She stopped typing and looked up at me with one eye squinted. “Whatever you do, don’t spend this kind of money on a girl, now, you hear? Unless it’s your mama.”
“My mom would love a gift, for sure.” Now there was some truth.
Someone got in line behind me and cleared his throat. Yvette put the back of her hand to her forehead like she had a fever, then stood up out of her chair to see over my shoulder. “We’re doing business here, aight? You see them other lines?” The man moved on.
“Some people,” she said, shooing him along. “You got any I.D., baby?”
This was it. The real test. Could I keep cool enough to not blow it? I slid the drivers’ license across the counter and then pretended like I was looking through the Dum-Dum jar. Actually, I kind of was really digging in there. I like the root beer flavored ones. Everything was fine until she said, “hold on” and walked away.
My legs turned to jelly, my hands started shaking, and I no longer wanted a sucker. I just wanted to get out. I looked over at the door. By my estimate, I was ten to fifteen paces away in case I had to sprint. Add to that another ten seconds or so, since I parked on the side and –
“Son?”
I turned back, and standing next to Yvette was a prematurely balding man in his thirties wearing a short sleeve dress shirt and a striped tie with a grease spot on it. The tie was seven years too old and three inches too high.
“Yessir?”
“Is everything okay?”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t look mad, and he wasn’t motioning for security to come and haul me away, so I stood as firm as I could. I wonder if he could see my hand clamping on the countertop. If this was going to work, I had to pull it together, so I took a deep breath, stood straight up and looked him in the eye and tried to channel Abe Froman.
“Yessir. Is there a problem?”
“I certainly hope not,” he said and smiled, holding out his hand. “My name is Patrick Ladner. I’m the branch manager.”
I gave him a good grip in return. “Nate Mayes. Nice to meet you.”
“I haven’t seen you here before. You are . . . younger than I would have imagined.”
“Good genes, I guess.”
“Uh, yes. I just wanted to come follow up with you and make sure you are happy with the services Magnolia Federal has been providing. We sure hate to lose a good customer like you.”
“Thank you.”
“Any particular reason why you’ve taken such a large amount out today?”
This was the second time they got a little too personal with the questions. Yvette got a pass, because I don’t think she meant anything by it. This cat, however, was probing. I didn’t know much about banking etiquette, but even I knew he was crossing a line here by asking me why I was taking money out. Even if I looked like I was ten years old, he had no right to ask me about my intentions.
“Mr. Ladner, I don’t discuss my business publicly, and frankly, I don’t see how it is any of your business why I’m making a withdrawal. Now I would just like to get my money and go, please.”
He looked around to see if anyone was listening before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayes, I didn’t mean to imply that I was asking about what you were going to do with the money. Not at all.” He leaned in and whispered. “I just wanted to see if we had done something wrong that made you want to clear out your account. Between your call earlier for the wire transfer, and now this withdrawal, you are down to your last few hundred dollars.”
Wire transfer? I stared at him and he stared at me. I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t know I had no idea what he was talking about. I got short with him again.
“Sure, there’s a reason I made that call, Mr. Ladner. But now is not the time or the place to discuss. Especially in front of all of these people.” I motioned grandly, but not too grandly. “Is your manager here? I don’t know what he would say about this inquiry you have begun.”
He straightened his tie. To my surprise, it was not a clip on. “Inquiry?”
“Yes, I feel like I’m being interrogated.”
“I am sorry. Again, that was not my intention –”
“Good.” I had probably pushed it as far as I needed to, and it seemed to have worked. All that was left was to move in for the close, get the money and get out.
Then he tested the waters.
“Just for security purposes, can you remind me of the number you called in from earlier today, Mr. Mayes? The one associated with the account?”
We had memorized Nate’s full name. We had memorized his social security number. We had even memorized both of Nate’s most recent addresses – Hattiesburg and Gulfport. And of course, we memorized his date of birth.
We barely even looked at the phone number.
Chapter 66
I could hear the blood swishing by my ears with each heartbeat. It was acceptable to not know your own bank account number, but not knowing your phone number was unforgiveable. I tried to buy some time.
“You mean my social security number?”
“No, your phone number. The one we have here on file.”
I froze, not sure what to do and puffed up a little bit, thinking I was going to have to bluff my way out. I looked down. The account number could be my saving grace after all.
While none of us memorized the phone number, Nate did actually give the office number to us in case we needed to reach him while we were out. I still had my wallet open with the slip of paper containing the account number, and the phone number was written below it in pencil. I pulled it out, scowled and shook my head – all for show, of course.
“You mean for this account number?” I asked, and read the account number out loud – very loud, so much that people were starting to look my way. Mr. Ladner moved closer to the opening, and that was all the time I needed to get a full read of the phone number.
He leaned over and checked her screen for confirmation, and by the time he responded, I was ready to go.
“Yes, Mr. Mayes, that one.”
