by Ron Hess
The camera lens was in the same place as the one in my office, right above the desk. If anything it was harder to spot. Crouch’s crew had done a first-rate job. If the crew out on the main floor had been watching, they would have seen me break into laughter. Moot Point Moving Company indeed. Old Crouch probably had a good laugh over that one.
“Yeah, you should have seen old Bronski out there threatening Fred! ‘You had better have this truck out of here by Monday!’”
This thought caused me to laugh even harder. I finally got myself stopped, but the not before the tears were rolling down my face. Who would have thought? In spite of myself, I giggled as I wiped at my tears.
“You okay . . .sir?”
It was the not-so-young blond kid, Sam Goodnight, standing at the office door.
I looked over at him and nodded. “Yes, Sam, I’m okay. I just realized something that gave me a feeling of relief. Something I’ve been worried about. I have just discovered yet again that life is not always what it seems.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
His look of concern gave way to one of wisdom. His eyes twinkled. He smiled and nodded. “Indeed I do, sir.”
I dropped my hand from his shoulder and he sauntered back out onto the main floor. I watched him go, noting the confidence in his stride. There was something about him. Then the revelation hit me. Talk about having an ace up one’s sleeve. The giggles started again, but I managed to contain them before I broke out into laughter. The Boss. He had done it again.
I left Ashley’s office and went back to mine. In all probability there were more cameras here and there, but I wasn’t going to waste time looking for them. Maybe I would find out after the present situation was over with. But I might not. Postal inspectors are a clan of their own. Being omniscient was their game, and they liked the employees to be aware of that. Fear that you’re going to get caught keeps a person on the straight and narrow—that was their credo.
Chapter 33
On impulse, I reached for the phone. It was a call I wasn’t sure I wanted to make, but I was going to make it anyway. I listened as Martha’s phone rang three times. Was she home? A person on sick leave was supposed to be, there or at the doctor’s office. After four rings, I heard a very soft “hello.”
“Martha! How’s it going?”
I got another one-word answer for my attempt at being jovial. “Okay.”
I went on to explain that I had taken pictures the day before and that I had everyone’s picture but hers for my scrapbook. About that time I heard myself prattling on and realized, she must be wondering why I’d called her out of a sick bed to chat about my photo project. Since asking an employee on sick leave what their trouble was, was beyond my purview. I tried a softer approach.
“Is there anything I can do?”
The answer was a cold, “No.”
“Well, okay then, Martha, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Your getting well is important to me and not just because we need you here, okay?”
“Okay.”
I sighed, said my good-bye, and hung up. Those one-word replies were not conducive to conversation. She really sounded down, and I had a hunch she was nursing a wound, the kind that most of the time didn’t ooze any blood, but disturb it a little bit and it festered. Hopefully we could heal it, once we knew what it was.
I looked at my watch. Ah-ha! Coffee time! It so happened it was 10:30 a.m. Not that it mattered, but Emily might be at the Eat More Café. I needed someone I could confide in and, so far, she was doing a good job of listening. Besides, she needed a little background for her big story, didn’t she?
Since Ashley was Lord knows where, I decided to give Abby a rest and selected Sam Goodnight to be temporary supervisor. I had a hunch that position wouldn’t be any trouble for him. He took my cell phone number and I was out the door.
Emily wasn’t there when I entered the café. Ah, well, perhaps she was out somewhere rounding up a story about some hapless unsuspecting do-gooder. That was a good thing about small-town newspapers. While they did seem to delight in covering scandal, graph, and corruption, they also showed the good things about small towns.
I sat down at our usual table near the back and ordered a roll and coffee.
“If you’re looking for your table-mate, she ain’t here.”
I looked up at the waitress. Such wisdom.
“No, I guess not.”
“She left not five minutes before you got here, in a hurry too. Somebody called her on the phone.”
My ears perked up when I heard this, and I wondered what was going on. At that moment my cell phone rang. With a sense of foreboding, I drew it out of my pocket while the waitress looked on, hoping, I guessed, for a juicy piece of gossip.
“Boss, it’s me, Sam Goodnight. You have to return right now. There has been a robbery! Out on the parking lot!”
“What?”
“Yes, sir, a robbery!”
I tried to maintain my composure, but I’m sure the waitress was reading all sorts of things on my face: disbelief, anger, you name it.
“Cancel the coffee and roll,” I said, as I headed for the door.
To her credit, she said not a word.
Back at the post office, I literally ran in the back door. To my astonishment, everyone was still working at their posts, but as one they all turned their heads toward me.
“Where’s Sam?” I bellowed.
He appeared out of nowhere at my elbow. “Right here, boss.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Two women bank employees were held up on our parking lot out front.”
“How much?” I asked.
Sam looked nervously around. “One hundred thousand,” he whispered.
My eyeballs must have looked like they were going to drop on the floor, because Sam felt it necessary to repeat the amount. I took a deep swallow and looked around. All the employees were deeply engrossed in their jobs, or at least they were putting on a good act.
“Shall we go to your office, sir?”
