Sharpe Wit

by Lisa B. Thomas

  She read through the story again, and by the time she’d finished, she was itchier than ever to get back to her investigation. While she dressed and got ready, she hatched a plan to buy herself some time.

  Gary came in and pointed to his watch. “It’s that time. Are you ready?”

  She grabbed a light jacket and followed him out of the bedroom. Hurley gave her his sad-eyed look when he realized they were leaving, and Deena scratched his head and told him they’d see him later.

  Once in the garage, she opened the door to Gary’s car and then stopped. “Oh, wait. I just remembered that I told Ian I would check on Edwin this morning. It will just take me a second.” She closed the car door and walked around to Gary’s side. “Hopefully he’s had breakfast, or I might have to fix him something. I’ll be as quick as I can. Want to come?”

  Gary looked at his watch again. “Really? I wish you had told me earlier. You know how I hate to be late.”

  Deena took a few steps toward Edwin’s house. “If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Deena Jo . . .”

  “Seriously. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Gary dropped his shoulders. “Okay, but don’t be too long. Scott’s wife is going to be there too.”

  “No problem,” she said and blew him a kiss. Then she headed across the lawn.

  It wasn’t a lie. She had told Ian she would check on Edwin. All she really wanted to do was see if he recognized Rocky B. or had figured out what had happened to his driver’s license. As she crossed Edwin’s front yard, she stepped around a few muddy patches, realizing they must have had a light rain the night before.

  It wasn’t surprising Edwin was not on his porch after the trying day he’d had before. She saw the newspaper on the porch, picked it up, and then rang the doorbell. She waited.

  And waited.

  She pressed the button again and could hear it ring inside. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she put her ear near the door to see if she heard any noise on the other side. Surely nothing had happened since yesterday. That would be too coincidental. She slipped her hand into her purse to get her phone when she heard the deadbolt unlatch and the door start to open.

  A fully dressed, clean-shaven Edwin Cooper stood in the doorway. “What do you want?”

  “Oh,” Deena said, putting her hand to her chest. “You’re okay.”

  “Of course I am,” he said and took the newspaper from her. “Come on in.”

  She followed him inside as he went straight to the den and sat in his usual spot on the sofa. The TV was on and tuned to Wheel of Fortune. Deena was surprised since she thought the show didn’t come on until later in the afternoon.

  Edwin picked up the remote and pressed a button. “I’m going to have to start the whole show over since you interrupted me.”

  Now she understood. “I see you have it recorded.”

  “Yep.” His worn, wrinkled face broke into a grin. “My granddaughter, Kitty, taught me how to record it. Now I can watch it anytime I want.”

  “That’s great,” Deena said, looking around for evidence that Edwin had eaten breakfast.

  “She’s a great gal. You should meet her sometime.”

  Deena started for the kitchen. “I met her yesterday, remember?”

  Edwin shooshed her as the show started up again.

  There was an empty plate and cereal bowl in the sink. Obviously, Edwin had eaten dinner last night and breakfast that morning. She stepped back into the den. “Is Lillian coming by today?”

  Edwin didn’t respond as he watched the contestants intently.

  She repeated the question louder.

  “Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

  She walked over, picked up the remote, and pressed pause.

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  Although she and Gary had never had children, she suspected this was what it felt like. “I asked you if your housekeeper was coming over today.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “No,” he croaked. “She only comes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Now give me that remote.”

  Deena put it behind her back. “So she was here yesterday?”

  “Yesterday was Monday, so yes. She was already gone before I got released from the slammer.” He held out his hand for the remote.

  “Not yet,” she said and sat down beside him. “Have you noticed anything missing from the house?”

  “You think maybe I was robbed? I got me a Confederate Colt—” He stopped. “Oh yeah. The police have it now.” Scratching his chin, he added, “Nope. Nothing’s missing.”

  She picked up the newspaper where he had set it on the coffee table. The manila envelope was still there. Unfolding the newspaper, she pointed out the sketch of John Doe. “Have you ever seen this man?”

  Edwin glanced at him. “No.”

  “Look carefully. His name is Rocky B. He’s the man in the morgue who had your driver’s license and bank slip on him when he was found dead.”

  Now she had the old guy’s attention. He pushed his glasses up further on his nose and squinted at the picture. “He doesn’t look familiar.”

  She got her cell phone out and pulled up the photograph from the funeral home. “How about this picture? Are you sure you have never seen him?”

  Edwin shook his head. “I don’t think so, but my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. Did they get my stuff from him?”

  “I assume that’s what’s in this envelope.” Deena picked it up and handed it to him, anxious to see if it contained any other clues.

  He pulled out the contents. The first paper was a receipt from the police department he had signed acknowledging the items were his. Then there was his driver’s license. He turned it around in his hand, studying both sides. “That looks like mine all right.” He looked at the bank receipt and promptly set it back down.

  Deena saw that it was from the First Bank of Maycroft, the same bank she and most of the town entrusted with their hard-earned money.

  Edwin pushed himself off the sofa. “I’m going to get my wallet. I want to put this back in there.” He waved his ID.

