The robbery was unprecedentedly brazen.
That’s what the newspapers were about to call it tomorrow. Brazen. Brazen and bold. Some would even go as far as labeling it, “The Robbery of the Decade.” “The Robbery of the Century” sounds even better, but it would be too much of a stretch even for the local reporters. “Decade” is just about right. Headlines like that can work miracles even in this age of shrinking circulations. Yet there was nothing bold about this robbery. Dull and downright cheeky, maybe. But not bold. And, as usual, they’ll blame the police. They have this way of making cops looking worse than robbers. As if—
“Lieutenant?”
Lieutenant Steve Gorton looked up.
Inspector Kelly’s smile was shining before his eyes like a shot from a toothpaste commercial. Gorton made an effort not to wince. Recently he had been making efforts like that rather often.
“Yes, inspector?”
“We’ve finished inspecting the place. No signs of a break-in. No prints anywhere. No doubt we’re dealing with a team of professionals. There must have been at least three of them. Maybe even four. And I think . . .” Kelly paused as if emphasizing the significance of what he was about to say, “I think they got some help.”
He lowered his voice and looked around.
“You know, inside help. Someone had to turn off these cameras.”
“Certainly,” said Gorton, just to say something. “Have you already questioned everyone?”
“Everyone who’s already in. The branch manager just got here.”
“Keep talking to them as they arrive,” said Gorton, knowing full well that his directive was completely useless.
“Will do. What do you think about my theory?”
I think it’s just as dumb as all your other theories, Gorton wanted to reply. And I think you can take it and—
“Very plausible,” he heard his own voice. “And why do you suppose there were three of them?”
Kelly livened up even more.
“Well it’s very obvious if you think about it. It’s not like this bank is in the middle of nowhere. This is 2 nd Avenue, of all places. They had to have someone on the lookout. Then a safecracker. Plus a driver. Three.”
“I see. All right, you can go now.”
Asking Kelly why the robbers needed a personal driver was too much of an effort. When you’re in your late twenties and your fierce enthusiasm is rivaled only by your equally fierce idiocy, you have an answer for every question. For anyone else, this combination would have been a serious career inhibitor, but when your uncle happens to be the mayor, you’re getting a free pass on many things. As for your desire to make a name for yourself and your tendency to come up with grandiose theories that have more to do with Hollywood than with real life, they only make you more original.
Gorton sighed and discovered that Kelly was still towering next to him.
“Anything else?”
“You wanted to speak with the manager,” Kelly reminded him.
Gorton waved him away.
“Not anymore. I’m sure you can take care of this. In an hour, check who didn’t show up for work. Then give me the name and run a background check.”
Kelly looked puzzled.
“Why are you so sure someone won’t show up?”
“Intuition,” replied Gorton sourly.
Making efforts had become too hard.
* * *
“David Borovsky,” Kelly reported an hour later. “Forty-six years old, nineteen years in this bank. In fact, in this branch. Loan officer. A very dedicated and reliable employee. Quiet, but sociable. Always comes to work on time; moreover, typically he’s one of the first employees in the office. We tried calling him at home, but no one is picking up the phone.”
“Married?”
“Yes. His wife is also in finance, works in Prudential. They have a grown-up daughter. She ’s getting her master’s from some LA college.”
“I’m impressed,” said Gorton, surprised by the appreciative tone of his own voice.
Kelly smiled proudly.
“It wasn’t too hard. They all know
That’s what the newspapers were about to call it tomorrow. Brazen. Brazen and bold. Some would even go as far as labeling it, “The Robbery of the Decade.” “The Robbery of the Century” sounds even better, but it would be too much of a stretch even for the local reporters. “Decade” is just about right. Headlines like that can work miracles even in this age of shrinking circulations. Yet there was nothing bold about this robbery. Dull and downright cheeky, maybe. But not bold. And, as usual, they’ll blame the police. They have this way of making cops looking worse than robbers. As if—
“Lieutenant?”
Lieutenant Steve Gorton looked up.
Inspector Kelly’s smile was shining before his eyes like a shot from a toothpaste commercial. Gorton made an effort not to wince. Recently he had been making efforts like that rather often.
“Yes, inspector?”
“We’ve finished inspecting the place. No signs of a break-in. No prints anywhere. No doubt we’re dealing with a team of professionals. There must have been at least three of them. Maybe even four. And I think . . .” Kelly paused as if emphasizing the significance of what he was about to say, “I think they got some help.”
He lowered his voice and looked around.
“You know, inside help. Someone had to turn off these cameras.”
“Certainly,” said Gorton, just to say something. “Have you already questioned everyone?”
“Everyone who’s already in. The branch manager just got here.”
“Keep talking to them as they arrive,” said Gorton, knowing full well that his directive was completely useless.
“Will do. What do you think about my theory?”
I think it’s just as dumb as all your other theories, Gorton wanted to reply. And I think you can take it and—
“Very plausible,” he heard his own voice. “And why do you suppose there were three of them?”
Kelly livened up even more.
“Well it’s very obvious if you think about it. It’s not like this bank is in the middle of nowhere. This is 2 nd Avenue, of all places. They had to have someone on the lookout. Then a safecracker. Plus a driver. Three.”
“I see. All right, you can go now.”
Asking Kelly why the robbers needed a personal driver was too much of an effort. When you’re in your late twenties and your fierce enthusiasm is rivaled only by your equally fierce idiocy, you have an answer for every question. For anyone else, this combination would have been a serious career inhibitor, but when your uncle happens to be the mayor, you’re getting a free pass on many things. As for your desire to make a name for yourself and your tendency to come up with grandiose theories that have more to do with Hollywood than with real life, they only make you more original.
Gorton sighed and discovered that Kelly was still towering next to him.
“Anything else?”
“You wanted to speak with the manager,” Kelly reminded him.
Gorton waved him away.
“Not anymore. I’m sure you can take care of this. In an hour, check who didn’t show up for work. Then give me the name and run a background check.”
Kelly looked puzzled.
“Why are you so sure someone won’t show up?”
“Intuition,” replied Gorton sourly.
Making efforts had become too hard.
* * *
“David Borovsky,” Kelly reported an hour later. “Forty-six years old, nineteen years in this bank. In fact, in this branch. Loan officer. A very dedicated and reliable employee. Quiet, but sociable. Always comes to work on time; moreover, typically he’s one of the first employees in the office. We tried calling him at home, but no one is picking up the phone.”
“Married?”
“Yes. His wife is also in finance, works in Prudential. They have a grown-up daughter. She ’s getting her master’s from some LA college.”
“I’m impressed,” said Gorton, surprised by the appreciative tone of his own voice.
Kelly smiled proudly.
“It wasn’t too hard. They all know
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