by Nina Barrett
“That doesn’t seem like much of a reason to risk going to prison.” Not like being threatened with jail time if you didn’t cooperate with the F.B.I.
“I don’t know.” Mac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I was skeptical, too, but then I looked at what the Bureau had in the archives. Not many of the small banks back then had photo surveillance. Of the few that did, the footage isn’t much, pretty grainy, but you can make out the Deb. In the beginning, her get-up consisted mainly of a big hat, sunglasses, and gloves. Later on…” He gave a whistle. “It’s the whole nine yards. She’s really playing it up. In one of the last bits, there’s a few seconds of her gliding into the bank—tight black suit, seamed stockings, heels.”
There was no hiding his enthusiasm. Typical male.
“One of those little hats tilted down with the veil. She blows a kiss at the camera before her wheelman spray paints it and everything goes black. Witnesses in the banks were all taken with her. She sweet-talked them as she lifted the loot. The make-up, her manners, her perfume—she was working it.”
Just the image she’d striven hard to cultivate as a career public accountant. She folded the map as he slowed down and turned off the state road.
“Was it a dozen robberies? Over how long? I know they probably told us all this back in Atlanta, but I was pretty much in a state of shock.”
“Thirteen. Baker’s dozen. She and her guy were adept at staying one step ahead of the authorities. Maybe there were a couple trial ones earlier that could have been laid at the Deb’s doorstep, too. Working out their routine, you know. The ones we’re sure of started that spring and continued on into the summer. Their last job was in early August and, after that, nothing. It was like they dropped off the face of the earth.”
“So does that mean we need to stage that many?” She dropped her head back and massaged her temples.
“Probably not. We should start getting publicity pretty soon. After that, the Deb either comes out of retirement, someone phones in a tip, or we shut it down.”
But still her grant of immunity on the tax cases should hold as long as she made a good-faith effort to co-operate.
“Beaumont, population 670.” She read the sign half-hidden in a clump of pink rhododendrons.
“Okay, let’s give it a look-see. It’s a pretty straight shot off the state route. Not necessarily the best for us. If this is a no-go, we can grab some lunch before we check out the other two, call Jake, and fill him in.”
Oh, joy.
****
He stopped pacing around the perimeter of the graveled parking lot to watch as Derossiers pulled into the last parking space.
“Been waiting long?” Jake asked as he let himself out of the car, stretched, and looked up to read the sign—Sonny’s R and R, Northern Alabama’s Pit Barbeque Paradise.
Mac shook his head. “We just got here. Jan went on in. I thought this place looked crowded enough we wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard.”
“So how’s it going? You sounded pretty confident about the prospects you two looked at this afternoon when you called.” Jake caught the door and held it as a mixed group of teenagers made their exit.
“Okay. It’s hard on Jan, obviously. You can’t uproot someone from their normal routine, plunge them into life on the shady side, and expect them to adjust without some…”
He stopped mid-sentence. Ahead Jan was standing just inside the entrance. Her posture looked unnatural, like she was frozen in place. She was staring at a small TV set mounted in back of the counter. Her mouth parted, she scarcely seemed to be breathing as the black and white footage of their last bank job rolled on the screen.
“Mac?” Jake sounded a warning.
Yeah, they didn’t need to make anyone curious about her interest at this point. From the bar area, he could hear the sound of a honky-tonk tune coming out of a jukebox. Cigarette smoke drifted out of booths lining a small dance floor.
Leaving Jake, he moved up beside her.
“Come on, girl.” With one hand, he encircled Jan’s waist as he swung her into his arms. “They’re playing our song.”
He couldn’t have identified the country ballad for love nor money, but the husky-voiced female singer seemed to be regretting something to a slow dance beat. He folded her head into his neck and circled her hand up against the small of her back. Her fingers felt like ice.
The other couples clinging together on the dance floor seemed lost in their own worlds.
“Jan?” Her tousled hair teased his nose with the fragrance of her shampoo. Wild strawberries? Something floral.
She lifted her head. He felt the warmth of her breath as she looked at him. In the colored lights from the bar, she looked pale, her hazel eyes huge.
“How are you doing? Are you all right?”
She swallowed, a pulse throbbing in her throat. “I’m okay. Sorry, I just froze back there.”
He stroked the back of her neck with his thumb, her body curving into his as she relaxed.
That was great. She was relaxing just as his heart rate accelerated. He suppressed a groan as her legs molded themselves against him. All those nice curves her business suit back in Atlanta had failed to conceal were way too close for comfort now.
“I was just walking in, looking up unaware…seeing what was on television,” she whispered. Her lips nuzzled his chest.
Damn.
“It caught me off guard seeing myself in that get-up. I about lost it.”
He nodded. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to stop thinking and just lose himself in the feeling for the moment as they swayed.
“Mac?”
He opened his eyes and looked around. It seemed they were by themselves on the dance floor. The music had apparently stopped.
“I’m okay now.” She managed what looked like a genuine smile. “Just a case of the heebie-jeebies, as my grandmother would have said.”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I guess we better find Jake and get back to business. He’s probably wondering what happened to us.” He wiped his damp hands against his pants legs as he followed her back into the dining room.
