Missing Banker Page 2

  “I changed the locks for that bank a few weeks before National Bank took over. I wonder if they knew then that they would be closing? Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

  “Really? That is odd.” Darcy sipped her iced tea and eyed me.

  I nodded. “I wonder if it was personal problems. Rumor has it that one of the partners, Roy Lonn, and his wife, Irene, were splitting up about then. He’s supposed to be living in those new apartments behind the mall on top of the hill now.”

  “I’m not surprised. A couple months ago, Irene came in with a broken arm and a black eye. Claimed she fell down the basement stairs. Ha.”

  I lowered my fork and grabbed my tea and swallowed some. “You mean, he hurt her?”

  “Sure looked like it to us.”

  “Oh, my God. He seemed like such a nice man. What little I saw of him, of course.”

  “You never know, do you?” Darcy said.

  I sipped more tea, thinking. One of the old bank’s employees is missing, one is forced to retire and then is hurt in an accident. Lots of coincidences, here. Was it more than that?

  Chapter 2

  Detective Chance Martin was having a rare, quiet day, catching up on paperwork in his office. Canton, Minnesota was a small insignificant town, except for tourist season, which would soon begin. But he usually managed to keep busy, so he was sure his quiet day was only the exception that proved the rule. His office was small and compact, with beige walls and a battered but serviceable mahogany desk that had probably seen a dozen owners over the years. He liked it and the creaky but sturdy, swivel chair. It fit his body well. He’d thought about replacing it when he first took this job, but after a few days of using it, decided it suited him. His metal rack of in-files sat to his left and his flat screen computer monitor held the prominent position in front of him. He spent too many hours on paperwork, but that was the way his job went.

  If a case went to trial, his accurately detailed report of the crime scene could help the judge and jury decide whether the defendant was guilty or not.

  After catching up on reports, he spent a couple of hours reviewing his cold case files. There were a couple of missing teenagers that he’d never found and assumed they were runaways. At least, he sure hoped that’s all they were.

  And there was the bank loan officer, John Wattmore, who’d disappeared a month ago, after the bank had closed and another bank assumed its assets. That had surprised everyone in town, including the employees who’d been forced out of a job. Some had been hired at the other bank, including the two partners who had reportedly been behind the takeover, although it was never proven. The announcement had simply said that everyone could now access all their accounts at the new bank in the next town. People grumbled, and some moved their accounts to a different bank, but they had no choice. The old brick building now sat empty and locked up, an eyesore in Canton’s town square.

  The missing loan officer’s wife, June, had insisted John would never just disappear and kept bugging them for a better investigation. But Chance had found nothing to trace the man, not even his car.

  Chance had even investigated his wife on the theory that if there was foul play, the mate was the first suspect. But he’d found nothing. Everything seemed to be business as usual at the new bank, as far as people’s accounts were concerned. He hadn’t heard anyone complain that they didn’t have access to their money.

  If the Wattmores had been having trouble or were divorcing or something like that, he’d assume the man had absconded with his profits to avoid splitting them with his wife. But apparently, June was a grieving wreck. Everything else appeared normal except for the personal items that disappeared along with the man, like his billfold, checkbook, credit cards, his Rolex watch and the car he’d been driving that day. None of his bank accounts or credit cards had been used since, except by his wife. Very suspicious.

  With a sigh, Chance put the files away and called his sweetheart, Cassie Jennings, and see if she was free to go out for dinner.

  She was, but added, “I just got home from a re-pinning job, so give me a half hour to shower and change, okay?”

  Cassie was a locksmith and he knew her re-pinning job meant she’d taken some locks apart and replaced the pins in them so they’d work with new keys. “Sure. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes, then.” He hung up and imagined Cassie getting her slim body out of her work jeans and stepping into the shower. Maybe he should go right now and join her in that shower so he could help her wash her body. Naw. Best I treat her to a meal out while I can. She’s cooked way too many meals for me after I’d had busy days and needed a break. Time to take her out instead.

  He closed up his office, noting that Sheriff Ben had already left. As he went down the stairs to the front office, the whole building was dark except for the room where Deputy Tom was manning the dispatch desk tonight. “Goodnight, Tom,” he called and ducked out the door before the guy could question him on his evening’s plans. The deputy was a bigger gossip than most old ladies and he loved to feed the town’s grapevine.

  Chance had spent most of his life in a big city, most recently, Minneapolis, and didn’t appreciate people’s keen interest in his social life. After he’d burned out on crime and corruption in the city, he’d taken this job with the county sheriff’s department, hoping for a quieter and more routine lifestyle. So far, it hadn’t worked out that way. But maybe it would settle down now that they’d solved the latest series of murders.

  He drove to Cassie’s two-story white house and parked behind her van in the driveway. He knew her work van was full of expensive tools, key machines and keys. She really needed to build a garage so she could keep her van inside instead of leaving it in plain sight in her driveway. Her business name on the doors plainly advertised that it contained valuable tools. He sighed, having had this conversation with her on more than one occasion. She’d told him she would build a garage when she had the money and no sooner. Cassie had a stubborn streak a mile wide and had told him she didn’t want to add to her already expensive mortgage.

