Just Above a Whisper (15 page)

“I went to the house!” Mr. Jenness exclaimed, wasting no time before attacking. “Where were you?”

“The house is clean,” Reese stated. “I simply waited for the bank to open.”

“But you must have known that I wanted to check it.”

Reese said she was sorry, but in truth he had been checking in every day. He had never criticized her work the way she had expected, so she assumed it had been to his standard. And only just in time. He had said it needed to be done by today.

“Go to the Berglund home,” Mr. Jenness ordered. “There’s been a fire, and they can use your help.”

Reese nodded in agreement and went on her way, knowing that Mrs. Greenlowe would gloat over being right but not over Reese having to work there. She didn’t remember until she was far down the green that she still had the Kingsley house key in her pocket. She didn’t go back right then but planned to return some time later.

“Mr. Jenness?” Troy asked of the man behind the counter.

“Mr. Jenness is in the office,” Mr. Leffler explained. “May I tell him who wishes to see him?”

“The name is Troy Thaden. I’m with Conner Kingsley.”

“Very well, sir,” Mr. Leffler said graciously, not needing any information beyond the man’s name. Troy Thaden’s name was as well known in the world of banking as the Kingsley name. “If you’ll give me a moment.”

Troy nodded, his eyes not missing a thing.

“Mr. Thaden,” Mr. Jenness said as he came rushing from his desk, his heart beating painfully. “I didn’t expect you, sir.”

“We were ready a number of days early and realized we wanted a coach in town with us, so we didn’t take the train,” Troy said kindly, willing to give this man the benefit of the doubt. “We arrived late last evening.”

“Were you able to get into the house?”

“Yes, Mr. Kingsley has a key.”

“Please come in.” Mr. Jenness led the way and waited for his guest to take a seat. “Is Mr. Kingsley not with you this morning?”

“He asked me to begin on my own,” Troy explained.

“Well, yes, all right then.” Mr. Jenness stumbled a bit and then lied outright, “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Excellent,” Troy said, opening the small satchel he held on his lap. “I have a few questions here. I’ll just get my papers.”

Sweat seemed to be pouring from every part of Mr. Jenness’ body. He didn’t know when he’d felt so nervous. He tried to tell himself he had nothing to fear, but the argument was falling flat in his mind.

“I think I’d like to ask you about this woman, the indentured servant,” Troy began, and Mr. Jenness relaxed. He had thought this one of his more brilliant ideas.

“Certainly, sir. Reese Thackery was indentured to a man who owed us a good deal of money. When his holdings did not cover the debt, I kept her papers in an effort to earn some of the bank’s money back.”

“I see,” Troy responded, able to keep a look of interest and not judgment on his face. “And how is Miss Thackery earning money for the bank?”

“Well, she readied Mr. Zantow’s house and property for auction.”

“Mr. Zantow?”

“He owned her papers.”

Troy nodded, unwilling to admit that this was all familiar to him. He’d read the bank report, but he wanted to hear it from Mr. Jenness’ own lips.

“Go on.”

“She cleans the bank building, and when word came that Mr. Kingsley’s house needed to be readied for your arrival, she also took care of that.”

Again Troy nodded before asking, “Anything else?”

“Well, she’s at the Berglund home right now. They had a fire in their kitchen.”

“And is the Berglund home owned by the bank? Is it being readied for sale?”

“Well, no, but you see, Opal is a relative of my wife, and,” Mr. Jenness stopped. He hadn’t meant to admit that.

“And what of your home?” Troy was astute enough to ask. “How often does Miss Thackery clean there?”

“It was only a few days.” Again Mr. Jenness answered when he hadn’t intended to.

“And how is she living, Mr. Jenness?” was Troy’s next question.

“How’s that?” The banker was turning more pale with every breath.

“I assume she lived with Mr. Zantow, but the bank has no facility to house someone. How is she living?”

“She boards with Mrs. Greenlowe.”

“How does Miss Thackery pay Mrs. Greenlowe?”

“I give her a stipend.”

“How much?”

“Four dollars.”

“A day, a week, a month?”

