“No, you could come in from the back street,” the lady said, and pointed at a sealed door. “That door leads into the new bank, but it used to be an outside entrance. There was an alley there. Oh, and there was a storage room off to the left of the door. That’s gone too. It got incorporated into the new bank.”

  It was funny that he and she both thought of it as the new bank. It was only new as compared to the museum.

  “I see,” Marvin said, and thanked her and started to leave. But then he paused. He walked to where the old back entrance had been. There was a door there, but it was locked. He looked where the storage room would have been. He faintly remembered its location, and the doorway from the alley. Where the storage room had been located, there was only a wall.

  He went back to the desk. “So where the wall is, there was a storage room?” he said as if he didn’t know better, hadn’t really listened to her.

  The lady smiled the way you might for a little child who was easily distracted. “Yes, that’s right. But everything else is the same.”

  “Everything?”

  “All the desks, everything. Just like they were, all the way back to the robbery.”

  “Like the placard says,” he said.

  “Just like that,” she said, losing a tiny bit of patience.

  Marvin didn’t blame her, but he thought it best to double-check. His memory wasn’t perfect about the old bank, and he wanted to make sure the placards weren’t shining on their history a bit more than was true.

  Marvin looked at the back door. If someone had walked out that way, they could easily have stepped into the storage room, if they were being clever, without being seen by anyone. Unless that person was sitting where this lady was sitting now.

  Marvin said, “This desk is original?”

  “Yes, it is,” the lady said, “as I said.”

  “Is this its original location? I mean, was it setting here back twenty-five years ago?”

  “Wait a minute,” the lady said.

  She pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of papers. She said, “This is a copy of the original layout. . . . Yes, it looks as if the desk was here all the way back to the eighteen-hundreds.” She pushed the paper across the desk toward Marvin. “See,” she said, “everything is pretty much the same. You can check for yourself.”

  “May I have a copy of the layout?” Marvin asked.

  “There are plenty. I suppose I should put them out here on the desk, it’s just that no one really seems all that interested in how things were laid out back then . . . I mean, you look around, and you can see that, how it was laid out. But if you’d like, certainly. Take one. Take two.”

  “One will do,” Marvin said, took the sheet of paper, smiled, and went out.

  Marvin stopped by the police station. He was lucky. His friend, the chief of police, was in. He was invited into the office. The chief was a cop named Drake who had been bumped up to the position recently. LaBorde went through chiefs of police like toilet paper for prune-juice drinkers.

  Drake was thin and black as night. He had a flat nose that was partly due to genetics and partly due to someone’s fist. He was leaning back in his chair, smiling at Marvin. “There’s coffee, you want it.”

  Marvin stopped at the coffee table and fixed him a cup, lots of cream and sweetener. Marvin sat down and took a sip. He said, “Man, who shit in this?”

  “I do the shitting,” Drake said. “Every morning. It gives the stuff some bite.”

  Marvin took the coffee to the trashcan and dropped it inside.

  “You’ll make everything wet,” Drake said.

  “There’s a liner.”

  Marvin sat back down. He said, “Twenty-five years ago, a fellow named Tom Craver disappeared. He was never found. Know anything about it?”

  “They don’t know where he is,” Drake said, and grinned.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s a cold case. I know a little about it. I even looked into it once. Not very seriously, I admit. But it came up again when I was a cop, not a chief, and we have that cold-case unit, which is two tired cops, one of which at the time was me, and a police dog without all his teeth and a surly attitude.”

  “The dog helps on cold cases?” Marvin said.

  “Not that I can see. He doesn’t even sniff drugs very well. But, can’t fire him. Union, you know.”

  “Uh-huh. So, nothing?”

  “I don’t remember a whole lot about it,” Drake said. “Just that this guy Tom disappeared and they didn’t find him. He was at the bank one day. Spoke to his wife, or ex-wife. I forget the exact situation. Anyway, he spoke to her, went out, and no one ever saw him again.”

