Hanging by a Thread

by Margaret Evans

  “There was a bunch of us together in the break room today, including Jack Flynn. I somehow got the conversation around to computer skills and I put out there that you—Laura Keene—were the most exceptionally, technically skilled person I had ever met. I challenged anyone there to claim someone was better than you.”

  “I’m not that good, Connor. I’m kind of average.”

  “This is a story. And when the laughter died down, people started talking and claiming different things about their wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, et cetera. Jack Flynn said Sabina Morello was undoubtedly very skilled and computer-savvy because she was a supervisor at the bank and could log into anyone’s computer and see what they were doing at any particular time. He added that she wasn’t supposed to have told him that, but, after all, they were getting married soon. She can get into and out of customer accounts, as well, with editing capability, which not everybody has there. She also has remote access so she can get into the banking system from anywhere. I’m not sure he realized what he was telling us. Certainly, no one else caught on. Mallory wasn’t there, and even if he were, he’s never in the break room—beneath him.”

  Connor polished off his beer.

  “I thought you couldn’t talk about the investigation.”

  “There was no investigation that brought this out.”

  “You did a ‘Laura Keene’ thing, didn’t you?”

  “I did a ‘Laura Keene’ thing, yes.”

  “Oh, my gosh. But she can’t be the only one. Surely they have an IT team, too.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not onsite and not with remote access. Anytime there’s a problem, the guy has to come out and fix it. And the FBI cleared the IT company in the original investigation of alleged missing funds.”

  “Now you’re talking about the case,” she reminded him.

  “I am giving up on this, Laura. You have so much to offer, I asked my dad what it would take to bring you on as an occasional consultant.”

  She thought about it a minute. “But not a cop, right?”

  “Correct. Not a cop.”

  “Like what my mother did?”

  “Somewhat. She did profiling. You have a mind that could really help us. But it’s up to you.”

  “You didn’t ask Mallory?”

  “He’s out of town. Asking my father about processes is a lot easier because he’ll be honest and tell me what we can do and what we can’t, and how to do it.”

  “I’ll wait to hear the outcome. Just remember, you’re the one who told me to slow down.”

  “I know, but I can’t stop you from talking about it. We are at a brick wall right now. And I can’t tell you all our evidence, so you can’t re-jumble it and find a different pattern unless you are a consultant.”

  “It’s not Sabina. I don’t believe it. Jack would have noticed something.”

  “Maybe not. But the facts are there, even if the evidence is not.”

  “Who’s her boss?”

  “Aaron Nilsson. A top-notch bank manager.”

  “What are his skills?”

  “Apparently not that advanced. He asks for work to be done all the time. He relies on Sabina a lot.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “It looks as if Paul Dotson had good skills, and Jessica Wright, too. They had the accesses, same as Sabina. Dotson had remote access, as well. But all this came out in the initial investigation. They had alibis and neither Sabina nor Dotson had been in any of the accounts that had been touched. At least no evidence of that was found. Nobody looked into Wright.”

  “Remember, I said that what you find in the bank records now may be different from what the FBI found two years ago. Especially if someone highly skilled is looking to cover their tracks or make it look as if someone else was doing the fraud work. Even some experts wouldn’t find the digital fingerprints. Is Jessica Wright dead?”

  “No idea. No body. Just a note that’s in a handwriting similar to hers.”

  “Less than that has been released to the public. She’s still considered a missing person.”

  Connor nodded, rose and put his empty beer bottle in the sink. He turned and pulled Laura to her feet.

  “I never want to see you that exhausted again.” He looked her over before he kissed her then wrapped his arms around her, held her tightly.

  “Thank you for bringing me home and tucking me in.”

  “My pleasure, although getting you up the narrow staircase was a little tricky. Remember – never again. And that’s all there is to my story, but you have a valid point that I need to go back through the files and start looking for a damn good reason to get a subpoena to look through the bank accounts again and maybe the entire operation at that bank.”

  As he turned toward the stairs, she spoke.

  “I remember hearing you say something to me as you tucked me in.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder.

  “Good. Keep that in mind.”

  twenty-four

  Laura had a big smile on her face Thursday morning, but it wasn’t from what she remembered Connor telling her as he tucked her into bed on Tuesday evening, although that did put a bit of spring in her step. And it wasn’t because she’d made so much money off this holiday in the shop, nor was it because Empress Isabella hadn’t bothered her in over twenty-four hours.

  It was because she had called Rina Holm and told the lady it was okay to connect the dots in the one box that was still marked as incomplete. The costumes were finished and could be checked off, or Xed off, depending on how Rina looked at it. The woman had gotten so flustered in her excitement that she dropped her phone.

  “Are you sure, Laura?”

  “Yes. Everyone emailed me that they had their black pants or leggings, their short black jackets, and their black shoes and socks. I’m looking at the green top hats, the big green silk boutonnières, and several curly bright orange wigs and beards if anyone wants to wear them. All the green t-shirts are here, too. I pressed them so all the wrinkles are gone. Everything is in a neat pile for each of us with name tags. I checked everything twice. It’s all ready to go.”

