by Deany Ray
Celeste stared at her, askance. She ran a long blue fingernail through her bright red hair, which was stacked up high atop her head. “Do I look like anyone who’d show up from the bank?”
Drat. That would leave us with…me.
“I don’t look the part,” I said. “Look at how I’m dressed.” I glanced down at my jeans and pink t-shirt. “I don’t look very…banksy.”
“That’s something we can fix.” Celeste jumped out from the front seat. “What are you, size eight?”
I nodded, then watched her power walk down to a brick boutique a few stores down from where we’d parked. Two minutes later she was back and handing me a pair of nice black slacks. Next, she shrugged out of her red blazer. “Here, put this on over your shirt,” she said. “I’m lucky that I wore it. It’s the most bank-like thing I own.” She paused. “Marge, show me your feet.”
Marge giggled, then lifted up her foot, showing off a black flat, which I supposed would have to do. The bright red flower in the middle wasn’t perfect, but it was better than my old white sneakers. Eddy stared at us, whistling in amazement. Marge and Celeste kept eagle eyes on him, making sure he looked the other way while I quickly changed into the new pants – talk about super awkward. I was doing this for Lucas. I was doing it for Perry.
I buttoned the jacket all the way to cover up the logo from Froggy’s Pub in Boston. With the makeover, I could pass for a real worker at a bank, one with a little extra style, a little extra color.
Eddy winked at me. “I should spend more time in banks if the chicks all look like that.”
“Okay, you can shut it,” I said.
“Don’t worry, Charlie. You’re gonna do fine,” Celeste said.
“What about these?” I asked and pointed at my missing eyebrows.
“Just say it’s a genetic flaw,” Marge said.
Great.
I took my hair out of its ponytail and brushed it with my fingers. The others wished me luck.
I got out of the car and crossed the street. In a typical Charlie Cooper move, I found myself in trouble before I made it through the door of the café. I was running bank-like phrases through my mind as I headed in, and I’d never been a girl to do multiple things well all at once. That’s why I didn’t notice the man right in front of me, walking out of the café. I slammed into him hard enough that I almost fell out of Marge’s shoes, which were a size too large.
“Oh, excuse me. I’m so sorry,” I cried out.
What a terrible bank worker I’d turned out to be! Anyone who worked at any bank was always so efficient. I was sure they hardly ever slammed into other people.
“Please forgive me,” I said.
I looked up and stared into a familiar face. It was the man I’d first seen at The Glazed Doughnut Box, the same man who had left the building on Moraine Avenue just the day before, and now here he was pressed up close against me at the Urban Rock Café.
Suspicious Guy.
Chapter Thirteen
He barely glanced up from his cardboard coffee cup, its lid mercifully keeping the hot liquid from splashing on us both.
“It’s okay,” he mumbled under his breath, his words barely audible as he continued to make his way out the door.
I quickly looked away, hoping I looked different enough that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he’d seen me before in The Glazed Doughnut Box. I did, after all, have on a very not-so-Charlie-like ensemble. Nervously, I straightened Celeste’s jacket, which suddenly felt prickly, too heavy for the day.
I glanced at the man’s back as he headed for the corner of the street. Were we lucky or what? If I could figure out where this guy was heading, we could have the answer to this whole darn thing. On the other hand, if I dashed out of there right then, he might know I was up to something. After all, who rushes into a coffee shop with such fervor that she slams right into you, then leaves without so much as purchasing a drink? That would look suspicious – but only if the guy noticed I was there. Hmm. I thought it might be possible that I could pull this thing off if I was subtle and made myself blend in with the crowd – which shouldn’t be a problem. I was good at that. It was my greatest talent. The wondrous Charlie Cooper, invisible to men!
Okay, I would do it. The coffee shop could wait; it wasn’t going anywhere, unlike this very important mystery man, who was still where I could see him. He stopped at a crosswalk, sipping his coffee and standing apart from a rowdy group of teens. I wondered if Eddy and the girls had noticed he was here.