  The evening was cool for April, but the tulips he’d helped her plant last fall now sported red tips in the flower bed beside her door. He rang the bell and Cassie yelled, “Come in, it’s not locked.”

  Opening the door and stepping inside, he scolded, “Cassie, you shouldn’t leave your door unlocked. Anyone could walk in on you.”

  “Anyone just did,” she said with a grin from across the room. She brushed her light brown curls back from her ear and fastened her earring.

  “You know what I mean,” he grumbled as she came up to him and tipped her face up for a kiss. “Mmm, strawberry lipstick tonight.” Wrapping his arms around her, he deepened the kiss and pulled her tight against his groin.

  She laughed and rotated her hips, rubbing him. “It feels like we’d better go eat or I’ll have to go hungry tonight. For food anyway.”

  With a groan, he dropped his arms. “You’re right. Are you ready?” He eyed her blue pant suit. “You look lovely, as usual. It’s chilly out, better grab a jacket.”

  “Okay.” She scrunched her face at him as she locked her door. “See, I did remember to lock it.”

  He laughed as they walked out and got into his car. “Good.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Chance said, “I made reservations at the Lagoon, is that all right with you?”

  “Sounds great to me. I’m starved. It’s been a crazy day.”

  He started the car and headed out. “Busy?”

  She shrugged. “A little more than usual, I guess.”

  Traffic was heavy and he concentrated on driving, then pulled into the graveled parking lot at the Lagoon.

  They strolled into the restaurant and were greeted by a hostess who took them to a table by the window and handed them menus. “Your waitress will be right with you,” she said and hurried back to escort the next group to a table.

  “It’s busy here tonight,” Chance said, perusing his plastic lamin
ated menu.

  Cassie nodded, gazing out the window. The sun hadn’t set, but was low over the lake, sending rosy fingers of color shimmering over the water. She watched the colors ripple in the waves and sighed. “It’s so pretty and peaceful here.”

  “Yes, it is. That’s why it’s my favorite spot.”

  A waitress hurried over, carrying glasses of iced water. “Would you like anything else to drink?”

  “I’ll have raspberry iced tea,” Cassie said.

  “Coffee for me. I think I’ll have the walleye dinner,” Chance said, folding his menu. “What do you want?”

  “That sounds fine,” Cassie said.

  The waitress nodded, scribbled their choices on a notepad, then picked up their menus and went back to the kitchen area.

  “You didn’t even glance at the menu,” Chance said.

  Cassie grinned at him. “I love their walleye, so I didn’t have to look at it.”

  “What did you do today?” Chance asked.

  She shrugged. “The usual mix of jobs.”

  “Nothing special, then? Before you said it was a crazy day.”

  The waitress brought their drinks, told them to help themselves to the salad bar and left again. They both got up, made their way to the buffet, and filled their plates from the generous array of greens and toppings and a variety of raw vegetables and dressings. They returned to their table and began eating.

  “So,” Chance said between bites, “Today was a bit crazy?”

  Cassie nodded, picking up and sipping her iced tea. “I should say strange rather than crazy.” She ate a slice of pickled beet, then a raw carrot.

  “Oh?”

  She hesitated. She shouldn’t talk about her jobs, but Chance was her sounding board and she trusted him not to gossip. “June Wattmore had me change the locks on her house today.”

  Chance frowned, but didn’t miss a mouthful. First he sipped his coffee, then dug into his salad again. “What’s odd about that?”

  “Nothing, I guess. You know of course, that she reported a break-in last night?”

  “Yeah. Tom investigated, said he doubted there had even been an illegal entry. No sign of damage to the doors or locks. Nothing missing that she could name.”

  “So he’s not giving it much credibility?”

  He shrugged. “Would you?”

  She frowned, and argued, “Chance, she was really upset. I’ve never seen her so flustered. She’s usually so…oh, I don’t know. Calm and chic, all prim and properly made up.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And she wasn’t today, so that’s your proof of a crime being committed?”

  She sent him a nasty glare. “Well, something riled her. She said some appliances were unplugged in the kitchen, leaving crumbs all over the counter, like someone had moved them to search her cupboards. She claims she never unplugs them, and the cleaning lady hadn’t been there. And she said she smelled a strong scent of musk aftershave in her living room. Neither she nor John ever uses that. She said he hates that scent and once threatened to fire an employee who used it if he ever wore it to work again.”

  “But she couldn’t see anything missing,” Chance objected.

  Their conversation came to a standstill while the waitress placed their food on the table, giving Cassie a minute to cool her frustration. As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Casssie leaned toward him. “Chance, can you name every damned thing in your house?”

  He flushed and took a minute to swallow the mouthful of fish. “No, of course not. But I know what I have that’s valuable enough for a burglar to be interested in.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it wasn’t a burglar.”

  “Wha--at?”

  “Well, her husband disappeared about a month ago. Maybe he sent a buddy to get some of his stuff?”

  Chance laughed, then sobered when she sent him a dirty look. “You think he’s alive then?”

