Shortly before noon Edwina instructed Tottenhoe to advise the payroll department that Juanita Nunez's employment would be terminated at the end of the day, and to have her severance paycheck sent down to the branch. The check, delivered by messenger, was on Edwina's desk when she returned from lunch.
Uneasy, hesitating, Edwina turned the check over in her hand.
At this moment Juanita Nunez was still working. Edwina's decision about that yesterday had brought grouchy objections from Tottenhoe who protested, "The sooner we're rid of her, the surer we'll be of no repetition." Even Miles Eastin, back at his regular operations assistant's desk, had raised his eyebrows, but Edwina overruled them both. - She wondered why on earth she was worrying so much, when obviously the time had come to end the incident and put it out of mind.
Obviously out of mind. The obvious solution. Again Lewis's phrase occurred to her mistrust the obvious. But how? In what way?
Edwina told herself: Think just once more. Go back to the beginning.
What were the obvious facets of the incident as they occurred? The first obvious thing was that money was missing. No room for dispute there. The second obvious thing was that the amount was six thousand dollars. That had been agreed by four people: Juanita Nunez herself, Tottenhoe, Miles Eastin, and, eventually, the vault teller. No argument. The third obvious feature concerned the Nunez girl's
after almost five hours of busy transactions at the counter, and before she had balanced out her cash. All others in the branch who knew about the loss, including Edwina, agreed that was obviously impossible; from the start, the knowledge had been a cornerstone of their joint belief that Juanita Nunez was a thief.
Knowledge… obvious knowledge. .. obviously impossible.
And yet was it impossible?… An idea occurred to Edwina
A wall clock showed 2:10 P.M. She noted that the operations officer was at his desk nearby, Edwina got up. "Mr. Tottenhoe, will you come with me, please?"
With Tottenhoe glumly trailing, she crossed the floor, briefly greeting several customers en route. The branch was crowded and busy, as usual in the closing hours of business before a weekend. Juanita Nunez was accepting a deposit.
Edwina said quietly, "Mrs. Nunez, when you've dealt with this customer, please put up your position closed sign and lock your cash box."
Juanita Nunez made no response, nor did she speak when she had completed the transaction, or while transferring a small metal plaque to the counter as instructed. When she turned to close the cash box, Edwina saw why. The girl was crying silently, tears coursing down her cheeks.
The reason was not hard to guess. She had expected to be fired today and Edwina's sudden appearance confirmed that belief.
Edwina ignored the tears. "Mr. Tottenhoe,' she said, "I believe Mrs. Nunez has been working on cash since we opened this morning. Is that correct?" He acknowledged, "Yes."
The time period was roughly the same as on Wednesday, Edwina thought, though the branch had been busier today.
She pointed to the cash box. "Mrs. Nunez, you've been insisting that you always know the amount of cash you have. Do you know how much is in there now?"
The young woman hesitated. Then she nodded, still unable to speak through tears.
Edwina took a slip of paper from the counter and held it out. "Write down The amount."
Again, visible hesitation. Then Juanita Nunez took a pencil and scribbled 123,765.
Edwina passed the slip to Tottenhoe. "Please go with Mrs. Nunez and stay with her while she balances out today's cash. Check the result. Compare it with this figure."
Tottenhoe looked at the paper skeptically. "I'm busy, and if I stayed with every teller…"
"Stay with this one," Edwina said. Recrossing the bank floor, she returned to her desk. Three quarters of an hour later Tottenhoe reappeared.
He looked nervous. Edwina saw his hand was shaking. He had the slip of paper and put it on her desk. The figure which Juanita Nunez had written had a single penciled tick beside it.
"If I hadn't seen it myself," the operations officer said, I might not have believed." For once his gloom was gone, surprise replacing it. "The figure was right?" "Exactly right."