“Okay; my bad. I got confused. Since we moved to Gulfport, some numbers have changed.” I figured talking about the move would give me a bit of credibility and get things back to center. I tucked the slip back into my wallet, got one more glance, then recited the phone number to him verbatim.
He looked at me and didn’t say anything else. I raised my voice just a bit – one more time.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Ladner?” A slight sheen had started to develop where his hair had once been.
He allowed a conciliatory smile and patted Yvette on the arm. “Please take care of Mr. Mayes here,” then reached over the bars to pass me his business card. “I am the manager, by the way.” Then he gave a curt “my apologies again,” and walked off to answer a question from college girl teller. I was glad to see him go.
Yvette grinned at me. “You making people nervous up in here. You want this in large?”
“What?” I still had no clue what was happening.
“How you want this? Large bills?”
“Uh, sure.” I stood there, feeling even more paranoid, as she counted out fifteen thousand dollars in cash. It took way longer than I thought, and when she finished, she put it, along with the withdrawal slip, in a manila envelope with the Magnolia Federal Bank logo in the corner. Mr. Ladner was two stations down now, but I noticed he already looked at me twice since he walked off. I took a chance anyway and had one more request.
“Yvette, do you mind printing out the other withdrawal slip - you know, the one from the wire transfer earlier? I need it for my records.”
“You got it, honey.” The dot matrix printer brapped out a small piece of paper. She tore it off and added it to the envelope.
“Have a good one,” I said.
“You too. Don’t forget your sucker.”
<
br /> I walked out as naturally as I could and pulled out of the parking lot, cool and collected. I checked my rearview mirror at least ten times to be sure no one was following me, and once I felt safe, I pulled over at a Ward’s and looked in the envelope. I still wasn’t used to seeing that much money, but it wasn’t the cash I was looking for. It was the withdrawal slips.
Sure enough, the first one I grabbed was the one I had filled out for the cash. Showed a balance of two hundred twenty-eight dollars and five cents after the withdrawal. I then took a look at the one from the phone transfer earlier in the day to try to get a handle on what exactly Mr. Branch Manager Patrick Ladner was talking about.
I let out a slow whistle. It showed a transfer to an account number I hadn’t seen before. It certainly wasn’t one Nate showed us. The amount: five hundred forty-five thousand dollars.
It was time stamped just twenty minutes before I got there.
Chapter 67
Eddie deliberately did not answer his phone. He had a full day planned and really did not have time for anything – or anyone – else, especially prior to three p.m. So when he played back the message, the first thing he did when he heard her voice was curse.
Of course, it was Kathryn, and, of course, she wanted something. She always wanted something. But as he listened to her message, he softened his stance and grinned. He listened to it again and clapped his hands together.
He had been wondering just how he was going to get this Marty idiot out of the picture. Snatch-and-grabs were tough, especially in the daylight, and Marty was no child. Eddie had read Of Mice and Men, and if Marty was going to be his Lennie, he might have had a fight on his hands. To make matters worse, apparently most folks in Gulfport knew Marty, and some considered him the city’s adopted son, so he wouldn’t exactly be low profile if someone happened to witness the act – especially by Fast Eddie, who was not exactly a private citizen himself.
Thanks to Kat’s message, such concerns were all behind him now.
He called her back and confirmed. Yes, he could pick up Marty Deen and get him to the gallery. It was the least he could do. She had just made his life a whole lot easier, and as he played back the message one more time, he shook his head in amazement. He had never seen anyone bungle a case so bad, and he had never, ever had a target delivered so innocently right into his hands. By the time she figured out who he really was – assuming she ever did – he would be long gone.
Much like her career.
Chapter 68
I drove off feeling a bit conflicted. Happy and relieved to have completed the first leg of my mission without incident, but concerned and confused about the telephone transfer. How in the world did that happen – and who did it? When Nate said these accounts had a lot of money in them, he wasn’t kidding. I figured it was several thousand – but half a million? Something was wrong here – very wrong, and I felt like I should call Nate and give him the heads up. I couldn’t though, because I didn’t have enough change for a pay phone, and I dang sure wasn’t about to make a collect call, considering all that was going on with his dad. I might have been paranoid, but my voice was not going to be on any police recordings or phone taps. I decided to go ahead and hit up Hattiesburg First Bank & Trust, per the plan, then hightail it back to Gulfport.
This time I felt a lot more confident going in. I knew Nate’s personal info like it was my own. I had survived the experience of not only making the withdrawal at Magnolia, but did so in the presence of a manager. It was well after lunch by now, and as I walked in, I noticed this bank was more crowded than the first one. It was Friday afternoon, and everyone either needed cash for the long weekend, or were desperate to transfer money to pay for the outrageous purchases they made earlier that day in the name of giving. I found a young teller named Chrissy. She had a cute grin and an ever-so-subtle floating eye that made her look even more like a blonde whenever she smiled. I walked right up, not sweating a bit.
She took the withdrawal slip, keyed it in then bit her bottom lip. I didn’t start to pucker up until she looked over to her left, not sure what to do.
