Рита Браун - Pay Dirt

"You're telling me you don't know? What in the goddamned hell am I paying you for, Norman?"

"Mr. Freely, please, the situation is highly abnormal."

"Abnormal, it's probably criminal! I'm calling Rick Shaw."

"Let's take this a step at a time." Norman, not the most masculine of men, sounded more masterful than Mrs. Murphy had ever heard him. "If you call in the authorities before I can run a skintight audit, you risk bad publicity, you risk outside auditors being called in. The abnormality in funds may be a glitch in the system. Then we'd be crying wolf. We'd look foolish. Crozet National has built its reputation on conservative investment, protecting our customers' assets and good old common sense. I will work day and night if I have to, but give me some time to comb through our records."

Hogan tapped the floor with his right foot. Mrs. Murphy could see his wing tips as she peered from under the curtain. "How many people do you need and how long?" He paused. "And don't ask Kerry to work on this. The tension between you two is disruptive to everyone."

"Give me the whole accounting department and the tellers as well," Norman replied, his ears red from embarrassment.

"How long?"

"Two days and nights, and we'll have to order in food, lots of food."

A long silence followed, then a forceful reply. "All right. You've got until Wednesday closing time or I'm calling the sheriff. I've got to know why the screen comes up blank when I ask for our assets. And I'm bringing in computer specialists. You work on the books. They'll work on the terminals."

As he started for die door, Norman called to him, "Mr. Freely, I'm head of this department. The buck stops here. If I can't locate the funds or if the technical experts can't find the computer mal-function, which I really believe this to be, then I will face the press. This is my responsibility."

"Norman, I'm sorry I blew up at you. I know you'll do your best—I'm jangled. What if the Threadneedle virus did hit us? I have no way of knowing how much money we have. I can't even keep track of simple daily transactions! How can I cover losses if we've had them? The future of this bank depends on your work. We'll be sitting ducks for a takeover." His voice cracked. "And how can I face my board of directors?"

"Mim Sanburne most particularly," Norman drawled. "We'll find it. Put it out of your mind if you can."

"Out of my mind—?" Hogan left before finishing his sentence.

Mrs. Murphy waited, then slipped out the door, jumping the stairs two at a time. She glided over to Harry, who was withdrawing one hundred and fifty dollars. The truck needed a new battery and she hadn't bought groceries in over two weeks.

" Mom, take it all out ," the cat advised.

Harry felt a familiar rub on her legs. "Visiting done? Let's go back to work."

"Mom, this bank is in deep doo-doo. You'd better pay attention to me."

Of course, Harry didn't. She walked back to the post office, Mrs. Murphy glumly following at her heels.

Pewter waited for them outside the market. " Murphy, is it true that the boys got into a fight over Harry ?"

" Yes . "Mrs. Murphy evidenced no interest in the subject.

"Who won?"

"Nobody."

" You're a sourpuss . "Pewter fell in alongside her friend.

"Pewts, I was upstairs at the bank and I heard Hogan Freely say that they can't get the computers to report transactions or the amount of money in the bank."

" Humans put too much faith in money ."

"Maybe so…1 tried to tell Mom, but you know how that goes. She ought to get her money out of there."

"Money. You can't eat it, it doesn't keep you warm. It's pieces of paper. Weird, when you think about it. I believe in the barter system my-self."

Mrs. Murphy, lost in thought, missed her friend's comment. " What'dyou say ?"

"Money's just paper. Not even good enough to shred for a dirt box. But I want to know about the fight."

"I wasn't there."

"Did she say anything about it?"

"No, but Blair came over to apologize."

" Was he horribly contrite ?"'Pewter wanted the details.

" He bought her an expensive coffeemaking machine. And he brought a big wicker basket full of fancy food ."

" What kind of food ?'"Pewter's mouth watered.

" Uh — liverpclte 1, crackers, jellies, scones. Stuff ."

"Oh, I wish I'd been there. Liverpte". My favorite."

" Any food is your favorite ." ,

" Strawberries. I hate strawberries ,'"Pewter contradicted her.

" You know, Mom was on the phone with Susan over the weekend, and then this morning she talked to Mrs. Hogendobber about Fair and Blair, in particular; men, in general. She likes them both, but she's … "Mrs. Murphy shrugged.

"Burned her fingers. What's that expression? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Guess it haunts her."

"Here comes Coop. She already picked up her mail."

Cooper pulled into the lot and saw the cats. "Hot outside, girls. Let's go in."

" Okay ."The two cats scooted inside when she opened the door.

Miranda glanced up. "Forget something?"

"No. Just a question for you and Harry."

Harry walked up to the counter. "Shoot."

"Oh, Harry, don't say that." Cynthia grinned. "What I want to know is did you notice anyone paying special attention to the bike when it was parked here?"

"Every man that walked by except for Larry Johnson." Larry was the old doctor in town. He hardly ever used his car. He hated machines, walked everywhere, did his own wood chopping and other chores, and enjoyed robust health.

"Names."

"Gee, Cynthia, everyone . Rob Collier, Ned Tucker, Jim Sanburne. Hogan Freely, Fair, Market, Blair—Danny Tucker about died over it and, uh, did I forget anyone?"

Miranda piped up. "Herbie and, let's see, oh, yes, Norman Cramer."

Cynthia furiously scribbled away. "Women?"

"Barely a glance except for me, of course." Harry added, "Why are you asking?"

"I went over that machine with a fine-toothed comb. Then I decided to go over the saddlebags. I was so busy worrying about what was in them—nothing—that I didn't scrutinize the outsides. Couldn't see much anyway since they're black, but I sent them to our little lab, just in case."

Tucker and Mrs. Murphy pricked their ears. Pewter was playing with a cricket in the corner.

"There was a small quantity of blood on one of the bags."

" I told you!" the cat yowled.

"Mrs. Murphy, get a grip," Harry chided her.

"Considering how the man was shot," Mrs. Hogendobber said, "wouldn't blood have splattered everywhere?"

"We know how he was killed, Miranda, but we don't really know where he was killed. We only know where the body was found. And the blood isn't his. The tests came back on the corpse. He had a rare type, AB negative. The blood on the bag was O positive."

"You mean—" Harry didn't finish her sentence.

"There might be another body." Miranda finished it for her.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Cynthia warned. "We've got a team up in Sugar Hollow. If there's anything there, they'll find it. Especially if it's…" She delicately left off.

" Flesh and blood , "Tucker barked.

16

Harry, Miranda, and Susan combed the forest in the early evening light, the pale golden shafts illuminating spots here and there, the scent of moss and fallen leaves rising around them.

Although Cynthia had told them to keep out of it, they'd do more harm than good, once the sheriff's team left Sugar Hollow, the three women zipped in.