After the Rain

by Philip Cox

  ‘It was. He’d just woken up and had got my message. He told me that three of them had planned to come out here: Adam, him, and another guy – Dave somebody, he said, nobody I know anyhow – but this other guy changed his mind, so it was just Adam and Steve.’

  ‘That was probably why your father thought there were three of them.’

  ‘Probably, yes. So it was just Adam and Steve. They spent the first few days doing their normal stuff: at the poolside here; one day they took the car over to St Pete’s beach, another day they went to Universal Studios. The third day, Steve said he had an upset stomach which he put down to some sea food they had had the night before. He didn’t want to go far, so Adam left him here for the day.’

  ‘Did he say where Adam went?’

  ‘Adam told him he wanted to do some shopping, get a few clothes and things, so he went into Orlando, to the Florida Mall, which is a huge shopping centre near Downtown.’

  ‘He was out all day, got back about five-thirty, apparently. But according to Steve, he didn’t come back with any shopping.’

  ‘No bags or anything.’

  ‘Absolutely zip. But Steve said by that time he felt better, they both wanted something to eat so he didn’t mention it. But while they were eating – Steve said they went to a Ruby Tuesdays around here – Adam said why not go to Shots the following night. They had previously talked about going to see a movie and when Steve brought this up Adam said no leave it until the following night.’

  ‘Quite insistent on going to Shots. And that presumably is after he sent that email.’

  ‘That’s right. Steve said he went along with what Adam wanted; he said he didn’t really give a shit which day they went there.’

  ‘What happened when they got to Shots?’

  ‘He just confirmed what we saw on that CCTV. They started to chat with the group on the next table, two of the guys asked if they wanted to play pool, and Adam seemed more interested in that girl, as we saw. Steve knows what Adam’s like, so he decided to play some pool too. Then towards the end of the evening, Adam went over to him. Adam said he was going to see the girl home, so would see him back here later that night, or the next day. He asked if Steve had any spare quarters for the condom machine in the gents; Steve gave him a couple, and Adam left.’

  ‘And that was the last Steve saw of him?’

  ‘Yes. He wasn’t here when Steve got back, which was what he expected. Still no sign of him around lunchtime, so he tried his phone. No answer, so he rang my father, who got him to go to the police.’

  ‘Which he did, and got Lieutenant Sanchez?’

  ‘Yes, who said they could do nothing for another day as Adam had to be missing 48 hours before he could report it. He went back there the following day and did so. He said Sanchez was a bit indifferent to it. Then things were as Sanchez and my father have told us.’

  ‘Could he shed any light on what Sanchez said about a call being made from the Miami area?’

  ‘No, he couldn’t; in fact, he didn’t even know about that.’

  ‘What about the Facebook thing?’ Ben asked.

  ‘He logged onto his laptop while we were talking and tried to get Adam’s page, but got the same screen as we did. He says he’s got no idea how it can be suspended.’

  ‘Apart from somebody actually suspending it,’ Ben said.

  ‘And that was it,’ Craig reached under the sheet and scratched his leg. ‘Another box ticked off.’

  ‘Why would you spend a day in a shopping mall and come back with nothing?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Unusual for him,’ Craig said. ‘He’s always doing shopping, getting all the up to date gear. So he can look as cool as possible. Mr God’s gift, remember? I would like to know what shops he went to, if he came back empty handed.’

  Ben slapped his forehead. ‘Stupid! Stupid!’

  ‘What’s stupid?’ Craig asked.

  ‘One place we didn’t think of looking,’ Ben said, ‘His bank statement, credit card statement. If we could see what transactions he had made, that could tell us what he was doing that day. Have you got his bank details and passwords?’

  ‘I have.’ Craig leapt out of bed. He was naked; Ben discretely averted his eyes while Craig quickly put on a pair of shorts. ‘I know we’re both tired, but let’s do this now; we should have thought of this earlier. Stay there.’

  Craig came back momentarily, and joined Ben on the bed with the laptop. He booted it up, and two minutes later they were logging into Adam’s bank account details.

