- •It was Alex Vandervoort who said, “We`re obviously here to celebrate.” He motioned with his sherry glass. “The question is - what?”
- •In the center of this last area, a new large building and the steelwork of a second stood out against the skyline.
- •It was while they were having coffee that a waitress brought a message to their table.
- •It was from Juanita Nunez`s cash drawer that the money was missing.
- •It was then that Tottenhoe had telephoned Edwina.
- •In due course Mr. Rosselli, for whom counsel appeared in court, was fined heavily for reckless driving and awarded three demerit points, to be recorded on his license. He was exceedingly angry.
- •It was obvious he meant it and the banker snapped, "I don't respond to threats."
- •Vandervoort said, "I see the difference, though I wouldn't have without the glass. How do the counterfeits look under ultraviolet?"
- •Vandervoort whistled softly. A single plastic sheet would produce sixty-six Keycharge credit cards. That meant, potentially, almost twenty thousand fraudulent cards.
- •Vandervoort looked surprised. "You think you can get someone?"
- •Vandervoort said drily, "We prefer to speak of it in percentages. That way it doesn't sound as much, and the directors don't get alarmed."
- •In other circumstances, she realized, she might not have believed herself.
- •In one way it was her memory which had added to her troubles.
- •It was a three-block walk from the bus to the nursery school where she had left Estela this morning on her way to work. Juanita hurried, knowing she was late.
- •It was obvious from the stillness that the other children were all gone.
- •It had been a month and a half since Alex had seen Celia and, though he had been expecting some deterioration, her present appearance chilled him.
- •It was during that time - the thought of it shamed him now - he had suggested they divorce. Celia had seemed shattered and he let the subject drop, hoping things would get better, but they hadn't.
- •It was close to midnight. A log fire, blazing earlier, had burned low in the hearth of the snug room in the small, sumptuous bachelor suite.
- •If not Nunez, who?
- •It was like pricking a bubble. The audit chief flushed crimson as he admitted, "Yes, it is. But even we miss things occasionally when a thief has covered his tracks well."
- •Innes grunted understanding. "If you could show that, any reasonable judge would send him straight to jail. But can you?"
- •Innes glanced toward his colleague who shrugged.
- •If the phone had been answered, Wainwright would have made an excuse about a wrong number and revised his plans. As it was, he now headed for his car, parked in the headquarters' basement garage.
- •Immediately ahead was an elevator which he ignored. He saw a stairway to the right and went up it, two stairs at a time, to the second floor.
- •In the end he compromised. Instead of arresting and charging Wainwright he took him, the same night, to the police gym and, in Bufflehead's own words, "beat the b' jesus out of him" in a boxing ring.
- •It was possible that the security chief dozed off, but a key inserted in the apartment lock alerted him. Cautiously he sat up. His illuminated watch dial showed it was shortly after midnight.
- •In the row ahead of Alex were Jerome Patterton, the vice-chairman, and his wife.
- •It was the director with the longest service, the Honorable Harold Austin, who announced the board's decision.
- •It was like a fencing match with shadows. He said in exasperation, "I'll never understand you."
- •It was the second such offer she had had in the past few days. "Maybe."
It was like a fencing match with shadows. He said in exasperation, "I'll never understand you."
Unexpectedly Juanita smiled. "It is not necessary that you should."
They walked the remaining short distance to the bank in silence, Wainwright nursing his frustration. He wished she had thanked him for his offer; if she had, it would have meant, at least, she took it seriously. He tried to guess at her reasoning and values. She obviously rated independence high. After that he imagined she accepted life as it came, fortune or misfortune, hopes raised or yearnings shattered. In a way he envied her and, for that reason and the sexual attraction he had been aware of earlier, he wished he knew her better.
"Mrs. Nunez," Nolan Wainwright said, "I'd like to ask you something."
"Yes."
"If you have a problem, a real problem, something I might help with, will you call me?"
It was the second such offer she had had in the past few days. "Maybe."
That - until much later - was the last conversation between Wainwright and Juanita. He felt he had done all he could, and had other things on his mind. One was a subject he had raised with Alex Vandervoort two months ago - planting an undercover informer in an attempt to track down the source of counterfeit credit cards, still gouging deep financial wounds in the Keycharge card system.
Wainwright had located an ex-convict, known to him only as "Vic," who was prepared to take the considerable risk in return for money. They had had one secret meeting, with elaborate precautions. Another was expected.
