Our evening was far less eventful once Garrett allowed us to leave the bank. On our way home, we picked up an extra large pizza from Monty's and after I showered and put on clean clothes, I threw together a Greek salad, my feeble attempt at a healthy accompaniment. Solomon wasn't horrified by my efforts to follow the recipe, and after we ate everything, we retired for an early night. By the time I awoke, my phone was brimming with text messages eager to hear about the bank robbery and Solomon was already in the shower. I chose the better sight and ignored my phone as I waited for him to return.
When he came back into the bedroom, after far too long, wearing a towel tucked around his waist, I had given up waiting and was reading The Montgomery Gazette online. "Just like I thought," I told him. "Not a single penny was taken."
“What the hell are you wearing?” asked Solomon.
I looked down. “These are my favorite comedy crocodile PJs.”
Solomon shook his head. "Any mention of the FBI’s presence?" he asked.
"None."
"Anything stand out to you in the article?"
"Not a thing. It's all as I expected. A few lines on how the masked gunmen executed the robbery. Some hyperbole on Officer Andersen's heroics along with a photo of him in uniform. A couple of quotes, one from an unnamed source at the bank, insisting the security measures were so tight that the robbery was absolutely unforeseen; and another quote from an unnamed hostage regarding how frightening it was." I closed the browser and set down my phone, sitting up a little straighter and resting against the pillows. "Before you ask, not a single word was mentioned about the vault or the explosion. Isn't that odd?"
"Not particularly. The bank manager might want to keep that news very quiet and well away from the wider public. The police might have also told the reporter not to say anything lest it make their investigation more difficult."
"I guess the bank manager might need more time to find out exactly what was stolen so he can notify the owners. That's bad business for the bank. No one wants to purchase an insecure security box."
Solomon nodded. "Possibly dangerous too, depending on what was stolen."
I raised my eyebrows. "I don't think the Mafia were using it to store their ill-gotten gains. This isn't New York or Atlantic City."
"Are you sure about that?"
I paused. Was that a trick question? Like the time my parents asked if I sneaked out at night and I wondered if they already knew the answer. Telling them the truth could be outing myself; while lying could result in even bigger trouble. "Are you?" I asked.
"I have no idea, but given the professionalism of the heist crew and the weapons you described, I honestly get the impression something very valuable had to be in that safe. Whether that translates to cash value, or is only in terms of value perceived, I don't know. It’s hard to talk to you seriously while you’re wearing those crazy pajamas."
"I like seeing you so casually wrapped up in a towel, yet talking very seriously," I replied, smiling as all thoughts of the bank robbery swiftly faded away. "Did you just flex your pecs?"
"I did."
"Come here and do that."
"We'll be late for work," said Solomon, his voice deep and promising.
"I'll take it up with the boss," I replied, pushing the covers back.
Solomon's towel fell to the floor.
~
"You two stop for a detour or something?" asked Delgado. He was checking his watch as we stepped out of the stairwell onto the floor of the Solomon Detective Agency.
"Or something," said Solomon.
"You say that like you didn't just take the stairs as we pulled into a parking space," I told my brother-in-law. "I saw you hightailing it through the door."
Delgado grinned. "Would you believe I've been here hours and just got back from following a lead?"
"Did the lead take you down to that new coffee shop at the end of the block?" asked Solomon. "I think I smell vanilla and powdered sugar."
"Busted," said Delgado with a shrug. "I couldn't resist. They make the best coffee."
"We have coffee facilities here," replied Solomon.
"Sometimes our filtered coffee just doesn't cut it," said Delgado. "Anyway, there's someone waiting in the boardroom. He insisted it was very important. Fletcher is keeping him company so I just came by to tell you."
"Why didn't you ask him to wait in one of the meeting rooms?" asked Solomon. "Unless it's a personal contact?"
"He had a courtesy card from Lieutenant Graves. I figured he was important."
Solomon glanced at me and I shrugged, palms up. I had no idea whom my brother handed out his courtesy cards to.
"Thanks for the heads-up," said Solomon. He tugged open the door, holding it wide enough for me to step through. I did, with Solomon and Delgado right behind my exceptionally nice heels.
