Hanging by a Thread

by Margaret Evans

  Laura remembered. And wondered as she always had, and asked her parents every year, why a town which was so predominantly German and Scandinavian had such a big celebration on St. Patrick’s Day, as if everyone were Irish. Her mother’s answer was consistent: It was an opportunity to enjoy another culture, and it was fun.

  The list of food to be purchased was voted and approved; Jenna took the task of assigning the dishes to various people in Raging Ford. No one had to make a huge serving or portion of anything. The recipes were often identical, and several folks made the same dishes. As a result, there was more than enough for everyone.

  When the meeting was almost over, with every task assigned, it was brought up that the team still needed to meet at the warehouse and check out the floats. The time for the actual owners of the floats to clean them up and get all ready for the parade was growing shorter by the hour. The usual disagreements about important work schedules being interrupted ensued, and it was Erica who finally stood up and raised her arm.

  “Look, people, we have to do it and we have to do it quickly, so let’s pick Saturday at 10 a.m. sharp and meet at the warehouse.”

  “But that’s too soon.”

  “I have a hair appointment that day.”

  “I need to get my oil changed.”

  “My vehicle inspection is past due.”

  “Okay,” Laura rose, too, and put in. “Whoever can make it will be there to check things out. Whoever can’t make it won’t be there.” She knew she would have to close the shop for a while, but it shouldn’t be too long or cause too much disruption in her sales.

  “Oh, but, Laura,” Rina said. “We’re always there together, never just some of us.”

  “That’s the day, and that’s the time. Be there or not,” Erica said.

  “Laura and Erica are right,” Bryce said. “We’ve run out of time. Let’s get this done.”

  “It’s my regular hair appointment,” Jade argued. “Besides, I’m the one who has the keys.”

  “Give someone else the keys, and we’ll look over everything.”

  “But I’ve always had the keys!”

  “Jade.”

  The authority of Miles Gunnarsson resonated in the single word. Everyone stopped talking.

  “Hand over the keys. We can’t wait any longer. We’re meeting Saturday morning at the warehouse.”

  He held out his hand.

  Jade’s nose was clearly out of joint, but she rummaged through her purse for the keys to the warehouse, found and handed them to Miles.

  “Thank you,” he said, closing his hand over the key ring. “Now who will be there?”

  Surprisingly, all hands went up, including Jade’s.

  She asked for the keys back.

  “Don’t forget them this time, Jade,” Miles warned her as he returned them.

  Rina stood at the front door, handing each one a piece of paper with their designated list of items to order or to purchase. Everything had to be brought to the center no later than noon on the day before the parade and gala. Jenna would take care of arranging the cold dishes and ice creams to be stored in the kitchen’s big refrigerators and freezers. Hot food dishes would arrive as people showed up for the gala and set their platters or bowls throughout the center.

  As Laura left, she thanked Rina for the list, and a thought struck her on the way to her car for the second time in a week: Could Rina with all her hang-ups be the reason this event went smoothly, if it could be called smooth, every year?

  twenty-six

  Employees talk. And they talk a lot in a small town. They talk even more in a small bank. At the Raging Ford Bank and Trust Company, nobody was talking, except to their customers.

  What they were doing was watching each other.

  Today, an associate named Liam O’Donnell was watching his supervisor, Sabina Morello. He saw her go into the manager’s office three times, the door closing behind her each time. Was she watching everyone else and reporting to the boss? He hoped not. He had some cleaning up to do in his accounts, and he didn’t want to get in trouble for being behind in that or his other work. There was so much else to do, and they were pretty short-staffed at the moment. He had his own personal projects to complete, and some of them would blow the top off the bank. So he kept his eye on the bank manager’s door, watching for Sabina to come back.

  Stevie MacIntyre touched his shoulder, making him jump.

  “Sorry, too much caffeine,” he mumbled.

  Stevie was mostly a bank teller and partly an associate-in-training. She was young and pretty and wanted to move up the ladder. That meant she was also unafraid to take risks.

  “I never asked you what happened to your wrist,” she said, pointing to the scars on his left wrist.

  “Oh, it’s old. Helped my brother move a couple of years ago, and a piece of furniture fell and hit me. It’s all healed now. I just feel it when it rains. Hey, Stevie, it’s lunchtime and this place is getting claustrophobic. Want to go out and grab a sandwich?”

  “Sure!”

  Stevie figured someone as experienced as Liam might be helpful in moving up that ladder. She had other plans, as well, plans that were already in motion that could accelerate the climb. Two sets of plans could be better than one, she thought, and grabbed her bag to join Liam for lunch.

  Sabina Morello watched them leave together through the crack in her boss’s door.

  “They’ve gone to lunch. I’ll go check the log and see what they’ve done and what they’re working on.”

  “Good,” Nilsson answered. “We need to know what everybody’s doing, especially if Jessica just wanted to disappear and hasn’t really killed herself but just set it up to look that way. Who knows why she would do such a thing, but I simply can’t trust anyone around here anymore, except for you, Sabina. And I really need your skills right now.”

