Free 3 - Buffalo Mountain: Ike Schwartz Mystery 3 by Frederick Ramsay Page B

believed.
    “Whatcha doin’ at Dad’s computer, dork?” Dermont asked.
    “Looking for something, stupid.”
    “Yeah? What?”
    “None of your business.”
    “We want the thing that can read PIN numbers,” Donnie said.
    “What’ll you give me if I tell you?”
    “You know?” Donnie and Hollis said in unison.
    “Yep.”
    “Ten bucks.”
    “For a PIN number. You got to be kidding.”
    “Okay,” Donnie thought for a moment. “You know Dolores over at The Pub?”
    “The one with the big boobs?”
    “Yeah. I’ll fix you up with her.”
    Dermont’s hormones had kicked in the previous summer and the thought of an hour or two with Dolores was more than he could resist. The fact he was only thirteen, skinny, and barely five-six, while Dolores went five-eleven and one hundred sixty-five pounds and might overwhelm him, so to speak, did not deflect his ambition. He’d fantasized enough erotic behavior in the last six months to persuade himself he’d be the match for any and all.
    “Get out of the way, Hollis.” He slid into the chair and in ten minutes had the PIN numbers for all of the cards, Randall Harris’ social security number, and his zip code as well. He turned to Donnie. “When?”
    “When what?”
    “When to I get to do Dolores?”
    “I’ll let you know. She’s in Richmond visiting her sister this week.”
    “I seen her this morning.”
    “She left this afternoon.”

Chapter 12
    Blake Fisher climbed the stairs to the double offices wedged into the rear of the church building. Voices and footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of Rose Garroway and her niece, Gloria. Blake spent the next hour showing Gloria the routine he hoped to adopt. He was delighted at how quickly she assumed charge of the files and equipment. Obviously, she knew her way around a computer and soon sorted and disposed of the piles of papers and correspondence her aunt had created on the desk. She needed no instruction in the mechanics of the answering machine—a fact that impressed him enormously, as he usually had to make two or three stabs at recording a message before getting it right. With a sigh of relief, he gave her the times and dates of the Christmas services and listened as she recorded the new message flawlessly on the first try.
    Marge Burk thumped up the stairs just as she finished.
    “Vicar,” she grumped. Marge had not yet warmed to Blake. She still pined for his predecessor, even though the latter had been dead nearly a year. Marge, as church treasurer, handled the books, deposits, and bill paying, including cutting Blake’s paycheck, a fact that always made him a little nervous. If Marge had been an ally, he probably would not have worried.
    “I need your signature on these checks.” She dumped the checks out in an untidy pile. He spread them out and inspected each as he signed.
    “No need to read ’em,” Marge said. “They’re all legit. Nobody’s skimming the till.”
    “Never believed they were,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I just like to see what I sign. There ought to be an easier way to do this.”
    “You don’t bank over the internet?” Gloria asked.
    “Can’t figure computers out—hate ’em, in fact,” Marge said. “What’s to keep the whatchacallems…hacks, from getting in and taking our money?”
    “Hackers. Well, you have password protection and a PIN and the fact is, if they wanted our money and were really that good, they’d have had it years ago. The money is in the bank and the bank’s computer is the one they would attack, not ours.”
    “Still, I’d have to learn to use that thing there and I don’t want to. How come you know so much about it, anyway?”
    Blake interrupted before the winter’s chill outside was replicated by the one developing inside.
    “Marge, you haven’t met our new secretary. Gloria Harkins, this is Marge Burk, our treasurer.” Gloria smiled. Marge grunted.
    “I used to work at a bank, Mrs. Burk,