by Mason Dixon
“She made me sign my life away.” Destiny indicated the pile of papers under her arm. “She brought me upstairs so I can open a checking account to direct deposit my payroll into. After we take a tour of the building, she says she might take me to lunch.”
“We’re going to the South African place you like,” Jackie said after the polite laughter died down.
“Would you care to join us?” Destiny asked.
Rashida’s heart ached at the expectant look in Destiny’s eyes. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”
“That’s a switch,” Jackie said. “I’ve never known you to turn down a trip to Zunzi’s.”
“Harry, Dan, and I, among others, will be having a working lunch in the conference room. Maybe next time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Destiny held Rashida’s gaze until the elevator’s closing doors broke the connection. As the car descended to the basement, Rashida allowed her mind to drift back to last night. She remembered the feel of Destiny’s body against hers. The taste of her kiss. She closed her eyes, basking in the last dip from the well of memory.
Work, as usual, offered her a safety net. When the elevator reached the basement, she led the way to the conference room. She made small talk with the four people she had invited. Then she called the meeting to order.
“Okay,” she said, grateful her peers had answered her call. “Let’s begin.”
Chapter Seven
Thursday, March 9
5:26 p.m.
Savannah, Georgia
Rashida sent an e-mail to all the head tellers reminding them to increase the dollar amounts of Friday’s money orders from the Federal Reserve. Each branch’s vault would be overflowing on Tuesday when the shipment arrived via armored car service, but they wouldn’t remain that way for long. Most of the bank’s commercial customers would need to have extra cash on hand to accommodate the influx of tourists in town for St. Patrick’s Day. By Thursday, the day before the big event, the vault totals would probably be down to the bare minimum.
She glanced at the clock as she shut down her laptop. She was actually going to be able to leave work before six o’clock for the first time in weeks.
“Hallelujah.”
She packed her bags and turned off the lights in the office she used whenever she visited the branch on Savannah’s Southside. Her cell phone rang before she made it out the office door.
“So close.”
Her heart sank when she saw Jackie’s number printed on the display. Too soon for a personal call but not too late for a work-related disaster.
“What’s going on, Jackie?”
“We have a problem.”
“Why does each call I receive from you at work begin with those words?”
“Because I never call you at work unless I have a problem.”
When she reached the lobby, Rashida watched the tellers in the Mall Boulevard branch lock their money drawers in the vault and prepare to leave for the day. “What’s wrong this time?”
“The vault in the main branch is out of balance.”
“Again? That’s the fourth time since January. How much is it out this time?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Rashida’s stomach dropped to her feet.
“Fuck.” The expletive slipped out before she could stop it. A few of the employees looked her way and laughed behind their hands. She had a reputation for keeping her cool no matter how serious the crisis. A few more f-bombs and she’d blow that image all to hell. “The other outages were small amounts we attributed to improperly-wrapped bands of money shipped from the Fed. This amount can’t be written off so easily. Have you recounted the money in the vault?” she asked as the security guard let her out the front door.
“Twice. And everyone’s cash drawers, too. Seaton and I have also checked the cash in and cash out tickets to verify they were cut correctly. No ins on an out and vice versa.”
Cash tickets were used by tellers to sell money to or buy money from the vault. After the tellers received or sold the cash, the tickets were “cut” in their teller machines, which kept a running tally of their daily transactions.
“Everything checks out,” Jackie said. “None of the tellers are out of balance. Only the vault.”
“Which is out twenty fucking thousand dollars.” Rashida unlocked her car, stowed her belongings, and climbed into the driver’s seat. She pushed the button that acted as the hybrid car’s ignition switch. “No one leaves until we find the money. No excuses this time.”
“What about overtime?”
As part of a company-wide cost-cutting initiative, all managers had been tasked with finding ways to keep expenses low. The largest expenses of all weren’t supplies or utilities but employee salaries. Branch managers were encouraged to keep tabs on their employees’ hours and send someone home early if they came close to surpassing forty work hours in a week. As a salaried employee, Rashida was exempt from such limitations. Counting Saturdays, when she made herself available to the tellers by cell phone and laptop for operational support, she routinely racked up sixty- and seventy-hour weeks. And there was no relief in sight.
“Which expense would you rather explain to senior management, a few hundred dollars that may or may not have been a result of internal fraud, or a twenty thousand dollar loss that can be attributed to nothing but?” she asked rhetorically.
“I’ll interview the employees and see if I can get one of them to break. How quickly can you be here?”
The trip from Southside to downtown usually took twenty to thirty minutes depending on traffic.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Rashida sped across town, breaking a slew of traffic laws along the way. She parked in the bank’s lot and approached the branch’s front door. Destiny peered through the thick, reinforced glass before unlocking the door and ushering her inside.
Mr. Frank always looked slightly rumpled, in uniform or out. Destiny looked crisp and starched. Like a soldier submitting to inspection during morning roll call. The tellers, on the other hand, looked like they’d been put through the wringer. How was she supposed to determine which was the guilty party when all four looked equally nervous?
