LITMIR.BIZ

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thanks, ma’am.” Detective Tanner stood his ground on the edge of the living room. “Our questions won’t take long.”

      “What questions?” The captain’s raised voice rebounded off the walls in the apartment’s confines. “I already told your desk sergeant the report was a mistake. I only called the police because that television program…What’s the name of that program, Bonnie?”

      “Dateline, dear.”

      “Dateline. Those folks had a program on identity theft. They said the only protection a person has is to file a police report. My driver’s license was inside my wallet. My Social Security card, too. So I filed a report.”

      “Then your wallet turned up?” Jack asked.

      The captain nodded.

      Detective Tanner pulled a notepad from inside his jacket and jotted down a note. “How long was your wallet gone?”

      “Less than a day. I already told the desk sergeant.”

      Detective Tanner nodded. “Humor me, if you don’t mind, sir. You noticed your wallet missing right away then?”

      “Of course I did. Well…” The captain narrowed his eyes, clearly reconsidering. “I didn’t actually need it until we were at the mall in Kingston. But I’m sure it was in my pocket before then.” He raised a hand that trembled slightly and motioned to the coatrack behind the detective. “I keep it in my jacket pocket right there.”

      Mrs. Hickman didn’t look so sure, and both Jack and Detective Tanner appeared to notice.

      “Had you used anything in your wallet during the week prior to the mall trip?” Jack asked. “Your driver’s license or a credit card maybe? Is it possible your wallet had been missing before you noticed?”

      “No.” The captain shook his head emphatically.

      Mrs. Hickman backed him up. “I bought peach preserves at church on Sunday. He used his check card to pay.”

      Francesca knew what Jack was looking for—a time discrepancy. She’d reviewed the reports herself, but before she could think of a diplomatic way to mention that there had been one, Jack asked, “So you didn’t actually look for your wallet after you used your check card at church on Sunday until you were at the mall on Thursday?”

      “That’s right.”

      “The report stated you found your wallet here at the lodge on Friday, is that correct, sir?”

      Another nod.

      Detective Tanner scribbled a note on his pad. “Have you ever misplaced your wallet before, sir?”

      That was a loaded question. Sure enough, the captain sputtered his response, bristling, and Mrs. Hickman cast a worried gaze Francesca’s way.

      That was her cue. She needed to cut off this questioning before the captain got upset. He’d just completed a stint at the lodge’s nursing center, weeks of physical and occupational therapy to declare him fit enough to return to independent living after a flare-up of a heart condition. He’d been home only a few days before the wallet incident.

      Accidents happened. It wasn’t easy to make peace with the physical limitations of aging. Francesca hadn’t even crossed the hump to thirty-five, and she was getting a glimmer. Those extra five pounds she was suddenly unable to starve off had made her a target for her daughter’s comments about “muffin tops.”

      For this once-vital man to admit, let alone accept, that he needed help with routine daily tasks couldn’t possibly be easy. So Francesca sidled close to Jack, leaving the detective to his questioning, and whispered in a voice she hoped the captain couldn’t overhear. “He has misplaced his wallet before.”

      Understanding flared in that dark gaze, and Jack lowered his own voice to a throaty whisper. “Often?”

      “Just once. An employee found it.”

      “You have that employee’s name?”

      The warning bells in her head starting clanging. “I’ll give you a copy of the report before you go.”

      “You’ll tell us who has access to this apartment?”

      “Of course.” Those alarm bells were shrieking loud enough to kill off brain cells now. More was going on here than these men were sharing. A lot more.

      He inclined his head then asked, “Captain, we need to know if you’ve made any trips out of state recently.”

      The captain reached for his wife’s hand and muttered something Francesca couldn’t make out. Mrs. Hickman seemed to understand, though, and asked, “Detective, is my husband in some sort of trouble?”

      Even Francesca found herself awaiting that answer. Neither Jack’s nor Detective Tanner’s expressions gave anything away. But Jack produced a business card. “We just had some questions that needed answers, sir. We’ll be back in touch.”

      “And if you wouldn’t mind,” Detective Tanner added. “Will you make us a list of all the places you’ve used your debit and credit cards recently? Online purchases, too, if you’ve made any. Call the number on that card when you get the list together. I’ll swing by to pick it up.”

      Francesca was not happy with that answer, which said nothing and everything all at once, and left a nice couple looking confused and worried.

      “Ms. Raffa.” Jack turned to her.

      He didn’t need to say another word. Reaching for the door, she politely refused his bid to hold it for her. She waited while both men strode through then used the moment to address the Hickmans. “Don’t worry. I’ll see what I can find out.”

      She slipped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. Neither man said a word while awaiting the elevator but, once the door hissed shut and the elevator began its descent, Francesca took advantage of her captive audience.

      “Frankly, gentlemen, you’ve got me worried. I can’t imagine the police department has the time or staff to investigate every reappearing wallet. I assume you’re concerned about something else.”

      What other explanation could there be? True, Bluestone Mountain hadn’t grown up all that much in the sixteen years she’d been away, but she read the papers. There was enough crime in and around town to keep the police force busy.

      “I’m sure you understand we can’t discuss an open investigation, Ms. Raffa.” Jack sounded cordial enough.

      “Precisely the problem since the investigation had been closed the last I heard.” She wasn’t going to be sidetracked. “We outsource our personnel screening with a highly reputable firm. I’ve worked with them in the past with another management company. I need to know if you’re concerned about theft, Chief Sloan. I’m responsible for ensuring the residents’ safety.”

      “Do you have reason to suspect any of your employees of dishonesty?” Jack asked.

      “If I did, the party or parties in question wouldn’t be on my staff.”

      The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was holding back a smile. “You have to do a lot of documenting before you can let an employee go.”

      “True enough.” That thought was enough to distract her from his almost grin. Terminating an employee potentially opened up the property to a claim with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Defending one claim cost nearly eighty person-hours in information gathering alone. Greywacke Lodge was a well-staffed facility, but administration had enough on its hands without that additional workload.

      “Let me rephrase,” Detective Tanner said. “Are you in the process of documenting to terminate any of your employees for suspicion of theft?”

      “No, Detective, I’m not.”

      “I understand your concern,” Jack said, and something in that whiskey-warm voice

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