I tossed the Magnolia Federal envelope on the table. “There it is. Two banks’ worth. More money than I have ever seen in my life.”
“Any problems?”
“No, not really. Just a lot of nerves on my part and some questioning looks from one of the managers.
“From First Bank?”
“Yep.”
“He called me right after you left,” Nate said. “Panicked. Worried he was going to be fired. Had his regional manager coming in the office who wanted to talk to me about the account. I told him I had just been there, and everything was A-okay.”
“Were you able to make any calls to any of the other banks?”
“Calls?” Nate looked at me weird when he said it – frowning and gritting his teeth.
“Yeah. You know, to get the managers on your dad’s trail.”
“Oh yeah,” Nate said. “I made some calls.”
“Good. That reminds me. There was one other thing. At the other bank I went to – Magnolia Federal – the manager there told me my withdrawal wasn’t the first one of the day –”
“Yeah, I, uh, spoke to him. Ladner was his name, maybe?” Nate looked at a notebook to confirm. “Yeah, that’s him. I called Magnolia Federal.” He stared at me, unflinching.
“But Nate, this was before I got there, and he wasn’t talking about my fifteen thousand–”
“I got it under control, Matt.” I started to speak again, but Nate redirected the conversation.
“Lance, tell Matt what happened to you.” As Lance started to speak, Nate looked at me and made a ‘chill out’ gesture. I almost chimed back in, but I backed off. We could cover it later.
“Well,” Lance said, thumping a Copenhagen can. A fresh dip usually meant he was winding up for a long story, and he was true to form. He walked through more details than I cared to hear – some of them pretty hilarious, and at the end of the day, he was able to get out with few problems.
“Only thing,” Lance said, “was that I flubbed the social security number at my first stop, but I guess they forgave me.”
“With all that, Lance still made it through all three banks in record time.”
“Yep, and I used one of those hundreds at McDonald’s. Big Mac meal. Kept the change.”
“So other than the social security number, no one questioned you?”
“Not a one. I tell you, them fake I.D.s did the trick. I got some funny looks, but there wasn’t a whole lot to be said.”
“That’s two out of three,” I said. “So where’s Mark and Hop?”
“Good question,” Nate said, “they should be here by now.”
“Yeah,” I said. If it was just Mark, I wouldn’t have worried. He was always late. But not Hop.
Hop was never late for anything.
Chapter 71
Hop checked his watch. Mark should have been in and out of the bank in five, maybe ten minutes max, but now he was closing in on twenty since he walked in the door. If they had been in Gulfport, Hop would have left to get Nate or Matt, but Wiggins was just too far away.
A few times he thought he should drive to a 7-Eleven and make a call but that didn’t feel right, either. What if Mark came out and needed to leave quick? A teenager walking out with several thousand dollars in cash with no visible means of transportation would surely throw up some red flags. Hop cursed himself for caving in and agreeing to drive and wished he’d stayed at home like he said he would when he first heard of this screwed up idea.
Who was this Nate Mayes, anyway, to put them all in such a bad spot? Just four months ago, no one had even heard his name, and now he had Tom Sawyered Hop and all of his friends into doing his whitewashing while he sat back waiting for the spoils to come in. Nate might have had a rough time at home, but who didn’t, and there was more than one way to skin this cat – Hop was sure of it. Hop was going to give Nate a piece of his mind when he saw him again, and his fury grew with every passing minute.
He stared at the door, willing Mark to come out, and when his watch alerted him to the half hour mark, Hop’s anger started to swing the other way and turned to nerves, then to panic, then to a borderline freak out. He didn’t know whether to leave, to stay, or to just say screw it and walk in. The only thing he did know was that Mark had been in there too long, and whatever was holding him up could not be good.
Not good at all.
Chapter 72
Mark didn’t give the Bank of Wiggins a whole lot of thought on the ride up, and was happy to have a wingman driving. Hop was not nearly as relaxed as he could have been, but it was understandable. The very real fact that Hop was going to be a getaway driver had finally dawned on him, and he wasn’t taking it well.
Mark cut a few jokes and talked about their girlfriends to loosen things up. He even gave a few first-person details of his last date with Wendy, which seemed to draw Hop out of his funk, but his change in demeanor didn’t last long. Once they saw the light at the Frosty Top that heralded the entrance to town, Hop reverted to his old self. Mark wasn’t going to give him time to think about it, so as soon as they parked, he strolled right in.
There was only one teller working, which made sense, because there was no one else in the lobby other than an old lady wearing a pink muumuu and house slippers murmuring to herself as she dug through her purse.
The teller took his drivers’ license and deposit slip, typed in a few numbers, and without emotion, called another lady over to check the screen. This woman seemed bored too, but when she took a look, she perked up and went so far as to move the teller out of her seat. This new lady looked like she stepped out of a poor man’s Whitesnake video, her hair burnt and strawy from losing one too many battles with the curling iron. She hopped on the computer and typed away, going back and forth between Mark’s fake I.D., the deposit slip and the computer screen. She even wrote down some numbers on a note pad. She folded it up and finally spoke to him.
