Page 104 of Bad Seed

“Wounded, but recovering,” Jay said.

Wilhem covered his face and started weeping. “Because of me. Because of me. I got her into this mess when I hired her to audit my company. I will never get over this shame.”

“She wasn’t seriously injured and is as capable as advertised. She took him out with one shot. However, we did pick up Phil Knickey. He said he’s spoken to the boss more than once, although never seen him, so I’m going to ask you, sir… Do you know anyone by the name Berlin? Mr. Berlin?”

Wilhem frowned, trying to remember if he’d ever met anyone by that name, then finally shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Berlin doesn’t ring any… Oh God.”

“What?” Jay asked.

The stricken look on Wilhem’s face said it all. “When my wife and I were first married, we lived in Berlin, Pennsylvania. Tip was born in Berlin. My parents were German-born. My great-grandparents were Amish. My father left the sect after he and mother married. She didn’t want that life, and he wanted her enough to leave it. My wife and I moved away from Berlin when Tip was about three, maybe four…as he was getting old enough to begin school. She wanted him in bigger, better schools.”

Jay added another facet. “What we now know is that the money stolen from your company wound up in bank accounts in three different locations outside of the United States, all belonging to a man named Dale Wayne Berlin.”

Wilhem moaned. “I am Wilhem Dale. My son is Tipton Wayne. I can’t go home.”

“Where is your son now, Mr. Crossley?”

“I’m not sure. We had an argument this morning. I told him I was going to sell the company if he wasn’t interested in running it. He begged me not to sell it. I shouted at him. I told him to go to the office and work instead of hanging around me, and I didn’t want to see his face in the house before dinner.”

“You think he’s at the office?”

Wilhem shrugged. “I can’t speak for him anymore. I do not know who he is. But I do know our fight this morning was because of him talking about needing tomake another buying trip. I told him we didn’t need more merchandise because we had nowhere to put it. But I would not put it past him to jet off somewhere anyway.”

Jay began issuing orders. “Get his picture up at all the airports. Do not let him get on a plane. Get some men over to the Crossley building and see if his car is there, and if it is, sit on it and him until we get there. Get a car to the Crossley residence in case he goes back there. If he’s in the wind, I want bulletins out on his vehicle. Find it. Find him.”

“We?” Wilhem said.

“You’re coming with me,” Jay said. “If he’s at work, he’s in your building. I need to know all of the exit points, and you’re going to help us.”

Wilhem nodded.

***

Tipton Crossley entered the company offices through the rear entrance and took the elevator up to the top floor where the main offices were. He nodded at Margaret, the secretary he and his dad shared.

She looked up and smiled. “Good morning, sir. I left your mail and a few messages on your desk.”

“Do I have any appointments this morning?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. A new client for the company. Eleven a.m.”

“Do we have a file on him?” Tip asked.

“Yes, sir, on your desk.”

“Excellent. Bring me a cup of coffee and any sweet roll lying about,” he said, and entered his office, closing the door behind him as he went. He hung his coat in the closet, then sat down at the desk.

He stacked the mail into a neat pile for later and opened the file for the new client and began to read. A few moments later, Margaret came in with his coffee and a cinnamon twist on a paper plate.

“Thank you,” he said, took a bite of the sweet roll, then followed up with a sip of coffee, then wrinkled his nose. Too hot and a little bitter. It’s what he got for storming off without breakfast at home.

As soon as he was caught up on the new client’s details, he finished off the roll and coffee as he went through mail. There was a letter from the insurance company, informing him of a payoff date for the warehouse and a separate payoff for the loss of merchandise.

He nodded, and laid it aside for his father to see. Money in the bank was always good news. Once the mail had been dealt with, he turned on the TV. It was always on the local news channel, and after adjusting the sound, he went back to work. He focused better with background noise.

He was glancing toward the clock, making sure he had everything cleared from his desk before his eleven o’clock appointment, when regular programming was interrupted by a news bulletin. Curious, he turned up the volume.

“Unnamed source has reported that retired hockey star Phil Knickey was taken in for questioning by special agents of the FBI. Speculation is high as to what charges, if any, might be pending. In other news…”

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