Chapter 38

 

Beau rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. He needed to get home. A full day of watching nonstop videotape made him feel brain dead. The day had started on such a positive note with a call from the local branch of First Federal Bank. But the hope for a quick resolution to his case now faltered. He locked his office and got into his cruiser.

Home looked good. Lights on in the kitchen window, Sam’s van parked in her usual spot.

“How about this,” she marveled. “We’re both home and it’s not even bedtime yet.”

He kissed her and even though his smile felt weary, Sam was warm against him and the scent of dinner—chicken and veggies—perked him up. His wife appeared more rested than she’d been in days and she told him of the additional employee’s competence with the work she’d assigned him so far.

“You, on the other hand, look a little bit whupped,” she said as she set their plates on the table.

“Got my hopes up today, only to spend more than seven hours watching convenience store video footage.” He cut into the tender chicken, something Sam whipped up in the crockpot, his favorite dish. “The bright spot is some of the stolen money showed up and the bank traced it to the store’s cash deposit from yesterday’s sales.”

“Beau, that’s great. It’s a solid lead, right?”

“Yes and no. Problem is, it was only one $20 bill and there’s no way to know which customer spent it. Three different clerks worked the shifts, so we had each of them come in and try to help with details about who spent what money. That proved to be totally useless. One of the female clerks said she remembered a guy using a twenty to buy a pack of gum—a good sign of someone trying to pass counterfeit or stolen bills. But when we went through the tapes she couldn’t remember which one it was. The camera gets the clerk and the customer but isn’t too hot on showing what product they’re buying.”

“She didn’t remember anything about the person’s clothing, hair … something to help you pick him out?”

“Darlin’, I swear, these clerks go through their days in a state of oblivion. None of the three could specifically tell me anything about any person they waited on during their entire shift.” He stabbed a chunk of potato. “Oh, back up. One of the men remembered a customer who threw a fit at the gas pump. Apparently got mad about his credit card being rejected and tossed the fuel hose on the ground. The main reason the clerk remembered the incident was because the manager made him go out to pick up the nozzle and make sure no gas had spilled.”

Sam shook her head in sympathy. “What about the manager? Would he, or she, have remembered the passer of the twenty?”

“Unfortunately not. The late shift had no manager on duty. The early-shift guy came in and stared at the videos along with the rest of us but claims not to know anything about what went on at the register. Basically, it was wasted effort.”

“So, what next?”

“We bagged the bill and took fingerprints from everyone known to have touched it. That gives us one small avenue to follow.” He picked up the dinner plates and carried them to the kitchen while Sam put away the leftovers. “Tomorrow, I’m taking the tapes to the guards who were robbed. Maybe they’ll recognize something familiar … body shape, movement, some sort of tic. I tell you, I’ll grab any straw I can get hold of right now.”