“Hi, Mr. Mayes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My name is Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“So, we usually don’t get a request to withdraw this much money all at once, especially on a holiday weekend like this one.”
“Okay. So?”
“So, I’m going to need a little bit of time. Would you like to take a seat while you wait?”
“The money’s in the account, right?”
“Yes, but we are a small bank, and we don’t have it on hand – at least not in large bills, so I’m going to need to have a transfer brought over from our main branch.”
“You have a main branch? I mean, this is the Bank of Wiggins, right?”
She put her tongue in front of her teeth with her lips closed the way people do when they want to say something they shouldn’t, then sucked in some air before speaking again.
“The money will be here from Hattiesburg shortly, Mr. Mayes. Please sit down, and I will call you when it is time. This shouldn’t take long.”
“What if I reduce the amount? Do you have eleven thousand on hand?”
She squinted her nose. “No. Please have a seat.”
Freaking po-dunk banks. Mark turned and sat down in the waiting area two seats down from grandma who was now asleep sitting up. He looked outside and could see Hop in the car. He wasn’t pleased.
After ten minutes passed, Mark started to doubt Rachel and decided some private sleuthing may be in order to put his mind at ease. He approached an office cubicle with a yellowed sign hanging on the outside that read Want a new car? Come see me for a loan! Grrrrreat Rates! A Tony the Tiger knockoff was in the bottom right corner holding a wad of cash.
Mark walked through the opening and found a man with a beer gut wearing a yellow short-sleeved shirt, polyester gray pants and cowboy boots. He was leaning back in his chair facing the wall reading a Louis L’Amour paperback. He didn’t no
tice his new visitor, so Mark knocked on one of the plastic dividers that held the panels together. The man turned, his chair squeaking in response, and peered at Mark over greasy government-issued glasses flocked with specks of dandruff.
“Can I help you, son?”
“Yes sir, sorry to bother you. I’m new in town, and my mom wants me to open a bank account. She told me to go the Bank of Wiggins, and I wanted to make sure I was in the main branch.”
“The main branch?” The man rested his book open-faced on his belly and started to laugh, making it bounce up and down. “Son, this is the main branch, the satellite branch, the home office, and the executive branch, if you want to call it that. We are in Wiggins, Miss-ippi, boy. This is the only branch. There ain’t no others. Heck, there’s only one other bank in town – and trust me, it ain’t ours. I should know ’cause my cousin works in it.” He said that last part to the wall, then grunted at some far-off memory.
“You’re not affiliated with a bank in Hattiesburg?”
The chair cried out for mercy when he leaned up and put his elbows on the desk, making Mark wonder how anyone else got any work done whenever this fella moved – which by the looks of him, was not very often. “Where’d you say you was from?” He had quit laughing now. Mark had already wasted too much of his time.
“Uh, Picayune.”
“Naw, we don’t have no banks in Hattiesburg, Jackson, Gulfport, or New York City, in case you’re asking. And I ain’t the new accounts person, so unless you’re wantin’ to take out a loan for a Chevy or Ford pickup truck – which you clearly ain’t, I think you and I are done here.” He squealed the chair back to its original position and returned to his book.
“Thank you, sir. Sorry to bother you.” So much for small-town hospitality.
Mark looked back toward his teller. She was staring past him, chewing gum. The loan guy had confirmed what Mark had begun to suspect. Rachel was lying. Mark almost bought her lack of funds excuse, and if she had just stuck to that, he would have hung around. But she overplayed her hand by making up the story about the other bank.
She needed him to stay. But why?
Mark wasn’t sure he needed to wait for the answer. If he cut out right then, he and Hop could have several miles behind them before Rachel even realized they were gone. There was no way they could track him anyway after he was out of sight; all they had was Nate’s information on the withdrawal slip, not his, and –
He froze and patted his pockets, then looked up at the counter. The teller was still staring, except this time, she was looking directly at him and had quit her chewing. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up into a tiny little smirk.
They still had his fake I.D.
Chapter 73
When he woke up that morning, Eddie had no idea that not one, but two special gifts would be laid at his feet that day. In fact, when his phone rang a second time, he got mad because he thought it might be Kat calling back telling him he no longer needed to pick Marty up. But it wasn’t Kat. It was Rachel – and she let him know some kid with the name of ‘Nate Mayes’ had shown up at the bank down in Wiggins wanting to withdraw fifteen thousand dollars from ‘their’ account. She had taken to calling it that.
Nate. Mayes.
With the siren on and him going full throttle, he could get there in half an hour, tops – maybe even less if he could bypass the traffic. Should give him plenty of time to get back and take care of that retard. He threw his tactical bag over his shoulder and slid his badge in his front pocket.
This was going to be too easy.
Chapter 74
Mark sat down and tried to figure out what to do. He had already asked the teller if he could get his I.D. back. Of course, she said she didn’t have it, and that he’d have to wait for Rachel. Problem was, Rachel’s office was behind the counter, and the door had been closed ever since she walked away. He went back up and said he was pressed for time and needed to ask Rachel a question. She told him again that Rachel was busy working on getting his money and would be with him shortly.
