Carolina Mercy (A Southern Breeze Series Book 2)

by Regina Rudd Merrick

  “Can I see that card?” Tom reached out to take the card Mason held in his hand. It had three names: Lucy Dixon, Sam Watson, and Tom Livingston, but with no signature under his name.

  “I was never supposed to be on this signature card.” Tom looked at his banker friend and noted the surprise on his face.

  “According to this note on the account, Officer Watson opened the account with his name and Lucy’s, and came back and added yours later.” He took the card back and inspected it. “When a teller fills out info on an account, they initial it in the top corner. This looks like Carol’s initials. Let me call her in here.” He picked up his phone and pushed a button. “Carol, could you come to my office for a second? I need to ask you about an account you worked on.”

  He hung up the phone. “She’ll be right in. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  There was a light tap on the glass door, to which Mason answered, “Come in.”

  “Can I help you, Mr. Beckman? Hi, Tom, Lucy!”

  “Carol, do you remember Sam Watson coming back in and adding Tom to this signature card on the relief fund?”

  “I do. It was last week. I remember thinking he could have sent a letter with Tom to come and take care of it. He said he would have Tom come in and sign it. He added his department card to the account for access that day.”

  “Was anything said about adding my personal debit card to that account?”

  She looked horrified. “Goodness, no. That would send up too many red flags. Has something happened?”

  Mason answered her question grimly. “Maybe. Thank you, Carol. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks. Because I wouldn’t want to think I had done something that would get anyone in trouble. I was following the rules, I hope.” She wrung her hands before going back to her station. “If I can do anything . . .”

  “I appreciate it.” Mason paused. “Carol, you did the right thing.”

  “Mr. Beckman,” Lucy began.

  “Call me Mason. Any friend of Jared and Tom’s is a friend of mine.”

  “Thank you, Mason. Would it be possible to add another card to an account through the online portal?”

  If Lucy had used the blonde card earlier, she certainly wasn’t, now.

  He stopped to think. “It wouldn’t be easy. You would have to get into the employee portal to do that. Everything can be done online, within limits.” He stared at the computer screen that had come to life with the account information. “Here we go.”

  Tom frowned, wishing he could see the screen. “Can you print out the activity for the past week? Also any activity on my department card and personal debit card?”

  “Sure. Let me pull up those other accounts on other windows.”

  Lucy looked over the banker’s shoulder. “This is interesting.” She pointed to one specific transaction. “According to this, you made a withdrawal at an ATM at the time you and I were looking at your mom’s roof the other day.”

  “That’s impossible.” He stood up behind her to see. “That was three days ago. Wait, which card was it?”

  “The department one.” Lucy turned to look at him, nodding. “The one that’s missing.”

  “That shows how crazy it’s been. I didn’t even notice it wasn’t in my wallet. See if there are any withdrawals using my personal debit card.”

  Mason clicked on another window to pull up Tom’s personal account.

  “Looks like there was an attempted transfer early this morning, but it didn’t go through.” Mason turned and regarded both Tom and Lucy. “Tom, this is looking like bank fraud. You might want to think about getting a warrant so we can print up these records for you to use.”

  “I will, Mason. Thanks for your help. We’ll include in the warrant any video surveillance tapes you might have at the ATM.” He paused. “So there hasn’t been any money directly put into my personal account?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway. Anybody that could get into our system enough to put your info in there is a person to keep an eye on. Do you have any ideas who it might be?”

  Tom and Lucy looked at one another again. “I’m afraid we do. I’ll let you know when we get the warrant.”

  Mason closed out the windows and rose. “I’m glad you brought this to our attention. I put a block on the account. If anyone wants to make a deposit into the fund, I’ll take care of it myself. I put a note for the tellers to signal me if there’s any activity.”

  “Hungry?” Tom hesitated when they got to their cars.

  “Starved.” Lucy was so relieved she couldn’t stand it. And when she was relieved, she ate. “I need to move my car, though. I wouldn’t want Sam to see it parked here at the bank.”

