It was the next night, and we were sitting in the car, where I had parked on one of the terraces overlooking the ocean. I suppose it was around eight-thirty, as she hadn’t stayed at the hospital very long. She sat looking out at the surf, and then suddenly I said I might as well drive her over to her father’s. I did, and she didn’t have much to say. I parked near the house, and she went in, and she stayed a long time. It must have been eleven o’clock when she came out. She got in the car, and then she broke down and cried, and there wasn’t much I could do. When she got a little bit under control, I asked, “Well, what luck?”
“Oh, he’ll do it, but it was awful.”
“If he got sore, you can’t blame him much.”
“He didn’t get sore. He just sat there, and shook his head, and there was no question about whether he’d let me have the money or not. But — Dave, an old man, he’s been paying on that house for fifteen years, and last year he got it clear. If he wants to, he can spend his summers in Canada, he and Mamma both. And now — it’s all gone, he’ll have to start paying all over again, all because of this. And he never said a word.”
“What did your mother say?”
“I didn’t tell her. I suppose he will, but I couldn’t, I waited till she went to bed. That’s what kept me so long. Fifteen years, paying regularly every month, and now it’s to go, all because Charles fell for a simpleton that isn’t worth the powder and shot to blow her to hell.”
I didn’t sleep very well that night. I kept thinking of the old history professor, and his house, and Sheila, and Brent lying down there in the hospital with a tube in his belly. Up to then I hadn’t thought much about him. I didn’t like him, and he was washed up with Sheila, and I had just conveniently not thought of him at all. I thought of him now, though, and wondered who the simpleton was that he had fallen for, and whether he was as nuts about her as I was about Sheila. Then I got to wondering whether I thought enough of her to embezzle for her, and that brought me sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the night. I could say I wouldn’t, that I had never stolen from anybody, and never would, but here I was already mixed up in it some kind of way. It was a week since I uncovered that shortage, and I hadn’t said a word about it to the home office, and I was getting ready to help her cover up.
Something popped in me then, about Brent, I mean, and I quit kidding myself. I did some hard figuring in bed there, and I didn’t like it a bit, but I knew what I had to do. Next night, instead of heading for the ocean, I headed for my house again, and pretty soon we were back in front of the fire. I had mixed a drink this time, because at least I felt at peace with myself, and I held her in my arms quite a while before I got to it. Then: “Sheila?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve had it out with myself.”
“Dave, you’re not going to turn him in?”
“No, but I’ve decided that there’s only one person that can take that rap.”
“Who do you mean?”
“Me.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“All right, I drove you over to see your father last night, and he took it pretty hard. Fifteen years, paying on that house, and now it’s all got to go, and he don’t get anything out of it at all. Why should he pay? I got a house, too, and I do get something out of it.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“You.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean I got to cough up that nine thousand bucks.”
“You will not!”
“Look, let’s quit kidding ourselves. All right, Brent stole the dough, he spent it on a cutie, he treated you lousy. He’s father of two children that happen also to be your father’s grandchildren, and that means your father’s got to pay. Well, ain’t that great. Here’s the only thing that matters about this: Brent’s down and out. He’s in the shadow of the penitentiary, he’s in the hospital recovering from one of the worst operations there is, he’s in one hell of a spot. But me — I’m in love with his wife. While he’s down, I’m getting ready to take her away from him, the one thing he’s got left. O.K., that’s not so pretty, but that’s how I feel about it. But the least I can do is kick in with that dough. So, I’m doing it. So, quit bothering your old man. So, that’s all.”
“I can’t let you do it.”
“Why not?”
“If you paid that money, then I’d be bought.”
She got up and began to walk around the room. “You’ve practically said so yourself. You’re getting ready to take a man’s wife away from him, and you’re going to salve your conscience by replacing the money he stole. That’s all very well for him, since he doesn’t seem to want his wife anyway. But can’t you see where it puts me? What can I say to you now? Or what could I say, if I let you put up that money? I can’t pay you back. Not in ten years could I make enough to pay you nine thousand dollars. I’m just your — creature.”
I watched her as she moved around, touching the furniture with her hands, not looking at me, and then all of a sudden a hot, wild feeling went through me, and the blood began to pound in my head. I went over and jerked her around, so she was facing me. “Listen, there’s not many guys that feel for a woman nine thousand dollars’ worth. What’s the matter with that? Don’t you want to be bought?”
I took her in my arms, and shoved my lips against hers. “Is that so tough?”
She opened her mouth, so our teeth were clicking, and just breathed it: “It’s grand, just grand.”
She kissed me then, hard. “So it was just a lot of hooey you were handing me?”
“Just hooey, nothing but hooey. Oh, it’s so good to be bought. I feel like something in a veil, and a harem skirt — and I just love it.”
“Now — we’ll put that money back.”
“Yes, together.”
“We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that funny. I’m completely in your power. I’m your slave, and I feel so safe, and know that nothing’s going to happen to me, ever.”
“That’s right. It’s a life sentence for you.”
“Dave, I’ve fallen in love.”
“Me, too.”
V
If you think it’s hard to steal money from a bank, you’re right. But it’s nothing like as hard as it is to put the money back. Maybe I haven’t made it quite clear yet what that bird was doing. In the first place, when there’s a shortage in a bank, it’s always in the savings, because no statements are rendered on them. The commercial depositor, the guy with a checking account, I mean, gets a statement every month. But no statements are rendered to savings depositors. They show up with their passbooks, and plunk their money down, and the deposit is entered in their books, and their books are their statements. They never see the bank’s cards, so naturally the thing can go on a long time before it’s found out, and when it’s found out, it’s most likely to be by accident, like this was, because Brent didn’t figure on his trip to the hospital.
Well, what Brent had done was fix up a cover for himself with all this stuff about putting it on a personal basis, so no savings depositor that came in the bank would ever deal with anybody but him. That ought to have made George Mason suspicious, but Brent was getting the business in, and you don’t quarrel with a guy that’s doing good. When he got that part the way he wanted it, with him the only one that ever touched the savings file, and the depositors dealing only with him, he went about it exactly the way they all go about it. He picked accounts where he knew he wouldn’t be likely to run into trouble, and he’d make out a false withdrawal slip, generally for somewhere around fifty bucks. He’d sign the depositor’s name to it, just forge it, but he didn’t have to be very good at that part, because nobody passed on those signatures but himself. Then he’d put fifty bucks in his pocket, and of course the false withdrawal slip would balance his cash. Our card had to balance too, of course, so he’d enter the withdrawal on that, but beside each false entry he’d make that little light pencil check that I had caught, and that would tell him what the right balance ought to be, in case the depositor made some inquiry.