Lilith: a novel (10 page)

As she walked back toward the safety deposit vault, Jessica forced herself to avoid looking around in every direction. That would be a telltale sign of guilt, virtually a giveaway. She clutched the key discreetly in one hand.

In her other hand she held her purse. As luck would have it, the purse she had brought to work today was larger than average, and she hadn’t loaded much into it. (Jessica had never been one of those women who carries around half of her possessions in a handbag.)

Only a few more steps now. The entrance to the safety deposit box room was in the same general direction as the east exit. Therefore, there wouldn't be any real risk until the last moment—when she made the final turn into the room. If someone noticed her, it would result in questions. There would be no way for her to explain, really, why she was taking her purse into that room.

She made the turn—took the plunge—and finally found herself inside the little room where the late Mrs. Crabtree’s large and mostly undocumented stash of wealth was stored. The interior of the room looked vaguely like a crypt or a morgue. On all four walls were customer safety deposit boxes, neatly slid into openings in the wall. In the center of the room was a long, floor-mounted table that customers used for reviewing the contents of their boxes.

Home free!

But no, that was a very temporary illusion—she wasn't home free yet. Oh, no—the real danger was only beginning.

She happened to know that there was no camera in the safety deposit box room. (Otherwise, what she was about to do would have been out of the question.) This was for client confidentiality. Sometimes clients kept controversial items in their safety deposit boxes. Drugs, weaponry, and contraband like illegal forms of pornography were forbidden, of course. More than a few clients, however, used their safety deposit boxes to conceal wealth from spouses or other family members. The bank’s management did not want to get in the middle of legal disputes within client families. This was one more reason why there was no camera in this room.

The tradeoff was the absence of the additional security that a camera could provide, of course. But this was an acceptable tradeoff: No safety deposit box could be opened without both the client key and the bank key, so the odds of unauthorized access to a safety deposit box were small.

Unless a client makes a mistake like Ellen Frazier made today, Jessica thought:
A one-in-a-million occurrence
. 

So this was kind of like winning the lottery—if she could successfully claim her prize. And that was a big
if
.

On the near wall there was a little cabinet where the bank keys for all the safety deposit boxes were kept. It took Jessica only a few seconds to locate the key to the Crabtree box. There were only a few simple steps to complete after that: First she had to remove the box from its slot and place it on the table. Then she had to insert and turn the two keys that opened the box.

The box was so heavy that she had trouble manipulating it from its storage place and onto the table surface. It settled with a ponderous, metallic clunk that hinted of what might be inside. Her hands were trembling slightly as she held the keys. Both keys fit into their slots and turned flawlessly with one clean click each.

She didn't bother to look behind her: There was no turning back at this point. Without further hesitation, Jessica opened the lid.

Jessica stared in amazement at the contents of the box. There were perhaps twenty stacks of hundred dollar bills and piles of coins that looked very, very old.

There was also a pile of tiny bars that Jessica immediately recognized as gold. Despite having worked in a bank for several years now, Jessica had never seen gold before.

What was all of this worth? There was probably half a million dollars of wealth in here.

How many years would it take her to save a tenth of the value of all this? How many years of working at the bank—or in some similar job? She might toil throughout her entire working life, until her youth and her opportunities were gone, and still never get there.

Or—she could simply help herself to a little bit of what was here.

She paused to consider: There was, really, a certain element of fairness involved here. All of this wealth belonged to Ellen Frazier now that Mrs. Crabtree was dead. But Ellen Frazier didn't even know how much was here.

It wasn't as if she would be taking food out of the mouths of Ellen and her daughter (and, presumably, her husband and any other children there were). She would be taking only their
surplus
—only a
percentage
of their surplus, for that matter.

That thought quickly dispelled any lingering guilt. (And there had never been any
significant
guilt, she had to admit to herself—not really.)