Wainwright's fervent hope was to bring the credit-card swindlers to justice, as he had Miles Eastin.
The following week, when Eastin appeared once more before Judge Underwood - this time for sentencing - Nolan Wainwright was the sole representative of First Mercantile American Bank in court.
With the prisoner standing, facing the bench on the court clerk's orders, the judge took his time about selecting several papers and spreading them before him, then regarded Eastin coldly.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"No, your honor." The voice was barely audible.
"I have received a report from the probation officer" Judge Underwood paused, scanning one of the papers he had selected earlier - "whom you appear to have convinced that you are genuinely penitent for the criminal offenses to which you have pleaded guilty." The judge articulated the words "genuinely penitent" as if holding them distastefully between thumb and forefinger, making clear that he was not so naive as to share the opinion.
He continued, "Penitence, however, whether genuine or otherwise, is not only belated but cannot mitigate your vicious, despicable attempt to thrust blame for your own malfeasance onto an innocent and unsuspecting person - a young woman - one, moreover, for whom you were responsible as a bank officer and who trusted you as her superior.
"On the basis of the evidence it is clear you would have persisted in that course, even to having your innocent victim accused, found guilty, and sentenced in your place. Fortunately, because of the vigilance of others, that did not occur. But it was not through any second thoughts or `penitence' of yours."
From his seat in the body of the court, Nolan Wainwright had a partial view of Eastin's face which had suffused deep red.
Judge Underwood referred again to his papers, then looked up. His eyes, once more, impaled the prisoner.
"So far I have dealt with what I regard as the most contemptible part of your conduct. There is, additionally, the basic offense - your betrayal of trust as a bank officer, not merely once but on five occasions, widely separated. One such instance of dishonesty might be argued to be the result of reckless impulse. No such argument can be advanced for five carefully planned thefts, executed with perverted cleverness.
"A bank, as a commercial undertaking, is entitled to expect probity in those whom it selects - as you were selected - for exceptional trust. But a bank is more than a commercial institution. It is a place of public trust, and therefore the public is entitled to protection from those who abuse that trust - individuals such as you."
The judge's gaze shifted to include the young defense counsel, waiting dutifully beside his client. Now the tone of voice from the bench became more brisk and formalized.
"Had this been a more ordinary case, and in view of the absence of a previous criminal record, I would have imposed probation as defense counsel eloquently urged last week. But this is no ordinary case. It is an exceptional one for the reasons I have stated. Therefore, Eastin, you will go to prison where you will have time to reflect on your own activities which brought you there.
"The sentence of the Court is that you be committed to the custody of the Attorney General for a period of two years."
At a nod from the court clerk, a jailer moved forward.
A brief conference took place, a few minutes after sentencing, in a small locked and guarded cubicle behind the courtroom, one of several reserved for prisoners and their legal counsel.
"The first thing to remember," the young lawyer told Miles Eastin, "is that a two-year prison term doesn't mean two years. You'll be eligible for parole after a third of the sentence is served. That's in less than a year."
Miles Eastin, wrapped in misery and a sense of unreality, nodded dully.
"You can, of course, appeal the sentence, and you don't have to make a decision about that now. But I'll tell you frankly, I don't advise it. For one thing I don't believe you'd be released pending an appeal. For another, since you pleaded guilty, the grounds for appeal are limited. Also, by the time any appeal was heard, you might have served your sentence."
"The ballgame's over. No appeal."
"I'll be in touch with you anyway, in case you change your mind. And while I think of it, I'm sorry how things came out."
Eastin acknowledged wryly, "So am I."
"It was your confession, of course, that did us in. Without that I don't believe the prosecution would have proved its case - at least the six-thousand-dollar cash theft, which weighed heaviest with the judge. I know, of course, why you signed that second statement - the FBI one; you thought the first was valid so another wouldn't make any difference. Well, it did. I'm afraid that security man, Wainwright, tricked you all the way."
The prisoner nodded. "Yes, I know that now."
The lawyer looked at his watch. "Well, I have to go. I've a heavy date tonight. You know how it is." A jailer let him out.
Next day Miles Eastin was transferred to a federal prison, out of state.
At First Mercantile American Bank, when news of Miles Eastin's sentencing was received among those who knew him, some felt regret, others held the view that the retribution was what he had deserved. One opinion was unanimous: No more would be heard of Eastin at the bank again.
Only time would prove how much in error that last assumption was.