by Philip Cox
Mr Rose looked up, looking puzzled. ‘Who was that? Oh, that was Jared Stevens, our new account manager.’
Craig nodded and looked forward to Mr Rose’s screen, which was now starting to show the CCTV footage. Mr Rose made a few clicks with the mouse, and they could see the footage of the withdrawal in question.
‘Here we are,’ said Mr Rose. ‘The transaction in question.’
‘Who’s the cashier?’ asked Ben, sniffing. ‘The teller?’
‘That’s –’ the Manager looked closer at the screen. ‘Oh, yes, that’s George, George Ross.’
Craig peered at the screen. ‘And that would be – Jared? – behind him.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Mr Rose. ‘That’s Jared. He helps man the counter at certain times.’
They watched the transaction take place and Adam, or whoever was impersonating him, walk out. ‘Thanks, that’s fine,’ said Craig sitting back in his chair.
Ben looked at him quizzically; Craig just glanced back giving a slight nod.
‘Anything else you’d like to see?’ Mr Rose asked, again not without a hint of irony.
‘No, you’ve been very helpful,’ said Craig as he got up to walk out, Ben following. Still rather bemused, Mr Rose escorted them back out into the banking hall.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Ben when they were alone.
‘Did you notice the way the guy walked?’ Asked Craig.
Ben shook his head. ‘Not specially.’
‘He had – not exactly a limp, but his right foot lifted up ever so slightly when he walked.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, for a start, Adam doesn’t walk like that. Then last night when those guys were walking up to us, one of them was walking just like that.’
‘That fits then. It was one of those last night who took your brother’s money. So we just need to identify, or get Sanchez and McGee to identify them, and the guy with the limp. Well spotted.’
‘Let’s see Billy Loomis first. Unless the police have already been there.’
Ben looked around the banking hall. ‘There’s just one thing first.’ He walked over to the two side rooms. One was still open, empty and the other door was closed. The plaque on the door read Jared Stevens, New Account Manager.
He walked over to the closed door and walked in. ‘Hello, Jared,’ he said. ‘We want to open a new account.’
Jared looked up from his desk. He had a few sheets of paper on the desk, and he was studying something on his computer screen. He looked as if he was just about to pick up the phone on his desk, but stopped when Ben and Craig walked in. The bewildered look on his face matched that on Craig’s.
Ben sniffed the air again, this time theatrically. ‘Can you smell anything, Craig?’
‘No, can’t say I do,’ replied Craig, a little puzzled.
‘What aftershave do you use, Jared?’ asked Ben.
Jared looked at him open mouthed.
‘Doesn’t matter what it’s called,’ Ben continued, closing the door behind him. ‘But I must say it’s very strong. Tends to linger; and I’ve smelt it before. Last night in fact. How’s the knee, Jared? Not broken, I hope?’
Chapter Thirty-One
JARED STEVENS CONTINUED to stare up at them from behind his desk.
‘What? Nothing to say?’ asked Ben, moving closer to the desk. ‘No problems with the knee this morning? Is that why you haven’t got up?’
Jared swallowed, and adjusted his tie. ‘I – I don’t know what you’re talking about. Have you come in here for some business?’
Ben sat down and leaned back in the chair. Craig remained standing, but now in a corner of the small office. ‘I have some business, yes,’ Ben said. ‘With you. But not financial.’
‘Look –’
‘The last time I saw you, you were limping back to your car after I had kicked you in the knee. You’ve broken my fucking knee, I think you said. How is it this morning? And what about the odds? Last time there were four of you against two of us; now it’s two of us and one of you. Same odds.’
By now Jared was still fiddling with his tie and shirt collar and looking anxiously out of the glass door. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you two before.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Ben’s tone changed to one less aggressive. ‘This is embarrassing. We must have mistaken you for someone else. I do apologize.’
Jared opened his mouth, but seemed not to find what to say. There was a mixture of relief and suspicion in his voice. ‘It – it’s no problem.’
