Deception on All Accounts

by Sara Sue Hoklotubbe

  “She's okay.” Sadie opened her purse, pulled out a small box of raisins, and held them up for the mother's approval. “Is it all right if she has these?”

  Before the mother could answer, the child jammed her thumbs in the end of the box, opening the container and scattering tiny brown pellets across the floor. Suddenly, Charlie appeared out of nowhere and almost tripped trying to avoid the runaway raisins.

  “What the…?”

  Behind him, a man in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and tie stopped at the outer edge of the waiting area.

  “Ma'am,” said Charlie. “This is Federal Agent Victor Robinson. He's heading up the investigation on the robbery.”

  Sadie stood and the photo badge around the tall agent's neck swung forward as he took one step and leaned over to shake her hand. She did not recognize him as one of the agents who had come to the branch the morning of the robbery.

  “Thank you for coming down,” said the agent. “This will only take a few minutes.”

  The young child sat on the floor, stuffing raisins in her pockets. Sadie hesitated for a moment. “Yes, thank you. But, did you know this lady has been waiting here all night?” she asked.

  Yeah, I'm still waiting,” piped the mother of the child. “What's the deal?”

  The agent ignored the woman and walked toward the elevator. With a nod, Charlie silently urged Sadie to comply. Reluctantly, she followed him into the elevator.

  The doors slid open on the third floor revealing a long hallway of dull institutional gray sliced by an endless, shiny-red horizontal stripe running the length of the corridor. A large sign facing the elevator shouted: “RESTRICTED AREA—ALL VISITORS MUST SIGN IN HERE.” An arrow pointed to a small opening that resembled the outside window at the Dairy Queen. Two black metal chairs sat in the hallway to the right of the window. Agent Robinson leaned into the window and waved to three uniformed officers who shared the small office behind the makeshift welcome desk.

  “Ready when you are, Max.”

  A silver-haired Sergeant Maddox walked up to the window, tilted his head at Sadie, and made a limp, one-fingered salute at the agent.

  Sadie followed Robinson to the end of the hall and into a room the size of a large broom closet. A row of four brown plastic chairs faced a large dark window. After the door closed behind them, Charlie stood in back of Sadie as if trying to find an inconspicuous place in the small room. A very young FBI agent, wearing the same navy suit uniform and swinging identification badge, stood staring into the void.

  “This is Agent Daniel Booker,” said Robinson. “He will be assisting in the investigation.”

  Booker glanced at Sadie, nodded, and then returned his attention to the window.

  “Have a seat, ma'am,” continued Robinson. “We have a few people we would like you to take a look at. Hopefully, one of them will look familiar.”

  Sadie continued to stand. “Mr. Robinson…I don't think you understand. I never really saw the robber.” Sadie turned and looked at Charlie, hoping he could help explain to these two men how everything had happened. “He was completely covered…”

  Charlie stood silently with his feet apart, his big arms resting across his broad chest.

  “Yes, ma'am, I know,” said Robinson. “We're just hoping you'll see something about one of them that's recognizable or familiar. Perhaps the way he stands or maybe his physique, you know, his build.”

  “I heard him speak,” said Sadie. “That's all. Maybe if I could hear his voice. He had a really cold voice…hard to describe.” Sadie rubbed the palm of her right hand on her left forearm. “It makes me shiver just to think about it.”

  The second agent turned away from the window. A silent message passed between the two as they glanced at each other. Then as if on cue, the lights came on in the room behind the large glass window and five men walked into view. They were all wearing black, hooded sweatsuits and Sadie's mind temporarily flashed backward. For an instant, she thought everyone she saw was the robber.

  Unaware that she was trembling, Sadie involuntarily dropped her purse. Charlie stepped forward, retrieved her purse, and gently guided her into one of the plastic chairs.

  “Relax, Sadie,” he said. “They can't see you.”

  Sadie's reaction seemed to ignite something in the FBI agents. Excitement began to show in their eyes. Booker smiled at Robinson with an arrogant air of success as if he was sure they had their man.

