Page 17 of Fresh Old Bounties

That seemed unlikely. Before the internet age, she must’ve gotten paid in cash, necessitating frequent trips to the bank. Even during the internet age, cash was bound to be a top two preferred payment method. People were bound to notice her going out of town on mysterious trips, and if someone saw her at a bank branch of another town, it would be even more suspicious.

But perhaps I was making things too complicated.

I called Key.

She answered almost right away. “Hope?”

“Are you busy?” Sounds of hammering rose in the background.

“Hope called,” she told someone. “Taking a couple.” A few moments later, the sound of a door shutting muffled the hammering. “Okay, I’m good. Do you need help with the shop?”

There was a note of caution in her voice that made me miss the times when she was dying to work at the shop. So what if that had been because she wanted to get to my nonexistent dark magic supplies? The thought still counted. “Nothing like that. I have a question about your uncle.”

“Uncle Jeremy?” she asked, surprised.

“The one and the same. Do you know which bank he uses?”

“Uhm. No, sorry.” She sounded genuinely apologetic that she didn’t know, and suddenly I didn’t feel so dejected that my shop wasn’t as shiny as her new goal of becoming a bounty hunter like Ian.

“Do you know which bank his friends use? What’s good for the less savory crowd?”

“I don’t know. Want me to ask him?”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.” I didn’t want Key more involved in the underground dark magic side of the paranormal world than she already was. Asking things about money was bound to get you noticed, and I’d rather people notice me over her.

“You sure?”

I reassured her, then called Dru. She took longer to pick up. A lot longer. Sometimes I thought she only did that to keep me on my toes because I was sure she found great joy in finding out what mess I’d gotten myself into every time I needed to call.

“Hi, Dru,” I said as soon as she accepted the call. “Do you know what banks Lewis used for his personal stuff?”

Mr. Lewis, Dru’s old boss, had been in cahoots with Vicky, who had been Bagley’s secret dark magic intern, so it stood to reason if anyone knew about bank branches for the less savory paranormal side, it would’ve been him.

“His banks?”

“I’m—” The front door opened, hitting the melodic chime, and a middle-aged woman entered the shop. “One second.” I parted the bead curtain and gave the woman a wide smile. “Welcome to the Tea Cauldron. Can I get you anything?”

The woman glanced around, uncertain. “I’m not sure…”

“We offer drinks to-go.”

“Imma to-go you,” Dru muttered through the phone.

The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, that’d be wonderful. Thank you. Could I have the day’s special?”

I hurried to make the peppermint-lavender-apple concoction and filled a recyclable cup. “Here you go.”

After she paid and left, I lifted the phone back to my ear. “Dru?”

An ominous silence told me she’d hung up.

I was right.

With a heavy sigh, I called her again.

“Free now?” she asked dryly.

“Yep. So, about the bank accounts.”

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