  As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Deena grabbed the bank receipt and checked the date. It was the past Thursday, the day before Rocky B. had been found dead at the café. Edwin had withdrawn three hundred dollars. Nothing unusual about that. But there was a handwritten note scribbled at the bottom. She squinted and tried to make it out, cursing herself for not carrying her reading glasses in her purse. Finally, she was able to focus enough to read Box 192 and the initials L. B.

  Edwin came back in holding his wallet.

  “Anything else missing?” Deena asked.

  “Doesn’t appear to be. It has my cash, social security card, credit card, insurance cards. It’s all here.”

  He sat back down.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to carry your social security card in your wallet. If someone were to get ahold of it, you could be a victim of identity theft.”

  “Ah,” he groused. “I don’t have much to steal. Most of my money is in savings, guaranteed safe by the United States government.”

  “Well, you must have some money in checking. This shows you got three hundred dollars out last week.”

  “Three hundred? I never get more than seventy-five dollars at a time. That’s exactly what I have in my wallet right now.” He reached for the bank slip and studied it.

  By now it was getting late, and Deena knew Gary would be wondering where she was. She noticed a cloud came over Edwin’s face and didn’t want him to worry. “I bet it just slipped your mind. Happens to me all the time.” She handed him the remote and his eyes brightened.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t forget that Kitty and her boyfriend are bringing your car back later, and I’m sure Ian will call.”

  He nodded, fully engaged with the new puzzle on the show again.

&nbs
p; “I’ll check on you later,” she said as she stood to leave.

  To her surprise, Edwin hit the pause button. “Thanks for being a good neighbor, and if you see Christy Ann, tell her thanks for the casserole she left last night on the porch. I put it in the freezer.”

  “I will.” As Deena headed for the door, she thought about Christy Ann. She was glad someone else was keeping their eye on the neighborhood.

  Chapter 9

  As long as she had to be there anyway, Deena figured she’d try to make quick work of it. After all, how long could it take to screw together a few boards for some prefab furniture?

  She parked in front of the standalone building located just down from the bank. Inside were a mound of cartons, packing materials, and three of the least mechanical people she’d ever seen. This was going to be a nightmare.

  “Where’s Liz?” she asked, thinking Scott’s wife was the reason she had to be there.

  “She bugged out on us,” Scott said. “Claimed she had too much to do.”

  Deena gave Gary the stink eye, and he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m sure glad you showed up,” Vera said. “All of these instructions are written in French.”

  “What?” She walked over to where Vera sat on the floor wearing Strawberry Shortcake overalls and a hot-pink T-shirt. Who knew you could get those in extra large. Deena took the instruction manual out of Vera’s hand and flipped the pages to the English version. “Here.”

  “See, you’re a genius.” She turned to Scott, who was already sweating, and said, “We need parts G and H and the screws marked double P.”

  Scott was fifteen years Gary’s junior, but they shared an interest in sports, especially golf. Scott looked even younger than his age, with a slim lanky body like one of those wagging balloon men in front of the car dealership. He had a full head of dark hair and wore hipster glasses, making him look the part of a 1950s accountant. And he was an accountant. Actually, a CPA like Gary. As far as she knew, the two men only ever argued about sports, never business.

  She watched Gary struggling with a box cutter, then using it to slice through another carton.

  “What are you doing? None of these others have been put together yet,” she said, waving her hand at two stacks of furniture parts and hardware.

  “I thought I’d open all the boxes first, and then we could get rid of the trash and cardboard. That way we’d have more room.”

  For someone so brilliant with numbers and facts, Gary could sometimes miss the obvious. “Um, that’s a bad idea. Once you start pulling all that stuff out, things are bound to get mixed up. I think you should do them one at a time.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but you know how it is—the boss is always right,” Vera chirped, “so I kept my mouth shut.”

  Deena put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Feel free to save him from himself whenever necessary.”

  Right then a phone rang. A real telephone, not a cell phone. They all scrambled to find it under the mess.

  “Found it,” Deena said and pointed to the multi-buttoned contraption.

  “Let me get it,” Vera said. She picked up the receiver and said in a silky smooth voice, “Sharpe and Myers Financial Services, your money is our business. May I help you?” She winked at Gary and Scott and gave them a thumbs-up. After a moment she said, “And who shall I say is calling?” Then, “One moment, please.” Mashing a button, she turned to Gary. “It’s Marcie Phillips from the bank calling for Mr. Sharpe.”

  Gary reached for the receiver.

  Vera pulled it away. “I’ll send it to your office where you have paper and pen.”

  “Good idea,” Gary said and made a beeline to the hallway.

  Vera pushed another button and they watched it blink a few times and waited. Then, the red light stayed on. Gary had picked up.

  The three of them looked at each other as though they’d just successfully landed a man on the moon.

  “Our first real call!” Vera clapped her hands. “We should celebrate.”

  Scott’s eyes widened as he used his dad-voice. “Uh, no more margaritas for you, young lady. I still can’t get your rendition of ‘La Bamba’ out of my head.”

