until the mountains fall into the sea if we feel like it.”
Miss Chon was wearing a red dress with a white belt that made her waist look even smaller. It was a wonder she could breathe. “You’d better answer your phone before then. It might be your mother.” She smiled at me, I smiled back.
Han swore under his breath. “Get your manager out here. And where are the records?” He fumbled in his pocket for the phone; the buzzing stopped.
“Before we see the manager, we need to ask you a few questions.” I smiled again at Miss Chon. “Nothing too probing. Were you sitting out here when the robbery occurred?”
“This is my desk, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know whose it is. You weren’t sitting here yesterday. You were sitting at the desk that isn’t around anymore. You got tired of it? Needed a newer model?” I looked at the indentations in the rug where the other desk had been. It must have been heavy; the marks it left went deep into the carpet.
“It isn’t a crime to move furniture, Inspector, unless your ministry has discovered regulations from the old days, when things were tidyand dull. We needed a new interior scheme, that’s all, something that would attract more foreign customers. We hired a decorator, an Italian man who favors silk shirts that open to here.” Wherever “to here” was would look good on her, but I pretended not to notice. “He told us the colors were too plain and the furniture was too heavy. So, we’re lightening things up. Yesterday seemed like a good day to start.”
“This may come as a surprise, Miss Chon, but a bank robbery is considered a serious crime, and altering a crime scene is a bad thing to do. It’s actually hampering an investigation. That’s not from the old days; in the old days there weren’t investigations.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to chew her nails over the news that she had altered a crime scene. I moved along to something else. “What about that teller window? How did you get it repaired so quickly?”
Miss Chon crossed her legs and began to dangle one shoe off her foot. She looked very comfortable. “Quickly? What do you mean, Inspector? We’ve been waiting to get that fixed since February. The glass only came in this morning. The janitor put it in himself. He said we’re not to touch it for a couple of days, something about letting the glue dry.” Miss Chon reached over and massaged her ankle. I could hear Han’s labored breathing behind me.
“Maybe we should see the manager now,” I said.
“You already have, Inspector. Who did you think I am, a clerk, a pretty face to greet the men with bags of money? I’m the manager. And if you have no more questions, I’m very busy.” She looked up at the security camera for an instant, then turned back to me. “We’re closed today to customers. Tomorrow, to mark a fresh start, to help clear away the memory of the robbery and the unpleasantness outside, we’re holding a small party in the afternoon, at five o’clock. I know it’s a Sunday, but perhaps if you’re not busy you’d like to come, you and the bumblebee from SSD.”
As we walked back to the car, Han was silent. Just before he got in, he gave a little skip. “I knew it.” He opened the door and then slammed it shut. “I knew it.”
“Something I missed?”
“She’s in on it, Inspector. Did you see the way she was sitting?”
“I did. But you seemed to be paying more attention than I was.”
“What did it tell you—I mean, her posture, her demeanor?”
I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “She sits like a lady who knows how to cross her legs.”
Han climbed in on his side. “No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t sit like a lady at all. Her bearing was all wrong. She’s nervous, shifty. She didn’t make eye contact with me once.”
“I think she doesn’t like you.”
“Of course she doesn’t, I’m from SSD, and I’m a threat. She has a guilty conscience.”
“So why
Miss Chon was wearing a red dress with a white belt that made her waist look even smaller. It was a wonder she could breathe. “You’d better answer your phone before then. It might be your mother.” She smiled at me, I smiled back.
Han swore under his breath. “Get your manager out here. And where are the records?” He fumbled in his pocket for the phone; the buzzing stopped.
“Before we see the manager, we need to ask you a few questions.” I smiled again at Miss Chon. “Nothing too probing. Were you sitting out here when the robbery occurred?”
“This is my desk, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know whose it is. You weren’t sitting here yesterday. You were sitting at the desk that isn’t around anymore. You got tired of it? Needed a newer model?” I looked at the indentations in the rug where the other desk had been. It must have been heavy; the marks it left went deep into the carpet.
“It isn’t a crime to move furniture, Inspector, unless your ministry has discovered regulations from the old days, when things were tidyand dull. We needed a new interior scheme, that’s all, something that would attract more foreign customers. We hired a decorator, an Italian man who favors silk shirts that open to here.” Wherever “to here” was would look good on her, but I pretended not to notice. “He told us the colors were too plain and the furniture was too heavy. So, we’re lightening things up. Yesterday seemed like a good day to start.”
“This may come as a surprise, Miss Chon, but a bank robbery is considered a serious crime, and altering a crime scene is a bad thing to do. It’s actually hampering an investigation. That’s not from the old days; in the old days there weren’t investigations.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to chew her nails over the news that she had altered a crime scene. I moved along to something else. “What about that teller window? How did you get it repaired so quickly?”
Miss Chon crossed her legs and began to dangle one shoe off her foot. She looked very comfortable. “Quickly? What do you mean, Inspector? We’ve been waiting to get that fixed since February. The glass only came in this morning. The janitor put it in himself. He said we’re not to touch it for a couple of days, something about letting the glue dry.” Miss Chon reached over and massaged her ankle. I could hear Han’s labored breathing behind me.
“Maybe we should see the manager now,” I said.
“You already have, Inspector. Who did you think I am, a clerk, a pretty face to greet the men with bags of money? I’m the manager. And if you have no more questions, I’m very busy.” She looked up at the security camera for an instant, then turned back to me. “We’re closed today to customers. Tomorrow, to mark a fresh start, to help clear away the memory of the robbery and the unpleasantness outside, we’re holding a small party in the afternoon, at five o’clock. I know it’s a Sunday, but perhaps if you’re not busy you’d like to come, you and the bumblebee from SSD.”
As we walked back to the car, Han was silent. Just before he got in, he gave a little skip. “I knew it.” He opened the door and then slammed it shut. “I knew it.”
“Something I missed?”
“She’s in on it, Inspector. Did you see the way she was sitting?”
“I did. But you seemed to be paying more attention than I was.”
“What did it tell you—I mean, her posture, her demeanor?”
I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “She sits like a lady who knows how to cross her legs.”
Han climbed in on his side. “No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t sit like a lady at all. Her bearing was all wrong. She’s nervous, shifty. She didn’t make eye contact with me once.”
“I think she doesn’t like you.”
“Of course she doesn’t, I’m from SSD, and I’m a threat. She has a guilty conscience.”
“So why
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