Ben stood up, as if to leave. ‘Just one thing: can you do me a favour?’
Jared looked up from his desk, nodding.
‘Just to put my mind at rest: the guy I mistook you for was limping badly last night. Like I say, just to put my mind at rest: can you just walk a few steps?’
Jared looked up, saying nothing.
‘Please. Unless you’d rather we went to the police.’
Jared slowly stood up. He was about the same height and build as Baseball Bat last night; the same hair style too. He was wearing a light grey suit trousers, a blue and white striped shirt with plain white collar, and an orange tie, which he straightened as he stood up.
‘Just a couple of steps,’ Ben repeated, smiling.
With a shrug of his shoulders and a whatever expression on his face, Jared walked a couple of steps, but could not disguise the limp.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, sitting back down again.
‘Bingo,’ said Ben, sitting back down again. Craig remained standing in the corner. Ben leaned forward. ‘Well?’
‘Okay, okay,’ Jared repeated, holding his hands up. ‘Yes, it was me.’
Ben said nothing.
‘But – but you don’t understand. It’s quite complex. I know who you are. It’s so involved.’
Ben said nothing.
A look of relief appeared on Jared’s face as there was a light tap on the door and one of the cashiers put her head round the door. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Jared, but Mrs Hogmeyer’s here to see you.’
‘Okay, thanks. Tell her I’ll be right out.’ As the cashier left, Jared looked back at Ben. ‘This is an appointment. I’ll need to see her.’
Ben said nothing. Craig cleared his throat and slowly shook his head.
‘Look. I’ll talk to you guys, but not here, not now. I never wanted to get mixed up in this shit anyway. I’ll meet you after work. There’s a bar -’
‘No, no, no, no.’ Ben shook his head. ‘No bars after work. I know what will happen: we’ll say “see you later” now, we leave, we go to a bar tonight, and you’re not there.’
‘We can wait outside,’ Craig said, inclining his head to the seats in the banking hall.
Jared looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be having my lunch break in forty minutes. Can you meet me then? Not here though. What about the diner across the road?’
Ben looked up at Craig for agreement: Craig nodded.
‘All right,’ Ben stood up again. ‘We’ll leave now. You go and see Mrs Hogmeyer, and we’ll meet you in forty minutes. We’ll be waiting outside, where we can see the doors. Understand?’
Jared nodded his head rapidly.
As they made to leave, Craig turned and said, ‘As well as about last night, we’ll want to talk about the transaction you did on my brother’s account.’
‘Transaction?’
‘You’re on your manager’s CCTV.’
‘Ah yes, right.’
‘See you later, Jared,’ Ben called out as they left. Jared limped after them and called Mrs Hogmeyer’s name. A tiny octogenarian with silver-purple hair and heavily tanned wrinkled skin stood up from a chair and followed Jared into the interview room. Ben and Craig took one look around the banking hall, and walked out into the street.
‘Let’s wait over there,’ Craig pointed to a couple of roadside benches as they crossed over the street.
The sky was still overcast, but the darker clouds which were in the distanc
e earlier were much closer; there were more rumbles of thunder. Craig shivered and rubbed his bare arms. ‘Better idea,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait over there. There are seats in the window. We can still watch the bank from there.’
Ben thought the same, and settled into a window seat in Starbucks while Craig bought two coffees. ‘Looks like it’s gonna rain soon,’ he said sitting down.
Ben nodded and took a mouthful of coffee. ‘That was a stroke of luck,’ Craig continued. ‘Recognizing the aftershave, I mean.’
Ben nodded ‘Tell me about it. When he brought that DVD in to Rose’s room I could smell it. It seemed to ring a bell, but I couldn’t place it. Then when we left, it was still wafting around, and then I placed it. I remembered smelling it the night before when I was up close and personal with him.’
‘He certainly seemed surprised. Had that I am so busted look on his face.’
Ben laughed. ‘He sure did. These might be our big breaks. First, we know whoever it was who impersonated Adam was one of those guys last night; and we also know that that guy at the bank – Jared – is one of that group.’