  Laura had spread everything out on the work table in the back room, by person, and tossed a scraggly orange beard on Jade’s pile. She had purchased extras of everything, in case of unanticipated disasters, such as spills, burns, dog chewing or baby burps.

  “Oh, I’d love to have one of those orange wigs, but someone else will have to wear one, too.”

  Remembering Rina needed to do things in even numbers, Laura offered to be the other one of the pair. She planned to arrange that there would be even numbers of everything in the costumes, even if it meant telling one of her friends they couldn’t wear something.

  “Oh, goody!” Rina cried. “This will be the best parade ever!”

  Laura reserved her opinion on its outcome at this point, because they hadn’t even gotten to look at the floats, let alone get started on cleaning them up and getting them ready for the parade. She was just grateful it wasn’t her phone number that the parade participants were calling daily for updates.

  Restocking the shop with everything green was a daily task now. The children still flocked to buy green wax teeth—some for a second and third time as they lost or accidentally destroyed them. They begged their mothers for more bags of the green caramel-coated popcorn. She still had at least two thousand cone-shaped bags to hold the popcorn, but she was getting a little low on the popcorn, caramel, and the green food-coloring. There was still plenty of butter in the fridge, as always, but she should think about her own week’s meals if she was planning to stop at the market.

  At lunchtime, she walked to the grocery store around the corner and ran into a crowd of people looking to take advantage of the week’s sales on lamb chops and fresh salmon. She grabbed one of the last few carts and squeezed her
way into the market.

  Lamb chops. They sure looked good.

  Maybe she could lure Connor over to her place tonight or tomorrow night. She remembered how much he liked lamb chops as a kid. Hopefully, he still did. She put several packages of rib chops into her basket and moved on through the crowded store to the produce section. Six red delicious apples were about to go into a produce bag until she thought that maybe Connor would also like an apple pie. Two bags of six each Granny Smith and Red Delicious apples went into the cart. By the time she got in line, her basket was filled with ten large bags of unpopped popcorn, four bottles of green food coloring, five bottles of caramel, and the fixings for a yummy dinner with Connor. Now all she needed was for him to have a free night.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by someone jamming their cart into hers in the crowded aisles. She looked up in surprise, as things like this rarely happened in Minnesota, where folks would stand back to let you go first. The man whose cart ran into hers looked equally surprised, mumbled a quick apology, and ducked into a group of people swarming around the breakfast cereals on sale. She watched him go, thinking it had looked as if someone had run into him and the action pushed him toward the line in front of the registers.

  At any rate, while she waited, bits of what she had seen in the brief, chance encounter came back to her. She looked around for a glimpse of the man but saw him nowhere. He had looked familiar, yet she was fairly certain she had never met him. Maybe the beard? Wouldn’t he have said hello if they did know each other? He had looked down quickly and hurried away, but there was something about him that she recognized, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  And his food. She had only had a quick glimpse of his basket, but she realized she had actually noted that the items in his cart were mostly from the same areas of the store where she had been. Was it possible he had been following her?

  Laura kept an eye out for anyone on the three blocks back to her shop—anyone at all who could conceivably be treading the same pathway. She stopped to look in shop windows, using the reflections of the glass to look around and behind her, and across the street, but she saw no one trailing her.

  It was with relief that she saw Connor’s SUV in front of her shop.

  He took her cloth grocery bags as she pulled out her keys to open the door after punching in the security code.

  She reached for the bags once the door was open, but Connor held them away from her.

  “Where do these go…upstairs or downstairs?”

  She pointed toward the ceiling.

  On his way to the stairs, he slowed in the shop to read some of the Irish proverbs and curses.

  Laura heard him chuckling and muttering things like, “I know that one,” and, “That’s a new one—is it really Irish?” as she followed him to her apartment, indicating the counter next to the sink where he could leave the bags.

  He leaned back against the counter, arms folded, watching the food come out of the sacks. When he saw the meat, he straightened a bit. “Are those lamb chops?”

  “Yes. Do you know anyone who likes them? I had no choice; it was the only meat on sale at the market.” She looked up, caught him giving her a look.

  “Not even a good try.”

  “I don’t want to freeze them. Can you come to dinner tonight or tomorrow?”

  “Hmmm. Tomorrow’s better. We have a staff meeting late this afternoon and I don’t know how long it will last.”

  “Your boss is back in town?”

  “More like back in the country.”

  “He travels a lot for a police chief.”

  “His wife has the money and she likes to be seen in exotic places.”

  “I’m sure he enjoys that, too.”

  “I don’t know…she keeps him on a pretty short leash sometimes.”

  “Really? Interesting.”

  “So what’s going with the lamb chops? Wait—I don’t care what’s going with the lamb chops. Anything will be awesome with them. Your mom had the best recipes.”