  “Don’t you? I mean, a missing banker, an accusation of missing money, his car and wallet gone, nothing is found…”

  “I suppose you have a point there. He could have wanted to disappear.”

  Cassie frowned. “That wasn’t how you had it figured?”

  He shrugged, obviously not wanting to reveal anything to her. “Cassie, don’t get involved in an active investigation.”

  She sat up straighter. “I’m not getting involved. I was only doing the job she hired me to do. I can’t help it if I happen to have an opinion. I do have a brain, you know.”

  “Cassie…I didn’t mean to insult you. I just don’t want you to get entangled in anything we’ll both regret. It always ends up with you in danger.”

  “Ha. Just because that happened a time or two, doesn’t mean it always will. I can’t stop thinking because you want me to.”

  “Okay, but let me handle it, okay?”

  “Sure. I won’t tell you the rest, then.” She went back to eating her baked potato and walleye, knowing he’d take the bait.

  Chance stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth. His blue eyes narrowed. “What rest?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. You don’t want me to have an opinion, remember?”

  “Cassie…”

  “Okay. John had his basement workshop rekeyed so she couldn’t get into it. Without telling June, because she was surprised when I told her that was why her key didn’t work. When she’d told John her key wouldn’t work, he’d told her the lock must be stuck or something.”

  Chance stared at her. “So he didn’t want her in there? Did you get a look inside his workshop?”

  “Oh? Now it’s okay for me to tell you stuff?”

  “Cassie…you’d have snooped if you got a chance. What was in there?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing unusual. Woodworking stuff, a desk and office equipment, some antiques, locked gun cabinets.”

  “Nothing that looked like he was hiding something?”

  “No. Well, I only took a quick look. I couldn’t go through his desk or computer or anything like that. But June went in there to check, too, after I unlocked the door for her. While I was working in the kitchen on her locks. She said she didn’t see anything missing, but wasn’t sure what he’d had there. Said she hadn’t been in his man-cave in a long time.”

  Chance thought a minute, finishing off his fish. “So maybe he only wanted a private space. Maybe she didn’t give him space in the rest of the house. Some wives do bug their husbands.”

  “Do I bug you?” Well of course, he wasn’t her husband, but still…she couldn’t help asking.

  He reached a hand across the table and covered hers. “Only when you get yourself in danger. Then you scare me to death. I care about you, you know.”

  Well, that was comforting, wasn’t it?

  Chapter 3

  The next morning Chance went through his file on John Wattmore again. The whole case felt wrong to him, especially the break-in at their house. Could it have been John himself? He could have snuck in to get some things he’d forgotten. June thought her cupboards had been searched. John could have done that if he thought she was hiding money from him. But what about the musk aftershave she was certain she’d smelled? That didn’t fit.

  It wouldn’t hurt to question some of the people who’d worked at the bank again. He picked up his notebook and cell phone and headed out.

  First he drove to the Wattmore house, an expensive looking brick rambler with a triple door garage. The yard was freshly mowed and red and yellow blossoms showed in the flower beds. He strode to the door and rang the bell.

  June answered her door immediately. When she saw him, her jaw dropped and her hand went to her throat. “Detective Martin, isn’t it?” At his nod, she asked, “Do you have any news of John?”

  Chance shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Mrs. Wattmore. I need to ask you a few more questions in light of the break-in.”

  “Oh. Come in.” She led the way to the living room and waved him to sit on a brown leather sofa. “Would you like some coffee or anything?
”

  “No, don’t bother.”

  “Okay. What do you want to know?” She took the matching leather chair opposite him, her hands twisting in her lap.

  He pulled out his notebook and a pen. “When was the last time you had any contact with John? Phone call, text, anything?”

  “The morning he disappeared. I’d made coffee and some eggs and bacon. He came into the kitchen and put the bread in the toaster, helping out as he always did. Then he helped himself to coffee and sat at the table, ate his breakfast and left.”

  “Can you remember anything unusual about that morning? What kind of mood was he in?”

  “Mood?”

  “Grouchy? Happy?”

  June shrugged. “He was always kind of grouchy in the morning. Never said much. He’s not a morning person,” she said, gulping back a sob. She swallowed hard and continued, “Everything seemed the same as always, Detective. I had no indication that it was the last time for over a month that I’d say goodbye and see him walk out the door.”

  “He didn’t call you during the day?”

  “No. But he hadn’t for the past couple of months, since we’d, sort of been on not good terms.”

  “Was that only since the party at the Bates and he started sleeping in the guest room? Or had you quarreled over anything else?”

  “Yes, since that party and after I’d told him not to come to my bed if he’d been with another woman. But, we didn’t really quarrel about it or anything. I just stated how I felt and he shrugged and agreed.”

  “He didn’t even object to sleeping separately?”

  June blushed and said stiffly, “No. Must we discuss this, Detective?”

  “No, I get the picture. “Did you and John fight about anything else recently?”

  “No. Well, we disagreed on some things, but not really a fight. Nothing he would have left me over.”

  “Did he ever threaten to leave? Or threaten a divorce?”

  “No. Never.” She sounded very positive.

  “Tell me about the break-in. Any detail might help.”