‘And he did the transaction as well,’ Craig pointed out.
‘That’s right,’ Ben said, keeping the bank front door well in view.
‘What I don’t get though,’ Craig said, ‘is that if it is all some scam to get Adam’s money, why go through the charade of impersonating Adam? If Jared is in on something, why not just take the money? And where is Adam?’
‘Think about it. How much was it? Fifteen thousand dollars? It’s going to come to light in time, and get investigated. A bank employee is needed anyway; the best way I would have said would be to simulate a genuine transaction. Hence, one of the other guys impersonates your brother.’
‘Partly for the benefit of the CCTV cameras.’
‘There’s that, also; yes.’
Craig drank some coffee and sat back. ‘So, one of those guys gets hold of Adam’s stuff, dresses up as him for the cameras, and clears out his account. So how did he get Adam’s cards, and where is Adam?’
‘I’m positive those guys last night hold the key to what happened to him. Also, don’t forget those emails he got confirming the night he was last seen.’
‘Which were deleted after he was last seen.’?
‘Exactly. By Adam, or by someone else. Anyway, those guys – Jared here, Billy Loomis, the other two, plus that girl, Stacey, must have the answer. They must know where Adam is.’
‘Well, we’re making a good start here. He should be out soon.’
Ben glanced at his watch. ‘It’s eleven fifty now. He said he had his lunch break in forty minutes. He must have meant twelve. So, not long to wait now.’
Craig moved his chair round slightly so they could both watch the front door of the bank. There was a slight but steady stream of people going in and out of the bank, but no sign of Jared.
‘He should be easy to spot,’ said Ben. ‘With that limp, I mean. As soon as he comes out, I’ll run over and get him.’
There was still no sign of Jared by twelve fifteen. ‘Let’s give him till half past,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve not seen that Mrs Hogmeyer come out either yet.’
‘That’s her now, isn’t it?’ Craig asked, peering through the window. The little form of Mrs Hogmeyer was coming out of the bank and walking away down the street.
‘Yes, it is,’ muttered Ben. ‘Come on Jared.’
Ten minutes later they were still waiting. ‘Something’s wrong, come on,’ said Ben pushing his coffee cup to one side and moving quickly outside. They hurried across the road and into the bank. When they got inside, they could see that the room where they had seen Jared earlier was empty. No customers were standing at the enquiry desk; they ran over to it and spoke to the employee there.
‘Where’s Jared Stevens?’ Craig asked breathlessly.
‘Jared?’ she looked up, surprised. ‘I – I think he had to go.’
Ben and Craig looked at each other.
‘I’ll just go check,’ she said, and disappeared into the back office. She returned momentarily. ‘Yes, he did have to go. He just took a call from someone saying that his grandmother had died suddenly. So he had to leave.’
‘When will he be back in?’ Ben snapped at her.
‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘His grandmother had just died, like I said.’
‘But we’ve been waiting for him outside,’ said Craig. ‘We didn’t see him leave.’
‘He must have used the rear exit,’ she said. ‘It leads to the staff parking lot.’
Ben rubbed his hand over his face. ‘Do you know where he lives?’ he asked, this time less insistent. ‘We need to get hold of him, urgently.’
‘We do, but I can’t divulge that. Bank policy.’
‘Nobody needs to know,’ said Craig as he got out a fifty dollar bill and fingered it in front of her.
‘Just hold on a moment,’ she said, and disappeared again. Ben and Craig grinned at each other.
A minute later, she returned, this time accompanied by Mr Rose. ‘Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave these premises immediately,’ he said, red in the face.
‘Leave?’ questioned Craig.
‘Yes, leave. I have given you all the information you wanted. More than I should have done. If you want anything else you will need to file a report with the police and I will provide what information I am asked for through the proper channels. And we do not, ever, provide our staff’s personal addresses. Even when somebody attempts to bribe another member of staff. Now, please leave. Before I call the police!’