The boardroom was separated from the office by glass. Fletcher positioned himself in Solomon's usual spot at the head of the table, while our guest was next to him with his back to us. He wore a mid-range navy blue suit with a blue shirt and the back of his head looked familiar. I must have seen him somewhere recently.
"You know this guy?" asked Solomon softly. He nodded to Fletcher who noticed us without giving any indication to our guest that we had entered.
"Looks vaguely familiar but I can't be sure without seeing his face."
Solomon didn't tell me to hang back so when Delgado sat down at his desk, I followed Solomon into the boardroom. The man rose as we entered and Solomon moved to one side. I blinked in recognition. I had seen the man before, and fairly recently. He was the First Eastern Bank manager. The last time I saw him was after the robbery, when Garrett was interviewing him before passing him on to the paramedics. A large Band-Aid covered his left temple and his arm was supported in a sling. He appeared tired but his suit was neatly pressed, the tie perfectly knotted.
"That looks painful," I said, nodding to his head. "I heard the bank robbers knocked you out cold."
He startled. "How did you know?" he asked, slightly surprised.
"Lexi was there," explained Solomon. "This is Lexi Graves-Solomon, one of my private investigators."
"The Solomon from the agency name?" asked the man.
"That would be me, John Solomon," said Solomon, extending his hand to shake the man's uninjured one.
"Charles Sampson," said the man.
"Please take a seat. Fletcher will get you a bottle of water, or coffee if you prefer."
"Just water, please," said Charles Sampson, dropping into his seat again. "I don't think caffeine is good for my head right now. And yes, one of the gunmen hit me with the butt of his gun and knocked me out cold."
Fletcher rose and slipped out of the room. Solomon took his seat and I rounded the table, sitting on his other side so the three of us were close enough to talk. The bank manager put his fingers on the card in front of him and pushed it across to Solomon. Solomon picked it up, examined it, and passed it to me. It was my brother's courtesy card; on the back, my brother wrote: please call if you need assistance, which he signed with his initials. I nodded, confirming it was authentic.
"It seems you already know who I am," said Charles. "Neither my introduction or the recent incident came as any surprise to you."
"That's correct. We know you had a terribly frightening experience, Mr. Sampson," I said. "I wish I could have helped more at the time."
"I prefer that you call me Charlie. I've been the bank manager of that branch of First Eastern for five years and worked in the banking industry my whole life. I never witnessed a bank robbery before, never mind getting involved in one."
"And are you involved?" asked Solomon. He placed Garrett's courtesy card on the table between us. I was sure if I had a measuring tape, I would find the distance equal between us, which was both weird and precise.
Charlie huffed a laugh. "Not like that, no."
"Can you tell me how you came by this card?"
"Lieutenant Graves gave it to me yesterday after he took my statement about the robbery. He suggested I call you as you have a lot of experience in security matters." Charlie stopped talking except for a quick "thanks" when Fletcher returned and deposited a small bottle of water and a glass on the table before leaving without a word.
"You want us to look into your security and see why it failed? The police will do that on taxpayer money." Solomon's poker face revealed nothing but I sensed some confusion. He was right. Charlie didn't need us to investigate anything, not when the police would be crawling all over the scene and interviewing everyone at the bank.
"No. You're correct. The police will do that and I trust them to find out how such a thing could occur. Before you ask, I doubt this was an inside job. I have unbounded faith in all of my employees and trust them implicitly. Maybe if the robbers took cash as it was being delivered, it would have been a different story. That could have implicated persons beyond my branch, but that's not what happened here."
"Not a penny was stolen," I said, recalling the article.
"Not exactly," said Charlie.
"But something was," said Solomon. "And you want us to find out how?"
"I don't really care how they stole it. I just want the item back."
"Ah." Solomon nodded now and reclined slightly in his seat. "You want us to find it. We can potentially do that. What is the item you seek?"
Charlie hesitated. "That's the whole problem. I don't know."
"You don't know?" I asked.
"That's correct. I don't know."
"You don't know? Or you don't want us to know?" asked Solomon. I flashed him a surprised look at the odd question.
Once more, Charlie hesitated. "I don't know," he said after a long pause.
