The American Café Page 17

  “I'd appreciate that,” he said.

  Red and Lance followed Sadie to her car. “Are you sure you're all right?” asked Lance.

  “Yes, I'm fine,” she said as her Explorer purred to life and she cranked the air conditioner on full blast. “I just need to get some ice on this knee. Say, you wouldn't mind checking on me tomorrow, would you? I'm obligated for one more day of banking.”

  “I'm going to need to get your statement, but I think it'll be all right to wait until morning. I'll meet you here when you open up.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled the shifter into reverse and started to back out, then stopped and lowered her window. “Red, you need a ride?”

  “Yeah, if you don't mind. I'll ride to Billy Goat Hill.”

  “Get in. It's on my way.”

  Red slid into the passenger's seat and lowered the window. “She's quite a woman, Smith. You ought to take better care of her.”

  Lance leaned on the car door with his hands. “By the way, Red, how did you get so good at opening vaults?”

  “It's a long story. You learn a lot of strange things in the military. Someday I'll tell you all about it.”

  Sadie spoke up. “What made you decide to come looking for me, anyway?”

  “A nice little lady named Annie,” said Lance, “just wanted a good drink of scotch whiskey tonight.”

  Sadie wrinkled her forehead. “Who?”

  “I'll explain,” said Red.

  Lance nodded and watched as they rode off into the night.

  23

  The next morning as Sadie turned right onto Third Street she could see Lance sitting in his police car in front of the bank. She parked beside him and got out, favoring her injured knee.

  “You still here?” she teased.

  “Hey, I've not only changed clothes since I saw you last night, I've had a shower.”

  Sadie playfully sniffed the air. “I'm glad,” she said as they walked toward the bank. Before they had time to enter, a blue generic-looking sedan drove up and parked on the other side of Sadie's Explorer. It was Timothy Walker.

  Walker jumped out of his car and greeted the duo at the front door carrying his sport coat in one hand while he rolled down his long sleeves with the other. “Good morning,” he said. “The home office thought I'd better help out here today.”

  Sadie thought the young vice-president looked entirely too corporate in his button-down shirt and polished leather loafers. “That sounds great to me. Does that mean I can go home now?”

  “No, I'd appreciate it if you could stay at least through today. I will need to get back to Sycamore as soon as I've written up a report for the security department on last night's, uh, situation.”

  Sadie turned her key in the deadbolt and entered the bank with Lance and Walker close behind. Lance immediately began to search the building. Walker headed for the restroom.

  About halfway across the lobby Sadie realized the air was void of the shrill beeping of the motion detector. She continued on to the keypad and studied it. The steady green light meant the alarm had not been turned on.

  “Uh, Mr. Walker, did you set the alarm on the motion sensors last night?”

  When no one answered, she turned around and realized she was alone. Her heart jumped as she limped to the front window, opened the blinds, and looked for Polly. The teller was nowhere in sight. Walker came out of the restroom, adjusting his belt.

  “Mr. Walker, did you activate the motion detectors last night?”

  Lance rounded the freestanding partition. “The building is clear, Sadie.”

  “Thanks, Lance,” she said. “The alarm wasn't turned on.”

  Walker spoke up. “I guess that's my fault. I thought I had it set last night before I left, but I guess it was operator failure. I'm glad you had a police officer here to check the place out this morning.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Sadie.

  “No problem,” said Lance. “Once you get situated, Sadie, just call the office and I'll come back and take your statement. If I'm not in, Maggie can get me on the radio. I'll check on you about closing time.”

  Sadie nodded as Lance left. By then, Polly was making her way up the steps. She brushed through the front door and walked past Sadie.

  “Good morning,” said Sadie.

  “Yeah, whatever,” replied Polly. “I can't believe you got locked in the vault. I didn't get any sleep last night with all the commotion going on.” As she moved toward her teller station, she saw Walker and stopped short.

