‘Extraordinary,’ Ackland muttered.
‘Have you ever met Terry Thorsen?’
Ackland looked startled.
‘No. I’ve never seen him.’
‘So when a man walks into your office claiming a hundred thousand dollars you wouldn’t know if he was Terry Thorsen?’
Ackland half rose out of his chair, then sat hack.
‘You mean there could be an impostor?’
‘Well, a hundred thousand — it isn’t peanuts.’
‘Of course, I would need identification.’
‘It occurred to me, Mr Ackland, the best identification you could have is to invite Miss Angela Thorsen to attend, and if she identifies her brother, there should be no problem.’
His fat face brightened.
‘That is a very constructive idea, Mr Wallace.’
‘Could we set this up sometime this afternoon?’
‘Well—’ He looked at his appointment book. ‘Yes, perhaps, around three o’clock.’
‘Would you telephone Miss Thorsen to see if she will come? I expect she will be happy to see her brother again.’
‘Yes, of course. I want to do everything I can to help the Thorsen family. Let me see if I can reach her.’ He pressed a button and told Miss Kertch to connect him with Miss Angela Thorsen.
There was a good five-minute wait while I smoked a cigarette and Ackland turned papers around on his desk. When the call came through, he was all oil.
‘This is Horace Ackland of the Pacific & National Bank. I do hope I am not disturbing you.’
He listened, nodded, then went on, ‘I don’t know if you are aware that your brother, Terrance, has inherited a hundred thousand dollars.’ He listened again, then went on, ‘Yes. Mr Wallace has been most helpful. Now, Miss Thorsen, it is necessary to make sure the man who is claiming all this money is your brother. This is, of course, red tape, but as I have never met nor seen your brother I need him to be identified. Would you be prepared to come here at three o’clock this afternoon and identify your brother for me?’
He listened nodding.
‘Yes, I can understand that. It is a long time since you have seen him. I understand that you will be pleased to see him again. Splendid! Then I will expect you at my office at three o’clock this afternoon. Thank you, Miss Thorsen,’ and he hung up.
Looking at me, he said, ‘Of course, she will be only too happy to co-operate. I see no problem.’
I felt sorry for him. Horace Ackland didn’t know Angela Thorsen as I did.
‘Fine,’ I said, and got to my feet. ‘I’ll be here at three o’clock.’
‘Do that, Mr Wallace.’ He rose to his feet and, leaning across his desk, shook hands. ‘This should be a very interesting meeting.’
‘I guess so. See you later,’ and I left him.
At 14.45, I walked into the Pacific & National Bank and gave Miss Kertch my friendly smile, which bounced off her like a golf ball flung against a concrete wall.
‘Mr Ackland is engaged,’ she snapped.
‘OK. Just tell him I’m here.’ I walked to a lounging chair and made myself comfortable.
I have always found banks offer a lot of interest. I watched people come and go. I watched fat old women putting money into their bags. I watched them chat up the teller, who had a fixed, kindly smile for each of the old t rout as they arrived. Banking was not for me, I decided.
Bill and I had had a scratch lunch. He had told me he had seen not only Harry Rich but also a Miss Liza Manchini, his receptionist, who had been Terry’s girlfriend at the time of his disappearance.
‘Great stuff, Bill. A really nice bit of probing, and dead on time.’
‘No problem,’ he said, chewing on his hamburger. ‘Rich wants to talk to Terry. He’s hoping he can persuade him to return to his club. Liza is panting to get Terry back into bed. Both of them will play.’
‘Fine. Collect them, Bill, and bring them to the bank at 15.20. Not before. I want them to be a surprise.’
After a ten-minute wait Miss Kertch said, ‘Mr Ackland is free now.’
I got up and entered Ackland’s office. As usual, he shook hands and beamed his bishop’s smile.
‘Well, Mr Wallace, this should be most interesting,’ he said, waving me to a chair. ‘It’s not often I have an affair like this.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘I have all the necessary papers. I have spoken to Mr Lewis. When Miss Thorsen identifies her brother the matter can be finalised.’
I lit a cigarette, then relaxed back in the chair.
At exactly 15.00, the buzzer on Ackland’s desk sounded.
I heard Miss Kertch’s voice squawk, ‘Mr Terry Thorsen is here.’
‘Send him in,’ Ackland said, then beamed at me. ‘This will be more than interesting.’
‘You can say that yet again,’ I said.
The door opened, and a man around 25 or so walked in. He was wearing a white shirt, and black trousers tucked into Mexican boots. His black hair was long to his shoulders. He was thin and had a lean, rat-like face with small, black suspicious eyes.
Beaming, Ackland got to his feet.
‘Mr Thorsen?’
‘Yeah,’ the man said, then stared at me. ‘Who’s this?’
‘I am representing your interests,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘The name’s Wallace. I am working with Mr Solly Lewis who is the late Miss Angus’s attorney.’
His eyes shifted and he stared at Ackland.
‘Well, come on. I’m in a hurry. Where’s the money?’ His voice was harsh and his bearing hostile.
Ackland flinched.
‘Naturally, Mr Thorsen, I will require identification before giving you the money.’ He had lost his bishop’s smile.
‘What do you mean?’ There was a snarl in the voice, then the buzzer sounded.
‘Miss Thorsen, Mr Ackland,’ Miss Kertch squawked.
‘Your sister, Mr Thorsen,’ Ackland said. ‘I am sure you will be glad to see her again.’
The door opened and Angela Thorsen entered. She was wearing the sweatshirt, blue jeans, the Mexican hat and the big sun goggles. She paused in the doorway, then moved directly to the man claiming to be Terry Thorsen.
‘Terry!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is marvellous! How long it has been!’
‘Yeah,’ the man who was claiming to be Thorsen said. ‘Look, we’ll talk later. I want the money, and then let’s get the hell out of here.’
She nodded.
‘Of course, Terry.’ She turned to Ackland who was now standing and beaming. ‘This is my brother. Will you pay him, please? I want to have a long talk with him.’
‘Certainly, Miss Thorsen. You do identify him?’ Ackland said.
‘I said so, didn’t I?’ There was a hard snap in her voice. ‘I want to talk to my brother!’
Looking flustered, Ackland pushed some papers across his desk.
‘If you would sign these, Mr Thorsen, then I will arrange immediate payment.’ Ackland was falling over himself to give Angela Thorsen service. ‘How would you like the money?’
‘In cash,’ the long-haired man snarled, snatching the pen Ackland offered, and scrawled on the lines Ackland pointed out.
While he was doing this I went to the door and looked out. I saw Bill waiting with two people who were clearly Harry Rich and Liza Manchini.
‘Mr Rich, please,’ I said and signalled to Bill to hold back Miss Manchini. It looked like he’d have his work cut out.
Harry Rich, immaculately dressed, moved into Ackland’s office.
Ackland looked bewildered.
‘Who is this gentleman?’ he asked.
‘This is Mr Harry Rich who owns a nightclub, Mr Ackland,’ I said. ‘He employed Mr Thorsen as a pianist. Mr Thorsen was then known as Terry Zeigler. I thought it would be constructive for Mr Rich to identify Mr Thorsen before you parted with the money.’