  “Good idea. How about we drive over to the real estate office and leave your car there. Maybe we could find some crab cakes somewhere?”

  Her smile blossomed. “Harrelson’s? I’m feeling the need for the Crab Cake Lady.”

  “Harrelson’s it is. See you in a minute.”

  They turned onto Highway 17 and made their way to Crawford and Benton Real Estate. Lucy was talking to herself. Talking to God. “Thank you, Lord, for not letting Tom be a crook.” She laughed at herself, and then sobered. “Lord, if Sam has done this, help him to see what he’s done and be repentant. He’ll never be able to be a cop again. Show him Yourself. Help us to be You, to him.”

  When they stopped at the office, Lucy grabbed her purse and went to Tom’s car, wiping a quick tear.

  “What’s wrong?” He leaned over.

  “I was praying.”

  “Okay. Can I ask what about?”

  She could tell he was concerned. She smiled and touched his arm. “Well, first I thanked God that you weren’t a crook.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I can’t tell you how relieved that makes me.”

  “Hey, me too. That’s why I need crab cakes.” She sobered. “I prayed for Sam. If he’s done what we think he’s done, he’s ruined his career and maybe his life. I don’t know where he stands with God.”

  Tom turned his hand to grasp hers. “You’re a good woman, Lucy Dixon.”

  “Not really, just constantly trying.” She squeezed his hand. “Now I’m hungry, and you know once you’ve eaten Crab Cake Lady’s crab cakes, you are ruined for anything else.”

  “Noted.” He let go of her hand and prepared to leave the parking lot. He paused. “Did you really think I was a crook?”

  “No, and may I add that I was relieved it was so evident you’re not a crook.” She arched an eyebrow. “I watch television. I know how hard these cases are to prove. Be glad me and my pink tool belt are your alibi.”

  “Oh, believe me, I am!” He laughed and drove her to the seafood market.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Friday dawned clear and dry, for which Tom was thankful. The roofing project could be completed in a day, if Lucy was as good as she said she was. He caught himself whistling. With everything going on, he’d been too preoccupied to do much but keep his head down and put one foot in front of the other.

  He drove to the family home with shingles and nails weighing down the pickup truck. It would be nice to have a day outside, especially if it included Miss Lucy Dixon.

  As he unloaded the materials on the back porch, close to where they would be working, he heard the screen door squeak.

  “Is that you, Tom?”

  “It is, unless there’s another man bringing you shingles and nails.” Teasing his mother was his dad’s way of keeping her from getting too serious. It usually worked.

  “You silly boy. Would you like breakfast before you get started? Charly’s fixing waffle batter and bacon.”

  The smell of bacon wafted out and awakened his taste buds. “Still no classes today, huh?”

  “No school. There are still too many people out of pocket.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I’m not surprised. I had a bite, but I could be convinced. Is there enough for one more?”

  Mary Ann laughed. “Of c
ourse there is. When Lucy gets here, y’all come on in and get some food. I’ll make extra coffee. It’s sunny, but it sure hasn’t warmed up much, has it?” She rubbed her arms.

  “I daresay if you were going to be working on a roof, you’d be glad it was a little cooler this morning.” Tom clapped the dust and grime off his hands. “You feeling okay this morning?” After his dad’s sudden heart attack and subsequent death, he tried to stay aware of his mother’s health.

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m fine. I just don’t work hard enough anymore. It’s a good thing I don’t live any further north.”

  “Amen to that.” Ah, there was Lucy. He heard her car door slam and called out. “Come on around back.”

  After a few minutes, he was worried. He started around the house to see if she was all right. “Lucy?”

  She met him, fully armed, and instantly struck a pose. Laughter built up in him, along with another feeling that had nothing to do with the pink tool belt and hammer she wore or even the pink high-top sneakers. It was the spring in her step and the grin on her face that made his heart leap.