  At nearly sixty, Vera was old enough to be flattered by the young lady comment. She and her husband had three kids and four grandchildren. She shook her head. “Don’t worry. When I worked at the vineyard, we all drank wine like water. I got used to it. But that tequila . . .” She rubbed her forehead. “I had to lie down and take a nap. Almost missed my hair appointment.”

  Gary walked back in, and they stared at him expectantly.

  Scott broke the silence. “Well, what did she say?”

  “She apologized for barging in on our meeting at the bank yesterday and making a scene. Said she was going to call you too, but I promised her I would relay the message.”

  “That’s odd,” Deena said. “If she quit her job, why would she care what you guys thought about it?”

  Gary folded his arms and grinned. “That’s just it. She said she was back working at the bank and looked forward to continuing to serve us in the accounts department. Blah, blah, blah. It was like she was reading from a script.”

  “Ouch,” Vera said. “Sounds like she made a mistake and had to beg for her job back. Apologizing was probably one of the stipulations.”

  Gary clapped his hands together. “Well, this furniture isn’t going to assemble itself. Let’s get back to work.”

  Deena looked around and then had an idea. When there was a big job to do, you needed just the right person to do it. Stepping outside, she pulled out her cell phone and called her brother, Russell. The man was an absolute genius when it came to anything involving tools. After she explained the situation, he said he’d be more than happy to come over. He said he’d even get his buddy Cliff to help. Deena thanked him profusely and hung up.

  Calling in two able-bodied men to assist, as well as Liz being a no-show, was her ticket out of there. She went inside and announced the good news.

  “Great,” Gary said. “We can use all hands on deck.”

  That’s when she broke it to him that she would be leaving.

  He made a pouty face. “What? I thought you wanted to help.”

  “I do,” she lied. “It’s just that I’m feeling stressed about the story. Let me follow up on a few leads, and I’ll be back in a jiffy. Okay?”

  He nodded and picked up an instruction booklet.

  “Save me some pizza if you order in for lunch.” With that she made her escape.

  And she knew exactly where her first stop would be—to see Marcie Phillips at the bank. Now that the woman owed Gary a favor, maybe she would tell Deena something about the withdrawal Edwin had made last week.

  Whenever there’s a mystery, you’ve got to follow the money.

  Chapter 10

  Big-city folks might not recognize a small-town bank. There were no security guards, no stuffy receptionist, and only one drive-thru window. Most people preferred to take care of their banking business in person instead of through an impersonal metal speaker.

  Deena went inside and bypassed the help-yourself coffee station even though there were still a half-dozen doughnuts left. She went straight to the customer service desk to see Judy Fritz, whose son had been in Deena’s journalism class two years in a row.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sharpe. Good to see you again. Are you here to see Jake about your husband’s new business loan? I bet you’re so excited for him.”

  “I am. Excited, I mean. I’m actually here to see Marcie Phillips. Is she available?”

  Judy snickered. “She will be for you, that’s for sure.”

  Deena had a hunch but asked anyway. “What do you mean?”

  “After making such a fool of herself in front of your husband and Mr. Myers yesterday, I’m surprised they let her come back to work. Let me call her.”

  Judy spoke to Marcie and told her that Deena was there to see her. Almost before Judy could hang up the p
hone, Marcie came running out of her office to greet Deena. One of the chopsticks nearly fell from her graying bun. She was pretty nimble for being fifty-something.

  “Mrs. Sharpe! So glad to see you.” They shook hands. “Won’t you come to my office? Did you want some coffee or a doughnut? I could get you a soda.”

  “I’m fine,” Deena said and walked past the tellers and their curious stares. They must have thought Deena was there to chew out Marcie for her bad behavior.

  Marcie closed the door and stood behind her desk waiting for Deena to sit first. “About yesterday, I am so sorry for bursting in like that. I’m sure your husband told you. It wasn’t like me, really.”

  Deena just stared at the woman, letting her kowtow all she wanted in order to give Deena the upper hand in their upcoming conversation.

  Marcie continued. “I hope you don’t take it out on the bank. I even called your husband a while ago to apologize.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  Deena felt a little guilty for making the woman squirm. “No worries and no hard feelings.”

  Marcie looked as though she were about to cry. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Sharpe. Bless your heart. I owe you a kidney.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I hope, but I do have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything,” Marcie said and picked up a pen.

  “It’s about my neighbor,” Deena said. “He’s getting up there in years and having some problems with his memory. He apparently came to the bank last week and made a larger than usual transaction. It’s really got him in a tizzy, and I thought maybe you could give me some information about it.”

  Marcie’s smile dropped off her face as she replied slowly and gently, “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Sharpe, but it is against bank policy to give out private information to another client, unless you are listed on his account. Are you?”

  Deena knew she wasn’t, but she wondered if anyone else might be. That could explain things if someone came to the bank on his behalf. She stared up at the ceiling and tapped her chin. “Let me think. Oh, honestly, I can’t remember. Could you look it up?”

  “I’d be happy to. What’s the name?”