Free The Deposit Slip by Todd M. Johnson Page B

ear.
    “Hello, Mr. Towers,” Jared answered. He was surprised at how quickly this call had come. As though anticipating his reaction, the voice continued.
    “Phil said it was urgent.”
    “It is, I guess.” Jared was unsure how much to share with a voice over the phone. Maybe he could shorten things up. “Mr. Towers, have you got any experience with banks or banking?”
    The soft voice answered, almost apologetically, “Some.”
    “How much,” Jared pressed.
    “I worked at the Piper Lincoln Bank in Chicago.”
    “How long?”
    “Twelve years.”
    That was unexpected. “What did you do there?”
    “I was a vice-president.”
    Jared could hardly suppress his surprise and answered stupidly, “Vice-president of the bank?”
    “Yes.”
    What was a former bank vice-president doing as a P.I.? “Mr. Towers, why’d you leave?”
    “Mr. Neaton,” the voice said haltingly. “I can email you a copy of my resume if you’d like, and references. But Phil said you needed help, and I’m—um—available now.”
    At Paisley, you wouldn’t hire an expert until after reviewing his resume and references and completing an interview. But this wasn’t Paisley. Besides, Jared was still circling the case and only needed limited information—not a testifying expert.
    “How much do you charge?”
    The voice on the line cleared its throat. “Uh, Mr. Neaton, Phil and I, we do each other favors; help each other out when we can. I’m working things off with Phil just now, so just tell me how I can help.”
    Jared thought for a moment. The records from Goering would be a starting point.
    “Let me tell you something about the case,” Jared said, then proceeded for the next fifteen minutes, finishing with a summary of the bank records he’d scanned the evening before. “I’m coming back to Minneapolis later today and can messenger you the records from my office in the morning. I didn’t see anything there, but I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
    The voice remained silent for several seconds. “You have until Wednesday to decide on taking the case?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.” Towers gave him an address for the documents.
    “Mr. Towers—what will you be looking for in the records?”
    “There are only two bank records of any importance,” Towers responded, his voice still barely more than a whisper. “Those are the history for the account where the deposit was made, and documentation of the bank depositing the ten-million-dollar check with the Federal Reserve Bank in Minneapolis. Every bank sends its checks to the local Fed for clearing, and they’d have a record of this deposit if it was cashed. If those records don’t exist, then either the bank has chosen not to produce them or they’ve destroyed them. Or of course,” he continued, the apologetic tone creeping back in, “the deposit slip is a forgery.”
    Jared thought again about the three days until he had to make a decision. “Is there any way to quickly find out whether Ashley State Bank deposited the money with the Federal Reserve? Because I haven’t got the power to subpoena any records unless I take the case, and time’s running out.”
    “It’s not public information,” Towers answered. The pause extended longer than before. “But I can do that.”
    For all his reticence, Towers didn’t lack confidence. “You can find out?” Jared asked.
    There was a pause so long Jared thought he might have lost the investigator.
    “Yes. I know . . . someone.”
    He didn’t sound eager, and Jared wondered if Tower would have to call in a favor for the information. He needed information and maybe Towers was a lucky break, someone who could shortcut the process without emptying Jared’s thin pocketbook. He tried another question.
    “Is there any way the bank could have deposited this money and not created a record we could trace?”
    “Yes. It’s possible.” The long pause returned before Towers finally continued. “Mr. Neaton, if I were