  ‘That’s handy,’ Craig said. ‘Both his current account and credit card are with the same bank. Makes things a bit easier for us.’

  They looked at his cheque account first. The last transaction was a direct debit which came out of the account on the 21st; the prior transactions were either other direct debits or ATM withdrawals made in London.

  ‘Let’s check the credit card,’ said Craig, clicking on a link.

  The screen showed a list of a dozen or so transactions. The first few were UK based transactions; the rest were from Florida merchants.

  ‘Look at these,’ said Craig, running his fingers down the screen. ‘Ruby Tuesdays, Barnes & Noble…..’

  ‘These two here.’ Ben pointed out two items, Structure and Easy Rider. ‘They sound as though they might be stores. And they’re dated, yes that must be the date you said Steve was sick. It looks like he did go shopping.’

  ‘Yes, look at the amounts, too: forty-five dollars, forty-two dollars; I bet they are clothing stores. What about this one…..Jesus!’

  ‘Shit,’ agreed Ben. ‘Why would he have done that?’

  ‘There’s no way he would have done that,’ Craig said. ‘No way. He had access to money, and he knows he would have had to pay huge charges to get an advance on his credit card like that. And he would never need that much cash; he always used a card whenever he could.’

  ‘Sure,’ Ben said. ‘Look at the date, too. Adam was last seen on the 25th, right?’

  The last entry was dated the 27th and was for a cash advance for fifteen thousand dollars.

  Chapter Thirteen

  BOTH BEN AND Craig looked closer at the screen, both half believing they had misread the statement.

  ‘Fifteen thousand dollars!’ exclaimed Craig. ‘I just don’t get why he would be doing that.’

  ‘More to the point,’ said Ben, ‘why would that be happening two days after he was last seen?’

  ‘What does all this mean?’ Craig pointed at the reference for the transaction: CASH ADVANCE BNKOFSFLORL.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Ben said. ‘Yes, it’s obvious. Cash Advance; the next bit must be Bank of South Florida; ORL, well, that must be Orlando.’

  ‘Yes, I see; but we could use some more information. I would like to speak with whoever gave him the money.’

  ‘That sheet of paper you’ve got: it’s got Adam’s banking details on it, has it?’

  Craig quickly scanned the paper. ‘Yes, it has.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you ring his bank? Pretend you’re Adam. Then maybe you can find out when and where exactly the money was withdrawn.’

  ‘Yeah. I think I’ve got all I will need.’ Craig looked up his brother’s bank details on the laptop, and dialled the number. Not wishing to be too intrusive, Ben wandered back into his own room and lay down on the bed. He could still hear most of Craig’s side of the conversation: whoever he was talking to at Adam’s bank was asking identification questions.

  ‘I’ve noticed a cash withdrawal I didn’t carry out.’

  ‘.........’

  ‘My name is Adam Williams.’

  ‘..........’

  ‘10th March 1985.’

  ‘..........’

  ‘House number 44, E1 5DR.’

  ‘..........’

  ‘Maiden name: Carter.’

  ‘..........’

  ‘Yes, I’ve noticed a cash advance of fifteen thousand dollars here that I don’t recognize.’

  ‘........
..’

  ‘Yes, of course I want to make a claim.’

  ‘..........’

  ‘Can you tell me exactly where it was done?’

  ‘..........’

  ‘Right, okay, fine.’ Ben could hear that Craig was writing something down. ‘Okay, great, thanks. Bye.’ He hung up.

  Ben sat up on the bed as Craig appeared in the doorway. ‘Well? he asked.

  Craig flapped a piece of paper around. ‘Easier than I thought,’ he said, walking into the room and sitting on the bed.

  ‘They believed you were Adam?’

  ‘Sure. They said because of the size of the withdrawal, it wouldn’t have been done at an ATM. It would have to have been done in person, at the branch, with two forms of identification. Visa regulations, apparently.’

  ‘So, was it Bank of South Florida?’

  ‘Yes, it was; at the branch in Orlando. 510 Main Street to be precise.’

  ‘Pretty precise.’ Ben nodded his head in approval.