I nodded, and we made our way to my office with me trying to get my mental house in order.
As soon as we closed the door, I asked,
“How many minutes ago did this happen?’
Sam looked at his watch. “About fifteen, ” he answered. He went on to say he had called the local cops who were already out in the front parking lot quizzing local townspeople who had witnessed the robbery. He had not yet called the Boss. I sat down and shook my head. Of all the wrong things to happen. It’s not too well known by the public, but the post office does transport money from time to time. As I was to find out later, these two ladies had been moving the money from the bank to the post office for years with few people being the wiser. Well, I decided, it was time to call the Boss. I reached for the phone.
“What?”
“Boss? It’s me.”
“Yeah, I know. Now what? I’m in the middle of a union conference.”
I almost smiled. I knew he was operating under a handicap without his cigar. I went on to tell him about the robbery and asked if I should contact the postal inspectors.
“Yeah,” he said, “keep me posted.”
The line went dead.
I next called John Crouch. To my surprise, he answered on the first ring.
“John, have you heard about the robbery?”
“Yeah, I just got off the phone to the FBI. They will have a man on a plane down there as soon as they can. I’ll be in touch.”
Now, how in the world had he heard about the robbery so quickly? I looked up at the ceiling. Of course.
I hung up the phone and looked at Sam. “Get the people together for a quick stand-up meeting.”
He nodded and left while I took another deep breath and thought about what I should say to the troops about the robbery. In a quick minute, Sam was back. “They’re ready, sir.”
You could have heard a pin drop as I w
alked out onto the main floor. Everyone was gathered in their respective cliques with the up-front counter clerks on one side of the group and the distribution clerks on the other end.
I tried to be cool as I could, stating that while robberies don’t happen every day, we still had a job to do. That I expected their cooperation, not only Postal Service-wise, but with the local police, should that become necessary.
“One thing I do promise,” I went on, “is that we will do our utmost to keep you informed. While I’m working on this crisis, Sam Goodnight will be the acting supervisor.”
When I said that, Sam Goodnight’s head actually jerked back in surprise. I could not stop a smile from coming to my face.
“Sam is new here, but he has been with the Postal Service a number of years and has the experience to do the job. If you have questions about your work, please see him. I bet he and whoever has the problem can solve it. Okay, that’s it.”
There were many surprised looks besides Sam’s.
He sidled up to me. “Are you sure about this, boss?”
I smiled in amusement. “Sam, I’ve never been more sure in my life. I know and you know you can do the job. If you’re concerned about what other people will think, don’t be. As a matter of fact, I know Abby will be secretly relieved, right?”
He nodded.
I clapped him on the back. “So enough of the modesty thing. You’re good to go. Go do your stuff. I have other things to do.”
I left him standing there, wheels turning in his brain. I had no doubt he would do a fine job. Whether the employees would accept another change of supervisors remained to be seen. As I entered my office, I took a quick look back at him. He was no longer standing, but was moving with a purpose toward a case. I had to admire the Boss; he knew good people when he saw them and I realized again that intrigue in a royal court couldn’t hold a candle to politics in the Postal Service.
Back in my office, I pulled the shades up and noted Wattle was still questioning various citizens. I sat for a moment collecting my thoughts. While I was sitting there, Jim, my favorite janitor came in the open door and emptied my wastebasket. An idea knocked and a light bulb turned on.
“So how’s your Cessna airplane doing?”
Jim straightened up from his work with a raised eyebrow. “Fine. Just got it checked by the FAA. It’s good to go.”
I regarded him for a few seconds, my thumbs twiddling nervously. “If I were to buy the gas, would you take me flying?”
His face broke open into a smile. “Are you kidding? When do we leave?”
“Pretty darn quick, if I have my way. Do you have a weapon of some sort? And maybe a sleeping bag or two?”
He nodded.
“Before you volunteer, I want you to know this could turn out to be dangerous. You understand?”
“Yes,” he said, and nodded.
“Good, clock out, go home and gather up survival gear and what weapons you have, and come back here. You’re still single, right?”
He nodded yes. I heaved a sigh of relief. I was not about to take a married man out on the trail, especially since this was going to be an unauthorized mission. The Boss would be angry when he found out, but that was a chance I was willing to take.
“Okay, Jim, take off. Be back here as soon as possible.”
He left his trash can where it was and left.
I looked out the window. The chief was still questioning people. Even from where I stood, I could see he was getting exasperated. Witnesses seldom told the same story. Well, time was sliding by. I went out the door to the lobby and then out onto the parking lot. I pulled on the chief’s sleeve.
“Not now,” he growled. “Oh, it’s you, Bronski. What do you want? I’m busy.”
“Just a couple of questions, chief. How long has it been since the robbery, and which way did they go?”
He tipped back his hat. “Well, the robbery happened maybe forty-five minutes ago. Now as to the direction they went?” He looked around, as if counting. “Most people say they went north in an old blue van. Maybe a Dodge.” His eyes turned hard. “Why?”
I held up my hands, palms out. “Just curious.”
