Chapter 5

Meanwhile, Sterling is . . .

Now that detectives Brennan and Doherty were in the interrogation room, questioning witnesses, Sterling was free to go about his business, unhindered and unobserved. Getting coffee for people whom he regarded as intruders was definitely not on his list.
As soon as he left, he headed for his office, by way of the tellers' area. Normally, two tellers would be sitting at their windows, waiting on customers, three tellers, when the bank got busy.
At present, the area was deserted, except for the target of the robber's gun, Gertrude Lascola or Trudy to her many friends, including those she worked with, with one important exception.
Trudy's prone body was on the floor, below her window. Someone had placed a long raincoat over her. Sterling got down on one knee, looked around then grasped the collar of the garment. He released it when he heard someone say, "That sure is a shame, Mister Sterling."
It was Jamal, the custodian, a black man in his mid fifties. Startled, Mr Sterling got to his feet and said, "You got that right." He appeared to have more to say, but instead, went straight to his office.
Before closing the door he glanced down the narrow hall located behind the teller's area. His eyes took in four executive offices, each with their door closed and the hall, deserted.
Once inside his office, he peered through the slatted window blind out at the lobby. It too, was deserted.
Sitting at his desk, Sterling realized it was his responsibility to speak to his employees about the robbery and shooting. It fell upon his shoulders to offer sympathy and a kind word to any who was affected by the tragedy. It was a job he had no intention of fulfilling.
Sterling's mind drifted. He wondered who might have covered Trudy's body with the raincoat. Then, shifting gears, he smiled, thinking of something he had been looking forward to since the holdup ended. Leaving his office, he locked the door and walked down the narrow hall. He knocked gently on the first door on his right. Anyone hearing the knock might interpret it as a code of some sort.

The door opened. Sterling rushed in. Rose Anne kissed him with such force, he was pinned against the door, slamming it shut. Though this made considerable noise, the lovebirds continued their rendezvous, uninterrupted.
The lovely phone receptionist had tears in her eyes. She stepped back, took his hands and held them, tenderly. She kissed him before she let go of his hands and sat at her desk. She absentmindedly toyed with a letter opener and said, "How is she?"
"I can't talk about her, now," he said. "Just wanted to see how you're holding up." He moved toward the desk and touched Rose's hand. She pulled it away.
Sterling thought, "She must think it's too soon to be carrying on like this."
He said, "I still have things to do," and left.

< < ^ > >

Sterling walked rapidly to the lounge area and was relieved to find an almost full pot of hot coffee. He poured himself a mug-full and took it back to his office. He locked himself in and unlocked his desk. From the left middle drawer he pulled out a miniature of Amaretto and added it to his coffee. He finished about half of it before looking for a pad containing phone numbers of his employees and their next of kin.

< < ^ > >

"Hello. I'm looking for a Mr Antonio Lascola, the brother of Gertrude Lascola."
"That's me."
After a brief conversation, Mr Lascola said, "Are there any of her belongings I should pick up?"
"I'll look into that and call you back."
"Thanks. Where did they take her?"
"I'll have that information, also, when I call you back. Anything else?"
"Nothing right now."
"I'm very sorry for your loss," Sterling said, but Antonio Lascola had already hung up.
Sterling began searching the yellow pages for an ambulance company.