“I’m afraid that isn’t information I can just hand out,” Whetley said. “As I’m sure you can imagine, there was likely no name assigned to it for a reason. Perhaps it was for some personal matter that Mr. Perkins didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Okay, then, how would the rightful owner of that account get money out if there’s no name on it?” Ava asked.
“By providing the account number and proof of their identity.”
Ava leaned forward sightly across the desk, and said: “You understand that we need to know this information so we can prove that a man—one of your clients as you pointed out, did not kill himself, right?”
Whetley looked shaken, probably because he’d never had a woman speak to him in such and angry and direct way. “Yes, yes…I understand that, but…it’s our policy. I just can’t…I…”
“Calm down there, Mr. Whetley,” Pawlowski said. With a smile, she walked to the edge of the desk. When she approached Whetley, Ava nearly asked what she was up to but figured she’d let her new partner go with her gut. Ava took a single step back as she watched the peculiar scene unfold, though.
To Ava’s shock, Pawlowski stood directly in front of Whetley. When she leaned closer, Ava was convinced that she was going to kiss him on the cheek. During the entire encounter, Whetley stood motionless, his face filled with confusion. But then, whenPawlowski whispered softly into his ear, that confusion turned to fear. His cheeks filled with red, which was odd because the rest of his face went pale.
Pawlowski only spoke for ten seconds or so. Ava could hear the whispering tone of her voice but couldn’t make out any words. But when she finally pulled away, Whetley was clearly shaken. He habitually adjusted his bifocals and, though he couldn’t look Ava in the eye, he also seemed afraid to look at Pawlowski.
When Pawlowski had stepped back, Whetley did his best to regain his composure. He smiled again, though it was not nearly as genuine as the one he’d offered when they’d first come into his office. “Yes, well,” he said. “Let me go speak with one of our account specialists and see if I can get that information for you.”
“Thank you,” Pawlowski said brightly.
When Whetley was out of the room, Ava leaned in close to Pawlowski. “What the hell did you say to him?”
“I just let him know that his failure to help would lead to a few officers coming down and taking a look into the matter later on—that it could either be a lot of cops to make the bank look a little risky, or just us two sweet gals. I also said if he mentioned what I was whispering to him to you, I’d make sure he was personally investigated.”
“That’s a smart move. So…I suppose you’re the villain and I’m the hero in this situation?”
“However you want to look at it.”
The entire exchange seemed to shift their relationship in one pivotal moment. They were a very long distance away from being friends, sure, but there was trust and a sense of comradery between them now. It had been a joke, veiled as how they’d really felt at first…but communicating the joke itself had knocked down any remaining barriers. Even better, Ava thought, was that Pawlowski didn’t feel the need to point it outor wax poetic about it. They accepted it for what it was with thin smiles and acknowledgment and nothing more.
They didn’t have to wait long for Mr. Whetley to return. He came back less than two minutes later, shadowed by a man that looked a bit older. He was tall, dressed in a very nice, tailored suit, and looked just as nervous as Whetley. He had a single folder in his hand and when he set it on the desk in front of Ava and Pawlowski, he did a commendable job of not looking as nervous as he had upon entering the room.
“I’m so very sorry to hear that Mr. Perkins has passed,” he said. “I believe these are the papers you’d be looking for in regards to his secondary personal account.”
When Ava picked the folder up, the tall man stepped back as if he had no idea what to expect—either a polite thank you or a punch to the jaw. His puzzled expression made Ava think he might be expecting either one at any moment.
The folder consisted of just three sheets of paper. The first item of note in the top left corner was the account number—the very same one they’d found listed in Perkins’s documents. Below that account number was a name: Kathleen Branson.
“Any idea who this is?” Ava asked pointing to the name.
“No,” the tall man said. “All we know for sure is that it was an account set up for her.”
Ava studied the numbers and listings in the documents. Within a few seconds, she recognized several listings from Perkins’s records. And it quickly became clear where the missing funds from Alfred Perkin’s records had been going. That money had been funneled into Kathleen Branson’s account.
Ava quickly flipped through the pages to see if she could determine just how much money had been given to Branson. Near the bottom of the page, though, something changed. Rather than a series of funds put into the account, she saw quite a lot taken out. In fact, at the very bottom, the account’s total was$0.05. This was a drastic difference from the highest amount in the records, which was at the top of the same page and listed as $16,300.
The date of the last listed withdrawal or expenditure was just six days ago.
“So this account is completely wiped out?” Pawlowski asked.
“Yes, it seems that way,” Whetley said.
“Do you have an address for her?”
“I believe so,” the tall man said. As he thumbed through the pages and scanned them, he seemed calm, perhaps relaxing in the presence of order and numbers. “Here,” he said, “is the address of Mr. Perkins. I am assuming this secondary address would be for Ms. Kathleen Branson.”
Ava studied it to commit it to memory. Meanwhile, Pawlowski simply grabbed a piece of paper from Whetley’s desk, as well as an elegant pen, and scribbled it down.
“Thanks for your help, gentlemen,” she said. She returned the pen to the desk and gave Whetley a particularly stern gaze. “Detective Gold, I think we should leave these men to their work, what do you say?”