  “This is Mr. Walker from the Sycamore Springs branch,” said Sadie as she relocked the front door. “I guess you had already gone by the time he got here last night.”

  Walker acknowledged Polly with a nod.

  Polly's pale face flushed to a warm pink. “Oh, I guess so.” She put her purse down and went straight to work.

  The morning flew by. Walker worked on his laptop computer at an empty desk, and Polly made herself look busy doing nothing. Sadie downloaded and printed Tom's reports, then gathered yesterday's reports from the vault and proceeded to put everything in order for the absent manager.

  When Walker finished typing his five-page report, he asked Sadie to read it. She did and made a few suggestions, which he readily accepted. A few customers stopped in. Some transacted business, others came for a cup of coffee, curious about all the activity that had taken place overnight.

  Shortly before noon, Chief George Stump stopped by and struck up a conversation with Walker. They made small talk for a while, then Sadie heard Stump asking about the night before and whether anything was missing. She sat up straight in her chair and stared at the two men when she heard him apologize to Walker for any harm that might have been done to the vault or alarm system by Lance's enthusiastic efforts to save his “girlfriend.” Walker assured him everything was fine and that no harm had been done. Sadie decided it wasn't worth wasting thoughts or words on either man.

  Before he left, Stump walked to the teller counter, made a transaction, and spoke in quiet tones to Polly, who was obviously still in an unhappy mood. She began to talk back to him, and as she did, her voice carried across the small lobby. “Stop it. It won't work.”

  Aware that their conversation had drifted in the wrong direction, Stump turned his back to the teller and changed the subject. “Boy, if it gets any hotter, my cornfield is going to be burnt up.”

  Walker looked up from his work. “Do you raise corn in this area?”

  “Nah, not much,” replied Stump. “I plant just enough to feed me and my neighbors.” He poked something into his shirt pocket and made his way to the door. He stopped, looked at Sadie, and said, “Now, don't you go getting yourself locked up in the vault again, young lady.”

  Sadie bit her lip and went back to work. The door closed behind the chief and Walker walked over to Sadie. “Here is a copy of my report. It should suffice as your statement for the local police. I will be staying until lunch breaks are over. I'd prefer no one be left alone in the branch again.”

  Sadie nodded in agreement and sent Polly to lunch. “If you'll stop by the café and pick up a sandwich for me, Polly, I'll buy your lunch.” That seemed to be the first thing that had brightened Polly's face all day. “What about you, Mr. Walker, would you like some lunch?” Sadie asked.

  “No, nothing for me. I'll get something on the way out of town.”

  Polly took her purse and disappeared out the door and down the street.

  “Do you work out of Polly's cash drawer when she is gone?” asked Walker.

  “Yes,” answered Sadie. “Since this branch has only two employees, I have no choice.” An experienced vice-president would already know this, but Sadie elaborated anyway. “I leave all of the transactions out for her to verify before she puts them away, and I note any cash that was taken in or given out.”

  “I guess it would be pretty hard to pin any outages to a single person then, wouldn't it?”

  Sadie took a deep breath. She was sure this wasn't the only
branch of this bank that operated with less than adequate personnel. “I'm just filling in,” she said. “You'll have to ask the manager about his experience with cash discrepancies at this branch when he gets back.”

  Walker nodded and returned to his computer.

  Sadie sat on Polly's tall chair and sorted through her tickets—first the debits, then the credits, then the checks. Nothing seemed to be out of order. She eased off the chair and began to straighten items on the top of the counter. Anything to keep her busy so the day would go by faster. Suddenly she stopped, returned to Polly's tickets, and thumbed through them again. There was nothing with Stump's name on it. She made a mental note and put the tickets back.

  Polly returned and the two women had an uneventful lunch. After they finished, Walker stowed his laptop into its bag, picked up the sports jacket he had never bothered to put on, and approached Sadie. “I need to go. I think you will be all right. I understand your police officer friend will be back at closing.”

  Sadie nodded.

