Bus-ted at the depot
Walter Sherman, financial officer with the Community Foundation, felt pleased with himself. He decided it was vacation time.
He smiled at the word. He hadn’t been on a vacation in years. They were, of course, expensive, and he hated spending money. But it was time.
His bags were packed and waiting, one with clothing, a razor, toothbrush and so on.
The other, the more important one, was packed as well.
Cheap bags, both of them. Nothing to attract a thief.
He turned off the lights. His assistant, Mrs. Margheti— or “Mrs. M” as he liked to call her—always said he was compulsive, but there was no point in running up the power bill.
As he made one last check around his tiny apartment, the phone rang. He hesitated. He’d mentioned at work that he had a flight at 4 pm. A week in Las Vegas, he’d told them, and they’d kidded him all week. He’d grinned and said, “What happens in Vegas…”
But it was hours until 4. They would expect him to be home. Naturally, he wouldn’t go anywhere. He never went anywhere. They knew he wouldn’t waste his money.
“Hello?” He answered, unable to avoid the ringing.
“Walter? Charles Shellhamer here. We’re having a special board meeting and need clarification on some items. It won’t take any time at all.”
“But I’m on vacation—” “We really need to talk with you today, Walter. I’m afraid I must insist.”
With a sigh, Walter said he would be there, although it might take an hour. “And I can’t miss my flight at 4.”
After he hung up, Walter sighed again. A special board meeting? Matters to discuss? No doubt they had noticed the books didn’t balance.
They always noticed, sooner or later. And without the $100,000 in small bills stuffed in the other suitcase on his bed, the books definitely wouldn’t balance, no matter how hard they tried.
They might look at Walter, a pudgy, unimposing figure in a worn gray suit, and dismiss him without a thought. But, actually, he was a man of skills…at least when it came to a ledger. He could make money appear to be there when it wasn’t—at least long enough to get out of town.
This was a special meeting, though. He’d figured there would be a meeting. Big businesses lived on meetings. He just didn’t expect one until he failed to return from vacation. Or until the next round of bank statements started to arrive.
Mrs. M was likely responsible. Walter preferred to work with women. They made for a much more pleasant work environment. But so often they were more competent than men and had to be watched.
Mrs. M, in particular, was dangerously competent. She’d apparently caught on sooner than expected. Unfortunately.
Walter hurried for the bus depot. Even if they were alerted by him not showing up at the office, he was covered.
Plan your work and work your plan. That was his motto.
His plan involved pretending to take a flight to Vegas. He’d left flight times on his desk in plain view, but he’d never waste the money on a ticket. They’d look for him at the airport while he rode safely away on a bus in the opposite direction.
At the station, they said his bus would arrive in five minutes. But it was five minutes too late, as it turned out.
A man stepped up to him. “Walt, I’ve been expecting you.” He flashed his handcuffs.
“How…?” Flustered, Walter couldn’t believe it.
“Your co-worker, Mrs. Margheti, told us exactly where to find you.”
“But…” Walter was crushed. To be caught was horrible, yes, but to be caught like some common thief?
“Don’t worry about it, Walt.” The officer patted his shoulder. “You just can’t help yourself.” — Gary Delafield
Q: What gave Walter away?