“You know John Jessup?”
He shook his head.
“You should remember him from childhood. An old horse thief—and one of the smartest men in Larkimer County! Made millions, in cattle mostly. He was one of your father’s cronies, years back. It’s not important. The thing that’s important is this: the bank takes care of his holdings. He doesn’t even look things over for long periods. Trusts us, of course, and leaves us free to make certain kinds of changes, so his holdings are open always and we have a limited power of attorney.”
“Somebody cleaned him out!” Kit guessed.
Minerva’s eyes acknowledged the guess. “Not cleaned him out. Just took six thousand, in bonds.”
“Who?” And, of course, he knew. “Beau Bailey! But he’s been with you forever! Muzz!”
Mrs. Sloan was looking at her china rail-seeing, now, the expensive plates it supported.
“There is no proof, as yet, and Beau denies it, of course. As a matter of fact, the theft of the bonds was a good thing for the bank, showed us an old-fashioned, inadequate method of keeping track that made it easy for certain people to purloin things. We’ve stopped that system. Jessup came in today, missed the certificates himself, reported. They could have been taken any time in the past several years. Though the ink on the receipt appears quite fresh. However, I suspected Beau instantly—”
“Why Beau, particularly?”
She smiled. “There shouldn’t be any little secrets between mother and son, should there?