"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."