There was, however, some last-minute fear regarding the risk involved. This would, without a doubt, be the riskiest thing she had ever done. The potential payoff was enormous—life-changing, in fact—but so was the downside. This wasn't like sleeping with a teacher for a higher grade when she was seventeen. If she were caught, she would be sent to prison.

It was still possible for her to change her mind. She could close the safety deposit box, return it to its place in the wall, and go to lunch. Technically speaking, she had done nothing illegal so far—she hadn’t even done anything wrong.

Whom was she kidding?
There was no way she could let all of this easy wealth go. An opportunity like this would never come her way again.

Jessica placed her purse on the table beside the open safety deposit box. She chose randomly from the contents: She grabbed a few bundles of money, a gold bar—and then a handful of coins. On further consideration, she put several of the coins back in the box, and took an extra gold bar instead. She knew nothing about old coins, and had no way to assess their value. The gold and the cash would be easier to convert into funds that could never be traced, by anyone, ever.

Having stuffed as much into her purse as caution allowed, she lifted the safety deposit box and slid it back into the wall. She was gratified to feel that there was a barely noticeable difference in the weight of the box. Her purse hadn’t held as much as she had hoped. She would have to go out to her car and come back in order to maximize this opportunity, given the risk that she had already taken. If she was going to steal, she decided, she had might as well make it worth her while.

Jessica made two trips to her car, each time filling her purse, and then methodically emptying its contents. Luckily, she had gone to the gym only last night, and she had forgotten to take her gym bag into her apartment when she returned home. Jessica hurriedly dumped the contents of the gym bag into the footwell of the front passenger seat—a still-damp towel, a set of workout clothes, and a water bottle. Then she filled the gym bag with far more useful items: gold, cash, and a handful of old coins.

The combined haul from the two trips was all she dared take. But there was something amazing here: Even with all she had taken, Jessica had made only a modest dent in the total wealth that had been originally contained in Mrs. Crabtree’s safety deposit box. Her plan—hastily conceived and risky though it had been—was going to work.

She took a few minutes to go back inside the bank and mark herself out for lunch. The branch maintained a whiteboard for this purpose, hung in an inconspicuous place behind the tellers’ counter. The whiteboard was laid out in a grid, with the name of each person and his or her status—“in” or “out”.

Jessica noted that Tina was still marked “in”—which was unusual, because she could not see Tina anywhere. But if she couldn't see Tina, then that probably also meant that Tina couldn't see her. Tina might be in the women’s restroom, or maybe in one of the three private meeting rooms that the bank used for sensitive client consultations.

Who really cared where Tina was? Jessica wasn't going to allow that busybody to ruin her moment of triumph. All that money.

Jessica walked out to her car in the heat of the summer afternoon. The cash and the gold and the coins were all in her car. She kept anticipating that someone—possibly Seth, or one of the two tellers who were presently in the bank, or maybe even Tina—would run out of the bank and stop her.
Stop, thief!

That was ridiculous, though. No one had seen her. She really
was
home-free now.

Once in her car, Jessica felt almost intoxicated. It was both frightening and exhilarating to have this much wealth in her possession.

She skipped lunch that day. Instead she drove to her apartment. There was no truly secure place to store so much wealth in her one-bedroom, economy accommodations, so she chose the best option available to her: She piled her newly acquired treasure at the back of the apartment’s narrow kitchen pantry. Then she covered it up with boxes of crackers, cereal, and brown bags that she’d saved from trips to the grocery.

The hiding place would be completely inadequate in the event of an exhaustive search, of course. But her mind was already churning in regard to longer-term options. Jessica had no idea where one could sell gold. Heirloom pieces like gold earrings and necklaces could be converted to cash in any number of places, certainly; but what about gold bars? These would amount to serious money. Perhaps she needed to think about renting a safety deposit box of her own (
at another bank, needless to say
).

Jessica drove back to the bank to finish out her workday. Ellen Frazier did stop back just before closing time, remembering the misplaced key. Jessica had the key ready for Ellen in her top desk drawer.