  “I hear the bank manager turned up dead of gunshots,” Marvin said.

  “Oh, yeah. I remember that. Sure. No connection that anyone could find, though this Tom had a record, you see, and some thought it was him. That he wanted to rob the bank, maybe by getting the manager to help him out at gunpoint. There was an argument, and he shot the manager and killed him in his car while it was sitting in the drive. Anyway, some thought this Tom was good for it, but we never found him. Tom, wasn’t he some kind of circus guy?”

  “Carnival. He was a contortionist. Clown. That sort of thing.”

  “Yeah,” Drake said. “I remember now.”

  “Anything else curious?”

  “Let me see. Hell, there was the guard and the driver.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The armored car,” Drake said. “They delivered money to the bank, and a week later, them and their armored car were found in the Sabine River, some good many miles from here. They were both shot in the head.”

  “How many times?” Marvin said.

  “What? Oh. I get you. Twice, I think. We can get the files and look, to make sure, but I think it was twice. You’re saying it was the same as the manager?”

  “I’m saying they both got shot twice,” Marvin said. “A bit of a coincidence. I’m assuming the armored car made deliveries and or pickups at the bank.”

  “Yep,” Drake said. “And a connection was thought of then, but none was found. No money came up missing. The bank was even. The armored car showed up there. The manager checked the money in. The money was put in the bank, and the right amount was there the next morning, and a week later. No one ever figured why the guards were killed, as they weren’t carrying money at the time, and no one ever figured why the bank manager was killed. A connection was implied, but never found. It seems to have all been a coincidence.”

  “I believe in them,” Marvin said. “Happens all the time. But three of them? The armored truck guard and driver. The manager of the bank. And Tom Craver missing. That seems like a lot of coincidences, and all of them at least mildly related.”

  “How do you see it?”

  “Not sure,” Marvin said. “I think Tom might have gone in and talked to his wife, and then acted as if he left the bank, but maybe hid in a storage room.”

  “To do what, use the bathroom later?” Drake said. “Nothing was stolen.”

  “That’s where my theory has a hole in it,” Marvin said.

  “And that puts you right back in the position where everyone else has ended up. Except no one has ever thought Tom hid out in the storage room. And if he did, to what purpose?”

  “You’re making me feel bad,” Marvin said.

  “You getting paid good money for this?”

  “I am.”

  “Monopoly money?”

  “Nope. The real stuff.”

  “Who’s paying?”

  “Tom’s mother.”

  Drake nodded. “She’s got some dough.”

  “Yep.”

  “I know you’re going to actually try and find Tom. I think some of the other detectives, from what I’ve heard, didn’t. I have a feeling you’re going to end up tired and frustrated.”

  “You knew them? The private detectives?”

  “One. He wasn’t so good in the reputation depa
rtment. He probably did enough to make it appear he took a serious look, but I think he mostly looked at his name on the check Mrs. Craver wrote him. She’s a nice sort, actually. I’ve met her a few times.”

  “I liked her,” Marvin said. “She seems like a tough old bird.”

  “Last of a breed,” Drake said. “So, you doing this with the help of your crack assholes, Hap and Leonard?”

  “Don’t think I need them for this.”

  “Good. Otherwise they might have come in with you. They give me a stomachache. Especially Leonard.”

  “They’re my friends, and they give me a stomachache. Especially Leonard.”

  “You feel you’re really onto something?” Drake asked.

  “You ever have that sensation that there’s a worm of wisdom in the back of your brain, and that it has the answer to what it is you’re searching for? That it has things figured out and it’s trying to burrow to the front of your head so it can let you know what’s up?”

  “Nope.”

  “Yeah,” Marvin said. “Me neither.”