  Regaining her composure, Sadie began to study each suspect. Although their faces were partly obscured by their hoods, she could not help but stare, searching for some unknown clue.

  “The first one is too tall and skinny,” she said.

  “Are you sure? Now, take your time,” urged Booker.

  “I'm sure.” Sadie's voice began to show confidence.

  Only a few seconds passed.

  “Number two is too stocky.”

  The room was quiet.

  “It isn't number three either. He's just not built right.”

  “What about number four?”

  “No, he's too short.”

  “And five?” The question from Booker was almost a plea for recognition.

  “Oh, I don't think so…he's really too skinny.”

  Booker flipped a toggle switch next to the window and spoke into a small speaker. “Max, have them step forward and turn to their right.”

  Sadie withdrew from the window.

  “If they can't see me, why are they looking at me?” she whispered.

  “It's okay.” Charlie sat beside Sadie and leaned forward, his hand on the chair behind her as if offering protection. “They can't see you.”

  Sadie looked back at the five men. The hair on her arms stood on end.

  “Oh, God,” she gasped, raising her hand to her mouth. “That one's hood. It looks like the robber's…the torn place on his hood.”

  “Which one, Sadie?”

  “That one,” she said, pointing at number five.

  “Okay, Max, have them turn forward again.”

  “Oh, no.” Her voice full of relief, she almost laughed. “It's not him. I know him.”

  “You know the robber?”

  “No, he's not a robber. He's Happy.” Sadie could see the scared man's face, his mouth drawn into a frown.

  “Happy?” Both agents turned and looked at Sadie.

  “Who's happy?” asked Booker. “We're trying to pick out a robber here.”

  “He's a homeless man and he lives under the bridge.”

  “And his name is Happy?”

  “No, I just call him that because I don't know his real name. He laughs a lot.”

  “And you know him?” asked Robinson.

  “Yes, well, sorta. He helped me fix my tire one day—”

  “He what?” Robinson's voice suddenly sounded angry. Then in a calmer tone he added, “And his voice is not the robber's voice?”

  “He doesn't talk.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I've tried to talk to him before.”

  “When did you try to talk to him?”

  “All the time. I take him food twice a week.”

  “You what?”

  “Food?” Booker came alive. “Well, here, let me get a bandage for your bleeding heart. Is he the robber or not?”

  Charlie's eyes flashed a warning straight at the young agent. “Cool it, Junior. You're out of line.”

  “Hey, Sarge.” Booker stuck his chin in the air. “Don't you have some traffic to direct somewhere?”

  “Knock it off, you two,” snapped Robinson. “Save it for later.” Robinson then turned his attention back to Sadie. “I'm sorry, ma'am. Now, what about the hood?”

  “I don't know. I thought for a minute it looked like the one the robber had on…it was torn in the same place as his.”

  “You think it's the same hood?”

  “I don't think that's gonna stand up for you boys in court.” Charlie's voice reeked with sarcasm. “You cannot…identify a perp…by the hole
in his hat.” Charlie separated each phrase for emphasis and then laughed a schoolboy laugh.

  Both agents ignored Charlie.

  “What did the robber say to you, ma'am?” asked Booker.

  Sadie told him, and Booker walked back over to the toggle switch. “Okay, Max. Have number five repeat ‘We're going to transact a little business.’”

  Sadie could hear the officer in the lighted room barking at Happy. Happy looked scared and made no sound.

  “Stop yelling at him,” begged Sadie. “It's not him. I told you he's not the robber.”

  “That's okay, Max.” Booker tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Take number five back to the holding cell.” His voice then accelerated to a command. “The rest of you clowns can go back to work, now. Show's over.”

  Sadie felt a wave of relief rush over her body. Thank God, she thought, she would not have to face the killer today.

  Charlie stood up. “Do you need the lady for anything else?”

  “Well, I'm not sure.” Robinson looked first at Charlie and then at Sadie. “Exactly how well do you know this man?” His voice had become sweet, almost sickening, and Sadie reacted by backing away from the agent.

