Sampson said to show you and your team to his office. Please follow me," she added, walking ahead of us to the same door I watched the robbers take Charlie through. She swiped her pass through the electronic key machine, inputting a code, and the door opened. We walked through and she shut it firmly behind us. Unlike the charming details in the bank's public areas, this anteroom was small and empty of anything but a few framed paintings of sullen, old men hanging on the walls. Several doors were connected by a short hall and only one had a thick, security bar across the middle and an illuminated exit sign above it.
"Where do all these doors go?" asked Solomon.
"Mr. Sampson also instructed me to answer any questions you might have, so that door is used by the tellers you see in the bank. They have to swipe their passes whenever they enter and exit. That door leads to the bank vault, which is downstairs in the basement. The furthest door leads to the outside parking lot and this door—" she said, swiping her card again and pulling a heavy fire door open, "—leads to the offices on the second floor."
The staircase was utilitarian. White walls bore smudges and dents from years of use and the carpet was threadbare, each riser edged with a metal protector. We stepped onto a wide, light-filled landing and then into a corridor. "As you can probably guess, this isn't a part of the building the public normally sees. Mr. Sampson has a cubicle where I met you downstairs to receive special customers but he primarily works here." She stopped at a door, knocked and opened it. "Mr. Solomon and his associates, sir."
"Thanks, Patricia," said Charlie, rising to greet us. I noted the Band-Aid remained but the sling had gone. "You wanted to see the security tapes?" he asked, coming around the des
k.
"Please, and anything you can tell me about the setup on the way would help," replied Solomon.
"I'll take you to the security room. I can't tell you much about it since I wasn't involved in the setup," Charlie explained as we stepped back into the corridor. "That was done long before I arrived so I doubt it's the most up to date model."
"When did you start working here?" I asked.
"Five years ago, and not a smidgeon of trouble beyond the occasional irate customer in all of that whole time."
"Irate?"
"Foreclosures on homes and bank loan refusals never end well. It's not a pleasant side of the bank business. Like I said, the security system was already set up before I started and we just provide the maintenance."
"Who is 'we'?" asked Solomon.
"That would be Gerald who mans the monitors although he doesn't do much more than that. The bank has a team who maintain the cameras and a server in some kind of server farm — I think that's what they're called — that stores our backups. I can find out exactly where if you need that information?"
"I'll let you know if it's necessary based on what we see," said Solomon. "You say the bank has a maintenance team?"
"Yes, they're based in Boston. We only call them in when Gerald notices a camera acting up. Sometimes it's a loose or damaged wire or some other minor malfunction. Occasionally, the camera glass breaks and needs replacing. We had a bird problem in the entryway last year," explained Charlie.
"What kind of security does the camera system require?" asked Lucas.
"I can't answer that but I could call the team on the phone and let them talk you through it. I know there're firewalls and encryption. The only time I've ever needed to review footage is after an altercation and I need to check it for evidence. To do that, I just ask Gerald to play back the footage." Charlie opened a door we passed on the way to his office and we entered a small, windowless room, occupied by one man reclining in a thickly padded chair, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. "Gerald, these people are helping me investigate the robbery," he told them. "They need to review yesterday's security footage."
"Possibly before yesterday too," said Solomon.
"Show them how to use the system, and then you can take a break," said Charlie. "Shall I leave you to it? I think Gerald will be more helpful to you right now and I'm due for a call with my boss soon. He wants an update on what happened."
"That works for us," said Solomon.
"I'll leave my door open unless I'm on that call," Charlie said as he hastily left, his footsteps tapping dull thuds on the threadbare carpet.
Gerald scooted his chair forward and placed the mug on a blotter. "It's a simple system," he said, waving us forward to take a look at the bank of monitors on the wall. "There's one camera per monitor and all I do is watch 'em all day long from when we open ‘til we close, although they run twenty-four hours a day."
"Walk us through each monitor," said Solomon. "I'd like to know exactly what we're looking at."
"All the top monitors cover the main bank floor. Two are situated behind the teller desks, because the head office wants to make sure the tills always balance, and the other four are outside, covering the customer areas. These two cameras film the front and back doors. This one is for the lobby downstairs. This other one is for the vault lobby."
"No cameras inside the vault itself?"
"No, sir. The customers like their privacy down there."
"Were you in here when the bank was robbed?"
"Yes, I was. At first, I didn't know what to make of it until I realized it was serious so I used the desk phone here to call the police. I wasn't sure if the tellers could press their alarms."
"That was smart thinking," said Solomon.
"The police dispatcher assured me someone was on the way but they took forever to get here," said Gerald. "I thought bank robberies were higher priority."
"Some of the bank robbers went inside the vault," I said. "Did any of them come upstairs?"
"No, ma'am. Not one. I had the door closed but I would have heard if they did. You can't go anywhere up here without passing this room."
Solomon and I exchanged looks. I knew what he was thinking: the robbers didn't care that they were captured on camera. They didn't even try to erase the footage. That was a ballsy move.