  Marvin drove back to his office. The worm in the back of his head was wiggling pretty hard now. He parked and waved at the good-looking woman who ran the bicycle shop below his place, climbed the stairs, and unlocked the door. His leg was bothering him, and when he got inside, he was glad to see his cane on his desk. He had a pretty good idea that for the rest of the day, he walked anywhere, he and it would be companions.

  He made a cup of coffee, fixed it the way he wanted, was about to sit at his desk, and the door opened.

  Two guys not any bigger than professional wrestlers entered the room. They weren’t young, but they weren’t old either. One was a little tubby, but he still looked like he could turn over a car and fuck it in the transmission. The other was leaner and had more defined muscles. He was the prettier of the two, and would have only been scary to children and small animals and old people, and well, pretty much anyone.

  “You Hanson?” said the pretty one.

  “That’s me,” Marvin said, and put the coffee down. He looked at them and moved toward his desk, stood behind it. He studied the men. They had an air of trouble about them. “How can I help you?”

  “Look here,” said the not-so-pretty one. “We want you to leave our sister alone.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Tiffany,” said the pretty one.

  “I thought Tiffany and I had a nice and civil conversation,” Marvin said.

  “She said you wanted to talk to her again, and she don’t want to talk,” said the pretty one.

  “So she sent you troglodytes around to ask me not to call?” Marvin said. “That seems extreme.”

  “Extreme, not so extreme,” said the not-so-pretty one, “we want you to not bother her anymore.”

  “You know, I didn’t plan to,” Marvin said.

  “That’s good,” said the not-so-pretty one. “It’s best that way.”

  “I didn’t have any reason to,” Marvin said. “Until now.”

  Marvin grabbed the cane and came out from behind the desk and whipped the cane over his head and caught the pretty one in the teeth. It was a good blow. Hickory is stout. The prettier of the two was soon less pretty. He was on the floor, bleeding from the mouth, spitting teeth.

  The not-so-pretty one came at Marvin, and Marvin swung the cane and hit him in the knee, popped it up and caught him in the side of the jaw, then stepped in and folded the cane against his forearm and hit the not-so-pretty one in the throat with that. The man went down.

  The prettier one tried to get up and Marvin kicked him in the throat. For good measure, he popped him across the back of the head with the cane. He went back quickly then to his desk, dropped the cane on it, pulled open the drawer, and took out a large automatic. He sat down in the chair behind his desk and waved it in their general direction.

  “My leg hurts,” Marvin said. “So, I’m going to sit. You two can get up, but do it slow and don’t act like assholes, or I’ll shoot you full of more holes than a cheese grater. I’m in what I like to think of as one of my blue moods.”

  Marvin rubbed his leg. It hurt like hell all of a sudden. The quick moves, the twisting.

  “Now, what the hell is this all about?” he said.

  “You knocked out some of my teeth,” said the formerly pretty one.

  “Yes, I did,” Marvin said.

  “It hurts.”

  “I hope so. Now, both of you. Pay attention. Tell me what this is about, or I’m really going to get mad.”

  “You’re already mad,” said the not-so-pretty one.

  “Yes, but this isn’t as mad as I get.”

  “Our sister wanted us to tell you to quit.”

  “Let me tell you something,” Marvin said. “I have a gun. I have a cane. I have two friends that are less pleasant than I am. One’s named Hap, and one’s named Leonard—he’s really unpleasant. If I don’t beat you to death with my cane, or shoot you, they will find you and do one or the other if you bother me again. Do you understand?”

  “They don’t know us,” the not-so-pretty one said.

  “They’ll find you,” Marvin said. “You can count on that. Now, don’t bother me anymore. Get up and leave, and don’t let your fucking shadow darken my doorway again.”

  They got up slowly.

  Marvin said, “Before you go. You. Asswipe, find your teeth and take them with you.”

  The formerly pretty one stood up and went about looking for his teeth. They were in various places around the room. He picked them up and put them in his pocket.

  “Put those on ice, go to a dentist, they might can put those back in for you,” Marvin said.