  •••

  Laura was checking the email from Connor’s mother, Alison. She double-clicked to open the attachment. It was a list of the items they were planning for Connor’s surprise birthday party and who was assigned responsibility for each one. It surprised her. Maybe it would catch Connor off guard after all. Everything on the list from decorated party plate theme to the birthday cake was someone else’s favorite, and nothing was Connor’s.

  Laura laughed to herself over her assignment: the cake. It was to be Laura’s most favorite cake and not Connor’s. She looked at the rest of the list. Skinny, twisty balloons were always something Shannon liked. Pin the Tail on the Donkey had been Ian’s favorite game. Charades was Alison’s favorite game. The paper plates, napkins, cups, hats and tablecloths were My Little Pony, Jenna’s favorite childhood theme. Nicky’s favorite G.I. Joe collection of action figures and tanks and jeeps, as well as their weapons and battle gear, would be dragged out from storage

  and set up. And so it went. The list went on and on with everyone else’s favorite party or plaything—all except Connor’s.

  She sat looking at it for a few minutes before returning to her client’s tax return. On second thought, she wondered if he might not get it. At any rate, it would not be what he expected.

  Or would it?

  Did Alison have something else in mind she hadn’t shared with Laura yet?

  She read further down the email and smiled.

  •••

  While Connor was back at the stove getting a second helping of lamb chops, mint peas, and home fries that evening, Laura sat watching him from the dinner table, thinking about what he had said to her the other night when he brought her home, carried her up the stairs as she slept and put her to bed.

  He returned to the table and set his plate down.

  “This—this dinner—makes it all worthwhile.”

  “Makes what worthwhile?”

  “Dragging your dead-weight, sound-asleep body up the stairs the other nig
ht.”

  Her eyes opened wide and any romantic thoughts evaporated.

  “Gee…”

  He gave her a teasing grin and dug into the food.

  “You are light as a feather, Laura, and I hope I didn’t hit your head on the wall too hard. Coming around that corner, I think I grazed you against it. Everything okay?”

  “Where?”

  “Uh, somewhere around here,” he pointed in the general area of the right rear part of her head.

  She checked her head carefully.

  “Well, I may have to go see that nice Dr. Anderson to make sure it isn’t fractured or badly bruised.”

  “Fractured or bruised. Right. You had to ask me where your head grazed the wall.”

  “But Dr. Anderson is so very caring about my health I think I should consult him.”

  Connor tilted his head in curiosity.

  “He stopped by the shop the other day and offered me sleeping pills if I was having trouble sleeping.”

  “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why did he think you were?”

  Laura shrugged.

  “It came from nowhere. Just because you and I had a couple of incidents lately which he thought might have been stressful. Oh, he also offered me relaxing pills like Prozac. I’m to call him if I need them.”

  “You didn’t ask for them? He just offered them to you?”

  “Eric’s reaction was exactly the same as yours.”

  “Eric was there?”

  “Colin left when he saw Eric come in. Eric stopped by to give me the deal of a lifetime on my auto insurance and to thank me for the Valentine Paris Dream Basket I forced him to buy. He said it worked, and he and his wife had a ‘nice’ weekend. But Eric did inquire as to what Colin wanted because Colin called out to me from the door as he was going out that I was to call him if I needed anything.”

  Connor’s face grew serious.

  “It’s my understanding that doctors don’t just offer medications unless needed; in fact, these days, anything that could become addictive with extended use has to really be necessary and carefully monitored.”

  “Yes, I know. Don’t worry. I won’t take any pills from him. He’s not my doctor anyway. But I was glad to hear that Eric’s Dream Basket was a hit with his wife.”

  “Nobody’s seen him in the local bars lately. Maybe you turned his life around.”

  “I thought you said he’d already done that himself.”

  “I mean with the third wife. We’re all hoping for success for him in all arenas. He’s got the life part down; hopefully, the wife and alcohol will follow.”

  They finished their meal, and Connor sat back, patting his stomach.

  “Wow. Good thing the biking thing is this Sunday so there isn’t more of me than there should be. That was great. Thanks, Laura.”

  She smiled and nodded to him, remembering again what he had said two nights ago.

  But her romantic thoughts were again interrupted with breaking ideas.

  “Connor, I know you can’t talk about the case, but can I tell you my latest theory?”

  “Oh, I talked to Dad about taking you on as a consultant. He said I have to go to Mallory for the paperwork and permission. So I’ll do that. But there’s nothing stopping you from telling me your thoughts.”

  “Remember I told you that maybe there was no money ever missing, and that it was just made to look that way?”

  He nodded.

  “What if someone at the bank wanted it to look as if another employee was committing the fraud and moving the funds around?”

  “To what end?”

