“Okay, spit it out. I’m not playing Twenty Questions with you two.”

“Bill G. didn’t show up for his shift this morning.” Carol’s voice was unusually subdued.

Brad frowned. “Maybe he’s sick.”

“He didn’t call in.”

“Could be a family emergency.”

Hank cleared his throat. “I heard him talking to Norris the other day, complaining about his shift schedule, the way he always does. Only this time he said that he was thinking about applying for a job at the bank, said they were offering him service credit for his years here and would start him at the same salary with the same benefits.”

Brad’s jaw tightened. “Get him on the phone,” he ordered Carol.

“I’ve been trying to reach him for the past half-hour.”

“Where’s Norris?”

“He’s off, but I could call him.”

“Call him.” Before she could pick up the receiver, he asked. “Is everyone else in? I haven’t had time to look at the assignment board yet.”

“So far as I know.”

“I’ll check,” Hank offered, hurrying off.

Behind them, the front door of the station opened, and a pleasant-looking man in a dark blue suit strode confidently toward the front counter. Brad did not recognize him, but he had the air of a banker, and that made Brad immediately suspicious. He stepped forward. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled. “Are you asking if you can help me or if you may help me? Do you want to know whether you have the ability to offer me assistance, or whether I am giving you permission to assist me?”

“Either one,” Brad said shortly.

The man chuckled. “I’m just funnin’ with you.” The slang term sounded sarcastic and condescending coming from his mouth, particularly with the intentionally dropped g. “My name’s Julius Pickering, and I’m with The First People’s Bank. I’m here as part of a community outreach program the bank has instituted. We don’t want to be merely a depository for people’s savings or a lender to which individuals are beholden; our goal is to integrate ourselves with the citizens of Montgomery and truly become a part of the town. To this end, we are sponsoring a Pop Warner football team and a Little League baseball team. We are providing defibrillators to the fire department and are prepared to generously offer you here at the sheriff’s department a bulletproof vest for every officer.” He favored them with a smug smile and stood as though waiting to be thanked.

The last thing Brad wanted was to accept anything from the bank, but the truth was that bulletproof vests would be very welcome. “We work for the county,” he said. “You would have to contact county government in Globe about any donations to the department.”

“Then that we will do.” The banker tipped an imaginary hat, then turned to leave.