Thirty-Two and a Half Complications (3 page)

He dropped my hand and left me by the doors, meeting the detective halfway down the sidewalk. They talked in voices too low for me to hear, and then Taylor shot me a scowl and headed my way, Mason by his side.

“
Ms. Gardner
,” he began, and I had no delusions about why he was being so formal. It could be entirely attributed to the intimidating presence behind him. “Mr. Deveraux would like me to take your statement before he heads back to court.” While his words were polite, there was an undercurrent of hostility in his tone, making me even more grateful for Mason’s presence. “Let’s go inside and see if there’s somewhere to take your statement.”

I followed him back into the chaos without saying anything. While Officer Ernie had successfully wrestled the cane from Mr. Murphy, his forehead now sported a red welt. Miss Wilma dabbed her eyes with a tissue, shouting protests of police brutality. Taylor walked past the commotion as if it were an everyday affair, stopping in front of the bank manager.

“Is there anywhere quiet—” he cast a quick glance toward the shouting match four feet away “—I can take this witness to interview her?”

Mr. Burns’s face was red and he appeared pretty flustered as he looked around. “Uh… yeah… Norman Sullivan didn’t come in this morning. You can use his office.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “The loan officer? Did he call in sick?”

“No. He just didn’t show up.”

“Does he usually do that?” Mason asked.

Concern flickered in Mr. Burns’s eyes. “No.”

Detective Taylor pulled his notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open to jot something down. “I’m going to need Sullivan’s address and phone number.”

The bank manager nodded, then pointed to a small office to the side. “I’ll get it for you. That’s his office over there.”

Mason led the way to the office and motioned for me to sit in a guest chair. Taylor, who pushed in past me, ignoring Mason’s well-mannered gesture, circled the desk and sat in the loan officer’s chair. My gaze swept the room as I sat down, and I noticed Mr. Sullivan’s family photos were missing. I’d spent a good twenty minutes examining them several months ago when I’d been in this office applying for a small business loan.

Taylor shifted his chair and clicked his pen, narrowing his gaze on me. “And what was your purpose of bein’ at the bank this morning?”

I looked at Mason for reassurance. He stood against the wall with his arms crossed. His face was expressionless, but he nodded his head. The last time I’d been questioned was after Jonah’s mother had tried to kill me. While I’d been completely innocent in that case, Detective Taylor had made his extreme dislike for me crystal clear. “I was making a deposit for our business.”

“The Gardner Sisters Nursery?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“So tell me what happened at the bank.”

“I was standing in line waiting to make my deposit when two men wearing ski masks—one decorated with SpongeBob, the other with Batman—burst in. They had guns and they pointed them at us. SpongeBob seemed to be in charge. He told all the customers in the lobby to get on the floor. But Miss Honeybelle had trouble getting down because of her knee replacement surgery last month.”

He looked up. “So what happened?”

“I walked over to help her, but the guy didn’t like that we were taking so long and he got grumpy.”

Taylor started writing again, but Mason’s jaw twitched.

“You need to tell him everything, Rose.” Mason’s voice was tight. “What did he do?”

I felt my cheeks redden. “He shoved me when I tried to help her, but I convinced him that she couldn’t get down on her own, so he let me help her.”

“Then what happened?” Taylor asked.

“The man with the Batman mask handed Samantha Jo Wheaton a plastic Piggly Wiggly bag and told her to fill it with cash.”

Taylor scribbled his notes. “And how do you know Samantha Jo Wheaton?”

“She’s a new bank teller here. But that’s not how I originally know her. We went to school together. Plus everyone in Henryetta knows she burned her husband’s fishing boat in their front yard last year. The married men were afraid to cheat on their wives for a spell, and the single men were afraid to date her after her divorce was finalized. She used to work at Wal-Mart.”

“So are you friends or not?”

“No, more like acquaintances.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, writing his thoughts. “What else can you tell me?”

“I took note of what they were wearing while the Batman guy was getting the money. He had on jeans, a Jack Daniel’s T-shirt, a gray fleece jacket, and worn Nikes.” I looked over at Mason, who gave me an encouraging smile and a nod.

“And a Batman ski mask?”

