Overdose

The Suspect

“David Borovsky,” Kelly reported an hour later. “Forty-six years old, nineteen years in this bank. In fact, in this branch. Loan officer. A very dedicated and reliable employee. Quiet, but sociable. Always comes to work on time; moreover, typically he’s one of the first employees in the office. We tried calling him at home, but no one is picking up the phone.”

“Married?”

“Yes. His wife is also in finance, works in Prudential. They have a grown-up daughter. She’s getting her master’s from some LA college.”

“I’m impressed,” said Gorton, surprised by the appreciative tone of his own voice.

Kelly smiled proudly.

“It wasn’t too hard. They all know everything about everyone. And Borovsky’s been here forever. Everyone says that if he didn’t call, something must have happened.”

“True,” Gorton agreed. “Something happened. I take it the branch manager is still here?”

“Yes. But I already spoke with him. Nothing useful. You said—”

“I know what I said. Everyone else had already showed up, right? Hand me your notes, please.”

* * *

“No,” the branch manager repeated for the third time. “This is impossible. Anyone but him. Borovsky couldn’t do it.”

He was fanning himself vehemently with a large white envelope. Drops of sweat glistened on his bald head despite the low humming of the air conditioner.

“Of course, it’s easy for you to suspect him—you don’t know him like I do. But this is ridiculous. A bank robbery? Borovsky wouldn’t steal a penny! He’s quiet and shy, and he’s a great employee. He just got sick. Can’t you get sick these days without becoming a suspect?”

He stopped fanning abruptly.

“You just want to close the case, don’t you? That’s what you’re after. You just need a scapegoat, right? But you know what? A scapegoat is not enough in this case. I need my money back. I don’t think you really understand the situation. My safe got cleaned out! Not a dime was left. Last night, this place was full of cash. This morning—nothing. So how’s declaring my employee a robber going to help me get those bills back?”

He resumed fanning with even greater vigor.

“By the way, your assistant—that nice young man over there—he’s talking about a gang of robbers. A gang. Now, that’s the direction I would expect your investigation to take. That would be so much more useful than suspecting a faithful, dedicated employee who’s been working here for ten years longer than I have!”

“Are you done?” asked Gorton.

The manager snorted derisively.

“We’ll give the gang theory all the attention it deserves,” Gorton assured him. “But in the meantime, I need to know more about Borovsky. Please tell me what you know about his interests, hobbies, habits and anything else that may be relevant.”

“Relevant . . .” For a moment the manager had a look on his face as if he was about to roll his eyes. “You’re wasting your time. But sure—why not? It’s your job, I guess.”

He heaved a sigh.

“He likes sports. I mean he’s a fan. He’s got a decent-sized collection of football stuff. Hobbies . . . well, Borovsky has been really into fishing recently. He’s been talking to everyone at the office about it. I’m sure he’ll tell you more when you speak with him.”

“Is he a good employee?”

“He’s a great employee. Very dedicated, very diligent, a good team player. He’s always willing to do more—and that includes things he’s not responsible for. His customer satisfaction numbers have been great for years. He’s a very quiet, very dependable man. Certainly not the kind that causes trouble.”

Gorton had to make another one of his little efforts.

“I know. I’ve already heard that he’s quiet. What about his career growth? He’s been here for nineteen years.”

The tiredness on the manager’s face became even more pronounced.

“Borovsky—unlike many others—doesn’t ask for anything. He has a very healthy attitude and I wish there were more people like him. He does what he’s expected to do, expects to get rewarded accordingly and gets paid fairly for his efforts. He takes whatever he’s given and is happy with what he gets. You give him a bonus—he takes it. You give him better medical insurance—he takes it. But when something isn’t his—like our clients’ money, for example—he doesn’t even think about taking it. So I don’t know what you’re after—”

“I’m after getting you your money back,” said Gorton in a flat voice. “That will be all for now. Please show me Borovsky’s desk.”

“Do you realize that you’re about to jeopardize an innocent man’s future?” the manager blasted out. “What would his colleagues think when they see you fumbling through his papers? Why are you so hell-bent on making him the suspect?”

Gorton sighed. What a perfect way to start a work week. First—Kelly and his theories. Now—this. Plus, the morning quarrel with Clara. Suddenly, he felt that making an effort had become too hard.

“Everyone in this office is a suspect,” he said. “Including you.”

The manager’s face twitched and he mopped his head with the envelope.

 “As for jeopardizing anyone’s future,” continued Gorton, “I’d like to remind you that we have sent all your employees home. And now I would appreciate if you could show me Borovsky’s desk.”