‘Okay, okay, we’re going,’ said Craig. They both left, Craig giving the girl at the enquiry desk a hard glare as they stepped outside.
Now, it was raining, hard. Saying nothing, they ran back to where they had parked the car. Dripping wet, they sat in the car, still saying nothing.
Ben broke the silence, punching the dashboard in anger and frustration.
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘WE WALKED RIGHT into that,’ said Craig, peering through the rain drenched car window.
‘You mean trying to bribe the bank clerk? There was no way she was going to give us his address. It would have been the same at home.’
‘No, I meant about him giving us the slip. There was no way he intended to meet us.’
‘No, you’re right; he really played us for a couple of idiots.’
‘So, what now?’
‘I think we need to go see Sanchez or McGee. Tell them. They’ll be able to trace him, even with his dead grandmother!’
Craig considered this a moment. ‘Okay, you’re right. Let’s go to police HQ.’ He started the engine, and pulled slowly away.
‘Let’s go see Billy Loomis first,’ said Ben as they drove slowly down the street. The rain was starting to ease.
‘What have you got in mind? Surely the police are going there anyway? After what we told them last night.’
‘Hopefully, yes, but I’d like to pop in and see him. Just to show him my face.’
‘Getting personal, is it?’ chuckled Craig, pulling up at a stop light.
‘When was it anything else?’
‘True. I’ll head straight for that gas station. We need to fill up anyway.’
*****
In the old cottage, it was quiet. Quiet except for the occasional ping from the kitchen, as a lone figure sat at a table working on a laptop. In the adjoining living room, a girl lay on a sofa reading a copy of E! Magazine. She looked up as a motor bike roared closer, then slowly up the gravel driveway. She went back to her magazine as the engine was switched off, and she could hear footsteps coming up to the front door. The rider came in, slamming the door behind him.
He flopped down on a chair. ‘Get me a beer,’ he barked at her. Reluctantly she put down the magazine and shuffled into the kitchen. She took a bottle from the fridge and walked over to the sink where she picked up a bottle opener. While she opened the bottle she looked down at the laptop screen. She was expecting so
me type of computer game; instead the screen was full of columns of figures.
‘What’ you doin’?’ she asked.
He looked up. ‘I’m writing a program. You wouldn’t understand,’ he replied condescendingly, and returned to his keyboard.
She held up her middle finger at him, and returned to the living room, giving the bottle to Billy Loomis. He took it without saying anything, and drank half in one go.
‘Where’s everyone else?’ he said, wiping his mouth.
‘Bobby’s in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘No idea where the others are.’
‘Jared called me earlier,’ Billy said, scratching his groin. ‘Told me those two Brits saw him at the bank this morning. Asking a lot of questions.’
‘Do they recognize him from last night?’ she asked.
‘They sure did.’
‘What’s he going to do, then?’ she asked. ‘What are you going to do, for that matter?’
‘What do you think?’ he snapped at her. ‘Lie low for a while, same as me.’
‘But the police -’
‘Don’t worry yourself about the police. They’re taken care of.’
‘But what about those Brits? I mean, if they keep going around asking questions, they’re bound to find -’
‘I know. I know what they’re bound to. They’re a bit more persistent than I thought.’
‘One of them is his brother.’
He glared at her, making her gulp slightly. ‘Look, there’s no need for you to worry your pretty little head about it. Come over here.’ He slapped the cushion next to him.
‘Billy, no. Not now.’
‘Not now bullshit. Come over here.’
‘I can’t. Wrong time. Wrong week.’
He stared at her a few seconds then it sank in. ‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘What’s Bobby doing in the kitchen?’
‘He’s on his computer. Says he’s writing a program.’
Billy snorted. ‘Program my ass.’ He pulled himself up and staggered into the kitchen, still clutching his beer. She sat back down on the sofa and tried to read her magazine. She could hear the conversation from the kitchen.
‘Hey, Billy.’
‘I need the laptop.’
‘I’m using it. I’m writing a program.’