  “We was just gonna scare you,” said the not-so-pretty one. “It worked on the others.”

  “The others?”

  “Detectives,” said the not-so-pretty one.

  “Now git,” Marvin said.

  They got.

  Marvin looked up Tiffany’s address and drove over there. It was a very nice house. Not as rich as the Cravers’ joint, but nice nonetheless, and in a neighborhood that was even more nice. No wear and tear around there.

  Parking at the curb, Marvin went to the door and pushed the bell. Tiffany answered the ring. Her pretty face fell.

  “Hey,” she said. “My brother lost teeth. I think Tony has a broken nose.”

  “I hope so,” Marvin said. “They were certainly quick to call.”

  She tried to shut the door. Marvin stuck a foot out and blocked it. “No you don’t.”

  “I’ll call the police,” she said. “You get off my property.”

  “I’ll wait here while you call the police, and then I’ll tell them about your brothers, and about how they threatened me. Had you left well enough alone, I might not have known you were dating your boss at the bank.”

  “You don’t know that . . . I mean, that isn’t true.”

  “Sure it is,” Marvin said. “I had my suspicions from our conversation earlier. But it didn’t matter to me. Not until you sent your brothers to see me. That was just plain stupid. Can I come in?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “My husband gets home in half an hour,” she said. “He wouldn’t like you here.”

  “Oh, it’s all right. Me and him can talk about your earlier days, about the bank, about your boss and what was going on with him.”

  Tiffany looked around, as if someone might be in the yard, said, “Okay, come in. But I only have twenty minutes.”

  “I think that’ll cover it, if we can quit horsing around and get to the point.”

  They went into a sitting room that didn’t look as if anyone ever sat there. It was very formal and smelled as clean as a hospital room, but was less charming. She waved at a chair and Marvin sat. She sat in a chair across from him.

  “Ask what you like,” she said.

  “Your boss. You were seeing him. Right?”

  “Right. That wa
s then, though. This is now, and that’s long in my past.”

  “You were seeing him, and so was Frankie.”

  “How do you know that? Frankie tell you?”

  “No. You did. Or at least I could easily get that from your conversation today. It didn’t really matter that much at first, but when you sent your two stupid siblings around, it sort of did. It mattered that much to you that I didn’t ask about it, it had to be important.”

  “I just don’t want my husband knowing.”

  “Was that before you met your husband? You and Jim.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what do you care?” Marvin said.

  “I just don’t want it brought up.”

  Marvin nodded. “We can maybe avoid that. I think we can. If you answer some questions. And honestly, I’d hate to have to come back, or have your brothers lose more teeth.”

  “That was a bad idea, me sending them. It worked before. I guess I panicked. I didn’t want it to come up, and for my husband to know. He can be pretty jealous, even if Jim is dead.”

  “Like you were jealous of Frankie?”

  “I just never saw what he saw in her,” she said. “We were dating, and the next thing I know, she’s flirting with him, and I’m thinking, okay, look at me and look at her. I mean, even then, she wasn’t pretty. But she certainly opened his nose.”

  “How long did the two of them date?”

  “They had just started. Me and Jim still saw each other, but I could tell he was playing the field. Me, her, whoever. But her working at the bank. Well, it hurt. I liked him quite a bit.”

  “All right. The day Frankie’s husband came by. Which way did he go out when he left?”

  “Go out?” she asked.

  “Which door?”

  “Oh, my god, that’s been twenty-five years ago. I have no idea.” Tiffany looked at her watch. “He’ll be home soon.”

  “Did you ever hear of any money missing from the bank?”

  Tiffany knitted her brows. “Never.”

  “Did all the money go straight in the vault?”

  “Yes . . . well, there was the packet.”

  “The packet?” Marvin asked.

  “That’s right. I never quite understood about the packet. Jim explained it to me once, but I don’t remember the details, but it made enough sense then, whatever the explanation. It was some kind of extra money for the bank and was kept separate.”