five

Karen Simms burst into the annex break room and went straight to Larry Conti and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Thank God you’re all right. I just got here. I heard you got shot—almost killed. Someone robbed us? You stopped—”

“The Chairman’s dead.”

She leaned back from him as her face froze. “What?”

“He’s dead.” Larry sat at a small round dinette table sipping a cup of coffee and adjusting a bandage on his head. “Someone murdered him.” Larry was perhaps thirty, with dark eyes that gave away his Mediterranean heritage. He stood and slipped his dark blue blazer off—pushing his finger through the bullet hole with a smile—and hung it on the back of his chair. “The robber jumped me and got my gun, but the Chairman was already dead.”

“Are you sure?” Karen’s lips didn’t seem to move. “It wasn’t …”

“No. It was him. They found him this morning.”

She took a couple slow, shaky steps back and leaned against the kitchen counter. “The robber killed William? Oh my God.”

“I guess so. Maybe. I don’t know.” Larry rubbed his jaw and rolled his head trying to loosen tense muscles. “That’s the weird thing. When I got here this morning, I found the side door open. I went in and he jumped me. He kept asking where the vault and gold and stones were.”

Karen slipped down into a chair across the table from him. “Gold and stones? And you didn’t tell him where it was?”

“Nope. But he sure knew about the Chairman, right?” He sipped his coffee. “Anyway, the cops found him dead down in his vault. They don’t think the robber did it, though. And some lady was almost kidnapped, but Mr. Thorne stopped it all.”

“The robber didn’t kill William?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“Somebody here, maybe. Who else?”

Karen stood, went to the counter. She took her time and poured a cup of coffee, spooned in some sugar and a drop or two of cream. She stood facing the cabinet for a long time. She was tall, with a curvaceous, busty frame, and toned, tight muscles from hours each night at the gym. Right then she wished she could retreat to the gym for a run and workout. William murdered but not by the robber? Larry beaten—shot—but he kept the vault a secret? And Franklin Thorne was involved, too. He was supposed to be out of town. What was happening?

When she turned around, it struck her that Larry seemed calm and unfazed by the robbery. Was he that steely? Had she misjudged him all this time? Or was there another reason?

“Poor William.” She tried to stay calm but she could hear the fear in her voice cracking her words. “Larry, are you sure you’re okay? I’m worried about you.” She brushed back her long blond hair and slipped her ski jacket off. When she gave Larry another warm embrace, she lingered a bit longer than she needed. She was thirty-one, just a year older than Larry. He had a soft spot for her. All the men at the bank did—well, almost all. But with Larry, it was different.

And it was important now.

“What happened, Larry? Did the robber get anything? The cops wouldn’t tell me anything and told me to come in here and wait. I’m frightened.”

“It’ll be okay.” He reached out and touched her arm, guiding her back into a chair beside him. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, Karen. You understand? But don’t be afraid. It’ll be all right—I’ll make sure.”

“I’m not a cop or someone like you, so I don’t understand. It’s just us, Larry, come on.” She gripped his hand. “I’m afraid. You know William liked us—both of us. Not Marshal—he hates me. He’ll fire me first chance he gets. And what if someone here killed William? What if …”

“It’ll be all right, Karen. I promise. No one will hurt you. You’re not going to get fired. And that guy won’t be back, either. After he beat me up, he ran out and tried to take Professor Tucker hostage. Mr. Thorne shot the guy …”

“Who?”

“Tucker—she’s from the university.”

“Oh, yes, I took a class of hers last year.” Karen’s mouth went dry and she sipped her coffee. “Her husband was a cop—he was killed a couple years ago, right? What was she doing here before opening?”

He shrugged. “Beats me. When the robber ran outside, he grabbed her and tried to run. I tried to stop him, but he shot me.” He stuck his finger through the hole in his uniform blazer again. “Thorne came out of nowhere and shot the guy. He just wounded him, though, and he got away.”

“My God, Larry. Why didn’t you tell him about the vault?”

He shook his head. “I tried to tell him the vault was at the bank—to get him out of the annex—but he knew all about William’s secret vault. And he kept asking about gold and stones.”

“Does William have those down there?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged again. “The Chairman had a lot of stuff down there. Everyone knows—even though Thorne and Marshal think it’s a big secret.”

Karen leaned back and contemplated her coffee cup. In all the years she’d worked at the bank, no one ever spoke of William’s secret vault, but everyone seemed to know—a whisper here, a sly comment there. No one had ever seen it, let alone been inside. Then, several months ago, William took her into his confidence. Since then, he’d relied on her for so many things—uncertain things. In time, his reliance on her grew until last week, when his last, biggest secret passed his lips. After hearing his story and seeing the proof of his past, William didn’t seem so odd any more—just scared. And that secret was to be feared.

And Larry knew as much as she did. Maybe more.

“Larry, has William shown you inside the vault?”

“Has he shown you?”

“He told me about it in case there was an emergency. But I’ve never seen inside.”

“Me neither.” Larry stood and refilled his coffee cup. “They asked about it, you know—the cops. They want to talk to me again later.”

Franklin Thorne walked in, halting the conversation. “Karen, I need to speak with you.”

“What’s wrong, Mr. Thorne?”

“I can’t say. Would you meet me in the main office in ten minutes, please? I need to access the safety deposit vault and I need your key.”

“Yes, sir.” When Thorne left, she looked at Larry. “This scares me to death. It could ruin everything.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because with the robbery and William’s murder, they’ll be poking and probing around at everything, right?”

“So? Karen, you’re okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

She stood and went to the sink and put her coffee cup down. “Maybe we should tell the cops everything. You know, what we’ve seen.”

“I don’t know what we saw, Karen.” Larry shook his head. “And neither do you. So, no. Don’t do anything until we talk again. We should meet later, after you get away from Thorne and after I speak with the police again, okay?”

“Okay, meet me in the basement file room. Say an hour? And we don’t say anything until then—to anyone—right?”

Larry nodded.

“I’m trusting you.”

Larry tried to smile. “With your pal Thorne involved, I’m worried, too.”

“There is no ‘my pal.’ It’s you and me, Larry—you and me.” She kissed his cheek and left the break room.

Thorne wanted to see her in six or seven minutes. She quickened her step and before she reached the lobby, she dug into her purse, found a key secreted in her makeup case, and turned right at a narrow corridor. As she did, someone ahead of her unlocked the steel door at the end of the corridor, marked “Security Room—Authorized Personnel Only.” The person slipped inside and closed the door.

Franklin Thorne.