Then, when it didnât fit into the slot to the deposit box, leave it there so anyone who came along could swipe it? Judy didnât get much time to puzzle over these questions. The lock on the front door to the bank clicked behind her.
It was a glorious day outside, middle seventies, light breeze, popcorn clouds drifting across a sky almost as blue as Englishmanâs eyes. Inside, it was cold and dry. They were running the air conditioning, filtering out all those spring scents, sanitizing it. Inside, she decided, it smelled like money.
The teller took her time getting back to her window after unlocking the door. She was paying more attention to a piece of paper she was reading than to Judy.
Judy knew the teller, though not well. The womanâs daughter had been a problem student and Judy had been forced to call the teller and her husband in on several occasions in search of help or clues. The clues were obvious. Denial appeared to have been a dominant gene in both parents.
Judy couldnât remember her name at the moment and it didnât matter. The woman must have remembered her, though, and decided, in this minor role reversal in which she was in charge, to make Judy pay for those visits to the vice principalâs office. She forced Judy to stand and wait in front of her counter for a few extra moments as she reread that sheet of paper over and over again.
âHere,â Judy finally said. When the woman looked up, Judy handed her the duct-taped envelope. If this was someoneâs deposit, she needed to pass it along for proper handling. âDo you know what this is?â
The womanâs eyes got big. Maybe some elderly farmer who had spent too many years inhaling insecticides and herbicides preferred to make his deposits this way. Silly, because the result looked like something illegalâa packet of drugs, or even a letter bomb. Only this was Buffalo Springs. There were plenty of screwballs here, but none of them screwy enough to stuff drugs or a bomb in the bankâs night deposit. She felt sure of that because Mad Dog was her brother-in-law. She didnât have to look far for an example.
âWhat do you want?â The teller wasnât even pretending to be polite. Okay, Judy already had plenty of things to be testy about this morning. She was ready to give as good as she got.
âMoney, of course.â
âOf course,â the woman agreed. She opened her cash drawer and began pulling out a stack of bills.
âI only want hundreds,â Judy told her. âFifty of them.â
âYes,â the woman said. She reached into another compartment and pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills and handed it to Judy without counting them. âHere, take them and go.â
Judy wasnât sure there was $5000 there. She picked up the stack and began counting. There was more than $5000. She stopped when she got to fifty and pushed the rest back. âMistake like that could ruin your day,â Judy told her. Rude was one thing, incompetent, something else. âLet me speak to the manager.â
There was a little hall behind the tellersâ counter off which several offices opened.
âYes, Iâll go get Mr. Brown for you,â the woman said, and practically ran into it.
Judy waited. She had worked way too hard to put that money away. Then this rude bitch wasnât even capable of counting it accurately. Come to think of it, she hadnât asked Judy to sign a withdrawal slip or provided a receipt for the transaction. The woman disappeared through a door at the end of the hall and slammed it behind her.
Judy was steaming by now. And the woman hadnât taken the duct-taped envelope either. It was just sitting there, on the counter, along with a couple of stacks of bills. Judy didnât want to cost the woman her job, but there was simply no excuse for behavior like this. She stood and drummed her fingers on the counter top and waited for Mr.