I felt a vibration in my pocket and pulled out my phone to see a message from Celeste. We’ve got him covered. Go on in and do your thing.
When I glanced across the street, Marge grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.
Another text came through. We got a picture too.
Celeste attached a photo of Suspicious Guy as he left the coffee shop. I was glad she’d thought of that. It could come in handy to have a photo of the guy.
I took a deep breath and entered the Urban Rock Café. I looked around the place. From the outside, the place was fairly nondescript, but inside it was intriguing: a perfect mix of cozy, fun, and flair. Blond hardwood floors, an antique wooden counter, and oriental rugs, their colors muted now with age, were spread out beneath a crystal chandelier. The whole back wall was taken up by shelves of books with several overstuffed chairs and footstools interspersed in front.
A couple of tables were filled, and a few people waited patiently in line at the counter. The place gave off a pleasant buzz. A young guy ran the register while the girl beside him fixed the coffees – which, damn it, smelled amazing. I glanced up at the specials, written on a blackboard. A butterscotch vanilla latte, a Kenyan blend with notes of blackberry and brown sugar. It was a bad day to give up coffee.
Both employees calmly went about their work; I could see no signs of the recent, sudden death that surely had sent shock waves through this coffee shop.
I walked over to the counter and gave the boy a little wave as he handed back some change to a teenage couple.
“Excuse me,” I told him in my best muckety-muck, big-deal-executive kind of voice. “I’d like to speak with a manager, please.”
The two workers exchanged glances.
“Name, please?” the girl asked.
Sheesh. I should have known they’d ask me that. Note to self: Charlie, think ahead; it’s really not that hard. The lack of caffeine didn’t help.
“It’s Gina,” I replied. “Gina…”
I watched as she handed over a steaming latte with a milky heart expertly drawn on top. It smelled of cinnamon, and I could almost taste it.
“Gina O’Coffey,” I said, immediately taking note of the absurdness of the name. “From Stonebridge Bank and Trust.” Thank goodness I remembered the name of the bank from the withdrawals Clayton made.
The girl nodded and took charge. She looked puzzled by the name, but at the same time had an air of busyness with no time to mull over the odd match between the product she was selling and the guest in front of her. With the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, she spoke to someone while drawing another heart on another lucky person’s latte.
“Someone up front to see you,” she said into the phone. “Says she’s from the bank.” When she hung up, she nodded at me politely. “Our manager will be right out. You’re welcome to take a seat.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
I chose a table near the wall where I could have a view of the whole place. I passed the time by wondering about the man that I’d slammed into. Who was Suspicious Guy exactly and what was his connection to the Urban Rock Café and The Glazed Doughnut Box – and how many others? Maybe Celeste and Marge were getting answers at that very moment.
Only a couple of minutes later, I was approached by a thin and balding man who looked tired and preoccupied.
He offered me his hand. “David Barnas,” he told me. “How may I be of service?”
He glanced toward my brows, but didn’t say anyt
hing. I self-consciously pushed my glasses higher up my nose in the hope that the black rim would cover my ‘genetic flaw’ just a little.
I smiled. “Gina O’Coffey,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
He cocked his head and studied me. “An Irish name, I guess.”
Yes, it did sound Irish. Was this man Irish too?
“Good guess,” I said. “You’re right. My family comes from there. We’re Irish through and through! But I was born right here in the good ol’ USA. Never been to Ireland!”
There. That way, he wouldn’t ask me questions that any Irish girl should know. I was as clueless about Ireland as I was about the workings of a bank. Things were hard enough already.
I continued with my business. “Mr. Barnas, I am here from the Stonebridge Bank and Trust, and I was hoping I could speak to Mr. Peter Clayton. There’s an important…business matter that needs to be…discussed.”
