Funny Money

by Traci DePree

  “Yes.” Wimper cleared his throat and ran a hand atop his shiny head. “We have it here that you were the one who detected the bills at Faith Briar Church...”

  “Yes, sir,” Kate said.

  “So it says in the report that you were working at the church...doing the deposit?” He looked at her over the top of his glasses.

  “Yes,” Kate said. “I was getting it ready for the bank. But the counterfeits were in the offering for the Lourdeses.”

  “This is Tim and Amy Lourdes?” She was surprised they’d heard about the family already.

  Kate nodded. “We took a special offering for their son, Jake. He has cystic fibrosis.”

  The men didn’t say anything.

  The bald one looked back at his notes.

  “Now”—he cleared his throat—“tell us how you discovered the bills.”

  “As I said, I was doing the deposit for the Lourdeses, and I noticed that some of the bills looked bluer than the rest, and the printing seemed a little blurry. When I compared them to some other bills, I thought we might have been dealing with counterfeits. That’s when I looked through the rest and found the other bills. There weren’t any in the general offering.”

  “Are there any church members who you think would do something like this?” Agent Norris asked.

  “I’ve given that a lot of thought,” Kate admitted, then shook her head, “but I can’t think of anyone. Abby Pippins did mention seeing a strange man at church, but I don’t know . . .”

  Agent Norris studied her for a moment. “Did she give a description?”

  “Not really,” Kate admitted. “Just that he was wearing loafers without socks. And she said he was gone by the time the offering was taken. I can’t imagine who it could be.”

  “There wasn’t anything strange about the service?” the agent pressed.

  “Well, there was also an envelope,” Kate said. “It was left on Millie’s desk with Tim Lourdes’ name on it.”

  “You mentioned this when Sheriff Roberts came by?” Agent Wimper asked. He turned to the sheriff, who confirmed with a nod that she had.

  “Do you know how it came to be on the secretary’s desk?” Norris asked.

  “No. It was just there when I went in,” Kate said.

  “Do you know if the counterfeit bills came from that envelope?” Agent Wimper wiped his head, now damp with sweat, with a handkerchief.

  “It was cash, no name on it or anything, just a handwritten note, so I mixed it with the rest of the donations. The bills could’ve been from there, but there’s no way to know.”

  “Do you have the envelope?”

  “I took it as evidence yesterday when I first questioned Mrs. Hanlon,” Sheriff Roberts interjected.

  Norris jumped in. “Do you know where we can reach the church secretary?”

  “Millie Lovelace,” Kate clarified. “She’s on vacation.”

  “And did she tell you where she was going?”

  “No, but you could ask my husband. I don’t have a lot of interaction with Millie; I mean I don’t work with her like he does. He’s at the church.”

  “All right. We’ll head there next.”

  The men stood to go. Wimper tucked the notepad and pen back into his briefcase, then reached to shake Kate’s hand. “We appreciate all your help on this. If you think of something else or anything comes back to you, please let us know.”

  The other agent handed her a card with his contact information on it and nodded his thanks before the two headed out the door. The sheriff followed behind but paused at the door and looked at Kate.

  “Agent Norris has cracked a lot of these cases,” he said, “so I believe we can trust him to find out who did this.” He tipped his officer’s hat to her before walking out the door.

  WHEN PAUL CAME HOME at three for a late lunch, he looked as puzzled as Kate had felt after her visit from the Secret Service.

  “So the Secret Service found you too?” she said as she set a steaming bowl of chicken chow mein on the table.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Your overwhelmed expression.” She smiled at him, and Paul leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek before heading to wash his hands at the kitchen sink.

  “They asked some odd questions, that’s for sure,” he said once he’d turned off the water.

  “Like what?”

  Paul dried his hands on a towel and took his seat at the oak dining table. “A lot of questions about Millie.”

  “They asked me about Millie too.” Kate reached for his hands, and the two bent their heads in prayer before digging in.

  “They were pretty probing,” Paul went on. “As if they think Millie’s a suspect.”