“Yeah. Now that I think about it, I saw some of those Batman hats at the Piggly Wiggly last week when I was there. The SpongeBob one too.”

Taylor looked up, suddenly more engaged in the conversation. “Now that’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with being on the receiving end of his cold, calculating attention. “I was there shopping. I thought about getting one for my nephew, but I didn’t realize they were adult sizes until I picked one up and noticed the seams were off. The seam on the Batman hat the robber wore was catawampus. I’d bet my right arm it came from there.”

“You don’t say.” He turned back to his notebook. “And the other guy?”

I rattled off my description, unnerved now, which probably made me seem guilty, although of what, I didn’t know. I’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. The only thing I could be accurately accused of was having extremely bad luck.

“What happened next?”

I squirmed. “I was purposely trying to take note of any identifying details about the robbers, and the guy in the SpongeBob mask didn’t like it. He pulled me up off the floor and started to take me to the safety deposit box room. But we heard sirens and the other guy told him they had to go. He called him Mick.”

“Mick? Anything else? Did he say a last name?” the detective asked.

“No.”

“Anything else you remember about him?”

“When his sleeve got close to my face, I smelled rust.”

“Was it a faint odor or a strong one?”

I thought about it for a moment, then cringed when I remembered him grabbing my face. “Pretty strong. He told me not to tell anyone else about what they looked like. Then he picked up my deposit bag off the floor and left. I watched them get into their getaway car right before the police showed up. It was an older Dodge Charger. Gold. Officers Ernie and Sprout ran right past them on their way into the bank. But when I tried to tell Ernie, he wouldn’t listen. He pointed his gun at me and told me to get on the floor.”

Mason’s eyes widened. “So the police let them get away.” It wasn’t posed as a question.

I sighed. “By the time Mr. Murphy and I got a chance to tell them, the car was already gone.”

“Did you get a license plate number?” Detective Taylor asked, his mouth puckered in irritation.

I shook my head. “No. I only saw the front of the car, and it didn’t have a license plate.”

Taylor looked up and quirked an eyebrow. “You have to admit that it looks suspicious that you’ve been dead center in a lot of illegal
occurrences
in Henryetta over the last few months.”

Mason’s crossed arms dropped to his sides. “Are you calling her a suspect?” he asked in his no-nonsense voice, the one that made people quake in their shoes.

Taylor cleared his throat. “No. I’m just saying it’s an odd coincidence. You can’t deny it, Deveraux.”

Mason pressed his lips into a tight line and crossed his arms again.

Taylor gave me a sideways glance, the tiniest bit of a smirk in his eyes. “And how much money was in that bag of yours, Ms. Gardner?”

“About three hundred dollars in checks.” I took a breath, feeling like I was gonna throw up. “And nine thousand in cash.”

The detective’s pen stopped mid-stroke and he looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “Why’d you have so much cash?”

“Mr. O’Leary paid me yesterday for a job we’d finished at his place.”

“And he paid you in cash.” His mouth twisted to the side. “That’s an awful lot of cash.”

I shrugged, uneasiness crawling up my back and burrowing in the base of my head. “It was a big job.”

“Nine thousand exactly? Not a dollar more or less?”

Mason took a step forward, his voice deep and commanding. “What are you getting at, Taylor?”

“It just seems odd that it’s such a round number.” He shrugged. “It’s an observation. No more.”

Mason’s jaw twitched again, but his face was expressionless. “You seem to be making a lot of unnecessary observations.”

The police officer shrugged, nonplussed. “Just doing my job, Mr. ADA. You’re griping all the time about us being sloppy and not asking enough questions.” He flourished the notebook he’d been writing in at Mason. “This is me doing my job.”

Mason’s eyes darkened.

I shifted my weight, feeling the need to break the tension. “I had initially given him a higher quote, but Mr. O’Leary insisted he wouldn’t give me the job if it was a penny more than nine thousand.” I took a breath. “We weren’t going to make much of a profit anyway, and we kept running into problems from start to finish. Now I’m gonna have a hard time paying Bruce Wayne’s paycheck.” All the more reason I needed to recover the cash.

“And do you routinely deal in cash?” Taylor asked.