"Then how do you expect us to find it? How would we even know if we found it?" Solomon folded his arms across his chest and fixed Charlie with a don't mess with me look.
"All very good questions. I have some information that could help you with your search, and once you've found something, I might be able to confirm it as the right item."
"Whom does the item belong to? The bank or a client?"
"A client."
"And their name is...?"
"I can't tell you that."
The vein in Solomon's temple began to bulge. "And the estimated value of the item?" he asked.
"Hard to say."
Solomon stared but Charlie didn't flinch. "What can you tell us?" asked Solomon.
Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. "I managed to take a photo of the scene in the vault last night. I thought that might help you."
"Let me see," said Solomon, holding out his hand.
Charlie activated the phone and called up the photo. "Here it is," he said as he handed the phone over. I half stood, leaning over to get a better view.
"Walk me through what we're looking at."
"I took this photo when I regained consciousness, just before the police reached me. I'll admit being a little disoriented at first but it's a clear photo. This is inside the vault where the theft occurred. We have one beneath the bank with several hundred deposit boxes."
"Is that common knowledge?" I asked.
"It's not uncommon knowledge," said Charlie. "We don't advertise it on literature at the bank or broadcast it, except on our website and, as you can see, we have several hundred boxes so at least that many people know about it."
I factored in partners, family members, friends and anyone they might have told, which easily ran into thousands more. Charlie was right; anyone could know about the vault's presence.
"What's the layout?" asked Solomon.
"All the boxes line the walls on three sides and they vary in sizes. The biggest box can fit a small suitcase. The smallest is a couple of inches in height. I can show you the plans, although I don't have them with me today. There's a table in an adjacent room where clients can open and close their box. It's equipped with two chairs."
"You said it's adjacent to the vault?" prompted Solomon.
"It's within the vault but not part of the deposit box room. I didn't take a photo of it because nothing happened in there."
"Go on."
"I don't know if this is pertinent. There are dozens of smashed boxes and their contents, as you can see."
"It appears only one section of boxes was targeted."
"Yes."
"Were any boxes missing?"
"Yes. One."
"What size?"
"Four inches tall, ten inches long."
"Who would have any knowledge of what was inside the boxes?"
"Only the owner. I don't even know. We don't ask. Once we transfer the box to the client in the client room, any bank employee discreetly withdraws from the room and waits outside. We don't see anything usually although there are some rare occasions when we do. We only return when the client summons us."
"Is there a list of owners of the boxes?"
Charlie reached for the water, unscrewed the cap, and sipped it thoughtfully. "The bank holds an encrypted file within our network, and there's a secure master list at our headquarters. We don't require identification to access the box; only a key and a fingerprint for those boxes that have that facility. Each box has two keys and we keep the other at the bank inside a safe but it's useless without the client’s fingerprint. The key holder can present their key at any time during banking hours for access."
"Has anyone accessed the list recently?"
"I did last week for the file in our network; someone inquired if any of our larger boxes were available. No one else at this bank branch has the password to access that file."
While Solomon and Charlie were talking, I focused more closely on the photo. The scene was a mess. Open and dented boxes, locks that were separated from their casings, and shards of glass that could have come from the fingerprint scanner Charlie mentioned. Interspersed with the boxes were a wide variety of items; cash in various currencies and denominations, jewelry, paperwork and what looked like a stack of passports held together with a rubber band. Some things fared better than others in the explosion. I wondered how Charlie planned to reunite the items with their owners.
"Could anything illegal be stored in the boxes?" asked Solomon.
Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Given that I don't know the contents of the boxes, I can't say for sure. I hope not."
"Are any of your clients involved in anything illegal?"
"I can't answer that question either."
"Can't? Or won't?"
"Can't! I don't personally know everyone who owns a box. They only have to show a picture ID to open a box and pay the fee. I'll confess I'm not a curious man by nature. I don't check people out of my own volition."
"Have any of the box owners contacted the bank yet?" I asked. If my valuables were stored there and I heard about a robbery, I would certainly want to know if my possessions were safe.
