Mission

by Camilla Chafer

"We did not," said Jord. "But my best guess is it came from a nine millimeter at close range. No defensive wounds."

  "So Mackleton knew his killer and possibly let them in," said Solomon, nodding. "This is looking like a clean-up op. What are your thoughts, Delgado?"

  "Eradicate the weak link," said Delgado. "Sensible. He didn't get rid of the van. We found him. The police found him. Someone made sure he couldn't talk."

  "What kind of psycho is running this crew?" I asked.

  "A pretty efficient one," said Solomon. "That's also worrying."

  Maddox walked back to us. "I couldn't see anything that stood out as Mackleton being a part of the robbery other than the van," he said. "No signs of anyone else living there so I won't be surprised to hear his fingerprints were found on the van."

  "What about the stolen property from the bank?" I asked.

  "The place is a dump. I wouldn't exclude Mackleton from having a hiding place but I doubt very much that any valuables, whatever they might be, would be left with him," said Jord. "I'm not even convinced they stole anything at present. The bank manager couldn't confirm it either."

  Solomon and I exchanged a look. I wondered if he also thought Charlie Sampson wasn't telling the police the truth. "What happens now?" I asked.

  "Jord and I will team up," said Garrett. "Jord will keep investigating the heist and find out what they stole, if anything. I can't see a crew that organized leaving empty-handed. I'm going to personally take on Mackleton's murder and we'll share our findings. Sound good to you, Detective?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant," said Jord. "I appreciate the assistance."

  "The FBI has no current interest in this," said Maddox, "But I'd be grateful if you kept me in the loop out of curiosity's sake. I had an idea this might be linked to something bigger but now I'm not so sure. Mackleton has never been on my radar and I'd like to know whom he associates with."

  "We'll keep you informed." Garrett looked from Solomon to me, then Delgado. "I'm not going to tell you to keep out of it since I know you'll ignore me anyway, but I will ask you to keep us in the loop too. Let's set up a meeting in a day or two and see where we are. Sound good, everyone?"

  We all nodded with murmurs of cooperation, then Delgado said, "So, about those burgers?"

  "Let's go," said Solomon.

  ~

  Solomon, Maddox, Delgado and I stopped at the drive-through and placed an order for enough food to feed a small army while we mused the merits of the case. After eating, we returned to Mackleton's neighborhood and dropped Maddox off at his car. Solomon handed me a sack of food to take to my brothers who were still working the crime scene before we returned Delgado to his vehicle. He was eager to head home and hose off the scent of alley garbage before Serena had a conniption fit.

  We ate our food in the car while watching the officers move from house to house, interviewing people on their stoops. Solomon kissed my salty fingers and insisted it was late and time to go home. Since I'd eaten, and my mind was buzzing with possibilities, I was happy to acquiesce. I fell asleep not long after we climbed into bed.

  When I awoke the next morning, Solomon was lying on his stomach, his head turned towards me, his face soft with sleep. I snuggled close to him and allowed myself some extra snooze time. The sound of my phone trilling barely roused me. When it rang a second time, I picked it up.

  "This is so exciting," cooed Lily. "Jord told me all about it!"

  "Huh?"

  "The big case and the murder of the getaway driver and I think I can help."

  "Huh?"

  "Are you awake?"

  "Not really."

  "Call me back when you're fully awake."

  "Okay."

  "Don’t forget!" said Lily before she hung up.

  I sighed and got out of bed. By the time I brushed my teeth and showered, Solomon was moving around, his clothes laid out on the bed. I kissed him, offered him coffee, and got dressed in black pants and a plain blue blouse with pearl buttons. It was a little more formal than my usual attire but I planned to visit the bank. Sure, it wasn't my case but Maddox was right. I needed to look at the scene again with fresh eyes. There had to be a clue we missed, and perhaps something would trigger a memory of the heist. Then I could concentrate on the Takahashi case without interruption.