“Thank you so much,” Ellen sighed. “Taylor—my daughter—did have a sprained ankle, as it turned out. She’ll be on crutches for a few weeks, that’s all. Say—I don’t have time to come in here tomorrow. How about if I stop back early next week to go through Mom’s safety deposit box? Would that be convenient?”

“Anytime,” Jessica replied. “I’m here everyday from Monday through Friday, ten until six. Whenever you want to come. And I’m so glad to hear that your daughter is going to be okay.”

That was all. There were no repercussions, and nothing unusual happened.

Until the following afternoon.

Seth walked up to her desk at approximately 2 p.m.—almost twenty-four hours to the minute, more or less, after she had completed her heist.

“We need to talk,” Seth said. “In my office.”

Seth did occasionally pull her aside for private, work-related meetings. And these meetings were kept to a strictly professional basis, even though they still slept together once or twice per month. It might be nothing more than a routine matter.

But Jessica didn't think so. She sensed immediately that something was wrong. And there was only one possibility, really. This couldn't be a coincidence.

“I—I was going to go to lunch now,” she said.

“You can go to lunch later. Right now, we need to talk.”

Seth turned and walked toward his office, without waiting for her, or turning to see that she followed him. This was quite out-of-character. Even though Seth avoided outright flirtation with her at work, he had always addressed her with a certain deference. That had been the case ever since her job interview, now almost three years ago.

Inside Seth’s office, Seth sat behind his desk. Jessica remained standing.

“It has come to my attention,” Seth began, “that you were in possession of Ellen Frazier’s safety deposit box key for several hours yesterday.”

“That’s true,” Jessica said. Seth knew about the key, then. That much, in itself, was mildly suspicious; but it could be explained away. “Ellen Frazier left the key on my desk when she had to leave suddenly, after her daughter’s school called. She came back for it at the end of the day. So what?”

“I have also been informed that you made several trips to the safety deposit box room with the key in your possession,” Seth said. “And then you made several trips out to the parking lot.”

“Who told you that? Tina, probably.”

“It doesn't matter who told me that.”

“You should know that Tina hates me, Seth. She—she also seems to know about you and me, and she clearly resents it. This was just her way of trying to get back at me.”

She thought she saw Seth flinch when she raised the issue of their “arrangement”. But he quickly recovered.

“Let’s not bring in a lot of unrelated issues, Jessica. I know that you and Tina don't get along. And I didn't miss your rather unsubtle reference to our—relationship. But what we’re talking about here is you stealing from the bank.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Not entirely,” he admitted. “I’ve reviewed the security camera footage from the east exit, and it does indeed show you making two trips to your car yesterday afternoon, between two o’clock and two-twenty-one.”

“That doesn't prove anything.”

“Except that you were seen going back in the safety deposit box room—with your purse.”

For a brief instant, Jessica searched for a plausible excuse for her going back into the safety deposit box room with her purse, and then out to her car—less than an hour after taking possession of a customer’s access key. There was no uncontrived scenario that she could imagine, at least on such short notice. If she acknowledged going back into the room, she would effectively admit to her crime.

“You’re basing this all on what Tina Hartley told you.” Jessica recalled how yesterday afternoon, Tina had been marked “in”, even though she was nowhere to be seen. Obviously, Tina had been spying on her.

“Jessica,” Seth said, almost gently. “Tina wasn't the only one who witnessed what you did. Bear in mind, there were two tellers on duty yesterday afternoon, as well.”

Jessica now realized that she had neglected to take full consideration of the two tellers. The walls of Seth’s office seemed suddenly to close in on her. She had been caught.

“Now here is what I need for you to do: There is absolutely no way that you can salvage your job after a breach of confidence like this. However, if you return whatever you took, you will be let go without any criminal prosecution. Technically speaking, I really have an obligation to report this to the police. But I can’t pretend that I’m not—fond of you. I’ll do what I can to protect you from the legal consequences, if you return whatever you took from Mrs. Crabtree’s safety deposit box.”