  “If you have any problems,” he said, handing Sadie his card, “call me on my cell phone. It's listed on the bottom of the card.”

  Sadie smiled. “You found a phone that works in this area?”

  “Most of the time,” he said as he walked out the door.

  After Walker left, the afternoon moved right along. Several people, mostly Indian and Hispanic, came in to cash payroll checks from a nearby greenhouse. Polly denied the majority of their requests because they either didn't have an account with the bank or she didn't like their form of identification.

  When the flow of traffic began to slow, Sadie approached Polly. “Why couldn't you cash those men's checks?”

  “’Cause their checks aren't drawn on this bank.”

  “Yes, but they're corporate checks drawn on First National. The greenhouse has been in business for thirty years. Those men are going to have to drive all the way to Tahlequah just to cash their paychecks.”

  “I don't care. I'm just following the rules.”

  “I guess so. By the way, did you cash a check for George Stump this morning?”

  Polly looked at her and blinked. “I don't know, why?”

  “I was just curious. I don't think he has an account here either, but I saw him put something in his pocket.”

  “I'm tired of your accusations,” snorted Polly. “I quit.” She picked up her purse, stuck her nose in the air, and walked out the door.

  “Well, fine,” muttered Sadie. “I hate this business.”

  Sadie dialed the cell phone number on Walker's card. A recording came on the line, so she hung up, called Thelma and apprised her of the situation, assuring her that no one needed to come from another office. She would have Lance come by while she finished out the day and closed the branch. Thelma agreed no one could get there before closing time anyway and thanked Sadie for taking control of the situation.

  Sadie hung up, called the police station, and breathed a sigh of relief when Maggie answered instead of Stump.

  “Maggie, could you locate Lance Smith and ask him to call me at the bank?”

  “Do you have an emergency, Sadie?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I just want to visit with him.”

  “I'll radio him.”

  Sadie had barely hung up when Lance's police car parked in front of the door. He got out, looked around, and entered the bank.

  “What's up?” he asked. “Where is everybody?”

  “Well, Timothy Walker has already gone back to Sycamore Springs and Polly quit. I didn't want to close up by myself for fear the guy who came by at closing yesterday might come back again today. Besides that, I need to give you this report Walker wrote up about last night.”

  “It's great to be needed.” He looked at his watch. “You close at five?”

  Sadie nodded.

  “What happened to Polly?” he asked.

  “I don't know. I guess I just have a way with people. She didn't like me questioning anything she did. I think she might have been tripping around the edge of doing something illegal…like taking money. I think she's come up short in her cash drawer a few times. I don't really know, and I don't really care. I think Tom wanted to get rid of her anyway. This just makes it easier.”

  “How does the saying go?” Lance pulled out a chair and sat down facing the front door. “You just can't get good help anymore.”

  As soon as the money was safely locked away in the vault, Sadie set the motion detector and the two left together. Sadie locked the front door and turned to Lance.

  “I would like to thank you for coming to my rescue last night. Can I fix dinner for you?”

  “I can't.” Lance looked into the distance. “I'm busy tonight.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were seeing anyone.”

  Lance laughed out loud. “I'm not,” he said. “Unless you want to count Charlie McCord as a date.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “I didn't mean—”

  “Charlie asked me to ride along with him on a meth lab raid tonight up in Delaware County. I imagine it will take up most of the night. How about a rain check?”

  Sadie smiled. “You got it.”

  24

  Lance drove east from Liberty on a seldom-used back road and hit Highway 10 a few miles south of the Arrowhead Resort and Canoe Rental. He traveled the highway that curved alongside the Illinois River, past Peavine Hollow and the Hanging Rock campgrounds. Darkness had enveloped the countryside hours earlier, bringing the nocturnal animals to the road like bugs to a country porch light. He dodged two armadillos, one chubby raccoon, and an unseen but very smelly polecat as he followed the highway north.