“May I talk to you for a second?” Destiny asked. The large ring of keys attached to her wide black patent leather belt jingled as she locked the door.
“About?” Rashida unbuttoned her suit jacket, preparing to roll up both her literal and figurative sleeves. She didn’t have time for a personal conversation that shouldn’t be taking place at all. She needed to get to the reason she was here in the first place: finding the outage.
“I want to talk to you about the missing money.” Even though Destiny spoke in a whisper, her voice echoed off the marble columns lining the entrance to the lobby. She took Rashida’s arm and led her back toward the door.
The touch, though innocuous, sent Rashida’s pulse racing. She was inundated by memories of their one and only night together. Memories that haunted her dreams and left her waking hours filled with need. A need that could never be fulfilled.
“I’ve seen a case like this before,” Destiny said. “When I was in Athens, I pulled holiday duty at a bank to earn some extra money. Like here, the vault was out of balance a few times. Small amounts at first, then a large number. Five thousand, I think it was. We found the money in the teller’s trash can. She’d take the money on a day after the cleaning crew had visited the bank. She’d place the bills in the bottom of the trash can, cover them with pieces of scratch paper, and use the can as her personal ATM, making withdrawals as needed until she burned through the stash. By the time the cleaning crew came through again, the can was full of nothing but legitimate trash and the money was gone. We only caught her because she bragged about it to one of the other tellers, who had the good sense to relay the information to her manager. The cleaning crew comes here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On what days did the other outages
take place?”
Rashida scanned through the notebook she carried to document situations like this one. “Two Tuesdays and a Thursday. I remember thinking that was odd because unless they occur before or after a holiday, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays aren’t our busiest days. Tellers are more apt to be out of balance on a Monday or a Friday because they’re so slammed with customers they barely have time to breathe. On a Tuesday or a Thursday, they have more time to concentrate on what they’re doing. Have you told Jackie or Seaton what you just told me?”
“No. In all honesty, I didn’t remember it until I saw you walking up.” Destiny looked abashed, an endearing expression that made her look so adorable Rashida wanted to kiss her. Again. “You remind me of the teller who was caught. She was an angel on the surface but a devil underneath.”
Rashida was reminded of the old adage about the perfect woman being an angel in the streets and a whore in the sheets. Destiny was one of the few women who had seen firsthand she could be both.
“Thanks for the tip. Sometimes you stare at a problem so long you need a pair of fresh eyes to help you find the solution. If the information you gave me bears fruit, it will cost someone her job, but I’ll owe you a drink.”
Destiny puffed out her chest with pride. Only two days on the job and she had already proven herself to be a valuable asset. Even if her tip didn’t pan out, Rashida expected her knowledge and expertise to come in handy during her tenure. She was a good hire, even if her presence on staff meant her absence from Rashida’s bed.
Rashida strode across the lobby and signaled for Jackie and Seaton to meet her halfway.
“What have you found out?”
Jackie spread her arms in frustration. “I couldn’t get anything out of them. Four interviews and four denials. Either they’re all guilty or none of them are.”
“Have you watched the security video?”
“Yes, but we weren’t able to see much,” Seaton said. “The cameras are aimed at the customers, not the tellers. Before you say it, yes, I know we addressed that at the branch manager meeting on Monday, but I’ve been too busy making sales calls to fix the problem.”
Rashida counted to ten to stop herself from biting his head off. This wasn’t the first time Seaton had dragged his feet on something she had asked him to do, but it would damn sure be the last. He had been given the job as branch manager primarily because his father was on the board of directors. He had the rah-rah enthusiasm of the recent college graduate he was, but his frequent inattention to detail was troubling. His lack of follow through on her request wasn’t egregious enough to warrant disciplinary action, but she made a mental note to give him a stern talking-to. As soon as she found the missing twenty thousand dollars.
“Reposition the cameras before start of business tomorrow.”
“I’ll have Megan take care of it as soon as she clocks in.”
“Not Megan. You.”
Seaton lowered his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Rashida considered her options. Without video evidence, they would need someone to crack, either by confessing or acting as a whistleblower. She decided to put Destiny’s theory to the test. “Have you searched their work areas?”
“I did before you arrived,” Seaton said eagerly, obviously trying to regain the ground he had lost.
“Did you look through their trash?”
Seaton and Jackie exchanged a look that seemed to indicate Jackie had delegated the job to Seaton and he hadn’t performed the task he had been assigned. Surprise, surprise.
Seaton scrambled to cover his bases. “Tony told me he’d already looked through everyone’s trash, and I didn’t want to undermine him.”
“This isn’t about undermining anyone’s authority or making him look bad in front of his fellow employees,” Rashida said. “It’s about solving a potential felony.”
The dollar amount of the missing funds tipped the crime from misdemeanor status to felony offense. In addition to being terminated, the culprit could face jail time if executive management decided to press charges.