  “Did they say she was a suspect?” Kate furrowed her brow.

  “No. But they were definitely digging for something.” He took a bite of the steaming dish and closed his eyes in satisfaction. “I love your chow mein. You should make it more often.” Paul winked at her and took another bite.

  “They’ll rule her out quickly,” Paul went on. “Millie’s hardly savvy with technical stuff. Printing money? There’s no way she’d be our counterfeiter.”

  Kate agreed with Paul. After all, Millie still used the paper calendar on her desk to keep track of Paul’s schedule. And yet...Kate thought about the Post-it note that had said, “Don’t forget: twenties and fifties.” Maybe there had been more to that note than she’d first thought.

  “Maybe they aren’t thinking she’d be the one to create the bills...just that she’d use them?” Kate speculated, as much to herself as to Paul. She took another mouthful of her food. “What about her husband?”

  “Boom? He’s come by the office a few times,” Paul said. “He’s a hardworking guy. Blue collar and honest.”

  “So who do you think it could be?” Kate asked.

  “Could be anyone.”

  “Anyone from Faith Briar, you mean,” Kate said with a frown. “This is our church, Paul. I keep thinking about all of our members, and there isn’t one I can identify who would do something like this.”

  Paul’s tender gaze met hers. “The guilty party will be found, Katie. Whether it’s a member of Faith Briar or from somewhere else.”

  “I know.” She laid down her fork. “But I hate to think that someone we trust could be deceiving us.”

  Chapter Six

  Agent Wimper called a town meeting Tuesday night. Every business owner and retailer had been personally invited to the event at Copper Mill Public Library’s meeting room. Even the local churches had been called to attend.

  When Kate and Paul arrived five minutes before the meeting was due to begin, the chairs in the room were almost all taken. The large table that usually occupied the center had been replaced by folding chairs, and an overhead projector and screen had been set up. Familiar faces and loud chatter filled the room.

  Betty Anderson of Betty’s Beauty Parlor waved for Kate and Paul to sit beside her, so they made their way over to where Betty and her husband Bob sat. Betty had short bleached-blonde hair and a penchant for chatter, while Bob was a quiet man who chose his words carefully.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Betty said, leaning toward Kate, her face alight.

  Kate glanced at the front, where a dark-suited Agent Wimper stood with arms crossed, looking forbidding. She got the sense that if anyone made a wrong move, he would be on them like flies on watermelon. She didn’t see Agent Norris anywhere. Glancing around, she saw Sam Gorman, the owner of the Mercantile; Emma Blount from the ice-cream shop; the Cline sisters from the bank; Eli Weston of Weston’s Antiques; and many other familiar faces.

  Finally, the bald, portly agent moved to the podium that was set up at the front of the room. He tapped the mic to be sure it was on.

  “If all of you will take your seats, please,” he said.

  The crowd quieted.

  “I’m Secret Service Agent Wimper. I’ve called you all here to inform you of what’s going on, though I’m sure most of
you know already. I’ll also educate you on what to be on the lookout for. Several counterfeit bills have shown up in Copper Mill, at Faith Briar Church as well as several businesses in town.”

  Murmurs spread through the crowd, and Agent Wimper held up a hand to quiet everyone. “You all are our best allies in catching the criminal, so we’re here to talk about what to look for and what to do if you suspect someone of trying to pass off fake money at your business or church.”

  He said church meaningfully and looked directly at Kate. Her thoughts went straight to Millie and that envelope. His insinuation was clear. But Agent Wimper paused as he reached into a big portfolio on a narrow table beside him.

  “This”—he held up a bill—“is a counterfeit five-dollar bill. All of the bills we’ve found so far are dated pre-1996. Of course, they were actually printed much more recently than that.” He handed the bill to Steve Smith of Smith Street Gifts. “You can pass that around,” he said, then turned his attention back to the full room.

