The Investigators Part 41

"In that case, I'll leave him with you, and try to make the bank some money."

She laughed dutifully.

"Matt," Chase said, as if he had just thought of this.

"How long do you think you'll be here?"

Matt smiled.

"Until I either get what I came for, or know that it was never here in the first place."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Penn-Harris."

"That's the best place. Room all right?"

"Very nice, sir."

"Good. Do you play golf?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like me to call out to River View and get you a guest card?"

"That's very kind, sir. But a friend's father, Mr. Reynolds, already did that for me."

"Tom Reynolds?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, in that case, I won't have to ask what was going to be my next question."

"Sir?"

"Which was going to be, 'Would you like me to see if I couldn't find a nice girl to introduce you to?' "

Matt chuckled.

"That won't be necessary, sir. But thank you very much."

Chase touched Matt's shoulder and walked back to his office.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Payne?" Dolores asked.

"That would be very nice," Matt said. "And may I use the phone?"

"Of course. Just make yourself comfortable."

She waved in the direction of Hausmann's desk. Matt walked into the office, settled himself in the comfortable green leather high-backed chair, took a look at a silver-framed photograph presumably of Mr. and Mrs. Hausmann and the four little Hausmanns, and then reached into the credenza behind the desk for the Harrisburg telephone book.

He found what he was looking for and dialed the number. He had to go through a switchboard, but in less than a minute, he heard: "Appeals, Reynolds."

"My, don't we sound businesslike? I'm sure, hearing that no-nonsense voice, that the taxpayers of Pennsylvania are getting a good day's work for a fair day's pay out of you."

"Oh, G.o.d! What do you want?"

"There are several things on my mind, actually."

"Make it quick. They don't like personal calls around here."

"Okay. First and foremost, I wanted to a.s.sure you that I haven't washed my face."

"What?"

"I may never wash it again, as a matter of fact."

"Oh," Susan said, finally taking his meaning. "Jesus! Grow up, Matt!"

"You mean you washed your face?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course. . . . What's on your mind, Matt?"

"I think you already know."

"G.o.d!" she responded in what she hoped was an expression of disgust and disbelief.

"If you have a pencil, Susie, I'll give you the telephone number of my new office. Very cla.s.sy. It gives me a splendid view of the polished marble floors and ornate bronze fixtures of the lobby of the First Harrisburg Bank and Trust Company. In case you want to call me in the next couple of hours."

"I don't think that's likely."

"You never know when you're going to need a cop, and in case you do, you'll have my number right at your fingertips."

"Next?"

"Where are we going for lunch?"

"Nowhere."

"Then where are we going for dinner?"

"Nowhere."

"I thought maybe we could drive out to Hershey and have dinner in the Hotel Hershey."

"No."

"Well, any place you like is fine with me. What time shall I pick you up?"

"You don't know how to take 'no' for an answer, do you?"

"We have a deal, fair maiden."

"I don't know what you've got in your mind, Matt-"

"Really? No feminine intuition at all? I find that difficult to believe."

"d.a.m.n you!"

"I seem to have offended you. Since-my intentions being so pure and n.o.ble-I can't imagine how, what I am obviously going to have to do is call your mommy, tell her how sorry I am, and ask her if she can't try to fix things up between us."

There was a chuckle. Not a very pleasant chuckle, more one ringing of resignation.

"And you really would, wouldn't you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h?"

"You can take that to the bank. The First Harrisburg Bank and Trust."

"I'll pick you up in front of the Penn-Harris at half past six. We'll have a quick and early dinner."

"To start," Matt said. "You won't have any trouble spotting me. I'll be the handsome devil with the look of joyous antic.i.p.ation in his eyes."

"Oh, G.o.d," Susan said, and hung up.

Matt put the phone in its cradle and only then noticed a mousy-looking female in her thirties standing in the office door. She held a deep metal tray full of strange-looking forms-bank records, probably, he decided-in both hands.

"Mr. Payne?" she asked.

Matt nodded. She came into the office and, with a grunt, laid the gray metal tray on the gla.s.s-topped desk.

"These are the safe-deposit box access records," she said. "When you're through with them, would you please tell Dolores, and I'll come and get them."

"Thank you," Matt said, and smiled at her.

He ran his fingers down the forms. Each form was metal-topped, and designed to hang from the reinforced side of the tray. Each form was for one box, and listed not only the names and addresses and social security numbers of every person authorized access to that particular box, but at what time, on what date, someone had the box, and for how long.

What I thought Chase was going to get for me was a list of names of box holders matching-at least the last name-the names on my list. This tray obviously holds a card for every safe-deposit box in the bank.

Is giving me more information than I even asked for, crossing over the confidentiality line, the way they always "cooperate" with the police in a situation like this?

Or only when they trust the cop doing the looking?

Or because of my father's relationship with Chase?

What difference does it make? Never stick your finger in a gift horse's mouth.

He had finger-walked his way through perhaps half a dozen of the records when the skinny woman came back, this time carrying a tray in which another kind of bank records lay flat.

"These are the accounts in which you may be interested, Mr. Payne," the skinny woman said. "Through 'D.' The sooner I can have them back, the better. So if you would just ask Dolores to Xerox the ones you're interested in, then you could send them back. I'd really like it better not to bring you 'E' through 'H' until you're through with these. Would that be all right?"

"That would be fine," Matt said. "Thank you very much."

Matt picked up the top record in the tray. It was a complete record, going back four years, of the banking activity-the dates and times of deposits; withdrawals; interest payments; and service charges-in a savings account of an individual whose last name-only-matched one of the names on the list Matt had prepared in the Personnel Office in the Roundhouse.

The form (actually three forms, stapled together) under the first was a record of the same activity in the individual's checking account.

If I get one of these-two of these-for every account holder in this bank with the same last name as the names on the list I gave Mr. Chase, I'll be in Harrisburg for a month.

Which, considering the rockets that went off when I kissed Susie last night, might not be entirely a bad thing.

For Christ's sake! What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you? Get that stupid idea out of your mind, once and for all!

He reached for the telephone, dialed the operator, and placed a collect call to Sergeant Jason Washington.

"Matthew, my boy! How are things in the capital of our great Commonwealth?"

"Well, I am into the bank."

"So, apparently, is the opposing side," Washington replied.

"Excuse me?"

"You first. You seemed surprised."

"The . . . level of cooperation level of cooperation is much more than I expected." is much more than I expected."

"Perhaps it's your charm," Washington said. "I understand you were to take someone to dinner last night. Did that happen?"

"Yeah."

"Was the evening fruitful? In a professional sense?" Was that a dig? Or was he just being clever? Was that a dig? Or was he just being clever?

"I think so."

"But nothing specific to report?"

"No."

"Are you somewhere where you can conveniently and confidentially telephone? There's someone else you really should talk to."

"Wohl?"

"Matthews."

"I'm in a gla.s.s-walled office off the lobby of the Harrisburg Bank and Trust Company," Matt said. "It's private enough, but I would have to call him collect."

"Give me the number-I should have thought of that anyway-and I'll suggest he call you. The unattractive lady bandito has apparently struck again."

"Really? Where?"