  “I told you. He's homeless. He helped me change a tire one time and I found out where he lived and started taking him food.”

  “Do you ever carry on a conversation with this homeless helper?”

  “No, I told you. He can't talk.”

  “And you're sure about that?” Booker chimed in from behind Robinson.

  “Yes…well, I guess…I don't know.” Sadie's head began to spin. What was happening? Why were they turning on her?

  “That's enough, boys.” Charlie took Sadie by the elbow and guided her to the door. “I don't know where you're going with this, but there's a difference between robber and robbee. Try to keep it straight.”

  “We'll keep in touch, ma'am. Don't be taking any long trips anywhere.”

  Right after Sergeant Charlie McCord escorted a shaken Sadie through the lobby, Christine took Candy by the hand and slipped onto the elevator. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she was tired of waiting.

  “What do ya think, Candy?”

  The child held up three fingers again. “This many,” she said.

  “Three it is.”

  Christine punched button number three. In a moment, the doors magically opened to a new world for Candy and her eyes grew big with astonishment. Suddenly, an urge struck the young girl.

  “Momma, gotta pee.”

  “Shut up,” snapped Christine. “You'll have to wait.”

  “Gotta pee.” Candy began to whimper.

  A door opened at the end of the hall and Sergeant Maddox emerged with his prisoner. Happy was handcuffed, his black sweatsuit confiscated and replaced with an orange jumpsuit with “Inmate” stenciled in black letters across the front and back. Instantly, Maddox spotted the woman and child at the elevator.

  “Hold it right there, ma'am,” he said. “You want to wait there by the window? Someone'11 help you there in a minute.”

  Candy crossed her legs and began to cry. “Pee, Momma, pee.” The child grabbed at her crotch with one hand and pulled at the bottom of her mother's short skirt with the other.

  “Good grief, Candy. You can pick the worst time…”

  Maddox tightened his grip on Happy. “Hold on, buddy, you don't need no trouble right now,” he said.

  Simultaneously, two officers arrived, flanked Christine, and began to escort her and Candy back to the elevator. The child broke loose and ran straight at Happy and then stopped abruptly. She could hold it no longer and a puddle began to form between her feet. Her face turned bright red and she began to scream.

  Maddox shoved Happy against the wall as Christine, both officers in tow, quickly moved to retrieve Candy. Happy slid down the wall, sat on the floor, and looked at the little girl. Tears began to flow down his face and, to the sergeant's surprise, he tried to speak. Maddox looked at his prisoner and then back at the woman and child.

  “Ma'am,” yelled Maddox. “Do you know this man?”

  “Hell, no. I don't know him,” she yelled. “I'm lookin' for Leroy, and that sure ain't Leroy.”

  Christine jerked Candy's arm as the elevator door closed behind them.

  Chapter 6

  The evening sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows creating a temporary mosaic of color on the walls of the Sycamore Springs Baptist Church. The casket sat in front of the pulpit, covered with a huge spray of white carnations, with a high school graduation picture of Gordy nestled in the center. Bouquets of flowers covered the entire area where the choir usually sat and blooming plants created a blanket of color on the floor.

  Sadie and Tom Duncan found seats near the back of the crowded sanctuary, near an outside wall. She discreetly shifted, searching for a comfortable spot on the unpadded, wooden pew. Organ music floated in the air but she could see no organ anywhere. Eventually, the melodies of the hymns began to repeat and she realized it must be a tape. The family had gathered in an adjacent room, and as the time for the service neared, they filed into the three front pews.

  A young man sang “Beyond the Sunset,” after which the pastor recited the Twenty-third Psalm. Then friends and family members came to tell stories about Gordy and what a bright future he would have had.

  A girl about Gordy's age joined the first singer and together they sang “Amazing Grace” in harmony. On the last stanza they asked the congregation to sing along. Unconsciously, Sadie sang quietly in Cherokee. “Unelanvhi uwetsi igaguyvhei hnaqwu tsosv wiulose igaguyvhona.”