Rashida turned to address the tellers. “Everyone, I need you to dump the contents of your trash cans on the floor.”
Three tellers immediately reached for the metal containers located in their work stations, but Tony was slow to comply.
“Is this really necessary? I already searched the cans myself.”
“I’m sure you did.” Rashida noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He immediately shot to the top of her list of suspects. She smiled to gain his trust. “Humor me, okay?”
She headed for Tony’s window while Jackie and Seaton sifted through the other tellers’ trash.
“See, I told you,” Tony said when Jackie and Seaton found nothing more than the normal detritus typically left behind—coffee-stained Styrofoam cups, empty soda cans, and discarded adding machine tapes.
“Now yours, please.”
Tony tightened his grip on the edge of the bin as if he intended to force her to pry it out of his hands. “I ask you again. Is this really necessary?”
“It’s an inconvenience, I know, but I’m simply following procedure. We have to discount every possibility before we can write off a loss of this magnitude. I understand how you feel, Tony. I’m tired and ready to go home. I’m sure you are, too. But the sooner you do what I ask, the sooner we can all get out of here. Empty your trash, please.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Rashida saw Destiny take a step forward. Destiny stood with her hand on the nozzle of a canister of pepper spray as if she expected Tony to do something rash. Rashida smiled inwardly. She didn’t think the situation would spiral that far out of control, but it felt good to know Destiny had her back if it did.
With a sigh of resignation, Tony turned his trash can upside down. Three crushed Coke cans, two empty bags of Skittles, and several crumpled Post-it notes fell to the floor—along with two packs of strapped one hundred dollar bills and a ripped-up cash ticket. The amount on the ticket read fifty thousand dollars but it hadn’t been run through a teller machine. Rashida compared it to a ticket that had been run for twenty thousand dollars less and she was immediately able to determine what had taken place. She confronted Tony with her findings.
“You’re in charge of the vault when Megan goes to lunch. Based on the time stamp on the front, this ticket for thirty thousand was written by you while Megan was on break. You intended to buy fifty thousand dollars from the vault but only thirty thousand made it to your drawer. Am I right?”
Tony’s eyes widened. Rashida prepared herself for an imaginative excuse or even the typical “I don’t know how that got there.” Surprisingly, Tony came clean.
“My wife and I already have two kids,” he said as tears began to stream down his cheeks. “Now we’ve got another one on the way. We need the money, but I don’t have time to work a second job, and Jeannine wants to stay home with the kids.”
Rashida’s heart went out to him, but a crime was a crime. She sent the other tellers home then placed a call to Dennis Rawlings so he could decide Tony’s fate. She would terminate Tony for the attempted theft, but the decision to prosecute was out of her hands. She could only offer her recommendation, not decide the final outcome.
Dennis listened to her description of the events that had taken place. Rashida could feel him hanging on her every word. His response was measured. “Normally, if something like this happened, I’d advise you to throw the guilty party under the jail. But this is a special situation. We recovered the money, so there’s no loss to the bank. The negative publicity we would engender by pursuing this case through the court system would greatly outweigh any positives. Tony’s an expectant father who made a stupid mistake in an attempt to support his family. He’d likely gain both the public’s and a jury’s sympathy. We wouldn’t be as fortunate. Terminate him and file a Suspicious Activity Report with all the appropriate agencies. When the FBI and the Department of Banking and Finance finish processing it, he’ll never be
able to work at another bank again. I think that’s punishment enough.”
“I agree.”
“Good job, Rashida.”
“I can’t take credit for this one, sir. It was a team effort.”
“You and your team have my thanks. I’ll make sure the board of directors hears about your efforts as well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Rashida’s self-esteem soared at the vote of confidence. Her promotion should have provided all the evidence she needed that she was a valued member of the bank’s management team, but part of her harbored lingering doubts she had been bestowed with her new title not because she deserved it but to placate her enough to prevent her from jumping ship. The positive reinforcement allayed some of her fears, but not all of them. Preventing a five-figure loss was enough to earn anyone’s gratitude. How long, however, would she keep it?
She ended the call and prepared herself to perform a task that never failed to leave a bad taste in her mouth.
“Tony, we’ve decided not to prosecute, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go. I need your keys, your ID badge, and your parking pass.”
“I’m sorry.” Tony couldn’t meet her eye as he handed over the requested items. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Jeannine.”
“How did you intend to explain coming home with twenty thousand dollars in your pockets?”
He shook his head disconsolately. “I don’t know. I was desperate. I wasn’t thinking.”
That much was obvious.
“Someone from HR will contact you to arrange an exit interview. At the moment, though, that’s the least of your worries. Your family needs you. Go home to them.”
“Thank you for not sending me to jail.”
She couldn’t tell if he was more relieved he had gotten caught or that he had survived his near-brush with the law without becoming some hardened criminal’s prison bitch. “Good luck finding another job. Wherever you end up, don’t ever try anything like this again. If you do, you might not be as lucky as you were this time.”