A dark look passed across his face as if I’d just said I worked for the IRS and he needed to pay up. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Miss, I’m afraid that Peter Clayton has recently passed away.”
“Oh!” I tried to act like I was in shock. “I am very sorry. That is so…unfortunate.”
“It’s a terrible shock.” He shook his head. “I lost a brother-in-law.”
“Oh!” This time, my shock was real. “I am so sorry, Mr. Barnas.”
“Thank you, Miss O’Coffey. It came pretty unexpected.” He rubbed his forehead and his eyes looked tired.
This poor man in front of me just lost someone close to him. It kinda made me cherish my own cuckoo family.
“How did your loved one pass?” I asked.
He hesitated, keeping his eyes on the floor. “It was an…accident,” he said.
I would have loved more details about what he knew exactly, but I knew I shouldn’t push. After all, I was a banker. After the proper expression of sympathy, a banker would be all business in a case like this.
“Mr. Barnas, I will need to ask my supervisor how to proceed from this point on. For the moment, while I’m here, may I ask you a few questions about some banking matters related to the account set up by your brother-in-law?”
Barnas rubbed his head. “Sure, I guess. Why not? Ever since I got here, that’s kind of been my life: questions, questions, questions. Everybody’s got a problem or needs to ask me something. It’s rare I know an answer, but this one’s in my field. I’m a certified accountant.” He looked around and sighed. “Now, running a coffee house is far from my expertise, but I’m doing what I can to help the family out. So, fire away.”
I was glad to see that this man liked to talk.
“Will you continue on as the operator?” I asked him.
“Oh, no. As I say, this is not my thing. I’m afraid that we’ll end up putting this place up for sale. There’s no one in the family to run a coffee shop full time. Everyone has jobs, but for now it’s up to me to deal with this and that. You’d be surprised at all the things that must be seen to at a time like this.” His voice trailed off sadly.
I nodded sympathetically. “I absolutely understand.”
Barnas rubbed his head again and frowned. “I guess death is like that. One day you’re out there in the world, just living your life as happy as you please. The next day your kin are left to clean up all your business.”
His face had turned almost ghostly white, and I suspected that something more was on his mind than keeping a business going and putting it up for sale. Our mystery man, aka Suspicious Guy, might well be putting the heat on Barnas.
“So how can I help you today?” he asked, suddenly all business.
“Well, there have been some withdrawals from your brother-in-law’s account that we have taken note of. These withdrawals are not consistent with his normal way of doing business. We were hoping to talk to him and verify that it was indeed Mr. Clayton who was taking the money out – as opposed to an act of fraud.” I gave a special emphasis to the last three words and glanced up to meet his eye. “I know that bank fraud at this point is the last thing that you need.”
It occurred to me just then that the stressed-out man across the table might be wondering why I came here to the shop instead of Clayton’s home to perform my investigation. “The withdrawals were made in the name of the café,” I said quickly. “That’s why I was sent here to Mr. Clayton’s place of business.”
“Well, we do appreciate the bank looking after this. This must be some serious stuff right here, for them to send someone in person – and on a Saturday to boot.”
Saturday. Damn. I’d forgotten again that it was stupid Saturday.
“Nothing is more important than our customers, no matter what the day!” I chirped, cringing even as I said it. I was not the kind of girl to spout that kind of nonsense. I was the girl on the other end of the conversation, thinking sarcastic thoughts. “The safety of your money is our full-time job,” I said to Barnas.
Hmm, that sounded pretty good. If I was forced to find a boring job, I could make this work.
“I don’t know anything about these withdrawals that you speak of,” he said, looking whiter than before. “I don’t know any reason why he might have done that, but I’ll put this on my list, make it my business to find out. Do you have a card that I could take?”
Mental forehead smack.
I paused to think. “Well, the thing is that, you see, I’m having them…reprinted! With a new logo! A new title! They should be here any day now.”