What an option Seth was offering her: She could admit to the theft, and she would have to return the cash, gold, and coins—money that she was already thinking of as her “nest egg”. Then she would lose her job, too.

There was no way she was going to do that. There was nothing for her to do now but go for broke. It was all or nothing.

“Seth, I didn't take anything from Mrs. Crabtree’s safety deposit box. Tina—and whoever else told you that—are lying.”

Seth gave Jessica a long, cold stare. “Frankly,” he said, “I think that
you’re
the one who is lying. Just like you’ve been lying to me. Oh, don’t play innocent with me. I know all about you and that construction worker. I’ve known it for quite some time.”

Jessica gasped. She thought back to that rainy night the previous year: It had been Seth’s car she had seen in the darkness, after all. He had been following her.

“I could call the police right now,” Seth said. “There would be probable cause for a search of your apartment.” He leaned back in his chair. “And maybe you would welcome that. It would be a chance to clear this up. Tell you what: You agree to the police search. If they come up empty-handed, then we’ll drop the matter. How about we handle it that way?”

Jessica paused before answering. The money and other valuables were still in her kitchen pantry. For the time being, she had no other storage options, though she had planned to get serious about at least selling the gold over the upcoming weekend.

Jessica sensed that Seth was bluffing about the search. He didn't think that either Seth or the bank could send the police to search her apartment based on the evidence they had—which was fairly described as circumstantial and hearsay. But she wasn't sure of that, either. If she called Seth’s bluff incorrectly, the result would be her total ruination.

Then another idea came to her: Perhaps she had to turn the tables, and present a bluff of her own.

“I’ll tell,” Jessica said. “I’ll tell them that you put me up to it.”

Seth was taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about ‘us’, Seth, dear. Our ‘relationship’ as you call it.”

“What?” Seth sputtered. “You can’t prove—”

“Phone records,” Jessica said. “How many times have you called me in the last two years, Seth? How many times have you called my personal phone from your personal phone?”

Although Seth blustered a bit more, she could see that she had struck a real blow. As the manager of the branch office, he had indeed slept with a subordinate. And he had indeed promoted her. This was a genuine skeleton in Seth’s closet—and Seth had put it there.

Eventually they arrived at an “arrangement”—their final one. Jessica would resign her position at the bank, effective immediately. There would be no police inquiry, no search of her apartment.

The entire matter, in effect, would be swept under the rug.

Except for the fact that she would forfeit her job.

“Don’t ever put this job down as a reference,” Seth said, as she was signing a hastily composed resignation letter. “If I have any say in the matter, you’ll never work at a bank again.”

So she went directly from Seth’s office to the east exit—the same exit she had used to pilfer an as yet unappraised portion of the late Mrs. Crabtree’s assets. One of Seth’s conditions was that she not even stop at her desk on the way out.

“We’ll mail any of your personal possessions to you,” Seth said, “at the same address to which we’ll mail your final paycheck.”

There was no mystery regarding Seth’s eagerness to rush her out the side door, before she could interact with anyone, or present her own version of the situation. Seth knew, she had no doubt, that she was guilty of theft of some magnitude. And that theft was now tied, albeit indirectly, to his own indiscretions.

Later she would reflect that if Seth had called her bluff, she would have had little chance of convincing anyone in authority that she and her boss had somehow been in cahoots. There was no way that either of them could have known that Ellen Frazier was going to leave her key behind, and Seth had been away that day, at a meeting at the bank’s regional headquarters. As a story, the scenario of her and Seth collaborating on the theft simply didn't work.

But her relationship with Seth would have come to light during the investigation. There was, in fact, an electronic trail that could easily be used to verify it. Perhaps Seth was simply afraid of losing his job—the likely outcome of his sleeping with a subordinate over an extended period, and then concealing the relationship.

So her decision to go to bed with Seth—and to keep going to bed with him—had saved her after all.