  “So? Pink tool belt?”

  “I give up. You even found a pink hammer to match.” His head shook in disbelief.

  “I have a confession to make.” She twisted her lips. Guilty? “I did have to buy the tool belt.”

  “Aha!”

  She put her finger in his face. “Only because my own tool belt is in storage in Kentucky. I do own my own tool belt and hammer. Oh, and this hammer didn’t come pink. I bought a can of spray paint while I was at the hardware store.”

  “The shoes?”

  She looked at him in amazement. “How could you even doubt I would own pink sneakers? Do you even know me?”

  “I bow in apology. You look like you’re ready to work. I wish Mom could see your get-up.” He smiled down at her pink cap completing the picture.

  She tilted her head and gave him a sad little grin. “I do, too. I think she would enjoy it.”

  And he knew she meant it. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Before we get started, would you like waffles?”

  “Are you kidding? I overslept this morning, so I had to call Sarah on the way here, and I didn’t have time to eat anything. Please tell me there’s coffee?”

  “You know it.”

  Lucy sighed with pleasure. “My motto is ‘a day without coffee is like a day without sunshine.’ Don’t you agree?”

  “Most definitely. Come on in. Charly’s got it ready to pour on the waffle iron.”

  “Oh yum. I haven’t had waffles since . . . well, since Daddy died. They were his favorite, and he passed down the waffle gene to me.” A shadow passed over her face, but she brightened as they entered the kitchen.

  “Lucy! I’m glad you’re here, child.” Mary Ann hugged her. Tom noticed the tears in her eyes as she hugged his mother back even tighter.

  “Thank you so much. Charly, it smells wonderful in here.”

  “Have a seat. I’ve got one coming off the waffle iron, and it’s got your name on it.” Charly put a mug of hot coffee in front of her as the steam stopped billowing from the iron, indicating the waffle was done.

  “Hey. What about big brother?” He winked at Lucy as Charly handed her the plate of the golden-brown delicacy.

  “Ladies first, right Mama?”

  Mary Ann smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, ladies first.”

  Lucy laughed as she reached for the butter. “You’ve done a good job with one of your children, at least.”

  “Don’t forget the handkerchief.”

  “True. I appreciate that you taught your son about real hankies. I didn’t know they still made them.”

  “There. See? I’m not totally incorrigible.” He crossed his arms on the table, waiting for his food. This was fun.

  “I’m glad to know you’re keeping up your training. Tissues have their place, but a good hankie? Now that shows breeding. At least it did, according to my mama. Now she was a trip. Had to have everything just-so, and she expected to be treated as the matriarch she would have been, had the old ways of her mother’s era continued.”

  “My Grandmommy is a little like that, but she’s very independent. My grandfather died before I was born, and she carried on, running his business like he did, and even better.” Lucy cut a piece of her waffle and sighed. “This is wonderful.”

  “It’s right to adjust to change instead of fighting against it. Don’t you think so, Tom?”

  Did he? For him, change had meant losing something. He grew up hearing his granny talk about how good things used to be. But were they, really? When he found out about his parents’ call to missions, he realized they lost something by not letting their circumstances change. There was regret in not accepting change. Was that waffle done yet?

  “I won’t argue with you, Mama.”

  “See you don’t.” Mom grinned and pushed herself up from the table. “If y’all will excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  Tom straightened up. “What appointment? Do you need a ride?” Charly looked as confused as he.

  “Relax. I’m going to my homemaker’s meeting. I’m going to teach them some basic crochet stitches. I can do that with my eyes closed. Good thing, huh?” She laughed at her own joke, and they joined in. “Prudie is coming over to give me a ride.”