Mason looked furious. “It’s none of your damn business how Rose handles her money for the shop, Taylor.”

The detective glanced at Mason with mock innocence. “I agree. I’m merely tryin’ to gather all the facts is all.”

We all knew that was a bald-faced lie, but there was no use protesting.

“And do you know anything else that might help us in this investigation?”

I
did
, but I couldn’t tell anyone who didn’t know about my ability…and I especially couldn’t tell him. “No,” I said, my tone making it clear that it was my final comment.

Taylor stuck his notebook inside his coat pocket. “Well, alrighty then. I’m gonna get the other statements. You’re free to go, but if I have any other questions, I’ll look you up.” He cast a derisive look at Mason. “Looks like I know where to find you.”

I frowned when I realized Mason had missed the detective’s sneer. “Yeah.”

Mason watched Taylor walk out of the office. “One of these days, the Henryetta Police Department is going to get cleaned out just like the sheriff’s department was,” he said. I could hear the lingering hurt in his voice. We’d helped uncover a leak in the sheriff’s department after Crocker’s escape, and unfortunately, it had been Mason’s friend Chief Deputy Dimler.

I made a face. “Don’t count on it. According to Aunt Bessie, they’ve been inept since before I was born.” The lack of photos in the office unnerved me. “Don’t you think it’s strange Mr. Sullivan didn’t come in today of all days?”

“It definitely seems like more than a coincidence.”

I stood and moved around the side of the desk, examining the walls. “I was in his office this past summer when I applied for my business loan. He had photos of his wife and his son at the boy’s high school graduation and another from his family trip to Cancun the year before. It seems odd that they’re gone.”

Mason turned to take in the room. “It most certainly does. I’ll be sure to have Taylor follow up on it.”

I stared out the window at the parking lot, my eyes finding the empty space where the getaway car had been parked. “Mason, there’s something I couldn’t tell Detective Taylor.”

His head jerked toward me. “What?”

“I had a vision. While the guy with the SpongeBob mask was holding my face.”

His eyes widened. “He was holding your face? Why didn’t you tell Taylor that?”

I waved my hand. “That’s not important. The vision is. The robber was in an old barn next to the getaway car, and he was talking to his accomplice. But the guy wasn’t wearing the Batman mask anymore. I saw his face.”

“You’re kidding.” He shook his head, dazed. “What did he look like?”

“He had long scraggly blond hair. He was pale-skinned and looked like he was in his late twenties, early thirties.”

“What else did you see?”

“Nothing really, but the robber said they didn’t get enough money. That the ‘rat bastard’”—I used air quotes—“hadn’t come through and they needed more.”

Mason watched me for several seconds and then scooped me up in a hug, giving me a hard kiss. “You have no idea how helpful that is.”

“How?” I asked, confused.

“First, if they didn’t get enough money, they’re probably going to rob somewhere else.”

“Oh.
That
can’t be good.”

“No, but now we’re on the alert.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Second, I can have you look at mug shots to see if you can identify the guy. And third, now we know they either had an inside man or an accomplice who didn’t come through. While I hate to jump to conclusions, Norman Sullivan is definitely suspect.”

I found it hard to believe that the loan officer had anything to do with the bank robbery. He’d been so friendly and helpful in our meeting. But I had to admit that the circumstantial evidence was piling up. Still, circumstantial evidence had indicated Bruce Wayne and I were guilty of crimes we hadn’t committed. In my eyes, Mr. Sullivan was innocent until proven guilty. “There’s a problem, though,” I said, sighing. “You can’t use any of it. It’s from a vision.”

“Let me worry about that. Can you swing by my office for a bit and look at the mug shots?”

“Sure, but I need to go to the nursery first to break the news to Violet. And I suspect it’s not going to go over well.”

He lifted my chin and gave me a soft smile. “Hey, it wasn’t your fault.”

No, if it was anyone’s fault, it was Violet’s. But that had never stopped her from casting the blame on me, and I suspected this time would be no exception.

There was going to be hell to pay and Violet was gonna make me write a personal check.

***

Chapter Three

This was one time when I was sorry to be right.

“What do you mean they took all of our money?” my sister shouted, gripping the counter at the register of our nursery so hard I worried it would snap.