"No. We're keeping the finer details of the robbery as quiet as possible for now. Since the Gazette ran a front-page story, however, I'm sure we'll get some concerned calls. What do you say? Will you investigate this?" Charlie leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, an earnest look on his face. "I know the information I can give you is scarce and I realize it's a difficult job, but Lieutenant Graves gave me the impression you are the best people for solving difficult jobs. The police are looking for the robbers, but I only want the contents of that box returned. My employers would be very happy about it and I can pay you handsomely to find it."
"It's a difficult case," said Solomon, returning the phone to him.
Charlie tucked it into his pocket and withdrew an envelope, which he placed on the table. "Perhaps this will sweeten it up," he said upon standing. We stood too and Charlie shook our hands. "If it doesn’t, I trust you'll return it. I appreciate you seeing me since I turned up without any appointment. Will you let me know of your decision later today?"
"We will," said Solomon. He waved and Delgado returned. "My investigator will see you out."
"What do you make of that?" I asked as we watched Delgado escorting Charlie out the door.
"I think he's a liar," said Solomon.
"Oh?"
He glanced at me. "You didn't?"
I swayed my head from side to side, weighing up Solomon's statement. He was an excellent judge of character but I didn’t automatically assume Charlie was a liar. "I thought he was forthcoming with a lot of information, although it lacked the crucial bits like what he wants us to locate."
"He also won't tell us to whom the item belongs, and I think he knows, or at least, he suspects he does. We should consider the possibility he also knows what the item is but simply doesn't want to tell us."
Solomon reached for the envelope, flicked open the flap and took out a check. He whistled. "This is one hell of an incentive," he said, passing it to me.
"Wow!"
"It's also one hell of an incentive not to take the case. Whatever the mystery item is, it's that valuable and he's clearly desperate to find it or he wouldn't have written such a generous check on what I'm guessing is his expense account. I'll need to give this more thought."
"That sounds sensible," I agreed just as my cellphone began to vibrate in my back pocket. I pulled it out. Alice. Alice! With all the events going on at the bank, I completely forgot about Alice and her patient.
"Alice, I am so sorry," I started. "I meant to call you and Austen but I..."
"Don't apologize," interrupted Alice. "I heard what happened. I'm just glad you're okay and I'm sure Austen will be relieved to hear it too."
"He knows?"
"I don't think he knows you were there, since no one reported that, but the bank robbery is buzzing all through the hospital. It's kind of exciting! Was it just like the movies?"
"Much scarier," I decided, "and less well paid."
"I can't believe you got caught up in it."
"It was a case of right place, wrong time."
"But you're okay? That poor officer was shot. It must have been terrible. He was in the ER. Quite the intrepid story! Some of our nurses are a little in love with him; maybe the doctors too."
"One hundred percent fine and I hope he enjoys his five minutes of fame."
"You don't sound too impressed."
"It would be unkind of me to say anything about the officer's ability to make sound decisions."
"Ah," said Alice. "You think he was a jerk."
"A jerk who took a bullet so he has my sympathy to some extent. If you want to know more, I'm sure it'll be hottest topic at the next family dinner."
"Your mother says that will be tomorrow."
"What?" I sighed as I looked at Solomon who was watching me with some amusement. "Family dinner, tomorrow," I told him.
"We'll be there," said Solomon.
"Your mom says it's a pasta party. We can all bring a pasta, sauce, or a side dish, but we have to text her what we decide to bring so we don't have too much of one thing. I'm making garlic baguettes."
"Good to know; I look forward to the food, at least."
Alice laughed since she was quite familiar with the chaos of family dinners, especially when my mother was in a whirl about my latest calamity.
"How is Austen? And Sophie?" I asked.
"No change for Sophie. She continues to be stable, which is good, I guess, but I know we all are wishing for better news. Austen hasn't left her side. One of his friends brought him a change of clothes and some food to eat. He said he didn't want to go home but he really must. He needs some rest. He has to trust us to do our job."
"I know how he feels. He's probably afraid to leave her side," I said, thinking back to when Solomon was rendered comatose following an attack. I was terrified to leave him but I also desperately needed to track down his attacker and find out the reason why he was targeted. That sense of purpose stopped me from falling apart. I was in a unique position now: my sense of empathy clashed with my sense of duty. Yet who was I to tell a heartsick man to leave his wife's bedside, especially given his suspicions? His suspicions were now also mine.
