The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree

“Questioned?” Verna put her papers down and stared. “Alice Ann? Who’s questioning her? About what? Why?”


“Mr. Johnson at the bank,” Myra said tersely. “And the bank examiner. About embezzling money. They haven’t brought the sheriff into it, but that’s the next step.”

“Embezzling? Alice Ann?” Verna was shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous! What in the Sam Hill are those men thinking?” She narrowed her eyes. “How’d you hear about this, Myra May? On the switchboard?”

“In the diner. Hiram Riley, the accountant, was discussing it with the bank examiner while they were having breakfast this morning.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s a good thing that it never occurs to men that the women putting their food on the table might be interested in what they’re saying. They just go on talking as if we’re invisible.”

Verna pushed out a long breath. “But I don’t understand how anybody could think that Alice Ann Walker was involved in anything like that. She’s just a cashier, and not even the head cashier at that!”

“I don’t know the full story, of course,” Myra May said, “but from what I picked up this morning, Mr. Johnson thinks that Alice Ann has been stealing money from people’s accounts. ‘Jiggling the books,’ he calls it. A little bit here and a little bit there, but it’s added up. Almost ten thousand dollars. Maybe more. All in the past five or six months.”

Verna gasped. “Ten thousand—Why, I don’t believe it, Myra May! If she did it, what’s she done with the money? The Walkers certainly aren’t spending it.”

“Seems very strange to me, too,” Myra May said. “Apparently she hasn’t been charged yet, maybe because they don’t have enough evidence.”

Verna narrowed her eyes. “Evidence?”

“Well, Hiram Riley was saying that the bank’s records show that the money is gone—it’s been jiggled out of various accounts, but they haven’t figured out what she’s done with it. They’ve looked at the Walkers’ bank account, which is no more than you’d expect, apparently, and at the accounts of her relatives—her cousins, her sisters, her parents. They went to her house, which didn’t strike them as being anything fancy, and questioned her husband. Alice Ann says she can’t tell them what she did with it because she didn’t do anything with it, and Arnold denies knowing anything about it, as well. But Mr. Johnson says she probably hid the cash someplace and has just been waiting for a chance to run off with it.”

“Run? Alice Ann?” Verna hooted incredulously. “Where would she go? She’s lived in Darling her entire life. What’s more, her whole family is here, and Arnold’s family, too. Of course, she would never leave Arnold, never in the world. And maybe it’s cruel to say so, but Arnold couldn’t run off with her—he’s crippled. It’s kind of hard to run if one of you is in a wheelchair.”

“You’re right. But the money is definitely gone, according to the examiner. What’s worse, the bank was already in trouble because it doesn’t have enough capital. This theft—and the withdrawals in the last day or so—might push it over the edge. At least, that’s what they were talking about this morning.” Myra May’s voice, always so strong, trembled. “That would be terrible, Verna. Every business in town needs that bank. We can’t survive without it!”

“You’re certainly right about that.” Verna shook her head. “But this business with Alice Ann—why, it’s just crazy. As nutty as Bunny Scott stealing a car and driving it into the creek.”

“Speaking of Bunny,” Myra May said, “I heard this morning that Doc Roberts has her in his office, doing an autopsy, I guess.”

“Why an autopsy? She was killed in the car wreck.”

Myra May shrugged. “I guess it’s standard operating procedure. Anyway, after that, they’ll take her to the funeral home. There’s some question about the funeral and where she ought to be buried. They’re trying to find out who’s next of kin.”

“Mrs. Bledsoe,” Verna said. “I think the rest of Bunny’s family is either dead or gone.”

Myra May nodded. “Well, I need to get back to work, Verna. I just thought you ought to know about Alice Ann. And you’re right. It really does seem crazy.” She turned to go.

“Thanks, Myra May,” Verna said. She was still shaking her head over the news when Ophelia opened the door and came in.

“I’ve got something to tell you, Verna,” Ophelia said breathlessly. “You’re not going to believe this, but—”

“If you’ve come about Alice Ann,” Verna broke in, “I already know. Myra May just told me. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“This isn’t about Alice Ann,” Ophelia said with barely suppressed excitement. “It’s about Bunny Scott and Lester Lima. Something Mildred Kilgore just told me. You’ll never guess, Verna, not in a million years!”

Verna sighed impatiently. She hated it when people said that. “No, I’ll never guess, Ophelia. You’ll just have to tell me.”

Which was what Ophelia did.





THIRTEEN