****
Mac turned off the television and tapped on the bathroom door. “How’s it going in there?”
“Just a minute. All this takes time.”
“I know, but we’re working on a schedule. The manager wants us in and gone while most of her staff is out for lunch.”
“Yeah, well.” The bathroom door flew open, bouncing against the wall. Jan caught it with her free hand, using the other to clutch her hat and pearls. “You try to get these seams lined up right in a bathroom made for a munchkin. How do they look?” She steadied herself on the wall, slipping on her heels as she walked over to the dresser.
He knew he was supposed to be checking her seams, but the long, slender legs emerging from the black-leather pumps pulled his eyes up to where the shiny, tight skirt hugged her rear.
“Looks great.”
“Had to be a man who invented seamed stockings.” She bent over to add her dangle earrings, survey herself in the mirror, and push her hair back, before she added her hat. “Can you fasten my pearls?”
He took the necklace as she scooped her auburn hair up. He managed to open the delicate clasp and held his breath as his fingers brushed her damp hairline where a stray lock had escaped.
She straightened and peered at herself again in the mirror.
“I suppose you’re ready.”
“Dark glasses and I’m good to go.” He gave a look around before he got the door for her.
The early morning heat, damp with the scent of honeysuckle, rose to meet them. He had pulled in beside their unit the night before to help shield the car from passers-by. He cracked a window in the back as she got in.
“I think these hose have already melted to my legs.” Jan fastened her seat belt and fanned herself with the map as he seated himself. “What was the Deb’s mystery man like? Anything like you?”
“Silent Sam? Hard to say. She was the one stealing the spotlight. From the footage he was youngish, dark-haired. Probably half my size.” He checked his watch and turned the ignition. “It’s just on eleven. We should make it over there by noon without a problem.” He got a cell phone from his pocket and hit a number.
“Jake, we’re ready to leave.” He paused to listen. “Yeah, I checked the room and it’s clean. Thirty minutes should get us into Cedar City. We’ll just drive around for a while. We’re fine, but I think we’ll both be glad when it’s over.” He glanced at her. “I’ll check back with you before we go in. Give us a warning if it’s not a go. Otherwise, we’ll proceed as planned. Sure.” He rang off and pocketed the phone.
Another clear sunny day. On this side of the river, the land was flat, drainage ditches lining the road. They passed fields of cotton, swollen heads splitting to reveal the blossoming whiteness inside. A lone pick-up cruised around them. The lack of traffic was a good sign. It wouldn’t help to have people out and about when they were making their getaway. Cicadas kept up a steady drone from the banks of verdant greenness along the roadway. Summertime in the South she had called it.
He glanced over to where she had taken off one of her shoes and was massaging her foot, nylon outlining her shapely leg.
“Problem?”
“Hm?”
“Shoes hurting your feet?” He nodded toward the pump she was holding, slowing as they came up on a farm truck hauling bales of hay.
“I’m not used to wearing them so I don’t feel real steady. Flats are a lot more practical.”
“They seem to be popular.”
She snorted audibly as she slipped her heel back on and lay back in her seat.
He concentrated on driving, keeping an eye on the speedometer. Slow and easy, he reminded himself. He looked over at her. Her eyes were closed now. Even make-up didn’t completely conceal the shadows under her eyes. How much rest was she getting at night? Maybe getting more experience under their belts with this operation would make things easier for her.
“Cedar City.” He took his foot off the accelerator as the city limits sign came into view.
“Okay.” Jan sat up and felt for her purse on the floor, taking out a small compact and a lipstick.
At midmorning, the streets seemed quiet. He paused at a corner, waited on a bicyclist, and turned to drive past their destination.
“Looks like a couple cars parked in front.” She used the lipstick, rubbed her lips together, and checked her appearance in the compact.
“Yeah, let’s take a look around back.” They had checked it out the day before. Situated just off the tiny downtown, the redbrick antebellum building offered easy access out the back to a country road and a variety of escape options.
“Not much traffic today. We’ll want to avoid Fridays and people getting money out for the weekend, if possible.”
“Well, Monday didn’t seem to be a good day either, back at our first try.”
“Just two other cars in the lot. Jake said he briefed the manager pretty extensively. Hopefully, we’ll avoid any surprises this time.”
Jan didn’t reply.
He paused at an intersection and looked over. She had her pearls knotted in her fingers. He saw her swallow and moisten her lips. He reached over to cover her hand with his, massaging her knuckles.
“We get this behind us and we can take the afternoon off. Maybe catch a movie then if you’re up for it. Sound good?”
“Sounds a lot better.” She looked over at him and gave him a look of relief as he pulled into the parking place he had selected the day before.
He gave the parking lot and alley one last check before getting the rear door of the bank for her, but under the noonday sun, even the leaves on the trees were motionless.
She squared her shoulders as she started down the back hall. In the entrance to the lobby, the bank manager turned their way and inhaled visibly before giving them an imperceptible nod. He reached for the can of spray paint in his pocket and stretched up to get the surveillance devices.