She tried to get the attention of what looked like her manager. He was young, too, probably a few years out of college at his first real full-time job. Fortunately for me, he was dealing with an irate customer about a declined check. Their back and forth kept getting louder, and soon the other employees stopped what they were doing to see how things would turn out. The top part of his blue button-down collar had started to turn navy and he wisely asked the man to step into his office before things got too heated.
Crisis averted. For him, at least. The manager suddenly disappearing did not help my teller’s situation. She tapped on the lady next to her and asked her to take a look. The lady – whose customer line was four deep now that the commotion had died down – looked put upon by the intrusion. Clearly, Chrissy had called on her neighbor before, and the relationship was not what it once was. Her colleague looked at the slip, looked at my driver’s license, then looked at me.
“Do it,” was all she said and got back to work.
Chrissy counted out fifteen thousand large as she laid them down. I considered asking for a withdrawal history, but once I had the cash in hand, I didn’t want to push my luck and got on out of there.
It’s a good thing, too, because after I jumped into Ferris and started to pull out of the parking lot, Chrissy pushed the door open and pointed my way. Next to her was manager boy. When he saw me turn and look, he tried to wave me over. I acted like I didn’t see him and moved out into traffic before he could get any closer.
It was a potentially close call, and I was glad to have it behind me. The sooner I got back, the better, and it wasn’t just to drop the cash off. I hoped Nate wouldn’t be too offended if I didn’t hang around.
He wasn’t the only one waiting for me back home.
Chapter 69
Ever since she turned thirteen and really got into shopping, Emily and her mom had a tradition of getting up early the Friday after Thanksgiving and going to Edgewater Mall. This year was no exception. They were first in line at Gayfers, and once the door opened, she and her mother mobilized to their pre-agreed upon departments and loaded up. They then went through the rest of the mall methodically, stopping at Casual Corner, Hobbyville, Goudchaux’s and then planned to reconnect at the Walgreens café for lunch.
Once it got past ten-thirty, the chaos started to subside, and by eleven-thirty, the crowd felt to Emily a lot like it did the Saturday before school started. Crowded, but not crazy crowded. She covered the entire mall twice, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything, and was happy to finally take a break. She still had a few hours before she had to meet up with everyone at the gallery, so she took her time and chatted with her mom over club sandwiches and fizzy fountain Cokes. Her mom reminded her she needed to get something for Matt. Like she needed reminding. She played along anyway.
“You think so, Mom? I mean we just started officially dating a few weeks ago.”
“It’s up to you, but if you think he’s going to get you something, you don’t want to be empty-handed, right?”
“I guess so,” Emily said and picked at a French fry. She wouldn’t eat the ones that were slick with ketchup. Truth was, she didn’t want to let on how much she liked Matt, so she played it down as much as she could. She already bought him a Swatch watch. It was a new thing from Switzerland and super cool – and only cost twenty-five bucks.
Talking about Matt made her miss him. She had hoped he would meet them for lunch, but he was dodgy when she brought it up. Now his absence made sense. He skipped out on lunch because he didn’t want to let on he was doing some shopping for her. If so, she hoped he wasn’t going overboard. Money was tight around his household, and he wasn’t scheduled to start working again until they got out of school for the Christmas holidays.
She thought about it some more, and by the time she finished
her meal, she changed her mind. He probably wasn’t out doing any shopping after all.
It wouldn’t be like him to have any extra cash on hand this early in the season.
Chapter 70
I pulled into Nate’s driveway with thirty thousand dollars sitting in my lap. It didn’t feel as heavy as I thought it would. More like a large paperback book than a brick. I parked next to Lance’s truck, and since the front door was unlocked, I started towards the game room, but Nate called me down the hall.
He and Lance were sitting in his dad’s office. Considering everything that was going down, Nate looked surprisingly relaxed, and almost cool. He was wearing his Fish Feeders t-shirt, an old pair of jeans, and what looked like a pair of Vans he borrowed from Mark. Lance, true to form, gave the impression he was on the way to a backwoods rodeo. I gave them each a slap and plopped down across from Nate, who sat in the captain’s chair, resting the checkerboard shoes on top of the desk. He had the radio on and I could hear Sting singing in the background, making me even more paranoid about every step I had taken over the last several hours, and just who, exactly, had been watching me.
“This is the inner sanctum, huh?”
“This is it, brother.”
“Feels weird in here.” I looked around. Other than the trash all over the floor, it was about what I would expect from a man Doc Mayes’s age. A framed diploma. A few pictures of him and some celebrity types at a golf course. The infamous wall safe. Some mediocre art – prints only; no originals. Right across from the desk above the couch was a canvas picture of the Doc and Vicky wearing leis on a beach somewhere in Hawaii. Propped up on the credenza were four of five more framed photos of the two of them frolicking in various exotic locales.
I didn’t see a single picture of Nate anywhere.
“I thought it would be, you know, neater.”
“My dad hasn’t touched this room for days. Not since he found out Charlotte died.”
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