  The song brought a sense of comfort to her. It reminded her of her grandmother's wake after she succumbed to pneumonia, an aftereffect of influenza. She remembered how the choir from the Oklahoma Indian Missionary Conference Church had sung Cherokee hymns for hours as friends and neighbors got up one by one, speaking good words about her. Then, only ten months later, she would have to sit through the same ordeal again after her father suddenly died. He had fallen into a diabetic coma, never to reawaken. With his aversion to doctors, she hadn't even known he'd had diabetes, the disease that millions of Indians suffer from every year.

  The singing stopped and the preacher began to read from his Bible. “Let not your heart be troubled…. In my Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so…. I go now to prepare a place for you…”

  Sadie's mind wandered again as she thought about the fragility of life. She wondered if Gordy had any idea this photograph would someday be displayed in front of a group of people as they recounted the good things about his life. It so easily could have been her who was dead in place of him. Agonizing memories steeped in guilt began to wash over her again.

  A young man about Gordy's age, visibly shaken, stood up near the front and began to tell a story about his friendship with Gordy. Then a group of young people sang two more songs. After an hour and a half, the service finally came to an end and Sadie felt a sense of relief. She preferred to grieve privately.

  As Sadie left the sanctuary of the church, she found the vestibule crowded, full of bank employees. Stan Blackton stood in the middle of a group of executives talking and laughing. While Sadie was not surprised, she thought his behavior offensive. She recalled Tom's comment about Blackton's request to hold the service after hours, so the bank would not have to lose a minute of work time, and her grief became mixed with disgust. Embarrassed to be associated with such people, she purposely turned her back to Blackton.

  Adam Cruthers, the bank's chief financial officer, stood near the door speaking in quiet tones to a man she did not know. The man was striking, well dressed in a dark suit and tie. He stood with feet apart, hands clasped in front of him, head bent, listening intently to Adam. As Sadie wove her way through the crowd toward the front door, Adam reached out and touched her on the arm.

  “You okay, Sadie?”

  “Yes, Adam. Thanks.”

  Sadie and Adam's friendship had be
gun over twelve years earlier when they went to work for the bank on the same day. He managed to successfully climb the corporate ladder, securing a coveted slot at the top, while Sadie continued to laughingly classify herself as lower-middle management. Her position ranked too low in the hierarchy of the bank to receive credit when something good happened, but high enough to be blamed when something bad happened. However, even with the disparity in the levels of their positions, Adam and Sadie remained distant friends.

  “Sadie, this is Jaycee Jones,” said Adam. “He handles some of the investments for the bank.”

  Sadie greeted the man and offered her hand.

  “Please accept my condolences,” he said softly and held her hand between both of his for a few extended moments. His hands were warm against her cold fingers and she felt an instant attraction to him.

  About that time, Tom attached himself to her elbow and interrupted. “Sadie, I thought I'd lost you in this crowd,” he said. “Can you give me a ride to pick up my car?”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Sadie, pulling her hand free.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Jaycee.

  Sadie smiled and nodded before walking out into the evening dusk with Tom. The air, cool and damp, smelled of rain and held the eerie stillness of an approaching storm. Silent flickers of lightning illuminated the outer edges of a bank of clouds in the western sky.

  “Why does it always seem to rain when you go to funerals?” asked Tom.

  “It's the Creator talking to you, Tom,” she said. “You should try listening once in a while.”

  Tom did not know what to say. He could tell from the tone of Sadie's voice she was not in the mood for conversation.

  “Do you think we should hang around?” asked Tom.

  Sadie stopped walking and turned toward her colleague. “For what?”

  “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe we should see what Stan has to say when he comes out.”

  “This is a memorial service, Tom…and it's over. And I sure don't need Stan Blackton's permission to leave.”

  “Go ahead, then,” said Tom. “I think I'll wait. I can catch a ride with someone else.”

  “Suit yourself.” Sadie turned and continued walking toward the parking lot.