Chapter 6
Vero wasn’t entirely sure what to expect the next afternoon when she arrived at the bank, but it certainly wasn’t this.
Darren was in his office, his face once again hidden behind the financial pages of The Wall Street Journal .
The telltale phone charger cord dangling from the side of his desk was the only clue he wasn’t actually reading the newspaper.
Darren looked up from his newspaper and Vero gasped at the sight. His face was a starburst of colors. His nose was clearly broken, and his lower lip was split. She hoped, for his sake, he still had all his teeth, but she couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t smiling.
“About last night…” she began, genuinely contrite.
Darren reached under his desk for his waste basket and dropped it at her feet. Her jacket was stuffed inside it. He lifted his newspaper back over his face without so much as a word.
So that’s how it was going to be.
There didn’t seem to be much of a point in saying anything else, so she took her rumpled jacket, left the trash bag on his desk, and walked out of his cubicle. As far as she was concerned, he could handle his own damn garbage.
Terence was waiting for her in the lobby, holding a coffee mug in each hand. He offered one to Vero, and she could have kissed him.
“What do you think the Fed’s going to do tomorrow?” he asked her.
She thought about that as she blew the steam from her mug. “Between inflation and the debt ceiling talks, I think we’ll probably see another rate hike.”
Terence sighed. “I was afraid you might say that. The missus and I have been hoping to upgrade to a new house. Guess that’ll have to wait.”
Vero was hardly listening, trying not to spill her coffee as she used her free hand to shake out her ruined jacket.
“I’m surprised he came in today,” Terence said, inclining his head toward Darren’s office.
“Poor guy got mugged last night on his way home. Or at least, that’s what he says.
I offered to go with him to the police station to file a report, but he said he wasn’t interested in finding the guys who did it. ”
Guys? Plural? If Vero hadn’t been harboring some mild guilt over Darren’s injuries, she might have laughed out loud. “There were more than one of them, huh?”
Terence shrugged. “That’s what Darren said, but he might be trying to save some face. Whoever did it messed him up pretty good.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Saw your car here in the parking lot last night. How was your date?”
Vero nearly dropped her coat. “My what?”
He smirked. “You don’t think I see everything that goes on in this place?
Darren’s been ogling you since the day you first started here, hounding you at every opportunity, nagging you to go out with him.
Then last night, you leave your car here after you get off work, and today, that boy comes in here with some bullshit sob story about a street gang mugging him in his driveway.
Meanwhile, your jacket’s in his trash can, and he won’t even look at you. ”
Vero bit her lip. She had underestimated Terence. He was more astute than she’d thought.
“Now don’t you go feeling guilty about it,” he said. “If you ask me, that boy probably had it coming. That’s why he doesn’t want to report it. I admire a woman who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself.” He leaned close to her ear and said through a chuckle, “Remind me never to piss you off.”
She slung her jacket over her arm as she watched him go.
With a sigh, she rapped on Philip’s window. He glanced up from his daily crossword puzzle, looking begrudged as he got up to unlock the door for her.
“How’s it hanging, Philip?”
He frowned at his puzzle. “Seven letters. Starts with the letter R ,” he mumbled.
“What’s the clue?”
“Also J. D. Robb.”
“Easy. Nora Roberts.” He filled in the answer as she emptied his trash can.
The usual suspects tumbled out—Imodium wrappers, disposable eyeglass cleaning pads, an empty box of Metamucil.
He snatched up his crossword puzzle and his travel magazines, looking aggrieved as he held them out of the path of her furniture spray while she polished his desk.
It was no wonder he was so bound up. The man was sorely overdue for a vacation, and the stack of Condé Nast Traveler he’d been collecting clearly wasn’t cutting it.
“You should consider diversifying your reading material, Philip. Maybe try a romance novel once in a while.” He was terrible at crossword puzzles, and he could probably finish Gone with the Wind in a single sitting for as much time as the poor guy spent on the can.
He hugged his precious magazines to his chest. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
She shook out a fresh bag as she moved to Helen’s station.
Helen looked even more anxious than usual.
Her hand shook around her cup of herbal tea, and her trash can was already full of peppermint wrappers.
She slid her purse off her desk and into her lap, covering it with her arms as Vero began to clean.