  “As you’ll see, these notes look very similar to real money. This counterfeiter has found a way to make his, or her, money feel like real money. That makes him harder to catch. He’s smart. The main things to look for are variations in ink color and a blurry register, when the lines aren’t crisp looking. Real money is particular and exacting. This fake stuff tends to look a bit strange because home-based scanners and printers simply can’t handle that level of detail.”

  He then turned to the overhead projector set up alongside the lectern and further illustrated the difference between real and phony currency. When he was done, he pulled out a yellow pen and held it up.

  “We’re going to pass these out to everyone.” He handed a box of the pens to go around the room. “These are counterfeit checking pens; use them at your checkout lanes. The ink in them reacts to the ink in real bills, so it makes detecting fakes much easier.”

  He demonstrated by drawing a short line on a real twenty-dollar bill. The ink turned a faint brown. “If this had been a fake bill, the ink would have turned dark brown or black. If you know of anyone in the community who isn’t here and who needs a pen, please feel free to take them some.” He waited while the box of pens was passed around the room. “I’ve got business cards here so you can call me or my partner, Agent Norris, who couldn’t make it tonight.”

  Finally he opened the discussion to questions. He pointed to someone near the back of the room.

  “Do you think whoever it is might be acting alone or do they have accomplices?” Kate didn’t recognize the voice.

  “With the number of places the bills have been passed, the sheer quantity of bills and the various methods of manufacture,” he said, “we suspect there is more than one person involved.”

  Then he lifted his gaze to meet Kate’s and Paul’s. “Based on where the bills are showing up, we feel certain that they’re coming from somewhere in Copper Mill. None have surfaced, at least yet, in Pine Ridge or any other neighboring town. We want to keep it that way.”

  A woman raised her hand in front of Kate. She had gray hair that frizzed off the top of her head and a high voice. Kate recognized her as Audrey, the dance instructor she had met at church.

  “How do we know we aren’t accidentally passing the money ourselves? Will we be arrested too?”

  The agent shook his head. “First of all, if you look for the things we’ve talked about here”—he motioned toward the overhead projector and then toward the pens—“you’ll be able to spot most of the fakes for yourself. It really shouldn’t be a concern. If money does happen to get passed, we will of course want to talk to you. It is a crime to knowingly pass counterfeit money, but it’s manufacturing it that will put someone behind bars for a very long time.”

  WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Kate made her way to the new dance studio that Livvy had told her about. The name Classical Ballroom swung above the door on a wooden sign held aloft on a horizontal flagpole. It flapped back and forth with the breeze.

  Inside was a warm-looking room with mirrors on three sides and a wall of windows looking out over Sweetwater Street on the fourth. The mirrors made the room appear larger than it was, which was no more than thirty feet by thirty feet. Hardwood floors with a cherry finish shone in the reflection. The lone piece of furniture in the room was a beat-up desk where a receptionist would sit, an old church pew near the door and a piano with a matching bench on the opposite side. The only thing that broke up the expanse of mirrors was a horizontal dance bar that ran the length of one wall.

  Kate took note of her reflection. She wore a sharp pink and orange paisley top with a pencil skirt that complemented her mature yet trim figure. Her medium-length strawberry blonde hair was cut in a bob and tucked behind her ears.

  “Hello,” Kate called into the quiet. She didn’t see anyone about. She moved into the room and when nobody appeared, she turned around, ready to leave, when the sound of someone bustling in a back area halted her.

  “Can I help you?” a tall woman said as she entered the room from a hallway to the left. It was Audrey, the instructor. Her frizzy gray hair darted from her head like an exploded bird’s nest. Her eyes were as pale and bright as robin’s eggs, which when Kate considered her hair, seemed appropriate.

  “I was sorting through some paperwork,” Audrey said in a high-pitched voice that sounded almost childlike. She seemed in constant motion, jittery.

  “That’s not a problem,” Kate said. “Actually, I heard that you’re offering ballroom dance lessons—”

  “Yes, yes!” Audrey clapped her hands together and led Kate to a stack of brochures on the piano. “My husband just designed these for me.” She handed one to Kate.