  ‘That’s not all. They have even given me the exact time – 1656 – and the till number and cashier reference. They also said we would have to report it to the local police.’

  ‘Lieutenant Sanchez, I suppose?’

  ‘Presumably. They said that the police would give me a crime reference number, which I should give to them to process a claim to get the money back. If it was proved to be fraudulent.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ Ben said. ‘I would imagine they’ve also got some sort of CCTV, so we can have a look at who actually did the withdrawal.’

  ‘As long as they let us see it. I expect slipping the cashier thirty dollars might not do it in a bank.’

  ‘The time it happened,’ said Ben. ‘1656. A few minutes before five. I bet that bank shuts at five. That’s apparently a common fraudster’s trick: coming in just before closing. The cashier probably wants to go home: he or she may then be in a hurry, and cuts a corner or makes a mistake.’

  ‘Yeah. Which may or may not suggest it wasn’t Adam. Anyway: I’m absolutely knackered. Let’s get some sleep and head for the bank in the morning. What’s tomorrow? Friday, so they’ll be open.’

  *****

  They wished each other goodnight, and at ten-thirty the next morning, both refreshed, they were heading for Downtown Orlando.

  Craig was driving that morning, with Ben map reading and giving directions. ‘Look, there’s a spot over there,’ he said pointing to a small parking lot where there were four spaces.

  ‘We’re on Seventh and Main,’ he said as Craig maneuvered the car into the space. ‘So just a two block walk to the bank. Let’s see what they have to say here, and then we’ll have to go see Sanchez.’

  ‘If we’re doing that, we ought to report that incident last night,’ replied Craig, referring to the attempt to run them off the road. They had rechecked the bodywork of their car in the daylight before they left. As Ben had suspected, the other vehicle had felt the impact on the chrome bars only, so had left no paint marks. However, in a few places they had paintwork missing so a job for later would be to check what vehicles they could back in Davenport.

  Ten fifty-five was not the busiest time of the week for this branch of Bank of South Florida. One man, dressed in Hawaiian shirt and shorts was using the ATM in the bank doorway; inside two cashiers were on duty: one was serving an elderly lady while her colleague was sitting doodling. A bored looking security guard was standing in the doorway. There was an enquiry desk, where a young man in shirtsleeves was explaining to a woman with a child something about why one of her cheques had bounced.

  Ben and Craig had only been waiting a minute or so when the woman with the child left, clearly not satisfied with what she had been told.

  ‘My husband will be really pissed when I tell him,’ she said restraining the crying child by the arm. ‘He’ll be in tomorrow.’

  After she had stormed out of the way Ben and Craig moved to the desk. The young man in shirtsleeves looked up from his screen. ‘Hey guys, how can I help?’

  Craig slapped a printed copy of Adam’s statement on the desk. He had already highlighted the $15000 item. ‘I want to talk about this transaction here,’ he said. ‘I didn’t carry it out.’

  The young man pinkened. ‘I’ll get the branch manager to speak with you,’ he said, awkwardly standing up.

  ‘You do that,’ said Craig firmly. Must keep up the pretence of a dissatisfied customer, he thought.

  The young man disappeared through a door into what seemed a private office: less than thirty seconds later, a slightly older, balding, man, looking in his early forties, with thin gold framed glasses, came out, the young man behind him.

  ‘Gentlemen, I’m Mr Rose, the branch manager. Maybe you’d like to come through with me?’ He spoke quietly, looking around, as if eager that nobody else could hear what was going on.

  Ben and Craig followed Mr Rose through to his office, where he invited them to sit down. The young man remained outside.

  ‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Mr Rose, leaning forwards, his chin resting on his steepled hands. He appeared nervous. ‘My associate has told me you are disputing a large transaction.’

  ‘Correct.’ Craig passed the printout over the desk. He pointed out the highlighted line. ‘This one.’

  Mr Rose looked down. He scanned all the transactions on the printout, his eyes stopping at the $15000. He went red, a darker shade than the young man outside. A sound came though his pursed lips: ‘Sh-.’ He had managed to stop himself in time. Shit. What’s happened here?

