Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 2, April 1961

Retribution by Michael Zuroy

Robert Dorp was a bank-teller and a lady’s man. The combination spelled “trouble.”

“You’re quite sure?” The president of the Chowder Falls National Bank stared unwaveringly at the auditor, his face expressionless. He was a large man whose features and bald head seemed formed out of one solid chunk of stone, unsoftened by the rigidly brushed and trimmed hair at the sides. The neat nameplate on the desk before him said in black and gold letters: Augustus Prescott, President.

“Quite sure,” said Mr. Tunney, the auditor, matching Prescott’s unemotional tone.

“Your figures show that something over forty thousand dollars is missing?”

“Exactly forty-thousand, two hundred and eleven dollars,” said Tunney, as though reading from a balance sheet Tunney was a crisp, spare man with cool eyes behind rimless glasses. One could not picture him in anything but rimless glasses.

There was a silence. When Prescott spoke again, it was with a heavy deliberateness, as though he intended to make absolutely certain of one point before going on to the next. “Your audit also proves that one of our tellers, Robert Dorp took the money?”

“That’s right.”

“There’s no question about it?”

“None.”

“Seems to me,” said Prescott, “a difficult thing for an audit to pinpoint the crook. Is that evidence conclusive enough to stand up in a court of law?”

“Absolutely.” Tunney left his seat alongside Prescott’s desk and strode to a long table, on which were spread out ledgers, balance sheets and work sheets. “These figures prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the shortage originated with Dorp. Any C.P.A. in the country would agree with that.”

“I don’t want to prosecute the man unless we’re certain.”

“I repeat, this evidence is indisputable.”

Prescott let out a weighty sigh, crossed the office and opened the door slightly so that the two men could look out at the banking floor. Dorp was at his cage several windows down, serving a woman depositor, smiling pleasantly. He was tall and lean with dark hair that held a trace of a curl.

“Fine looking man,” said Prescott.

“Yes. Attractive to the ladies.”

Prescott and Tunney exchanged glances. “Too damn attractive,” said Prescott.

Both men fell silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts. After a while, Tunney asked, “How’s your daughter?”

“Eh? Oh, coming along, thanks.”

“She still doesn’t realize that you know?”

“She doesn’t and never will, if I can help it. They call me a hard man, Tunney, but I’m soft when it comes to my daughter. I’d never hurt her — and I’d make anyone who tried to hurt her sorry.”

“I’m sure,” said Tunney. “By the way, how did you find out?”

“She confided in a girl-friend of hers. The friend thought I ought to know.”

“You are not one to advertise your feelings,” said Tunney, “but I know how you felt. I know that you worship the child.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Prescott savagely. “I wouldn’t stand in her way when the proper time comes and the proper person. I don’t go for this father antagonism towards the lover, and I don’t expect her to remain a virgin child forever. But she’s barely sixteen now, and not ready for life. What happened to her was just a rotten seduction.”

“Do you think she sees it that way?”

“I think she’s beginning to feel that. There’s a humiliated, shamed look about her. She’s hurt. I think she’s feeling that she’s been used and discarded. You know the romantic illusions of a, young girl Instead of the adoring prince her lover’s turned out to be a rutting goat that stayed for a few encounters and has gone looking for other females in heat.”

Tunney nodded sympathetically, “She’ll get over it. Time, you know.”

“At her age it’ll leave an emotional scar.” Prescott lit a cigar and brooded over the smoke for a while. Then he shook his head, as though to shake the thing from his mind, and inquired of Prescott, “How’s the wife?”

“Oh, all right, I suppose. She’s at her mother’s.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t feel that I want her at home just now.”

“Yes.”

“Give us both a chance to calm down, you see.”

“What are your intentions?”

“I suppose I’ll take her back. I think I can forgive her in view of her attitude.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she begged me for another chance. Swore that this was a temporary insanity, that the scoundrel was so persuasive that she couldn’t help herself. She’s considerably younger than I am, of course, and hot-blooded. But she claims she loves me and has never been unfaithful to me before, and never will again if I take her back.”

“I see. And how did you find out?”

“I walked in on them.”

“A shock, eh?”

“You can imagine. I’d finished an out-of-town audit unexpectedly soon, and decided not to stay away another night. It was a long drive home, and well past midnight when I arrived. I didn’t want to disturb Ann so I was quiet. I was about to step through the bedroom door when I realized what kind of sounds I was hearing. I couldn’t believe it. I waited, listening to the relentless sounds and to Ann’s soft crying which I hear all too seldom myself. My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and the moonlight came through the window. I saw Ann’s naked form and glazed eyes and bared teeth. I saw the man’s lithe, animal body, and in that instant I admit I envied him his youth and strength. It was only afterwards that I grew furious.

“I didn’t know what to do. I backed away and left. I’d seen the man’s face clearly in the moonlight, and I decided I could take measures later. Ann, of course, I sent packing the next day.”

“And so he remains unaware of your knowledge?”

“Yes.”

A long silence ensued. Finally, Tunney broke it. “What do you intend to do with the whip now?”

“The cat-o-nine-tails? Keep it as a curio.”

Tunney grimaced. “Nasty looking thing. You could kill a man with it.”

Prescott permitted himself a frosty smile. “Yes, I could. However — what about your gun?”

“I’m getting rid of that. I won’t have any use for it now, any more than you’ll have for that whip.”

“In my opinion,” said Prescott slowly, “it’s extremely fortunate that we happened to begin exchanging confidences over a drink. Had we not uncovered the similarity of our situations, one of us would be in trouble now.”

“Yes, and awful trouble. I would hate to be facing a murder charge.”

“It’s much better this way.”

“Much better. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“Yes, he’s a handsome fellow,” said Tunney. “Real ladies man.”

“Well, let’s get on with it.” Prescott took a key from his pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. He brought up two neat packages of currency and two shiny half-dollars. “That adds up to your figure. Twenty thousand, one hundred and five dollars apiece in bills, and a half-dollar apiece to make up the odd dollar.”

The men pocketed the money.

Prescott said, “Once more, you’re positive you’ve set up the audit to prove Dorp guilty beyond a doubt? No loopholes?”

“None whatsoever. These figures are incontestable. Remember my standing.”

“Fine.” Prescott puffed at his cigar. “Personally, I think he’s getting off easy. I think we’re being pretty fair.”

“Under the circumstances I think we’re being very fair.”

“Well, might as well call the police.”

He reached for the phone.