by Cat Connor
Seven banks robbed and only one hundred thousand dollars taken, give or take some change. Why didn’t they go after the safe contents? Why settle for a pittance when a fortune was waiting? The file contained nothing that helped me understand the robberies. Guess that’s why it landed on my desk. All the robberies took place after three in the afternoon. Perhaps they weren’t morning people.
I pulled my laptop from its bag on the passenger seat and fired it up. It took just a few seconds for me to open a map program I liked to use. I plotted the list of bank robberies and times on the map. A pretty pattern emerged. I saved the map, shut down the laptop, and put it back into the carry case.
Something niggled at me. I called the office.
“Can you pull up the case work on the current bank robberies?” I waited.
“Got it,” Sandra replied.
“Did we get all the call data from the bank phones, incoming and outgoing?”
“Yes and no. All but the most recent bank.”
“Grab that for me. While you’re at it, put a trace on all phone activity to and from the manager’s office. Include her cell phone.” The niggle continued. “I want you to look for the same phone number appearing prior to all the bank robberies.”
“You sure?”
“Humor me.”
I straightened my shirt, adjusted my jacket, and checked my makeup in the mirror. Acceptable. Once inside the bank I located the manager.
“SSA Conway, ma’am. I’d like to ask you some questions regarding yesterday’s bank robbery.” I extended my hand.
“Madeline White. Come into my office,” she said with a sharp glance at the teller nearest her.
I don’t know what the young woman did wrong but that was stinkeye if ever I’ve seen it. I followed the manager through a door that locked behind us. The corridor was wide with off-white painted walls, which made it light, but it was unnerving knowing the door had locked behind me. I followed the woman up a flight of stairs. She held open a glass door and ushered me in. I could see out into the bank through a large window.
“Have a seat, Agent Conway.”
I smiled and sat.
“Were you here yesterday?” I said.
My phone rang. I flew an apologetic smile and answered the call. “Conway.”
“Mom, you got a parcel.”
“Carla, school?”
“Half day.”
“I’m working, honey. I’ll be home later. Grandpa can take care of it.”
“Whoops, sorry,” she said. The smile I loved so much was evident in her voice. “See you later.”
The line went dead. I pocketed my phone.
“Sorry. Teenager.”
Madeline smiled and nodded. She spun a picture on her desk to face me. Her and two girls; they looked about Carla’s age. Fourteen.
“Twins? Brave woman,” I commented. “It must be expensive with twin girls. Goodness. One is bad enough.”
“Very. It seems nothing lasts these days and they need everything.” She put the photo back where it was before. “And yes, I was here yesterday during the robbery. I called the police.”
“Could you have opened the safe?”
“Yes, I can override the time lock. In fact, I am the only one who can.”
“Who knows that?”
“All my staff.”
“Is it the same in most banks?”
“I couldn’t say. It’s how I run this branch. There have been times when being able to override the time lock is a good thing. Sometimes a special customer requires more cash than we have available on the floor.”
“Can you give me your version of yesterday’s events?”
She nodded and picked up the telephone receiver on her desk. “Could we have coffee, please?”
I couldn’t hear the reply and she hung up. My head filled with The Clash singing ‘Bank Robber.’
“We might need refreshments. It was quite a day.”
Moments later there was a knock on the glass door and a man appeared carrying a laden tray. He set it upon Madeline’s desk then left. She poured the coffee then began the tale of woe.
“We’d had a quiet morning. Typical Tuesday really. Nothing exceptional at all. One of the tellers went home mid-morning with a migraine.”
“May I have the teller’s name please?”
“I can do better than that,” she said. From a file drawer beside her desk she took an employee file and handed it to me. “This is Marjorie’s file. You’ll see she has suffered from migraines for as long as she’s been employed by us.”
“Twenty-one years. That’s impressive.” I read the file. There was nothing exceptional about Marjorie Smith at all, except she’d lost a sister six months earlier in a drowning. Marjorie had taken a few weeks bereavement leave during which time she moved house. I found her sister’s address in the file and saw that Marjorie had moved into her sister’s house after her death. I jotted a few notes into my notebook. People have a way of surprising me. I’m not much of a one for surprises.
The parcel. I hadn’t ordered anything and I had long given up on the parcel I’d sent to Carla from New Zealand, months ago.
I flipped back to the task at hand and returned the file to Madeline.
“So after Marjorie went home?”
“Business as usual. I took my lunch break at two, was back here by two-thirty. It was just after three-thirty when the robbery took place.”
“Did you go down to the bank floor?”
“Yes. I most certainly did. I pressed the panic button up here then went down. They’re my people and I am responsible for their wellbeing.”
“How many men were there?”
“Three.”
I said men and she didn’t dispute it, or correct me. As far as we know there were three people wearing bulky jackets, sex undetermined.
“Had you seen any of them before?”
“No. They wore ski masks and padded, big jackets.”
“You are quite sure? None of them had been into the bank – say late last week, or even today?”
“I went over old surveillance tapes last night. I couldn’t see anyone who looked like any of them. But all I had to go on were eyes and height.”