  Still a little flustered, he turned to his keyboard and screen. ‘Let me just look at your account, Mr, er- Williams. Can I see your ID first, though?’ he added, as if with an afterthought.

  Craig got out his passport and held it up, his finger over his first name. He remained holding it his side of the desk, discouraging Mr Rose from taking it and looking at it more closely. Clever, clever, thought Ben.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ stammered Mr Rose, by now studying the screen. ‘Yes, I can see the transaction here. It was definitely done at this branch.’

  ‘I know,’ said Craig. ‘On the 27th, at four minutes before five, at till number two, by cashier reference GBR.’

  Mr Rose looked up at him wide eyed. How do you know all that?

  ‘My bank were able to tell me all that,’ Craig explained.

  ‘Yes, well, of course, they are quite right,’ said Mr Rose, ‘and GBR is one of our tellers, George Ross.’

  ‘Can I see the paperwork relating to the transaction, please? My bank has told me that it would have to have been done over the counter here, because it was such a large amount.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. $500 is the most that can be taken at an ATM; anything more has to be done person to person.’

  ‘With two forms of identification.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right also. I – I’ll go get the paperwork.’

  He scurried out of the office.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Craig said to Ben, once they were left alone.

  Ben leaned back, resting the back of his head in his hands. ‘Nothing to add. You’re doing fine all on your own.’

  Craig chuckled as Mr Rose returned bringing in several sheets of paper. He laid them out on the desk so Craig could see. One was a computer printed withdrawal slip with details of the transaction. There was a signature at the bottom: Adam Williams.

  ‘Is that your signature, Mr Williams?’ asked Mr Rose.

  Craig looked at it carefully. From memory, it looked like his brother’s. ‘It looks very similar.’

  ‘And these are copies of the identification that were used.’ Mr Rose pushed the other two sheets towards Craig. One was a photocopy of Adam’s UK driving licence; the other was a copy of his work identification.

  ‘As you can see, we have copies of two forms of photo ID,’ said Mr Rose, sounding a little more confident, ‘in accordance with Visa and bank regulations.’

  ‘Do you have CCTV?’ asked Ben.

&
nbsp; Both Craig and Mr Rose looked at Ben in surprise, the latter as if to say and who the hell are you.

  ‘This is Ben Rook, a friend of mine, by the way,’ said Craig, by way of introduction.

  ‘Yes, we do, as a matter of fact,’ replied Mr Rose proudly.

  ‘Could we have a look for the time that transaction was carried out?’ asked Craig.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ security considerations ….’

  ‘Please. Just for the five minutes or so of that cash advance.’

  The bank manager considered for a moment. ‘Very well. As it is your money we are talking about.’

  He turned back to the screen, and clicked on an icon. The screen divided into four, all views from the different cameras in the bank. Referring first to Craig’s printout, he entered a date and time into a box; another window popped up showing a view of a till position. A readout on the screen showed the date they were looking at and a time of 4:54PM.

  The teller, George Ross they assumed, had just finished serving a middle aged woman. She left, and George started tidying his till. At 4.56PM a figure came to the till. He was tall and slim, but looked muscular. His dark hair down to just above the collar of the white shirt he was wearing. He leaned over the counter top slightly while carrying out the transaction. Ben and Craig could see the figure pass some documents to the teller, who looked at them, and swung round on his chair to a Xerox machine. Once he had copied the documents, he returned them. He then began to count out bank notes.

  ‘Do you recognize that person?’ enquired Mr Rose. ‘It obviously isn’t you.’

  Craig said nothing. He just stared intently at the screen.

  ‘What time do you close here, Mr Rose?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Five o’clock, sir, and twelve thirty on Saturdays.’

  Ben nodded, and looked back at the screen. At 5:04PM George Ross had finished counting. He got a brown envelope from the side of his till, and carefully put the money inside. Then he carefully tucked the envelope down the inside front of his shirt.

  ‘Turn round,’ whispered Craig.

  The figure had to turn to the right for the camera to pick up his face; Craig exhaled loudly as he turned to the left. However he paused slightly to adjust the package inside his shirt before walking to the door. The figure was now in plain sight.