  I explained my idea over breakfast to Solomon and he nodded.

  "I'm not sure what you'll find or even if they cleaned up the bank vault yet but it's a good idea to take another look," he said. "I'm working with the team to track down Thomas Mackleton's movements. He has priors so that might give us some insight into his associates."

  "Are Garrett and Jord happy to work together with you on that?"

  Solomon tipped his head in contemplation. "So they said. We all know it makes more sense to cooperate in terms of both time and knowledge. We can discuss our findings as Garrett requested."

  I left the house first, driving over to the bank in Solomon's car when he assured me Delgado would collect him and someone else would retrieve the pool car from Lily's bar. I contemplated arriving at First Eastern Bank unannounced but Solomon had suggested it was best to inform Charlie Sampson to ensure no cleanup operation had been initiated, rendering it a pointless journey. Plus, he reminded me, the bank case wasn't my responsibility.

  "I was going to get started on the cleanup with a couple of employees today," Charlie said when he met me at the front door of the bank. He allowed me in a full hour before the bank officially opened. "Since the police and your team left, I simply closed the vault door and left it while I thought about what to do."

  "So nothing was moved?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "It's the same mess as the day of the robbery. Truthfully, I'm not entirely sure how I'll even organize the items they left behind. We informed the owners of the boxes that were untouched and undamaged that their property is safe. The owners of the damaged boxes are a trickier matter."

  "Oh?"

  "Because we don't know the exact contents of every box, it looks like they'll each have to identify their property. I may well have to ask them to provide proof of ownership in case of any false claims. For some items, that will be simple. Others, less so. Some won't want to admit what is inside their boxes at all."

  "What happens to those items?"

  "I'm not sure yet. I'll talk to the higher-ups and hear what they have to say." Charlie scratched his head. "It's unprecedented for the bank as I'm sure you'll understand."

  "A robbery?"

  "No, that happens occasionally although not for the past few years because security is so tight these days. We've never had a successful vault raid before, although there was an attempt, oh, twenty years ago. I only hope the publicity doesn't ruin our reputation."

  "What makes this time different?"

  "I hope you can tell me. Maybe they were simply more experienced."

  As we talked, we traveled through the small rear lobby and down the stairs into the basement. The vault door was closed and I waited while Charlie entered a code in a digital keypad, then input his palm print. The door unclicked and Charlie pulled the thick door open, standing back to let me inside the windowless room. I stared at his hand for a moment and he looked at me. "I wondered if they might cut it off," he said with a sigh.

  "Don't dwell on it," I said, turning to assess the mess. Debris was scattered across the floor. Bits of twisted metal, a lock without its casing, a single diamond earring, sheafs of paper... everywhere I looked something was out of place. "How did you plan to organize all this?" I asked.

  "I thought we would bring in a long, folding, table and assemble everything on it," said Charlie. "It's old school but it should work. The paperwork should be easily identifiable. Everything else—" He threw his hands up in defeat.

  "I like that idea. I can help do that as I take a look," I said. "Can you get a table?"

  "I can't leave you in here alone," he said, opening a small box on the wall. He pulled out a corded telephone and asked for the table to be brou
ght down. "The bank insists on having phones in the vaults in case anyone ever gets stuck."

  "Does that happen often?"

  "It's happened a couple times."

  "I'm going to start looking through the debris."

  Charlie glanced around, appearing uncomfortable. "I have to ask that you don't photograph anything, but you can take notes. We have to respect our clients’ privacy."

  "Understood," I said. I would have preferred photos to sift through later but I came prepared with a notepad and pen. There was no point in sketching the scene since I wasn't an artist and it could only result in an ill-informed squiggle. I preferred to take notes since the list might become useful later. Although, I decided as I sank to my knees, it might also be an absolute waste of time. What if the stolen box contained one single item, and that item was long gone? "How about if I notate the items and then pass them to you to display on the table?" I suggested. "We can document and display them at the same time."

