Caught In A Bind. Gayle Roper
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“It’s not like Tom walked up to a cash register and grabbed it, is it? Or held up the dealership like a bank robber does bank tellers? When people buy cars, papers get signed, down payment checks get written, but cash doesn’t get exchanged.”
William just looked at me.
Suddenly I was overcome with doubts. “It doesn’t, does it?”
“It seems that Tom sold a car to an elderly couple Thursday night,” William said. “The deal was concluded about 8:50 p.m. This couple paid cash and drove the car off the lot at 9:05.”
“Cash?” I was surprised. “They walked into the dealership with eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars on them?”
“In her purse. In fact, they had about five thousand dollars more because they weren’t certain how much the car they finally decided on would cost.”
“And you think Tom just kept this money?” Edie’s voice shook with outrage.
William’s craggy face was impassive. “The register was closed for the evening by the time the deal was concluded. Policy in situations like this is to seal the money in an envelope, have it initialed by the salesman and the manager and lock it in the cashier’s drawer until morning when it can be entered into the record appropriately.”
“And Tom didn’t follow procedure?” I asked.
“He did,” William said. “That’s how we know about the money.”
“You mean that if he hadn’t had the manager initial the money, no one would have known?” I was intrigued. “He would have been able to walk off with the money?”
William nodded. “At least no one would have known until the monthly inventory of cars on the lot, and one was found to be missing. Or until the couple brought the car in for servicing, and there was no record of the sale or the service warranty.”
“But surely if Tom wanted to steal the money, he wouldn’t have gone to the manager,” I said. “He’d have pocketed the money and walked out the door.”
William flipped his notebook shut. “The manager says Tom didn’t get the chance to just walk out because he was passing by as Tom took possession of the money. Together they prepared the envelope as soon as the couple left.”
“So it’s Bill Bond’s word against Tom’s.” Edie eyed William.
He nodded.
“Now there’s a tough call.” Edie was derisive. “Bill Bond is not the most stable of men.”
“Why do you say that?” William asked.
“Tom’s told me lots of Bill Bond stories. One day he’s fine, the next he’s not. One day he’s your friend, the next he’s out for your hide. He’s difficult to work under, very egocentric. Not that he does anything illegal. He just likes to ride awfully close to the line. Obviously he has finally crossed it.”
William said nothing.
“What?” Edie asked. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Edie,” William said gently. “Bill Bond is here to talk to. Tom isn’t.”
THREE
Tears sprang to Edie’s eyes as William made his pronouncement, and next thing I knew, I was patting her shoulder.
When in doubt, pat.
“I’m sorry, Edie.” William looked sad but stoic. “I have to consider the facts, not feelings or instincts. Bill Bond may not be the world’s most charming man, but he hasn’t disappeared.”
Edie looked resigned. “I know. It’s just that Tom is such a good man! He’d never take eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars. It isn’t even logical. Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars isn’t worth ruining your life over.”
“What if he wanted to disappear? Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars would be a good starting point.”
“But why should he want to disappear?” Edie obviously found the idea incomprehensible.
“People disappear all the time. They want to get out of dead-end jobs, dead-end towns.” He looked at her carefully. “Dead-end relationships and marriages.”
Edie’s head jerked like William had slapped her. “Never! We have a wonderful marriage. And believe me, because of past experience, I know good when I see it.”
William nodded noncommittally.
“It’s true, William. It’s true! Tell him, Merry.”
“It sure looks like a good marriage to me,” I said, glad that this time I could answer the question.
William listened politely to me, then turned back to Edie. “Tell me about Tom, please.”
Edie took a deep breath. “He’s wonderful, caring, encouraging. He’s gentle—”
“Not character traits,” William said. “His history, family background, things like that.”
Edie became engrossed in studying her fingernails. I thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer William. Of course, she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, at least not without a lawyer present. I wondered briefly what old Mr. Grassley of Grassley, Jordan and McGilpin would think about being called out in the middle of the night.
Then Edie spoke, and Mr. Grassley was allowed to sleep.
“I really can’t help you, William.” She glanced up from her nails, her face grim. “All I know is that Tom didn’t like to talk about his past. He said it was too painful.”
Too painful? Or was Tom harboring secrets? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like a traitor.
Edie studied her nails again, picking at a piece of frayed cuticle. “I know about painful pasts, so I’ve never pushed him.”
“You don’t even know where he was born? Where he lived before he came to Amhearst?”
“He was born in Philadelphia and lived in Camden, New Jersey, before he moved here.”
William smiled, the furrows of his face going through a seismic shift in the process. “See? You know things about him. When was he born?”
“He just celebrated his fortieth birthday on February 15.”
I waited to see if William would ask for his Social Security number and his mother’s maiden name. With that information, Tom’s name, birthplace and birth date, he could find out anything he wanted to know about Tom.
Then it occurred to me that Bill Bond could supply the Social Security number from the dealership’s financial records and that he’d probably do so with great enthusiasm. He wanted that money back.
Again I felt guilty because I was assuming Tom had the money. I was forgetting innocent until proven guilty. I determined to remember that a reporter is supposed to be unbiased and a friend is supposed to believe.
“Has he always been a car salesman?” William asked.
“I don’t know.”
“When did he move to Amhearst?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does his family live?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who are his friends?”
Edie’s head came up and her shoulders straightened. “Me.”
William looked at her for several ticks of the antique mantel clock. Edie held his stare. Then he gave a little smile. “Thanks for talking with me, Edie. If Tom comes home, please have him contact me immediately.” He handed her a card.
“When