“Do we have copies of those tapes?”
“Yes. I gave the police copies right away.”
I liked her. She was smart. She was brave. She was super helpful and nice. She was in on the robbery. My brain wriggled about in my skull trying to figure out where that came from. I could hear the music again, only it wasn’t The Clash. It was ‘Cold as Ice’ by Bobby Ray. If I needed further confirmation, then this song was it. They were together like glue. They got together with a crew. An overriding feeling emerged, pushed forward by Bobby Ray’s lyrics. It was a mom-and-pop operation. Crapola.
“Did you manage to get any dye packs into the money?”
She shook her head. “No, they were too quick. We didn’t have time. They shoved bags at one teller at a time, two men watched everyone else, and one watched the teller filling the bag.”
“I see. Where was your guard?”
“He wasn’t on the floor. He was found later in the bathroom. A door had jammed.”
“That was unfortunate.”
“Yes. Yes, it was.”
Bobby Ray rapped with ever-increasing volume. I too had the impression she was as cold as ice.
“I’m sure you are aware that yours was the seventh bank robbery in as many weeks?” She nodded. “The robbers themselves aren’t very smart. None of the robberies have netted large cash amounts.”
“They haven’t been caught. I would imagine that makes them quite clever,” she replied. A small smirk turned her lips upward then faded.
“I suppose taking smaller amounts and spending short amounts of time in each bank, means there is less likelihood of tracking devices being attached to the money or dye packs.”
She nodded her approval. “And I believe no one has been injured.”
My phone buzzed. An
incoming text. I glanced at the screen and saw it was from Sandra. She confirmed phone calls made to Madeline White prior to each robbery from a disposable cell phone. Interesting. My attention reverted to Madeline and her last comment.
“Yes, that’s right. But it’s only a matter of time before someone is shot and killed. These things have a way of escalating.”
She fidgeted.
“I’ve seen it before. People running about with guns demanding money. Sooner or later it ends in death and a very, very long prison sentence.” I leaned back.
The Clash came back overpowering Bobby Ray, the volume intensifying.
“It’d be much better to resolve this now before more lives are ruined.” I leveled my eyes at hers. Making damn sure she knew I knew. “Don’t you think?”
“I can see how that would be best.”
The songs switched back and forth from The Clash’s ‘Bank Robber’ to Bobby Ray’s ‘Cold as Ice’ until I wanted to scream, then as if they realized, it suddenly all stopped. Slowly, quietly, in the background The Clash insisted daddy was a bank robber.
“Your husband? Is he in banking?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He’s a teacher.”
The map unfolded in my mind allowing me to track back from all the banks to one common point. A high school. I wrote a few notes in my notebook. Then with the utmost confidence I said, “When did you decide to start robbing banks?”
She blinked. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened. No words came out.
In the end she said, “I. Don’t. Rob. Banks.” That’s right she doesn’t. She has minions. A crew.
“Sorry, my mistake.” I wrote more notes and without looking up, I asked, “When did you start planning robberies for your husband?” My eyes jumped from the page to her face, catching a telltale flicker of guilt.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I think you do.” I watched her desperate attempt to remain poised. “I’m going to give you a minute to think things over.”
I stood up, leaving my pen on the chair, out of sight to Madeline behind her expansive desk. I stepped out of the office pulling the door shut behind me. I sent a text to Sandra telling her to activate the trace and that there was a bug in the room. I dialed the pen’s number. Feeling every bit like James Bond. Then hit record on my phone. The number Madeline called popped onto my screen. I sent it to Sandra. She confirmed it as the pre-paid cell phone she’d discovered.
I listened to Madeline’s conversation, delighting in the joy of super technology that meant I could hear her husband too. Not as clear as Madeline, but loud enough that I could understand every word.
To the assistant sitting behind her desk beyond another glass door, it looked like I was on the phone. Not that she cared. She never once looked up.
“The FBI is here. They know. I don’t know how,” Madeline rasped into the phone.
“Frank and Julio, one of them talked?” her husband suggested. Fear trickled through his voice.
“I’ve never met them. Did you tell them about me?” Panic edged in and made me smile.
“No.” He sounded sure. “The FBI doesn’t really know.”
“You’re not here. This agent knows.”
I held my breath waiting for one of them to mention the bank jobs. If it was a movie, they’d be that stupid. I needed life to imitate art. I use the term art loosely.
“What does the agent know?”
Bingo. Oh, please be that stupid. Please.
“She asked me outright if I was planning robberies for you.”
Silence.
“Just don’t tell her anything. They’ll never get anything to stick. Suspicion is one thing, proving it is another.”
My breath caught in my throat. I feared the moment was lost.
“We did too many banks. The risk goes up with each robbery.”
I swallowed and controlled the growing smile on my face.
“All right we’ll stop. We’ll pull next week’s job this afternoon. They won’t expect that. We’ll hit University Drive today.”
“We’re going to jail, Howard. Who will take care of the children?”