“Did you hear what happened to Darren?” Helen asked, practically clutching her pearls.
“It’s terrible. It could happen to any of us, you know.
One minute, you have a pocket full of cash, and the next, some stranger jumps out of the shadows and takes it all, and you spend months looking over your shoulder, wondering how you’re going to pay your bills. ”
“Pretty terrible,” Vero said absently as she dusted.
She watched Helen out of the corner of her eye, wondering what the woman was hiding in her purse.
Several bottles of essential oils clattered across the desk as Vero accidentally knocked them over with her rag.
She muttered profuse apologies as she put the items back in their place.
“It’s fine,” Helen insisted. “It was my fault. I should get out of your way. I’ll just run to the bathroom while you finish up here.
” Helen got up, locked her drawer, and tucked her purse possessively under her arm, making a beeline for the ladies’ room.
Philip was too engrossed in his crossword puzzle to notice.
Vero glanced up at the camera behind her head.
She couldn’t afford to get caught snooping around a bank teller’s workstation.
Not while she herself was suspected of being a thief, no matter how stupid and unfounded that accusation was.
It would be far too risky a move. But maybe she could do some snooping somewhere else.
Somewhere there weren’t any cameras.
Vero took her cleaning supplies and slipped quietly out of the teller area.
She hustled to the bathroom and spotted Helen’s shoes under the partition of a closed stall.
Vero ducked down, peeking under it. The strap of Helen’s purse dangled close to the partition between the stalls, which meant the purse itself was probably sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser.
“Hey, Helen!” Vero said cheerfully as she walked into the adjacent stall and locked herself inside. “What a coincidence! I had to pee, too.”
“Um… okay,” Helen responded.
“Oh shoot! Wouldn’t you know it. I forgot my purse.” She reached under the stall, grabbed the strap of Helen’s bag, and yanked it under the partition.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Helen cried.
“You don’t happen to have any feminine hygiene products in here, do you?
” Vero asked over Helen’s shocked protests.
“Aunt Flo’s paying a surprise visit, and I need to borrow.
Don’t mind me, I’ll just grab what I need and give your purse right back.
” She tore open the zipper and rummaged inside, frantically searching Helen’s wallet and all the hidden inside pouches for deposit slips or cash.
Helen pulled up her pants and flew out of her stall.
She pounded on the door. When Vero didn’t answer, Helen got down on her knees and reached inside, groping for her purse.
Her hand closed around the strap. A tug-of-war ensued, both women grunting as they fought to hold on to it.
“Come on, Helen,” Vero said through her teeth as she pulled.
“We’re the only two ladies in this place.
If we don’t look out for each other, who will?
” She held fast, the random contents of Helen’s purse scattering across the floor as the bag was pulled violently back and forth.
Quarters and loose pens clattered to the tile; used tissues and a collection of Starbucks receipts drifted out.
Vero shoved a hand into the open zipper pocket, holding the main compartment tightly with the other as Helen wrestled with the strap.
“You could have just… asked!” Helen grunted. “I would have… passed one… under the stall to you!”
“You sounded busy! I didn’t want to interrupt!
” Vero braced a foot on the door, holding her ground.
She dragged a handful of tampons, some hand lotion, and a few loose bills out of the bag with her free hand.
Desperate, she twisted the compartment sideways and dumped the last of the contents onto the floor.
Not a single deposit slip. Nothing more than a Ziploc full of gummy bears and a crinkled twenty that looked like it had survived several rounds of laundry.
That was it. Not one damn clue.
Helen beat against the door with her fist, insisting Vero return her purse.
Vero got down on her knees and stuffed everything back into it, except for one tampon.
She tossed it over her shoulder into the toilet and zipped up Helen’s purse.
She held on to it as she stood and stomped down hard on the toilet’s handle, the power flush drowning out Helen’s furious demands.
When the bowl was empty, Vero released her hold.
The purse went flying. Helen shrieked as she flew backward off her feet and landed on her butt on the floor.
Vero unlatched the lock and flung the door open.
Helen stared at her wide-eyed as Vero wiped sweat from her brow and said, “You’re a lifesaver, Helen. I owe you one. Literally.”