He glared at her and then reassessed the situation. Even if they kept the I.D., the only information on there that could peg Mark personally was his photograph. If they chased down the address, it would lead them to Nate – who was planning on speaking with them anyway, so what was the big deal? Mark concluded once and for all they could keep his I.D., picture and all.
He needed to get out of there.
He picked up a checking account brochure and slowly backed out of the waiting area pretending like he was reading it. When the carpet under his feet turned to linoleum, Mark spun and speed-walked to the exit.
He never made it.
Just as he started to push on the bar, the door flew open, and a stout man wearing cargo pants, a snug long-sleeved t-shirt, and sunglasses stood before him. He was gripping Hop’s arm so tight all that was showing were the moons of his fingernails. In one quick motion he ripped off his shades and poked Mark in the chest.
“Are you Nate Mayes?”
Mark didn’t say anything.
“I got a call that someone named Nate Mayes was in here trying to withdraw some money illegally.”
Nothing.
“Oh, you want to play games, huh? Well, I don’t play games. When I pulled up, your buddy here gave me the silent treatment too, but to my surprise” – he cracked his knuckles on his free hand – “he was much more cooperative the second time I asked. Told me his name was Jason Hopkins and he said he was waiting for his friend inside.” He turned to Hop and jerked him forward. “So Mr. Hopkins, now that we’re all here, tell me if this deaf-mute here is Nate Mayes?”
Hop looked at Mark, not sure what to do. He tried to stay loyal, but he didn’t know now how long he could keep it up. Mark let him off the hook.
“No, sir. I am not Nate Mayes. My name is Mark Ragone.”
The guy looked at him, incredulous, then looked over his shoulder. Mark turned around and saw Rachel standing there, arms crossed.
“This the one, Rachel?”
“Yeah.” He could hear her snort behind him.
“Bring me his I.D.”
Rachel walked over and handed him the drivers’ license, side-eyeing the two of them the whole time.
“Well, well,” the man said, taking a close look, then popping open the laminate sleeve and pulling out the card. “We got a fake.” He reached into his pocket and flashed his badge, then pulled out a single pair of handcuffs that he split between Mark and Hop. As he walked them through the door, Mark watched the two of them exchange a look.
“Thank you for the call, Rachel,” he said. “These two are coming with me.”
“No problem, uh, Eddie,” she said with a wink, then gave his shoulder a little rub. Another gesture that seemed a bit more familiar than it should have been. “Bye now.”
The more Mark thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed a little too informal. No reading of rights, no back up cops, no radio chatter, and they were being led out to a pickup truck. Alarm bells were chiming, but it wasn’t until he pushed the two of them in the second row of the cab that Mark realized something was truly wrong.
“You make sure justice is served on these boys, now, honey” Rachel said, smiling.
The man shut the door and spoke with his back to them, but Mark could still hear his muffled reply. “Don’t you worry. And thanks for calling me to come out here.”
She leaned up to him and whispered something Mark couldn’t hear. Whatever this dude said in response did not make her happy, and she stormed back inside the bank without looking back. Then he climbed in, turned around and threatened to shoot either one of them on the spot if they made so much as a peep.
Chapter 75
The telling of my experience in Hattiesburg didn’t take nearly as long as Lance’s, but I still burned some time getting into the details. Reliving
it got me all whipped up again, and I still couldn’t believe I pulled it off. It would have been much better received had Hop and Mark been there to hear it.
“What do we do next?”
“We give it another half hour,” Nate said. “Then we go looking for them. Best-case scenario, we find them broken down on the side of the road. Worst-case scenario – well, I don’t even want to think of a worst-case scenario.”
“I’m ready when you are,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer we can sit on our hands.”
“I know.”
“Look,” Lance said, getting up, “I’ll be glad to go on a recon solo, or as a group if you want, but if y’all got it covered for now, I’m gonna head out for a bit. Kind of feel guilty leaving, but I invited a big crew of my home boys to come out to the party tonight, and I need to get ready.”
“The party?”
“I am forever the optimist.” Feeling the need for some decorum, Lance paused. “‘Course if Mark and Hop don’t get back, we ain’t having a party, but I want to be prepared. Just in case.”
“No problem, just keep today’s events quiet for now.”
“I ain’t tellin’ nobody. Ain’t their business. You sure you don’t need me to stay around here?”
“No, just call and check in when you get a chance, and I’ll give you an update. If I don’t answer, assume we are on our way to Wiggins. What all are you picking up?”
“Hayden’s got a trailer loaded with pallets we’re going to use for the fire. We also got to get some beer – I figure six coolers of ice cold Bud’ll do it.”
“No one’s arguing there.”
“My cousin’s got a grill on a trailer. He’s going to fire that up too.” He was rolling now. “Gonna be a good one. Not as big as Fish Feeder’s, but once I told them we were going to party down on my dime tonight, friends I didn’t know I had started coming out the woodwork.”
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