  When he reached the small community of Kansas, Oklahoma, Lance pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and parked in an inconspicuous spot to wait for Charlie. In less than ten minutes, Charlie arrived in a dark-blue sedan—an obvious undercover vehicle—and parked next to Lance's truck.

  Lance lowered his window and spoke in a gruff voice. “They'll never see us coming on that horse, Keem-o-sabi.” He shook his head and laughed.

  “Hey,” Charlie retorted, “my truck is in the shop and this was the only available vehicle that's not black-and-white. Besides, since this is the sheriff's party and we are just going along as spectators, I thought we could take your ride.”

  “Mine? What are you talking about? I'll have you know I like my truck and will not tolerate some druggy shooting holes in it.”

  Charlie was already loading his gear in the floor of Lance's truck. “You've been watching too much television, Smith. This is not one of those new reality shows.”

  “Okay.” Lance chuckled. “We'll go as Indians. Maybe no one will notice you're white. Get in.”

  Charlie obliged and nodded toward the highway.

  Lance followed Charlie's directions and drove east, then turned north onto a county road before they got to the Arkansas state line. They drove past two mobile homes and an abandoned hay barn. After rounding a curve, Lance could see a shack on the left with a car sitting on blocks in the front yard and an old van parked next to it.

  “That's it,” said Charlie. “Go on down and turn around and we'll stake out the northeast corner. The sheriff said they would come in from the south. We'll already be in place when they get here.”

  Lance continued on the dirt road for about a mile, then turned off his lights and made a u-turn. They worked their way back slowly in the dark. Lance parked off the road near a clump of trees and killed the motor.

  Charlie pulled out a pair of night-vision binoculars and surveyed the area. “Good job, Smith. I can see the front door and the vehicles.” He pulled a portable radio out of his gear, squeezed the transmitter, and spoke into it. “This is McCord. Anyone out there?”

  After a few seconds he got a response. “Affirmative. We're in a wait-and-see mode.”

  “Roger. Out.”

  “They hide in the bushes pretty well,” remarked Lance. “I didn't even see them
.”

  “That's pitiful for an Indian, isn't it?”

  Lance nodded. “Out of practice, I guess.”

  Lance and Charlie looked at each other and smiled. Lance missed his friend's politically incorrect humor.

  A huge golden moon, in the shape of a deflated football, began its ascent in the clear sky surrounded by a smattering of bright stars. Charlie continued his vigil with the binoculars, while Lance watched lightning bugs wink at each other in the adjacent pasture.

  “You'll never believe this.” Charlie kept his voice low and handed the lenses to Lance.

  Lance peered through the glasses and blinked twice to clear his sight. A white-tailed fawn wearing a bright red collar stood in the front yard next to the van. A golden retriever, almost as large as the deer, joined it and relieved himself on a nearby tree. “What the—?” Lance continued to watch the animals as they meandered farther into the yard. “There ought to be a law against that.”

  “There is.” Charlie picked up his transmitter. “This is McCord. Come in.”

  “Yeah, Charlie. We see it, too.”

  “Well why don't you send one of your boys after a warrant then? It's illegal to possess wildlife without a permit.”

  “He's already on his way. Out.”

  Charlie dropped his radio on the seat and stretched his legs and arms. “We should be in business in about an hour with a warrant.”

  “Good. I'm getting bored.”

  About forty-five minutes later, Charlie's radio gurgled to life. “We're going in with the warrant, McCord. Watch for any runners that get away from us.”

  “Roger.”

  Charlie and Lance got out of the truck and moved toward the house in the darkness. Lance instinctively removed the leather thong off the hammer of his .357. They watched two deputies and the sheriff line up at the front door, while two others circled behind the house. A woman answered the door, then disappeared as the three lawmen rushed in.

  Charlie's radio sputtered. “We got a runner going out a window on the back side. We're on him.”

  A few minutes later, it was all over. Two men emerged from the house in handcuffs, one in nothing but his underwear, the other in jeans, shirtless with no shoes.