officer said it was part of a deposit of cash from a large Japanese bank.
“You’re a better man...woman than I, Miss Heely,” he grumbled.
Not once during the trial had she mentioned him or their special relationship, not once. Nor had she asked him for help. She could have traded on that friendship. He told himself he went along with the lawyers for the good of the bank.
Horseshit!
When he bought into the bank, and then eventually took over, she had briefed him on bank security. He knew people. It was the machines that got the better of him. She had a knack for making the complexities of large, modern computer banking systems understandable. During those conversations he explained what he wanted to do and how he wanted to do it.
She went to everyone in her department and urged them to support his ideas and quit bitching about it. She wouldn’t permit any negative comments or gossip. She did it so unobtrusively most men would never have known. During the whole re-construction she supported his policies and made sure that others did also.
He admitted that he liked having her around because she was good to look at. He wouldn’t admit it at first because he thought it undignified for a man of sixty eight to be making eyes at one of the employees.
He never made advances, but he liked her company. She dressed and smelled like a woman.
“Now, goddamn it, I eat alone and don’t loose at gin.”
He opened a small, black notebook and looked at the scores of their games, the notations of the amounts won and lost. After each game she took the note book and wrote comments. He read through them wistfully.
“Gentlemen don’t crow when they win $3.25,” he read aloud.
“What do they do when they lose $42.50?” he had written beneath her comment.
“They don’t use the ‘S’ and ‘F’ words!” she wrote under that.
He smiled, then his expression quickly sobered. He totaled up the amounts.
“By God, I owe that girl six hundred and fifty dollars!” He sat staring out the window morosely.
“It was worth a lot more.” He pushed the plates aside and sat down at the PC she had taught him to use.
“I better write her a letter. I’m going to be one miserable son of a bitch until I do.”
Chapter 8
Sydney sat with his feet up on the dormer and looked off toward downtown Los Angeles. The smog was thickening. It had only been a couple weeks since the last rain, probably the last storm of the year.
Behind him the desk was piled with reports, data about the Heely case, and her most recent letter.
Charlie Lee sat on the couch and sifted through another stack of reports.
“This is the craziest one yet, Dad. There’s too much.” She dropped a sheaf of papers tiredly. “I don’t know where to start. She got railroaded, but I don’t see how we’re going to prove it?”
“Don’t you worry, Missy. We do it like the police: Method, motive and opportunity. Except we’re starting from a different premise. We think she’s innocent until proven guilty. That used to be how we did things in this country.
“We need the experts. First, someone who knows everything there is to know about computer banking. This person should also know a lot about programming, networks, that kind of stuff.”
Charlie Lee took notes as her father talked.
Sydney went on, oblivious to the scratching of her pencil.
“She’s quite a woman, you know. Youngest woman vice president of a major bank in the United States. Didn’t whine about her troubles either. She’s lost a lot of weight. I’ve got to get her to eat properly. Can’t have her losing her strength.”
Sydney twisted at his mustache nervously and whirled around in his chair.
“She’s smart as a whip, got a good sense of humor too.”
“Was she pretty,” Charlie asked innocently.
“Well, one doesn’t look one’s best in jail, but before all this, I’d say she was a damn fine looking woman.”
Sydney swung his feet off the dormer and spun around facing his daughter. He looked at her suspiciously. She leafed through the documents intently.
“Don’t be a smart aleck, little girl.”
She looked up. “Huh, me? Oh, I was just curious, Dad. Hmmm, I guess that means she was probably ten pounds over weight with a bosom out to here?” She tried not to grin.
“Hah, hah. Very funny. Her figure is of no interest to me, I’m simply interested in her stamina. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Right. I’ve seen the pictures. She sure looked like a ‘D’ cup to me, Daddy. Just your type.”
“Laugh it up kiddo. but remember, I’ll never find out if we don’t get her out of that damn place.”
“Okay, Daddy, sorry. Let’s start with the employee bios. Golly, she sure has nice penmanship.”
Chapter 9
William Tallboys sat in his new office and read technical journals. During that time every woman who worked for Mysteries Unlimited Ltd. found a reason to walk by his office, even Miss Spotea.
He had a look that caused women to walk into street signs, desert family and church, and run away to Long Beach to a life of sin.
Six foot three, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped and blond as a Viking, he was as cheerful and good natured as a puppy.
He threw the journal on the desk, put his feet up and stared out of the window at the garden. He was bored. He’d spent his first three days ordering two hundred thousand dollars worth of computer equipment. Now he had to wait.
During those three days William hadn’t met the boss. All he had was a desk memo that hinted at the nature of the job. There was another memo that said he had an appointment to meet the assistant manager after lunch.
“Maybe she’ll tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do,” he muttered.
In the office they shared, Clair Alice and Baby Ruth discussed the latest employee of Mysteries Unlimited Ltd..
Baby Ruth was staring somewhere into the distance, in the middle of a perfect day dream. Mr. William, absolutely gorgeous, Tallboys, figured heavily in her thoughts.
“Why don’t you stop day dreaming about him and go introduce yourself,” Claire said. “Nothing wrong with a well constructed fantasy, but reality is whole lot better. It’s time you had a man between your knees instead of whatever else comes to hand.”
Baby Ruth came back to the present
