Page 19 of Fresh Old Bounties

After a few minutes of holding music, a woman picked up the call, sounding a lot more bored than her Council counterpart. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, hello. My great-aunt passed away last month and I’m trying to close her accounts.”

“Please come to a local branch with the death certificate and proof of relationship. Thank you for your call.”

“The thing is, I’m not sure if?—”

The call went dead.

Remember, Hope—perseverance is the name of the game. I tried the next bank. The wait time was shorter, but the operator didn’t sound any happier, so I tried a new angle.

“Hi, my great-aunt recently passed away and I’m trying to figure out if she had an account with one of your local branches. We haven’t been able to?—”

“Sorry, we can’t corroborate whether an individual holds an account with us.”

“The thing is, she died recently and we’re trying to close the account, but we’re not sure if?—”

“Present a proof of identity and the death certificate at a local counter. Have a nice day.”

He ended the call.

I stared at my phone, starting to get annoyed. The death certificate wouldn’t be a problem, obviously, but the rest…

I peeked over the counter at the stool. “Did you even have a family?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” She sounded quite smug.

“Why aren’t they here fighting over your dead body?” Could I convince one of them to help?

The memory of Key presenting her top-quality fake driver’s license at the bars during our Guiles and Romary escapade flashed through my mind. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Could I hire the same person who’d done her ID to make me a fake proof of relationship? I’d still need to find the correct branch, but maybe if I went in person, it’d be easier to butter them up until they admitted whether Bagley had held an account.

Unless she’d used some sort of secondary business entity, so nothing was in her name.

Oh, Mother.

I dipped into the back to send Ian a text asking about Bagley’s accountant. Now that I knew she was omniscient, it felt wrong to text him where she could see.

A few minutes later, the shop’s door opened and Hannah came in, cheeks rosy as if she’d hurried over.

“Hi, Hannah,” I exclaimed, warming at the sight of her eagerness to come in.

“Hello, Hope.” She hung her jacket on the hanger by the door and came up to the counter with a folder in her hands. “How are things?”

“Most excellent now that my favorite repeat customer is here.”

Hannah laughed. “What about the day’s special then?”

“Coming up!”

I prepared her tea and served it in one of the special mugs reserved for my special clients.

She wrapped her hands around the mug and shivered. “Brr. It’s cold today.”

“Wonderful.”

Business would pick up for sure.

---