Page 105 of Luck of the Devil
My heart hammered in my chest as I opened the lid, trying to prepare myself for whatever I might find.
The box revealed a manila envelope with my name written in my mother’s neat handwriting in the center. I pulled it out and opened the flap, revealing a thick stack of documents. I removed the stack, not surprised to see the original copy of her new will on top. I turned it over onto the table, about to examine the next page when the teller I’d met walked over to the table outside the vault with an older woman following close behind her.
I stared in shock as I realized it was the woman my father was possibly having an affair with.
The woman was staring openly at me, and when she saw recognition on my face, she abruptly turned and hurried for the exit.
I snatched up the stack of papers and started to go after her, but the teller blocked my path. “You can’t just go. We need to place your box back in the vault and return your key.”
“That’s okay,” I said, trying to get dodge around her. “I don’t need it anymore.”
She blocked me again. “Maybe so, but we need to follow the rules.”
The woman was already out the door, and I was desperate to catch up to her, so I shoved the teller aside and ran for the double glass doors. But I stopped abruptly outside the bank, because there was no sign of her. Not even a car pulling out of the parking lot.
How could I get this close and lose her?
I ran my hand over my head as I scanned the area again, forcing myself to accept she was gone.
I went back inside and came face to face with the fuming teller.
“Who was that woman?” I asked.
“What woman?” she snapped.
“The woman who was just here and ran out.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes blazing as she shot me a glare. “I’m not allowed to divulge confidential information.”
“I’m not asking you to show me the contents of her box,” I said, getting pissed. “I just want to know who she was.”
“And as I told you—” the teller spat.
“Is there a problem?” Jill, the assistant manager, asked.
The teller flung her hand toward me in disgust. “This woman is demanding to know personal and confidential information about a customer. And of course, I refused to tell her. Then she threw a fit.”
I adamantly shook my head. “That’s not what happened, but the woman who was just here might have information about my mother’s death.”
The teller’s eyes widened.
“Why do you think she has information about her death?” Jill asked in a guarded tone.
“I can’t tell you much,” I said, then gestured to the teller. “Just as you can’t tell me much, but that woman was likely the last person to see my mother alive, and we have some questions. If you could give me any information that might help me locate her, it would be greatly beneficial.”
The teller gave her manager a questioning look.
“Frannie’s right,” Jill said regretfully. “We can’t give you any identifying information, but Frannie can tell you anything else she said.”
I quickly nodded.
Frannie made a face. “She didn’t even give her name. Just told me she needed in box one-seventy-two. She had a key.”
“That’s my mother’s box,” I said. “Did you remember that when she asked to get into the box?”
“I don’t memorize the box numbers,” Frannie said.
“Did she show you ID?” I asked.