  “So they could get that person fired, maybe, to take their position or move up in the company? I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

  “But wouldn’t that person know they hadn’t done it and squawk pretty loudly if they got accused?”

  “Well, maybe the employee set up the other employee so that it looked like there was proof of some kind that the other employee did it, even though they really didn’t, and the first employee threatened the other employee that they would tell the bank manager or the police or FBI and show them the fake proof, if the other employee didn’t quit voluntarily?”

  He worked his way through her statement.

  “That’s one theory. How did you come up with that?”

  “It’s part of that thing I talked to my old boss about. It’s really easy to set up a fake account and move funds around without really moving them at all. Well, not that easy, but someone who knows their way around the bank’s computer systems could do that. I just think the whole thing is shady that the FBI came in, looked around, said funds were missing, then said no funds were missing, and that was the end of it. Why didn’t owner of the bank make a fuss? Or the manager? Why was nothing further done?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The New York Times and The Washington Post. Oh, and The Wall Street Journal, the Star Tribune, St. Paul Pioneer Press and the Duluth News Tribune.”

  “I’m going to tell you another story, but it’s just a story. It’s about a bank that has two employees who are both missing right now and who both have exceptional computer skills such as we’ve talked about.”

  Laura leaned forward to ask another question.

  “Is there anybody else besides the two we know about? It’s kind of hard to do this stuff remotely, but it can be done.”

  “Not readily apparent. Except for Sabina, but I don’t want to think it’s her.”

  “I really think it has to be done remotely because they’re all too busy there doing their work and waiting on customers to be sitting and taking the hours it has to take to do this kind of thing. Besides, while you’re actively in the system doing something, someone else cannot possibly be changing something in that system. It has to happen when everyone’s out of it.”

  “There’s another possibility,” Connor posed, and his face showed sadness. “Maybe someone at work knows someone else who’s really good with computers, and that’s the person setting this all up.”

  “No,” Laura said. “No. You have to finish your background checks. You can’t put the puzzle together until you have more pieces. We’ve only dumped a few of the pieces from the puzzle box onto the table. We’re just working on the framework at this point and guessing about the rest.” She knew he was considering Sabina and Jack.

  Later, when Connor was kissing her goodbye at the back door with a container of one-fourth of the apple pie in one hand, she knew it was still bothering him.

  “I just have a theory or a supposition, Connor,” Laura said, “and there are dozens of possibilities. You know that. Don’t let the ones we were telling stories about get in the way of thinking it through in another direction. You know I’m right.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said, pulling her close once again before leaving. “I know the story of digging a hole and when you find something, you stop digging. Don’t worry. I won’t stop.”

  twenty-seven

  Saturday morning…

  Most of the SPDP&G committee drove in separate cars to the warehouse where the parade floats were stored. Laura had offered to pick up at least half of them, but they’d all declined, citing other errands and places they needed to go before and after checking out the floats. She just heaved a deep sigh and drove Erica and herself.

  “We’re supposed to be saving money and fuel,” Erica complained. “But, apparently, driving separately for each person is more economical, however they figured that!”

  “Probably economizing their own time and schedules. Besides, they don’t all live near us.”

  “No, but some are only three or four blocks from here. It’s a hike to the warehouse. People are funny.”

  “Yeah, I guess you can’t figure what’s in anyone�
��s head—even mine!” Laura teased. “And don’t forget to show me the salon plans you and Torrey are drafting. I can’t wait to see them.”

  At the mention of her proposed salon, Erica brightened.

  “We’re going with the half-shop idea because I won’t need that much room…at first. And Torrey’s been so wonderful about his ideas and suggestions. He wants me to succeed, almost as much as I want to. He’s really nice. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

  “Sounds like a keeper,” Laura commented as they pulled into the warehouse parking lot. She drove around pot holes and grass plots that had poked through the aging asphalt and saw they were not the first ones to arrive.

  “Why didn’t they go in?” Erica asked. “Why are they just standing around? Jade is there; she has the keys this time. I can see her twirling them on her thumb.”

  Laura didn’t answer as she pulled to a stop. From the expressions on the faces of the group, standing with arms crossed, something was amiss.

  Erica jumped out of the car, ready to confront them with the same questions she’d tossed at Laura, but she stopped.

  As soon as Laura shut the car door, she stopped.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  “Go up to the door and take a whiff,” someone said.

  A putrid smell sneaking out from a newly broken window next to the warehouse door had stopped them all cold.

  •••

  “We didn’t know whether to call the fire department or the police,” Jade said. “But I’m not opening that warehouse door. Somebody else can. How about you, Laura? You like solving mysteries. Here are the keys.”

  Laura didn’t take the keys. Whatever connection was streaking around in Jade’s head when she held out the key ring to Laura was not picked up by the others, thankfully. Miles Gunnarsson spoke next.

  “I suggested we call the fire department, but nobody wanted to do that. There could be a dead bear in there.”

  Laura pulled out her phone and called the fire station, another number she had never forgotten.