As he turned back, the old man at the teller’s window was actually taking off his Crimson Tide ball cap and staring in wonder at Jan as she opened her case for the teller. Behind the counter, the young man was sweating visibly as he pulled stacks of bills from his cash drawer.
“Let’s skip the fives and tens, and go for the twenties and fifties, please, sugar.” Jan’s voice was almost level as she delivered the line she’d rehearsed.
He pocketed the spray paint he’d used in just missing obscuring the camera. Beside him, the bank manager was watching the time.
“Don’t know how long the girls will be out for lunch,” she whispered. “Sometimes they go sit in the park, or bring it back here if the heat’s too much.”
Alabama in July. Heat? Oh, yeah. He swiveled to look out the front. Other than an elderly lady waiting on her dog to finish examining a hydrant, everything seemed placid. He was aware of the tempting weight of the empty gun inside his jacket pocket. It’d been a choice.
Conceal it. You’d take the chance someone would believe you were bluffing and decide to play the hero, or display it and maybe induce a panic attack among the onlookers.
He turned back. The older gentleman, fixated on Jan, was breathing hard.
“Is he going to be okay?” he whispered to the manager beside him.
“Wilbur Duffy? Yes, he’s fine. All this is probably just jump-starting his pacemaker. It’ll give him something to talk about at the V.F.W. fish fry this weekend.”
Jan’s gloves were giving her trouble with the latches on the briefcase. As he moved toward the counter to bail her out, the older man actually reached over to help her, sliding his hands down hers.
Everything secured, she looked back to nod at him. Under her fingertip veil, she looked as pale as she had facing Andrews back in Atlanta.
He checked the clock as he held the door for her. Seven minutes. Not bad. They’d been aiming for ten or under.
The car was where he’d positioned it, at the edge of the lot, front end pointed out toward the alley.
As the rear door swung shut behind them, he could hear noise erupt inside.
“Call the police! Call 911!” He thought he could hear Jan’s teller calling as the manager tried to say something.
“Do you know who that was?”
Jan’s elderly admirer was huffing and puffing.
“Do you know? She’s back. That was her. That was the…”
****
She thought Mac’s friend looked more relaxed this time as he let the man into their room. Derossiers gave her a quick smile and slapped Mac on the back as she finished combing out her damp hair.
“Better day today, wasn’t it? A smooth operation, don’t you think?”
“Was from our end.” Mac looked over to where she was sitting.
“Well, better than the first time. No one tried to mace us today. We didn’t give anyone a heart attack, did we? The teller’s face was beet red and that elderly customer was breathing like a steam engine.”
“Everyone’s all right. The old gentleman was enjoying his time in the spotlight when I called Whittaker. The local news crews were setting things up to do interviews once officials cut those involved loose. We may get some decent coverage this time.”
“What about the surveillance camera footage?” Mac asked. “Was it usable?”
“It looked okay. The tech booted it up and was running it.” Derossiers pulled a chair away from the desk, turned it around, and straddled it. “Some good pictures of our new Dixie Deb. It should attract airplay around the area.”
“Thanks.” Jan made a face and got up to rummage in her bag for conditioner.
“Mac, why don’t you walk me through how it went down today?”
“Just as planned.” Mac took a seat on one of the beds and leaned forward. “We got into town in plenty of time, drove past the bank, checked the parking lot again, and drove around for a
while to relax. About a quarter of, we headed back and were in position by noon. The rear entryway was open and the bank manager was standing at the end of the hall when we entered. She gave me the high sign and we proceeded. It was evident she was nervous, but keeping it under control. Hopefully, no one caught on that she knew something was going to happen. There was just the one teller on duty with the older customer.”
She listened with half an ear as she worked conditioner into her scalp. The beautician the Bureau had sent her to back in Atlanta had been full of styling suggestions and tips. Before she left the salon, she’d been armed with more styling gel, hot rollers, shampoo, conditioner, detangler, brushes, a curling iron, and hair spray than she’d known existed. Apparently it was all considered as necessary as McKenzie’s dark glasses and concealed weapon.
She capped her conditioner and studied her nails. She’d need another manicure soon. The temptation to nibble on a nail in times of crisis had been too much to resist.
It was reassuring that as “tarted” up as she was now, no one who’d known Jan Thimmons in her previous existences as tomboy, high school all-state volleyball player; dean’s list college student; or independent businesswoman would recognize her. She settled back in the chair and watched Mac and Jake. About the same age, there were differences as well as similarities between them. Mac’s dark bulk was in contrast to Jake’s lean athletic build, but the two projected the same aura of suppressed intensity. If the footage from the bank got airplay, how far would coverage of their robbery extend? Hopefully not down to Florida where her parents were. Back around Atlanta? Maybe. But was there anyone there who would really care anymore?
“Seven minutes, wow.” Derossiers gave a low whistle. “Can’t ask for much more unless you call ahead. So is the money still in your car?” He looked from one of them to the other.
“It’s in the trunk where we tossed it.”
“We’ll bring it in and do an accounting. The bank will be closed for the auditors tomorrow. It’s good to see both accounts agree. I’ll transfer it over to my car so you two can start out fresh for the Corren job tomorrow.”