“A promotion, I take it, Miss O’Coffey.” He nodded. “That’s a fine, fine thing. Good for you, I say.” He rubbed his head. “Look, I need to head back to the kitchen. As I say, it’s a crazy, busy time.”
“Ah, yes. This must all be such a strain. Thank you once more for your time. Oh, and Mr. Barnas…” I paused.
I didn’t want to let him go before I got more answers. I wanted more than anything to level with the man and tell him we suspected that the café had been caught up in a protection scheme. Before he ran back to the kitchen, I wanted to tell him it was urgent he tell me all he knew, any little thing that might prove to be a clue. He seemed like a good guy, taking time out of his own life to make sure a dead man’s business stayed on track.
I had to do something to get him to keep talking; I had to amp up the urgency of this business with the bank, and I had an idea.
I took a deep, cleansing breath to get my courage up. “May I speak frankly, Mr. Barnas?”
He looked at me curiously.
“Your brother-in-law spoke to me himself on a few occasions when he came into the bank.” I lowered my voice to an almost whisper. “He told me he was in trouble – that the café was in trouble. As I was his banker, I’d love to fix his problems now even though he’s…gone. At the bank, you see, we care.” I tried to sound like someone you’d want to confide in instead of just some stranger who’d walked in from the bank.
His face turned from white to red. There was something he knew.
“Did you know about this trouble?” I asked in a soothing voice I hoped sounded like an invitation to spill out his worries.
I saw him hesitate.
“If you could tell me what you know, it would really, really help me try to fix these difficulties that he recently encountered. I’d really love to see this problem go away.”
The man stared down at the floor.
I watched him until I caught his eye so he could see that I was serious about helping out his family. “If you will assist me, Mr. Barnas, in my investigation, I will see to it that my superiors don’t do any more poking into your family’s business.” I lowered my eyes demurely. “That would just be proper, Mr. Barnas, in this time of mourning. Don’t you think so?”
He was still hesitating.
Time to pull out the big guns. It’s now or never and I actually didn’t have anything to lose.
I pulled my phone out.
“Do you know this guy?” I asked.
I showed him the pictur
e of Suspicious Guy leaving the Urban Rock Café with (whoops) the new stain on his shirt.
He stared at the picture then looked back at me, a dark look etched across his face.
Oh, yeah. He absolutely knew the guy.
“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.
My heart skipped a beat. “The fraud department sent me! From Stonebridge Bank and Trust.”
He studied me for a few long seconds. I could almost feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
“Look,” I said. “Everything you tell me is strictly confidential, and we in the fraud department are already on the case.” I pointed at the picture on the screen. “This guy here is a major jerk who needs to be put away.” Hmm. That did not sound super bank-like. I cleared my throat. “His behavior, we’ve concluded, needs looking into further.”
He looked at me, still unsure.
I tried something else. “Your brother-in-law was working with us to help us build a case. He’d alerted us to this guy and what was going on.”
Slowly, Barnas nodded. So far, so good (I hoped).
He rubbed his head and frowned. “Yeah, I noticed the withdrawals too. I couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on – until this guy came in today. He made it very clear exactly what it was all about.”
Bingo.
“Tell me what he said.”
Barnas sighed. “He said his guys would make sure nobody messed with the café, that they expected us to show our appreciation in return. I think that’s how he put it. He was a scary kind of guy.” Barnas shook his head. “Like I don’t already have enough fires to put out getting things settled with this business, and then I’m in the middle of this. For a second, I thought I was in a bad mafia movie.”
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“I told him that most likely this place was going to be up for sale soon. He said he didn’t have a problem with us doing that, which I thought was kind of nervy – as if he had a say. He seemed to know already that Peter was…no more. I guess those guys have a way of knowing everything. He was a demanding fella. Said that if we sold, the café could not be turned into another kind of business. I could tell he meant it too. We still owed him from last month, he said, and we have to pay until we sell.” He sighed. “This guy is expecting money every single month.”