  “Sounds like fun. One day I want to learn how to crochet. I’ve tried, but it’s not for me, I guess.” Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

  “Never say never. There was a time when I couldn’t crochet for the life of me. Oh, I could do the stitches, but they weren’t even. I could tell what kind of mood I was in according to the tightness of the stitches. Tense? Extra-tight. Relaxed? Extra-loose. Didn’t seem to be an in-between for me. Once the kids got older and I wasn’t rushed, it got better. Oddly enough, I think it’s been better since my sight started going. As long as someone gets the yarn for me, I can do the rest.” She smiled. “One of these days I’ll teach you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “You all enjoy your breakfast and be careful out there on that roof, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” All three said it at the same time and laughed when she left the room.

  They heard her voice drift from the area of the front door. “I heard that.”

  “Well, Mr. Foreman, are you ready to get started?” Tom drained his cup, and Lucy wondered what it would be like to share a breakfast table with him every morning. Was he a morning person?

  “Let’s hit it.” He got up and thanked his sister for breakfast. “What’s for lunch?”

  “I’ll let you know when I know.” Charly shook her head in disgust. “He always wants to plan ahead and know exactly what’s going to happen next.”

  “Hey, I like to know what to look forward to. And food is important.”

  “Tom, it’s healthier if you eat to live instead of living to eat.” Having grown up an only child, Lucy was enjoying ganging up on Tom with his sister.

  “Whatever. Let’s go break in that tool belt and hammer.”

  Lucy followed him out the door. “How many bundles will we need?”

  He looked up the ladder, shading his eyes. “I bought four bundles of shingles and a roll of felt paper. I hope we don’t find more damage when we get up there.” He glanced at her. “Did you bring your sunscreen?”

  “Already applied, thank you.” He cared.

  “Let’s get up there with the pry bars and see what we’ve got. There was some bare decking showing, but I don’t think we’ll have to replace any of that. It leaked where the felt came off in the seams.” He gestured to the ladder. “Ladies first.”

  “Always. Plus, if I fall, I hope you’ll catch me.”

  “Or at least break your fall.”

  She started up the ladder. The front part of the house had a steeper roof than this side, but it was still pretty high off the ground. Thank goodness she didn’t suffer from fear of heights. Another good gene she received from Grandmommy.

>   “Oh, Tom. The view from up here is spectacular.” She could see over some of the trees straight to the marsh. It seemed to go on forever. “Wouldn’t it be neat to have a crow’s nest up here, where you could just come up and look out over the trees?”

  “This plantation went that far at one time. We were one of the first rice plantations before the Revolutionary War.” He began prying up the shingles on the edges of the damaged part. “The Carolinas were the largest rice producers in North America for over two hundred years.”

  “Wow.” She started following his lead on the other edge of the damage. “And your family has lived here that long?” To have that kind of legacy, that kind of family, was unheard of for her. Today’s mobile society had hit her family hard.

  “Since before the Civil War, we have. A blessing and a curse, you could say.”

  “How can it be a curse? It’s a legacy.”

  “It is until the place owns you instead of you owning the place.” He rested his arm on his knee for a minute. “It all depends on how you look at it, I guess.”

  Lucy concentrated on the broken shingles and torn felt she was removing. The thought of a place “owning you” never occurred to her. She loved the home where she lived in Kentucky, but she didn’t have any qualms about selling it. It was a house. Her grandmother’s house was the place that spelled “stability” in her life but not as much as the people in her life.

  “Do you think about this place as a legacy or an albatross?”

  “Mama looks on it as an albatross. She and Dad wanted to leave, but her mother was set on staying here.”

  “I take it your grandmother wasn’t willing to let them go?”

  He stopped. “I think she didn’t know how to let them go or how to let this place go. They were living here, and she had her chicks in her nest like she always had. And it stayed that way. She got her way. She saw her grandchildren raised here as well as her own children.”

  “What about you?”

  “I can see it both ways, but I don’t have the say-so.” He smiled at her. It was a sad smile. “When I got out of college and got the job at the police department, I had a pretty tidy sum in the bank. Mama encouraged me to buy a house and get out on my own. I’m glad I did, but I’d come back here in a heartbeat if I could afford it.”