“You knew the risk.” His voice sharpened. “You knew.”
She hung up.
I called Sandra. I didn’t care who heard me.
“How many banks are on University Drive, Fairfax?”
“One second …” I could hear Sandra’s fingers on her keyboard. “Checking a list of banks and looking for those that have brick and mortar branches on University Drive.” She cleared her throat. “Four. Continental Federal Savings Bank, Provident Bank of Maryland, SunTrust, and United Bank.”
The names rolled around in my skull. One by one they came forward and faded away. I was left with just one. SunTrust.
“How spread out are the banks?”
“Three are close; SunTrust and Continental are in the same building with other businesses. Provident is nearby, United is in the only one apart; it’s at 4400.”
It would make sense for it to be the bank that was furthest from the others yet I felt very strongly that it wasn’t that bank.
“SunTrust. Get agents inside now, have them pose as customers. I want SWAT on site, standing by. Get agents in Continental too. If they’re in the same building they could hit both at once. Also, notify the other banks on University Drive and get police and agents into all of them. Go.”
Just in case.
I walked back into Madeline’s office and sat down while palming the pen. I switched off and pocketed the pen without her noticing. A small smile crossed my lips. She was nervous.
“I hope this string of robberies ceases,” I said.
“So do I, Agent Conway.” Her poise returned. “Wasn’t it you I saw on the news this morning? The report of your death appears to have been exaggerated.”
“Reporters and hyperbole go hand in hand I’m afraid. They can really ruin a person’s day.”
“Do you have more questions?”
“No. I thought we’d just wait together.”
“Wait?” She glanced at her watch.
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s fine. What are we waiting for?”
I shrugged. I was happy to provide her with an alibi while her husband robbed another bank.
“Does your husband ever visit you at work?”
“He has once or twice. It’s not the norm.”
“So staff wouldn’t recognize him?”
“Probably not.”
I added today’s bank job to the list of the other robbed banks. Once finished I passed her my notebook.
“Any of your employees ever work in these banks?”
I watched her eyes move down the list. Her head shook until she reached the last bank. Color faded from her face.
“That bank hasn’t been robbed,” she said as her voice crumbled.
I checked my watch which caused a map to unfurl in my mind. All the robberies happened in the afternoon. Flags on the map indicated banks that had already been robbed. Times appeared on the map. I calculated the likely starting point from the times and, if I was right, then I had an approximate time for the next robbery. Flags, strings, times, and pins; my mind map was crowded.
“Yes, I know, but in ten minutes it will be.”
She moved to grab her phone. I intercepted and proceeded to remove the desk top phone and her cell phone.
“I can’t have you sending some pre-arranged signal and risking lives.”
She slumped in her chair.
The wait for the confirmation phone call was almost unbearable. The Clash launched into ‘Bank Robber’ all over again. Used to be a song I liked.
My cell phone rang, disrupting the outer silence and piercing the inner concert with a violent clattering.
“Conway.”
“Sandra here. We have just arrested Howard White and two high school students.”
“Thank you.”
; I hung up, stood up, and took my handcuffs from my belt.
“Madeline White, you are under arrest for your part in planning eight bank robberies and the corruption of minors.”
She stood.
I searched her for weapons and handcuffed her before leading her from the room and building.
The drive to the office was delightful in its silence. No inner concerts. No talking.
It took two hours to get Madeline’s written statement, and another hour to write up my notes and hand over the case to the legal department for prosecution.
Carla called me.
“Mom, are you done?”
“Yep. Just coming. Do you want to go see the house tonight?”
She squealed. “Yes!”
Before I left I remembered I hadn’t tweeted all day. It’s not an addiction. It’s a tool. I took my phone and sent a tweet.
EllieConwaySA: Wrapping up a long day. Text from Super Girl says I have mail. #wheresmymail
Within seconds I had a reply from another Twitter friend.
JoanneJ: @EllieConwaySA Amazing. Do you think that could be the missing package? #wheresmymail
I replied: @joanneJ I doubt it. But that sure would be nice! Going home now #wheresmymail
JoanneJ said: @EllieConwaySA Have a good night. Hope it is the missing package. #wheresmymail
I scrolled through any @mentions looking for any that needed a response. There were a few from Foundation kids. I replied to those. Then sent a general tweet saying reports of my death were greatly embellished then called it a night, before I found myself replying to tweets all night and never made it home.
Four
Return To Sender
Elvis gyrated across the stage that was once my mind. I enjoyed his song choice for about five minutes. When ‘Return to Sender’ started again, I began to feel uneasy. Carla hadn’t mentioned the parcel when she called back. During the drive from the city I had almost forgotten about it. My memory was jogged by an Elvis interlude and that didn’t feel like a happy coincidence. As much as I enjoyed Elvis, his appearances inside my skull were often omens. Not good ones either.
I pulled into the 7-Eleven knowing we’d need milk, bananas, peanut butter, and bread. It was an attempt at an everyday task to bring my focus back to now and it didn’t hurt that Elvis helped me remember what we were short of at home.