Chapter V -- The Worms Keep Turning
Agnes Loehman watched her husband back out of the driveway. They had not uttered a word to one another since the argument the previous evening. She stood motionless in the picture window waiting for him to return for something forgotten, an excuse to see if she wanted to break the ice to enable reconciliation. She was glad that he did not return. She would initiate no such groveling. She was determined to take action.
When Agnes was certain that Bert wouldn't return she sat in a chair next to the telephone. She picked up the receiver and punched in the number that Grafton had scribbled on the back of the business card.
It was a short conversation. Grafton was coming right over; his hotel was a ten minute drive from the Loehman's house.
Agnes heard a car pull into her driveway. She watched as the driver's side door of the rented sedan swung open and a man with a briefcase stepped out. It was the man who called on her the day before.
Ed Grafton was a small man. Agnes thought him to be five-seven or eight as he slowly walked toward the house. He cleared the front fender of the car that had partially hidden him and Agnes saw the black platform shoes that added an inch or two to his height. He was skinny-looking. Although well into his fifties, his hair showed no apparition of gray, and neither did his full beard and moustache. He wore sunglasses with black frames, so at first it gave the illusion that he wore a mask. It was summer; he wore a seersucker blazer and navy slacks.
Grafton swiveled his head to all sides as he approached the door, probably checking for anyone watching him. He started to ring the bell, but Agnes met him first.
"I think that we have some business to discuss, Mrs. Loehman," he said in his customary nasal voice.
Agnes nodded and stood motionless behind the screen door.
"I can't discuss it out here, Mrs. Loehman. Can I come in?" he asked after waiting for her to speak.
Agnes hesitated.
"Maybe I should come back when Bert is home," he said.
Agnes opened the door;.he walked in and sat in the living room, placing his briefcase provocatively on the coffee table.
"Does anyone know that I'm here?" he asked.
Agnes shook her head.
"You said that you would have cash," Agnes challenged.
"I certainly do!" he responded.
Grafton laid the case flat on the table and flicked the latch. He raised the top side and displayed stacks of wrapped bills arranged neatly in the case. Agnes could see that the bundles were twenties, but had no way to tell how many there were. She knew that it was a lot of money. Agnes relaxed a little. She hoped that in a few minutes a lot of it would be hers.
"What do you have for me?" asked Grafton.
"I know where the missing drawings are located and how they got where they are," she answered.
"That would be worth something to me. Where are they?" said Grafton.
Agnes hesitated.
"It would be worth two thousand," he added, knowing her question in advance.
"I was hoping for more. Bert lost eight in salary because of it. I wanted to make that up," pleaded Agnes.
"Give me more, and I'll give you more, Mrs. Loehman." Grafton toughened his tone.
Agnes hesitated again.
"Final offer—three thousand," Grafton sneered. "Tax free, of course," he added sarcastically.
"The drawings are locked in Paul Crane's office," said Agnes. "A young woman brought them to him. I don't know her name. Bert got in trouble for sending them to you the way he did. He told Crane how it happened."
"That was a big help, Mrs. Loehman."
Grafton counted out three packs of the twenties and handed them to Agnes. The withdrawal had barely made a dent in the contents of the briefcase.
"Want to count it?" he asked.
Agnes counted out the fifty bills in one of the packs; then nodded to say 'ok'.
"Bring me more information and I'll bring you more money," offered Grafton. "I need to know what they're going to do with those drawings before they do it. If you can find that out for me, you'll see that much again, and then some!"
"But how..." she started to ask.
"You've got my card." said Grafton as he closed his briefcase. "Just make sure that you keep this secret. If I'm found out on this, so will you!"
Grafton left the house without saying goodbye. He scooted to his car, swiveling his head along the way. Agnes watched him pull away.
"I know how Judas felt," she muttered to herself, clutching the thirty pieces of silver. "But I did it for Bert and me. We need it and deserve it!"
She roamed through the house looking for a hiding place for the money, safe from Bert. She wondered how she would feed it into their bank account without him knowing it. 'Business' was more complex than she realized. She finally put the stacks of bills in a brown paper bag and placed it in the eaves in a corner of the attic.
**************
Paul marched into the office. He was glad that it was Friday and the end of a less than perfect week. He thought of Audrey, surely cruising north on I-75 by this time. She could have been waiting for him at his cabin on the peninsula right at this moment if he had played his cards differently. What a feast for the eyes she was! Paul found that he liked her, as well, despite the difference in their ages. He patted himself on the back for putting the Company first.
His cabin hadn't been used since the weekend with Glenda. If there was any justice in the world he would be getting his work done early so that he could pick her up at the airport and drive up there for the weekend. Summer was passing by. There was no justice and the cabin went wasting. He mulled over possibly putting it on the market.