  "That would speed things up considerably, sure. I have the time. Ahh. Here's the table."

  Two employees arrived with a long, folding painter's table. They set it up against the far end of the room, then stepped out, giving me curious glances. I could understand their interest; they probably wanted to know what was going on too.

  I started with the smallest item nearest me, the diamond earring, and recorded it in my notepad before passing it to Charlie. Surprisingly, the task wasn't boring, just slightly laborious as the list grew. I sifted the remains of box debris from the obvious contents. Birth records, property records and old letters comprised the bulk of ephemera, along with a crumpled coin magazine, a bundle of cash in euros, and a startling array of naked photos. Several passports had the same photograph with different names. I pondered that before handing them to Charlie as I found them. That was not the mystery I was here to solve, although I did jot down the names, just in case.

  There was a lot of jewelry made from all kinds of different stones and styles which, to my untrained eye, looked very valuable. I found several flash drives which I handed to Charlie although I wished I could’ve seen what was on them. There was a small handgun wedged under a metal sheet. "I think you should speak to the police about this," I said as I covered my hand with a tissue before picking it up. I lay the gun on the table rather than handing it to Charlie.

  "I'm not sure about that. Clients pay for the privilege of privacy."

  "It could have been used in a crime," I said.

  "What if the robbers left it behind?"

  We both looked at the small handgun. It was nothing like the weapons the robbers toted. However, being a weapon found in the aftermath of a robbery would give Charlie some plausible deniability if the gun were connected to a patron of the bank. "Then you should definitely call Detective Graves down here," I said as I moved away, checking to see if anything else were gun-related. I didn't find any bullets or a gun case so I moved onto the last remaining items, adding a thick folder containing a stamp collection, some very old books, and a few more fragments of jewelry to the table. A pile of mangled metal lay on the floor beneath, the material twisted and warped beyond repair, which gave me an idea.

  "When did you last have the boxes maintained?" I asked.

  Charlie shrugged. "Some thirty years ago I’m told, and they've never needed any maintenance. The only upgrade is the palm scanner outside the door and that was upgraded at least a decade ago. The boxes with the fingerprint scanners were renovated at the same time."

  "Any other workers down here in the last few months? Electricians? Plumbers? Pest control?"

  "No, no one."

  So much for the idea that someone lied their way inside, although it did increase the possibility of an inside job. I didn't tell Charlie that, although I wondered if the idea occurred to him. Instead, I gazed at the array of items unduly liberated from their boxes and wondered what could possibly be more valuable than these? For the price the client's paid for privacy, their stored items were hardly exciting.

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in Solomon's car, reviewing my notes when my phone rang. Instead of Lily calling me back to remind me to call her, it was Austen.

  "Can you come to the house?" he asked, a trace of urgency in his voice that had me sitting up straighter.

  "Yes, of course. Is everything okay? Is your wife okay?"

  "Stable and no change. The nurse told me if I didn't go home, shower and change, she would forcibly evict me and not let me return until I did. I got home at midnight and started looking for a bag to take back to the hospital with some of Sophie's things for when she wakes up and I found something."

  "Oh?"

  "It's... Lexi, I don't know what to make of it. Could you come by and take a look?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Austen and I stared down at the open backpack in the middle of the otherwise empty room. The windows were closed and the air very still. Imprints of furnishings marred the worn carpet and the seventies' style closet doors had no handles. A faint scent of mint hung in the air; the source of which was Austen, whose recently shampooed hair was still damp. When he answered the door a few minutes before, I noticed his shirt buttons were all one off and the tail of his shirt was hanging at an angle, like he got dressed carelessly, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

  "So?" prompted Austen.

  "I'm still thinking," I said.

  "There is a reasonable explanation, right?"

  I made a non-committal noise while a dozen possibilities ran through my head. Austen was right; there could be a simple reason why a backpack stuffed with cash lay at our feet. A backpack, Austen told me, he found buried deep inside a closet that he and Sophie never used.