Mr. Jenness could hardly breathe. He had thought that this news would be so well received, but even though Mr. Thaden didn’t look upset, the line of questioning was making him look like a complete fool. How
did
he think that this would make money for the bank? Right now Mr. Jenness could not recall.

“Mr. Jenness?” Troy pressed him. “How often do you give Reese Thackery her stipend?”

“Monthly.”

“And she’s able to live on that?”

“She’s found room and board.”

“That’s good to hear,” Troy commented. “I shall need to see the books next,” he went on, “and I want to get into the safe as well.”

“The safe?” Mr. Jenness asked, panic clawing at his throat.

“Yes,” Troy replied as though nothing was amiss. “Strictly routine.”

“I have to go home,” Mr. Jenness suddenly blurted out; he even went so far as to stand.

“Are you all right, Mr. Jenness?” Troy asked in all sincerity. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“No, I have to go home. I’m sorry, Mr. Thaden. I don’t feel well.”

“It’s all right. I can see you there.”

“No!” Mr. Jenness’ voice came out rather sharp. “I’ll just go.”

The bank manager stumbled away from Troy and across the bank to the front door. No one was around save Mr. Leffler, who watched the scene in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Troy began.

“Leffler, sir.”

“Tell me, Mr. Leffler, does Mr. Jenness suffer from ill health?”

“At times he does, sir. Was he ill just now?”

“Yes, it seemed to come on suddenly.”

Both men stood looking toward the front windows of the bank, even though Mr. Jenness was far from view.

“Were you aware of this situation with the indenture papers, Mr. Leffler?”

“I was, sir.” That man’s voice dropped with disapproval. “I witnessed them.”

“And what did you think of the whole affair?”

Before he could answer, a customer came in. Troy knew there was something to be learned here. He asked the bank teller to come to the alcove office when he was free.

Reese didn’t mind working at the Berglund house. Opal Berglund could be scattered-brained, but she was kind, and she seemed to genuinely appreciate Reese’s help. They talked of various things as they worked side by side, and not once did Reese have the impression that Opal thought her position better than Reese’s. In fact, she seemed to be interested in Reese’s life and asked her a number of questions.

“Is it easier working for the bank or Mr. Zantow?”

“It was predictable with Mr. Zantow, and sometimes that can be nice,” Reese answered tactfully, fully aware that this woman was some sort of relation to Mr. Jenness’ wife.

“And what of the Kingsley house? Was that interesting to clean?”

“It was. I’ve never seen a house like it.”

“I knew Nettie Kingsley,” Opal confessed and then began to reminisce. “She didn’t get out much in her later days. She certainly loved her grandchildren.”

Reese listened with only half an ear. The smell of the smoke-charred kitchen was a little strong at times. It helped to have all the windows and door open, but Reese was beginning to see that this might become a long day.

Even at the risk of losing his job, Mr. Leffler was honest with Troy. He did not speak out of turn, but when asked a question he was direct with his response.

“You didn’t have a chance to give me your view, Mr. Leffler.”

“Holding the papers was not something I understood, sir. I would have liked to have seen Reese gain her freedom. She’s a good girl.”

“How old is she?”

“I’m not sure, maybe 20.”

“And did she fight Mr. Jenness at all? Did she argue her case?”

“She insisted that she have something to live on. That was the only struggle I knew about.”

Mr. Leffler had no more answered when he was needed at the counter. He had taken a seat in the alcove that allowed him to see the door and excused himself as soon as someone came in.

Troy looked through the papers that were still on the desk. Everything looked in order, but this was a fraction of the documents that needed to be inspected. By the time Mr. Leffler returned to him, Troy had decided, at least for the moment, what he wanted to do.

“If you could give me directions to Mr. Jenness’ house, I’m going to check on him. I’ll be going to dinner after that and checking back here later.”

“Very well, Mr. Thaden.”

“One last thing, Mr. Leffler. Can you get me into the safe at some point today?”

“Certainly, sir. Anytime you wish.”

Troy thanked him, his face showing nothing, but inside he was pleased.

“You can say I told you so,” Reese began when she found Mrs. Greenlowe in the garden.