The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [108]
“Got it.”
“Hey, by the way, do you know either Harvey or Linda Grossman?”
He smiled. “Linda. You should remember her, too.”
“Me?” I grinned. “Sure I do, I just met her a couple of days ago.”
“No, no. She was a Perrin. Married a fellow named Voshell before she got hitched to this Grossman guy. You remember now?”
Not at all.
“You remember Nola Stritch?”
Did I. She had been heavily involved with the whole Gabriel business back in ‘96.
“Linda’s her sister.”
“‘Sister’? I didn’t know she had a sister …” I was dumbfounded.
“Yep. Well, half sister. Nola’s maiden name was Jaekel. Divorce in the family. Little sister’s maiden name was Perrin. Linda Perrin. Remember her? Charlie Perrin’s kid. We got her twelve, thirteen years ago for beer.”
It never occurred to me to question a beer ticket from a dozen years ago. He had that kind of memory.
“I’ll be damned,” I said. “Be really aware around the banks. You remember the Gabriel dude who did all the shit at the courthouse?”
“Oh, yeah …”
“He’s back, and he’s the one we think is going for the banks.”
He got very serious, very quickly. “No shit?”
“No shit. Without any names, bring the night folks up to one hundred percent, okay? I think something’s gonna happen between now and Monday.”
“Yep. Who else knows about this?”
“Me, and Lamar. Sally, at least part of it. Two DCI. FBI, of course. Gabriel,” I added, grinning.
“Right.”
“And Mike? One more thing. I think it’s about one hundred percent that Gabriel offed the Colson brothers. You can figure he’s in a mood.”
George came in with a look in his eye.
“Let’s take a drive up to the Frieberg bank.”
I drove. Less conspicuous that any U.S. government Ford. Even if George had drawn one of the better ones. Forest green as opposed to navy blue.
“This could be a good day,” I said.
“Let me guess. You’re thinking, ‘Thirty minutes of Frieberg. Minimum of thirty minutes at the bank. Time for lunch. The pavilion of the General Beauregard. Buffet.’” He looked up from studying the photographs of the field. “Right?”
It’s embarrassing to be that obvious. I said as much.
“We all have our needs,” he said.
The news we got at the bank took the fun right out of the day. In response to the ruse that we were engaged in a routine survey of all banks, the branch manager had been very reluctant to talk with us, even though he knew me on sight. George hit him with the Credential from God, and we got the straight dope right away.
It seemed that this little branch bank was often holding more than five million dollars in cash. Cash.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Well, it was all so hush-hush, you know. The casino people told us that nobody was supposed to know.” Consequently, nobody did.
We asked where it was. All in the new vault. He checked his computer screen. “Well, right now, we’re way down. Only one-point-three million.”
Swell. And when did they expect the ante to rise?
“We do our greatest business beginning Thursday with the last deposit of the day. By end of business on Friday, we normally have about three-point-five million, and by start of business on Sunday, after the weekend drops, probably a little over five million.”
Holy shit. And, it turned out, they had somebody in the bank on odd hours. One employee, to supervise the cash deposit and exchange. The casino was open, after all, twenty-four hours a day. And it appeared that there was no deposit slot in the area that could handle that volume of cash, without forcing the boat courier to spend an unconscionable amount of time standing around with the trunk of the car open.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he said. “We expect nearly half a million to be in coinage. Maybe more. Nobody would ever take that much weight in coins.”
“Uh, just how much would that be?” I asked. “Would it weigh, you know?”
“Well,” he said, “a thousand dollars in quarters weighs about fifty pounds. That would make ten thousand dollars weigh in at five hundred pounds, a hundred thousand dollars at five thousand pounds … so half a million dollars in quarters would run in the neighborhood of, oh, say twenty-five