  The cover of the nicely done brochure pictured a couple in silhouette in a classic waltz pose, backs erect, heads pointing away from each other as if being pulled in an invisible tug-of-war.

  “I’m amazed at how many people are signing up for classes,” the woman said, looking at the pamphlet over Kate’s shoulder. “I’m Audrey Harper. I know who you are—Kate Hanlon from Faith Briar. Actually, we met a few weeks ago after church.”

  “I remember.” Kate smiled at her. The woman was difficult to forget.

  Kate read the brochure and said, “Do you know which class Livvy and Danny Jenner signed up for?”

  “Oh sure,” Audrey said, pointing at the listing. “They’re in the Tuesday-Thursday night class. We meet at seven.”

  “That starts this week?”

  “Actually, it starts next week. I still have room for another couple if you’re interested.”

  Just then the door opened and a man stepped in. He had white hair and was distinguished looking, with a trim waist and a healthy tan. Kate recognized him as Audrey’s husband Hal, whom she’d also met at church a few weeks prior.

  “Mrs. Hanlon.” The man gave her a grin of recognition and held out a hand.

  “Mrs. Hanlon is thinking about taking dance lessons,” Audrey informed him.

  His head bobbed once as he and Kate shook hands.

  “Yes, I am,” Kate said. “I somehow convinced Paul to agree, so I don’t want to miss a good opportunity.”

  “Wonderful,” Audrey said. “Once he gets the hang of it, he’ll want to take you dancing all the time.” She beamed at her husband. “Hal helps with the classes too. I can teach both the men’s and ladies’ parts, but it’s so nice to be able to demonstrate the way a dance is supposed to look with both partners. You know?”

  Kate looked at Hal, who seemed like the kind of man who was comfortable letting his wife shine. He made no further attempt to speak, merely smiled and nodded his head in agreement with Audrey.

  Picking up an overstuffed leather bag from alongside the piano, she retrieved a green binder and shuffled through for the correct page.

  “Here it is.” She turned the book to face Kate. It was a sign-up page for the class. Kate noted several names she recognized, Danny and Livvy Jenner’s among them.

  Kate wrote down her informatio
n and paid for the classes, then said her farewells.

  AGENT WIMPER CALLED Wednesday evening, asking if Paul knew of another way that they could get ahold of the Lovelace family on vacation. Paul had given them all the information he had, but they must not have been successful in contacting Millie and Boom.

  For the next day, she wondered about it, but she couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—believe that someone from their church had anything to do with the scheme. Much less Millie Lovelace. She was a trusted friend. Sure, she had rough edges, but who didn’t?

  Yet the question of the money in the envelope and the handwritten note remained. What had the Secret Service agents learned in their investigation? she wondered. Millie was due home the next day, and Kate couldn’t wait to talk to her.

  KATE WAS ANXIOUS TO SPEAK with Millie about the envelope on Friday. Paul said that she would be back to her job at the SuperMart in Pine Ridge that afternoon, so after lunch, Kate hopped into her black Honda and drove the short distance to the neighboring town.

  She made her way through the wide doors at the front of the store.

  “Welcome to SuperMart,” a friendly gray-haired man wearing a blue vest said.

  Kate waved at him as she moved inside. She scanned the checkouts for Millie, unsure of where the church secretary would be working. She walked along the front of the building. No Millie. She moved into women’s clothing, then children’s. Still no sight of her.

  Then Kate spied her behind the jewelry counter. She was just about to walk up to her to ask about the envelope when something in Millie’s demeanor stopped her.

  Millie glanced around as if she was afraid of being watched. Then she opened the cash drawer, pulled out a stack of bills, and replaced them with others she had laid beside her on the counter. She placed the bills from the register in a cloth sack that she quickly tied shut and tucked inside her blue SuperMart vest.

  Kate watched in stunned silence. Surely she was mistaken. She hadn’t seen what she thought she saw, had she?

  Millie hadn’t just replaced legitimate bills with counterfeits, had she? There had to be an explanation.