“You don’t seriously think these accusations are true? Why, this letter is unsigned. Why didn’t whoever wrote it come out in the open if he is convinced that what he writes is true?”
“People down there are pretty careful,” Duvernois said. “They don’t want involvement if they can help. Why should they? For all we know the man he accuses of pilfering might be influential. The mayor might be his brother, or the sous-préfet his cousin. You never know. Or the writer is an employe of the bank and prefers to remain anonymous, not knowing what action we will take.”
“You really believe there’s some truth in this, sir?”
Duvernois shrugged. “Might be. Why would someone make such an accusation if it isn’t the truth?”
“You know this Lachetez, the so-called embezzler?”
“Vaguely. Nimes is a key post, in a way. Not one of our bigger branches but an important one. The wine and olive growers of the region are valued customers. The olive trees yield only every other year. They need credit and we gladly extend it. We do quite some business down there.”
“And this Lachetez?”
“Used to be chief cashier. He was made provisory manager when Deletraz died three years ago.”
“Three years ago. You mean he’s been acting as manager for three years and hasn’t been formally assigned this post?”
“There were circumstances.” Duvernois looked annoyed. “It’s really a plum; not too much work, not too much responsibility. Yet a fairly high-rated position. I’ve meant to send someone from Paris down there but I haven’t got around to it.”
“In the meantime this Lachetez works as manager for a cashier’s pay.”
“As I said, it was a temporary arrangement. He’s written me a few letters over the years, that s why I remember his name. He’s stressed, rather immodestly, I’d say, what excellent work he’s done and that he feds entitled to a manager’s status. I meant to work something out but you know how it is. I’ve more important things to attend to.”
“So he lost his patience and began dipping into the till. That’s what our anonymous writer claims. He speaks of large sums. How would it be possible? Audits every quarter; nothing irregular has come to my attention.”
“You don’t know the situation down there,” Duvernois said impatiently. “Our auditors needn’t find a thing. The books are probably in perfect order. To find out if there’s foul play we’d have to check loans and see if those who were presumably the recipient of same actually received them. All Lachetez has to do, if he’s dishonest, is to enter fictitious loans in the books. It would take some time before our people could ascertain whether or not the money went to the farmers or into Lachetez’ pockets.”
“If you’re really suspicious we’ll have to send someone down to make a thorough check; contact all the loan holders.”
“As simple as that?” Duvernois sneered. “Ask people if they actually received a loan from us, or does our manager just pretend they did. Oh, that would do wonders for our reputation!”
“Then what else? I don’t see—”
“Oh, you don’t. Let me inform you that the Merchants Bank not only loans money, it also receives money from depositors. Let me tell you also that the people down there are the most distrustful in all of France. It’s taken us years to convince them that their money is safer with us than under their mattresses. If they thought there was something fishy they’d see their worst fears confirmed and before you know it they would yank out all the money they’ve deposited with us ”
“We could discreetly question Lachetez?”
“Would you mind telling me how? Ask him in all confidence to be good enough to tell us whether or not he has embezzled money? You don’t know this region. Nothing there can be done discreetly. Even if we send a couple of accountants to recheck the books, the bank employes would know right away that something was up. In a matter of hours it would be all over town. And there’s Lachetez, of course. This requires tact.
“What about him?”
“Well, he’s innocent until proven guilty. After all, he’s worked for us for more than twenty years. I can’t gamble on hurting or embarrassing him. In a relatively small city like Nimes even a shadow of suspicion could damage him irrevocably.”
“What else can be done, then?”
“I thought you might have a suggestion. That’s why I asked you to come in. After all, I have so many important things to attend to.” He looked furtively at his watch... 11:45. He might still make it for aperitifs at Fouquet’s.
“The only suggestion I can offer is to send accountants down. Not make it a surprise check, but inform Lachetez that we’re making these checks all over the country.”
“The last audit took place only two months ago and ostensibly everything was in order. But if you can’t come up with anything better, then I suppose... write a letter to Lachetez, a nice letter, please, and give some excuse for this unusual procedure.”
“I’ll do that,” Bourdely said. Personally I don’t believe there’s anything to it. I never trust anonymous letters.”
“I hope you’re right. Please excuse me now. I have an important engagement.”
A week later there was nothing to report. “Absolutely nothing,” Edmond Bourdely declared. No unusual loans granted; as a matter of fact, far less than at the same time last year. Lachetez, according to everything said about him, was a very busy and dedicated man.
Duvernois listened with obvious relief. Did they say how Lachetez took it, he wanted to know. “They tell me he wasn’t fooled,” Bourdely admitted. “Indeed, he seemed to be quite upset... even offered to resign.”
“Resign?”
“He said we obviously didn’t trust him, and maybe it would be better to send someone from Paris to take over his duties, which he claimed were strenuous and... unrewarding.”
“But he didn’t resign?”
“No, but I guess he’s thinking about it.” Bourdely looked a little uncomfortable.
“This is what I might have expected,” Duvernois said. “Here he is one of our oldest employes... we’ll have to do something. Everything seems to be in order and we have nothing to worry about except Lachetez. Write him a conciliatory letter. He’ll calm down, you’ll see.”
Henry Duvernois stared at the letter in his hand. It looked the same as the other one and the envelope once more was PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. Again Mlle. Arlette had put it on his desk unopened. He threw the switch on the intercom. “Ask Bourdely to see me immediately,” he bellowed.
When the treasurer came into his office Duvernois shoved the letter across the desk. “You and your suggestions,” he spat. “This scoundrel Lachetez has had you... you and your accountants. All he had to do when he got your letter was to take the embezzled money from wherever he had it hidden and put it back in the safe, make a few corrections in the books. He probably has two sets of books anyway! We made it easy for him.”
“May I remind you that it was your idea to inform Lachetez of our proposed audit, sir? You even told me to make it a ‘nice’ letter. Well, what are we going to do now?”
“Have you seen what our anonymous correspondent threatens to do? Write poison letters to our depositors, informing them that their money is going down the drain. You know what that could mean?”
“How old? What in creation has Bourdley asked.
“How old? What in creation has that to do... fifty... fifty-five. How am I supposed to know?”
“I see you haven’t read this letter carefully. It says something about Lachetez and a young girl.”
“I was upset,” Duvernois defended himself. “Let me see. Why of course, that’s the perfect reason... the old, old story. We’ll have to act, and quickly.”