He snorted. “Bronski, what are you up to?”
I shook my head as innocently as I could. “Nothing, just trying to stay on top of things. I guess you’ll be handing this over to the postal inspectors and the FBI?”
“Yeah, Bronski. You got anything else? I’m trying to run an investigation here.”
“Nope,” I answered.
The good chief turned back to the little woman before him and flipped a page over on his notebook. I left him quizzing her as to her whereabouts when the robbery happened. Her reply was that she noticed these two people wearing masks when she was getting into her car. Before she knew it, they were holding up the two bank employees with these big old guns. I looked around. If anything, the line was longer. Everybody wanted in on the act. This was the most excitement that had hit this small town in a long time. I went back to the office and called Jeanette. When I told her what I planned to do based on a hunch, she let me know her thinking and it wasn’t very positive.
She made a last try. “Leo, have you told anyone besides me what you’re going to do?”
I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”
“But yet you’re not only going to endanger your life, but that of a young postal employee? Leo, you are not as young as you used to be. Don’t do this.”
“Honey,” I countered, “I have to. Call it pride, revenge or whatever, but I have to.”
There was a sniffle. Jeanette’s good. I knew if I kept talking to her, she’d talk me out of it. Thank goodness, Jim the janitor walked into my office.
“Honey, I have to go. I love you, and I have my cell phone. Bye.”
I stayed on the phone long enough to hear her say, “Be careful, Love.”
And that was enough for me.
Chapter 34
“Leo . . . uh boss, I got a extra pair of rubber boots, 30.06 hunting rifle, a camp shotgun and a .44 magnum pistol.”
I permitted myself a small smile. “Do tell. Well, that ought to be enough to hold off a small army detachment. What about a sleeping bag?”
He grinned. “I got that too.”
I checked my watch. It had been almost an hour since the robbery. Time to get going. I looked back at him. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“Boss, are you kidding? I haven’t had so much excitement since the first Gulf War. I was an infantry soldier.”
There was no doubt about it. He was trim and fit. Maybe Jeanette was right, maybe I was too old for this stuff. I took a deep breath. To hell with it. My mind was made up. We were going.
“Okay, let’s get out to your plane. Didn’t I hear somebody say Ralph keeps his plane at a small strip a few miles north of here?”
His eyes brightened. “Do you think it was Ralph who did the robbery?”
I cocked my head and gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, him and somebody else who isn’t here today.”
“You mean Martha?”
“No, I don’t mean Martha. According to the witnesses, they wore pullover type masks. So it could have been anybody, but I don’t think it was Martha. I believe it was Ashley.”
He frowned. “Oh, her.”
I nodded. “Yeah, her.”
By this time, we were walking out on the main floor. I waved Sam Goodnight over.
“Yes, sir?”
“When the Boss calls—and he will—be truthful. He’ll rant and rave. Just tell him I left without telling anyone. He won’t like it, but he won’t be able to do anything about it and you’ll keep your job, okay?”
“Yes sir. Uh . . . what are you up to?”
I shook my head and smiled. “Sorry, it’s better for you if you don’t know.”
Although I didn’t tell him, I knew not knowing for sure would infuriate the Boss. But the Boss and Sam were smart; they would put two and two together. Still, the kid wouldn’t have to l
ie and that was important.
We exited the building to see Emily standing beside my Jeep. I’m not sure what part she was dressed for, but she was resplendent in a long black trench coat over black wool pants and sweater. With her short hair thrown back over her ears and the dark glasses on, she looked liked Trinity in a Matrix Redone movie.
“Emily! What are you doing here?”
She slung a backpack down to the ground. “Now, Leo, I’m going, and that’s that!”
It was a new Emily I was talking to. Still with her lisp, only I hardly noticed it. There was a certain power to that voice. That Sam Goodnight was a miracle worker.
I put my best steely-eyed glare on her. “Sam told you.”
She looked off into the distance, playing the old deaf routine.
And who had told Sam?
I turned my steely-eyed stare over to Jim. “You told Sam.”
He shrugged and nodded. “He said he wouldn’t tell anybody.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Son, just so you know in the future. Anything you tell Sam goes to Fire Bay’s ace newspaper reporter. They are peas in a pod. You understand?”
His face turned red. “Yes, sir,” he said, and turned to face me, now a little wiser.
I looked back at Emily. “Are you sure you’re in shape for this? What am I going to tell your Momma if you are killed?
“Leo, we’re wasting time,” she reminded me. Her face almost turned back into the old Emily, sad and downcast. “And besides, I don’t have a Momma.”
I shook my head, sorry I had said it. “Get into the Jeep,” I said, and tried not to see the joy that filled her face.
I drove as fast as I could to the airport. My two passengers had little to say. Each lost in the upcoming chase? Maybe. It’s always hard to gauge what people think under stressful situations.
I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was letting my bruised ego get in the way. I wasn’t really all that angry with Ralph. He was simply along for the ride with Ashley. She had screwed me over more than once. Well, now I was determined to make it her turn.