  "There's no way you could have put it in there and forgotten about it?" I asked. Austen turned his head and raised his eyebrows. "Forget I asked," I added. "What about the previous owners?"

  "Sophie and I walked through every room as soon as we got the keys. We checked every closet. Sophie said it was like going on a treasure hunt. The house hadn't been touched in a couple of decades. I think she hoped to find something exciting hidden somewhere in the house."

  I raised my eyebrows. "You have now."

  "Except I think my wife put it there. There must be fifty thousand dollars in the bag!"

  "Does she have a problem with banks? Like, did she have a grandparent who got ripped off by one and always encouraged the family to keep the money under the mattress?"

  "I don't think so. We share a joint account. She has a credit card. She's not a crazy spender, but she uses them whenever she likes."

  "For cash?"

  "Not thousands and thousands of dollars worth."

  "A lot of people come in and out of the house during the renovation," I pointed out. "Someone else could have hidden the bag here, especially knowing it's a room that neither of you use."

  "Wouldn't that be risky? Knowing we might happen to take a look around?"

  I had to agree with Austen. My guesses were weak but they were the only explanations I could come up with that didn't include Sophie being up to something nefarious. I couldn't think of a single person with that much cash stashed in their home. Not even Solomon, although I once found some weapons concealed behind a false wall, which was quite the eye opener. Strangely, that put me in a good position to empathize with Austen. It wasn't pleasant to discover something like that about the person you loved, especially when it lacked a helpful explanation.

  "Did she ever mention winning a large amount? Or possibly finding it?"

  "Have you ever heard of anyone leaving a backpack of cash for someone else to find, and not reporting it?"

  "Nope."

  "Me neither. And no, she never mentioned winning anything. She doesn't even play the lottery or the scratch-offs."

  I thought again. "Perhaps she inherited it? Or could she have recently closed an old savings account and didn't get around to putting the cash into the new bank?"

  "Then why hide it in a closet?"
/>
  "Okay, it is a little suspicious."

  "Can you find out where it came from?"

  I knelt down and pulled out one of the bundles. It was wrapped in a plain, unmarked band but all the serial numbers appeared to be random. The cash was real. "I'll try but it won't be easy," I said. "Do you mind if I empty the bag?"

  "Go ahead."

  I upended the bag, shaking it until I was sure the last bundle tumbled onto the carpet. Ignoring the pile of cash, I rummaged through the main pocket, turning it inside out to be sure nothing remained; then I examined the two exterior pockets. Inside was a receipt for the bag, stamped two years ago, and a stick of gum.

  "Sophie buys that brand of gum," said Austen with a sigh.

  "It still doesn't prove anything. Millions of people buy this brand of gum. Remember, you know Sophie." I began to stack the bundles and when I finished, I knew we grossly underestimated the amount. One of the bundle bands was a little loose but even despite a few missing bills, there was close to a hundred thousand dollars. A helluva lot of cash for a woman who didn't have a job and previously worked at a museum. "Can I take one of these?" I asked, holding one of the bundles. "And do you have somewhere secure to store the rest of it?"

  "There's a safe in my study. I can put it in there."

  "Do that now," I told him, stuffing the cash back into the backpack and handing it to him. "I'd like to take another look at the closet where you found it."

  "Go right ahead but it's empty. I already checked."

  While Austen took the backpack to his study, I searched the closet. I patted the walls but couldn't find any false compartments, or anything else that could have fallen from the backpack. Instead, all I found was a pile of old-fashioned drapes, folded and stacked. I stuffed the single bundle into my purse and walked out of the room, meeting Austen as he jogged up the stairs.

  "What happens now?" he asked.

  "Don't tell anyone about the money," I decided. "Let me look deeper into it first. I'll let you know if I learn anything."

  "I have to get back to the hospital now. I'll walk you out."

  As we descended to the entryway, I asked, "Did Sophie mention saving for any large purchases?"