"If you show us how to operate the system, I'd like to review the footage from that day and possibly get a copy."
"I can't make copies here but I know the police also asked for a copy so I guess I can send you one too," he said. He adjusted the keyboard and showed Solomon what to press. "It's fairly simple and I don't pretend otherwise. I'm paid to sit and watch but very, very rarely does anything ever happen. I'm not a young man anymore so that kind of a cushy career works for me."
"Why don't you take that coffee break?" said Solomon. "We'll call you if we need you."
"Happy to oblige. I wanted to stretch my legs as it happens." Gerald grabbed his mug, vacated his chair and squeezed around us in the little available space. Solomon nudged me and indicated I should follow. Clearly, he thought Gerald might have more to say if he were relaxed.
"I'd appreciate a glass of water," I told him, stepping into the corridor after him. "Mind if I join you?"
"No, ma'am. It's nice to have company. There's a kitchenette right next door to this room." By the time Gerald finished his sentence, I stepped into the kitchenette after him. The far wall had a long, rectangular sliver of a window high up. The wall to my left had cabinets and there was a coffee pot, an electric tea kettle and a toaster on the counter. The sink was empty and the drainer held three dry mugs. A small refrigerator was hidden under the counter. A typed note said, "Please wash and dry whatever you use" and was taped to the cabinet above the coffee pot. Except for one barstool in the corner of the small room, there was no place to sit.
Gerald pulled a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the faucet.
"You don't seem too shaken," I said as I took it with a thanks.
Gerald ran a hand over his graying hair. "I'm good at compartmentalizing stuff. I can't change what happened. No one died and none of my co-workers were injured. That seems like a good outcome for a bad afternoon."
"That's one way of looking at it."
Gerald turned away to pour his coffee and I waited while he added creamer. "I wonder why they headed straight for the vault without taking the cash," I said, waiting for the security guard to comment on my musing.
"Probably every bank robber knows cash is traceable now," he said with a shrug. "There're dye packs and serial numbers. You can't bank it. Or spend it. I'd go for the vault too. That's where the really valuable stuff is kept."
"Oh? Like what?"
Gerald turned to me and rested his arm on the counter, crossing his ankles. "I wish I knew. I figure if you want a security box in a bank vault, you have to have something pretty expensive to put into it." He grinned.
I nodded, smiling. "The robbers must have thought that too. They probably got wind of something precious. I suppose some of the employees must see what's inside those boxes."
"I don't think so. Only Mr. Sampson and a couple of the assistant managers take customers down there. Discretion is part of the service. The tellers don't have any business being anywhere but in the public areas."
"It's good that they all seem to know what their job entails. I guess everyone must be happy working here." It was a leading question and not subtle but I didn't have much time. Gerald seemed like a diligent man who wouldn't take longer than necessary away from his job requirements.
"I don't hear any complaints. None, that is, except from Martin but he got fired two weeks ago and things soon returned to normal."
"Was Martin employed for a long time?"
"Just a couple of months. He wasn't a good fit. I think he made a couple of passes at the tellers and bossed everyone around. I could hear them talking about him when they got their refreshments. Then one day, Martin was called into Mr. Sam
pson's office and after that meeting, he left."
"Did you know Martin personally?"
Gerald shook his head. "No, just to say hello in passing like I do with everyone else working here." He ducked his head into the corridor, half stepping out before turning back to me. "I should check to see if they have everything they need."
"Sure," I agreed, smiling. "Thanks again for the water."
Lucas sat in Gerald's chair, busily tapping the keyboard while Solomon rested his back against the wall, his arms crossed. For a moment, I was spirited back to the first moment I saw him. We were in another small room like this and Solomon was smoldering, speaking only very briefly. I thought he took an instant dislike to me but later found out that wasn't the case.
Solomon caught me observing him and raised his eyebrows. While Gerald had his back turned, I blew my husband a small kiss and he gave me a smile intended just for me.
"How's it going?" asked Gerald. "Can I help with anything?"
"We found the time period that covers the robbery and now we're examining the exterior cameras to see what happened on either side of that," explained Solomon.
"Why?" asked Gerald.
"Because they arrived one way and left by another. I'm curious to know how," said Solomon.
Lucas paused the screen and pointed to something I couldn't quite make out. He turned to Gerald, asking, "The angle of the camera doesn't show who tampered with the doors or put the sign out on the sidewalk. Do you know what building this is?"
Gerald leaned in, squinting. "That's straight across the street. It's a dental practice. I think they are responsible for all those sparkling Hollywood smiles."
"It looks like their camera is pointed directly towards the bank, covering the angle through which the robbers entered." Lucas rewound the footage and we watched the masked team jog through the entryway, the doors already partially closed. The last pair of thieves closed the doors the rest of the way. It was a smooth entrance. "I can't identify the vehicle they used from the footage here but I might have better luck with that camera. They can't have parked too far away to unload the crew."
Mission Page 10