"I feel for him, I really do, but he needs to stay strong. He said you went to his house after you spoke. Do you think he's paranoid? Or could there be any truth to it?" asked Alice.
"I think I should come over and talk to Austen." I checked my watch as I glanced at Solomon, who was listening. He nodded. I was okay to leave. "I'll be with you inside twenty minutes," I told her.
"Should I let Austen know you're coming?"
"Sure. He's probably been waiting for me to call anyway." We said our goodbyes and I palmed my phone. "I hate to run during such a big dilemma," I told Solomon.
"It's not such a big dilemma. Just a question of: do we take the case given our suspicions or not?"
"Are you any further ahead in arriving at a decision?"
"Than I was five minutes ago? No, but I think we should talk about it again. I'd like to give Charlie an answer today since time is of the essence."
"He'll want to hire another firm if we decline."
"Private investigators are not in great supply around Montgomery, and his case is pretty complex. He'll have to travel to Boston and find a firm there that's willing. However, that's not what I meant in terms of time."
"Oh?"
"It's more a question of how fast the missing item is either sold or transported from Montgomery. The trail gets colder the longer we contemplate our decision whether or not to take the case. The robbers are hours ahead of us."
"Then I will leave you to contemplate it while I check in on my other prospective client." I reached up and kissed Solomon quickly and discreetly, given we were at our place of work, before hightailing it out of there. Taking Solomon's car, I made a mental note to go car shopping soon so I didn't have to rely on his car, or rides, or the office pool cars, although I was pleased to see Solomon had arranged for the one I borrowed to be returned to its space after I left it near the bank.
By the time I reached Sophie Takahashi's hospital room, I was running late. Alice waved to me before tending to an elderly patient in the next room and I smiled and waved at her. Knocking on the glass door, I entered, indicating for Austen to sit back in his seat as he began to stand.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you yesterday," I told him.
"I heard you ran into some trouble."
"Alice told you?"
Austen smiled. "Just now. It's all anyone can talk about here. I have to admit, the heist took my mind off this for a couple of hours. Manny told me you took a look around my house but didn't stay long. Did everything appear normal to you?"
"Manny is correct. I only inspected the area where your wife fell, including the stairs, landing area, and the balustrade but I found an anomaly that puzzled me."
"An anomaly?"
"You mentioned seeing blood on the stairs but when I checked them out, there was none."
"I'm sure I saw it. I told you when I checked, the blood was gone. Was I mistaken?" Austen frowned. "Could it have been something else?"
"No, I don't think you were mistaken. Like I said, there wasn't any blood on the staircase but I caught the smell of bleach. Someone cleaned the stairs recently but didn't do such a fabulous job. Manny confirmed that neither he nor his crew would clean the stairs at this stage of construction so I think someone else had to have done it."
"An attempt to cover it up?"
"It's possible. I also think there's some merit to the idea that the balustrade was unscrewed deliberately."
"Lexi, does this mean you agree with my suspicions? Do you think someone intentionally hurt my wife?"
"I think it's possible things didn't happen the way they appeared, and someone is covering something up. That doesn't mean it's malicious, it just means you don't have all the facts or the truth," I said as diplomatically as I could. I didn't want to rule out a terrible accident. Perhaps someone was simply afraid for their job but it could also be as terrible as attempted murder. I didn't know enough yet to determine that but I got a bad feeling.
"Will you take the case?" he asked, fixing me with a long look. "Whatever the answer is, I want you to find out what happened."
"Before I commit to anything, I need to know if you can think of any reason why someone might want to hurt your wife?"
Austen looked away, focusing on Sophie's still face. For a long moment, he appeared lost in thought. "Yes. That is, maybe. I'm not sure."
"What's your concern?" I asked.
Austen's shoulders sagged. "Over the last couple of months, I've had the strangest feeling my wife isn't who she says she is. If she's not Sophie, then I don't know who she could be. Perhaps somebody else does? Someone who wanted to hurt her? It's stupid, I know, but I can't shake the feeling." He looked up, his eyes filled with obvious worry. "I really need your help."
"Tell me everything you can," I said.