The Taking of Libbie, SD (Mac McKenzie #7)

“They don’t?” he said.

“Nope. They have no idea what happened to Hendel or where he went. They don’t know what happened to the money, either. That’s why Dawn came to me, why she took the risk of giving up her brother’s name. They were hoping I could find out. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Dawn said.

“Did you hear from your brother the night he disappeared?”

“He left a voice mail message,” Dawn said. “Nick told us that his car broke down at the lake and he needed a ride. But Perry was working and I…”

“You were with Ed Bizek.”

“Yes. We didn’t hear the message until the next morning. Later we heard”—she glanced briefly at the chief—“that Nick had skipped town with the money, only that didn’t make sense.”

“That’s because you never gave him the password, did you?”

Dawn shook her head.

“But you see—” She turned in the chair to face the chief. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t take the money. We don’t know what happened to Nick. We’re innocent.”

“Hardly innocent,” I said. “How long did it take you to put the scam together, anyway?”

“Two years,” Dawn said.

“That long?”

Despite my threats, Perry started talking again. “It took us a while to figure out how to put it all together. Creating a company, the Web site, recruiting actors to play investors—it was really complicated.”

“I’m sure it was,” the chief said.

“Perry, geez,” Dawn said.

“Tell me something,” I said. “Please. Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you pick my name?”

“I liked it.”

“You liked it?”

“Yes. I liked the sound of it, Rushmore McKenzie. I read it in the paper in the Twin Cities. It was right after you helped find the gold that the gangsters hid back in the 1930s. We were there with Nick to work out our plans before he came to Libbie. We went online and discovered that there was enough information about you so that people would know that you were legitimate and that you were trustworthy, enough so that people would be satisfied without digging any deeper. We were always afraid that if people dug deeper they would learn things that would prove that Nick wasn’t you. Only they never did. One more thing, something important—there was a description of you online that matched Nicky, but no picture of you.”

“As simple as that,” I said.

“As simple as that,” Dawn said. “Except—” She smiled briefly and shook her head. “If we had taken the trouble to dig deeper, if we had found out who you really were, we would never have used your name.”

“Okay,” I said. I tried to hide my disappointment. All this time I had expected, I had hoped, that something momentous had gone into the selection process. Instead, it was pure chance. How did the country-western song go—if it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all?

“What are you going to do?” Perry said.

The chief looked at me as if he were waiting for an answer.

“Contact your officers,” I told the chief. “Have these two escorted to the sheriff’s department in Mercer.”

Dawn hopped out of the chair so quickly that the top of her robe fell open, letting me know exactly what it was that Ed Bizek had seen in her.

“What charge?” she said.

“Hold them as material witnesses,” I told the chief. “The county attorney may charge them with conspiracy to commit fraud or he might not, but it’s likely he’ll need them to build his case.”

“What case?” the chief said. “Against whom?”

“Against the person who stole all that money, of course. Hurry up, will you? We’re running out of time. Oh, one more thing. Call Sheriff Balk and ask him to meet us.”

“Where?”

By the time we arrived at the lobby of the First Integrity State Bank of Libbie, the free donuts left for the customers were stale and the coffee was burned. There were several customers queued up at the teller cages and another sitting in a chair across the desk from a customer service rep. I sat on the cotton sofa beneath the chandelier and propped my feet on the polished coffee table. The older woman sitting across from me was reading a magazine. She peered at me over the top of her reading glasses. I had no doubt that she was silently questioning my mother and father’s parenting skills.

The customer sitting at the desk finished his business, and while he was slipping out the front door, the service rep moved to the lobby area.

“Mrs. Franklin?” he said.

The woman dropped her magazine on the table and stood. She stared at the rep. The message in her expression was unmistakable.

“Sir,” the rep said. “Please remove your feet. This is a bank, not a living room.”

I removed my feet. The woman smiled in triumph. She followed the rep to his desk. As soon as her back was turned, I propped my feet back on the table, crossing my legs at the ankles.

“Comfortable?” the chief said.

I examined my watch.