  “That was her recipe, but remember, I did most of the cooking. I’m glad you liked my lamb chops. And it’s home fries and mint peas with the lamb chops. There might be an apple pie for dessert.”

  Connor stared at her.

  “How am I supposed to wait until tomorrow night for that? I sure am glad you went shopping today.”

  And that reminded Laura of what had happened in the store.

  When the flash hit her, Connor could do nothing but wait for the brain-strike that showed all over her face to become verbal.

  She stared at him.

  “I think I just saw Paul Dotson in the grocery store—the man who’s been missing for two years, the one we think may have been involved in Jessica Wright’s disappearance.”

  twenty-five

  Laura spent the next two hours at the police station giving her statement and working with the police artist. When she was back in Connor’s office, he studied the sketch.

  “There’s too much in this sketch for it not to be Paul Dotson. From the height and other descriptive details you’ve given us, it must have been him. You say he ran his grocery cart into the side of yours?”

  “While I was standing perfectly still and waiting in line to pay. He was only there for a minute, and he looked as surprised as I was that he ran into me. I got the impression he was accidentally pushed from behind. It was really crowded.”

  Corporal Brianna Broadmoor walked into the office.

  “I’ve sent it to everyone in the county and state. They have it now with the existing BOLO.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “What’s next?”

  Laura could tell that Brianna was feeling the pinch of being office-bound while pregnant. The officer was dying to get back into the action.

  Connor just nodded to her, and she reluctantly left and went in the direction of the Comm Center.

  “It’s as hard for you as it is for her. I can see that,” Laura observed.

  “I depend on her good judgment,” he agreed. “I look forward to getting her back.” He saw a thoughtful look on Laura’s face. “Yes, I’m prepared if she decides not to come back, but she’s pretty wired on being a cop.”

  “I can still see her with pom-pom shakers in her hands.”

  “Everybody did at first. We were in the academy together. I was laughing for all of about three days until I saw what she was made of and determined to do. Now, about Paul Dotson. You know the drill.”

  “Treat him as armed and dangerous. Don’t go anywhere alone at night. Call 911 if I see him again anywhere. If he’s near me, run.”

  He was silent a moment.

  “I meant what I said the other night when you were conking out on me. It’s hard for me not to be everywhere, all the time, watching out for you. Just don’t do anything that could put you in harm’s way. Don’t get careless. Always be watchful. I still won’t sleep well at night, but it will help.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “I swear, I don’t know how you get involved in these things.”

  “Me, neither. I just get up in the morning and there they are.”

  Her phone dinged. When she saw who was texting, her shoulders drooped.

  “There’s another meeting of the SPDP&G committee tonight. They want to go over the gala details and plans.”

  “Just quit, Laura.”

  “No, we’re almost done.”

  “Like your taxes?”

  “Yes. I’ve got one more easy one and another tricky one. Then I’m done for the year.”

  “Not taking any more new clients at this point?”

  “Nope. They’ll have to buy Turbo Tax themselves and do their own taxes or call H & R Block.”

  “You sure you won’t quit the committee? They’ve been driving yo
u crazy. I can give you a note.”

  “A note?”

  “Yes, from the police, excusing you from the remainder of the meetings.”

  She laughed.

  Connor saw someone trying to get his attention and rose, which was Laura’s cue that her time was up.

  “You don’t have to be Wonder Woman.”

  “But she had the neatest bracelets and could leap places and fly in an invisible airplane.”

  He walked her toward the staircase.

  “No more Wonder Woman.”

  She turned to leave, and he thanked her.

  “This is very helpful. I’m glad you told me what you saw.”

  “Don’t forget dinner tomorrow night.”

  “I would never forget lamb chops.”

  •••

  This time, the meeting was at Bryce Preshka’s house. Laura thought Rina was unusually bright and excited. Either it was about checking off the costume box on her white board, which had accompanied her to Bryce’s living room, or the lady lived to plan the St. Patrick’s Day Gala.

  It was a real gala. After the parade, the townspeople of Raging Ford went home to change clothing, regroup, relax a bit, grab a snack, arrange for child care, dress up and come back for the gala. Green beer flowed from fountains, and punch bowls of green-tinted, fruit-and-sherbet-laced ginger ale covered many of the tables. Live music from high school bands that had learned Irish tunes challenged everyone present to sing along and dance. Green was everywhere, from green sugar cookies to traditional Irish foods, including pots of Irish stew, corned beef with cabbage, coddle, and cottage pie. Costumes were all around, including some leprechauns, and there was a sea of green hair.

  Singing, laughter, good food and company—who would not want to take part in that, even those who weren’t really Irish but wanted to be? And to top it off, most all businesses and shops were closed the next day so everyone could recover.

  As it turned out, the gala was very easy to plan. Green tablecloths and napkins were ordered from the same supply company every year, and the tables and chairs, from the same party company. The punch bowls and fountains just needed to be taken out and washed, and Rina volunteered for that. The food list was exactly the same as it had always been.