Edwina sat tensely, marshaling her thoughts. Abruptly and dramatically, she knew, almost everything concerning the investigation had changed. Until this moment, all assumptions had been based upon the Nunez girl's inanity to do what she had now demonstrated conclusively that she could.
"I remembered something while I was walking over just now," Tottenhoe said. "I did know somebody once; it was in a little country branch upstate must be twenty years or more ago who had that knack of keeping track of cash. And I remember, then, hearing there are other people like that. It's as if they had a calculating machine right inside their heads."
Edwina snapped, "I wish your memory had been working better on Wednesday."
As Tottenhoe returned to his own desk, she drew a notepad toward her and scribbled summations of her thoughts.
Nunez not yet cleared, but more believable. Possibly innocent victim? If not Nunez, who?
Someone who knows procedures, could somehow watch for opportunity. Staff? Inside job? But how? "How" later. Find motive first, then person. Motive? Someone who needs money badly?
She repeated in capitals, NEEDS MONEY. And added: Examine personal checking/savings accounts, all branch personnel TONIGHT!
Eldwina began looking quickly through an FMA Headquarters phone book, looking for "Chief of Audit Service."
13
On Friday afternoons all branches of First Mercantile American Bank stayed open an extra three hours.
Thus, at the main downtown branch this Friday, the Outer street doors were closed and locked by a security guard at 6 P.M. A few customers, still in the bank at closing time, were let out by the same guard, one by one, through a single plate-glass door.
At 6:05 precisely, a series of sharp, peremptory taps sounded on the outside of the glass door. When the guard turned his head in response, he observed a young male figure dressed in a dark topcoat and business suit, carrying a briefcase. To attract attention inside, the figure had tapped with a fifty-cent piece wrapped in a handkerchief.
As the guard approached, the man with the briefcase held an identity document flat against the glass. The guard inspected it, unlocked the door, and the young man stepped inside. Then, before the guard could close the door; a proliferation occurred, as unexpected and remarkable as a magician's trick. Where there had been one individual with briefcase and proffered credentials, suddenly there were six, behind them six more, with still another phalanx at the rear. Swiftly, like an inundation, they streamed into the bank.
A man, older than most of the others and emanating authority, announced curtly, "Headquarters Audit Staff."
"Yessir," the security guard said; he was a veteran at the bank who had been through this before, and he continued checking the other credentials holders in. There were twenty, mostly men, four women. All went irnmediately to various locations in the bank.
The older man who had made the announcement headed for the platform and Edwina's desk. As she rose to greet him, she regarded the continuing influx into the bank with unconcealed surprise. "Mr. Burnside, is this a full-dress audit?"
"It certainly is, Mrs. D'Orsey." The audit department head removed his overcoat and hung it near the platform.
Elsewhere in the bank other staff members wore disconcerted expressions, while some groaned and voiced aggrieved comments. "Oh, geez! A Friday, of all times to pick" . "Dammit, I had a dinner date”. "Who says auditors are human?"
Most were aware of what the visit by a headquarters audit group entailed. Tellers knew there would be an extra counting of their cash before they left tonight, and vault reserve cash would be checked out too. Accountants would be required to stay until their records were listed and balanced. Senior management staff would be lucky to be away by midnight.
The newcomers had already, quickly and politely, taken over all ledgers. From this moment any additions or changes would be under scrutiny.
Edwina said, "When I asked for an examination of staff accounts I didn't expect this." Normally a branch bank audit took place every eighteen months to two years and tonight's was doubly unexpected since a full audit of the main downtown branch had occurred only eight months earlier.
"We decide the how, where, and when of audit, Mrs. D'Orsey." As always, Hal Burnside maintained a cool aloofness, the hallmark of a bank-examiner. Within any major bank an audit department was an independent, watchdog unit with authority and prerogatives like the Inspectorate General of an army. Its members were never intimidated by rank, and even senior managers were candidates for reproof about irregularities which a thoroughgoing inspection of a branch revealed and there were invariably some.