sup with the devil

Chapter 6

"Not according to the property list but there was a bank account number and a safety deposit key."

"And nobody's looked yet?"

"We're the friggin' detectives on the case, Jer. That's our job."

"Well then let's get our job done and we can all go home."

"Rita Cornell, remember?"

"Fine, then let's get the place tossed and we can all go and do our job and then go home." The big detective stormed around the room, kicking rubbish, looking behind pictures and on shelves, finding nothing, then headed for the door leaving his partner scowling at his broad back.

The bank was in a corner of a single story store with a manager and two tellers in a ten-business strip mall. A convenience store with so many posters on the windows it looked closed stood on one side and a pitifully drab hairdressing salon on the other. Inside, full bore advertising posters hung from the front of the counter advertising the absolute lowest rates for a long list of bank promotions.

Some kid, or a very short person, had applied a red marker moustache to the pretty young woman touting their benefits. Bettmeir crossed to the first teller and was pleased to see a security camera following his progress across the lobby; most of these small banks relied on fixed image, intermittent exposure on the entrance and maybe the back as well. Jerry helped himself to a handful of candies from a stand by the door.

"How are we today and how can I help you, sir?" Huge white teeth glared from a frame of ruby lipstick on an umber background.

"We are well, thankyou and you can help me by opening the safety deposit box for this account." Bettmeir slid a sheaf of papers across the counter, weighted down by his badge.

Bright teeth studied the badge and papers and pursed her huge lips. 'I'll have to get Mister Wattner to approve, if you'll just wait one minute."

Bettmeir smiled and took back his badge, watching the large bottom jiggle toward the tiny office in the corner.

"Is that a covetous look I see there, Ward?" Jerry offered him a candy, popping it in his own mouth when he refused.

"If I simply wanted comfort."

"Right." Jerry moved the candy to the side of his mouth and prepared a smile of his own as the teller returned with a pencil of a man wearing massive, black framed glasses.

Bettmeir flashed his badge again and introduced Jerry who beamed his own row of gleaming dentures on cue at the teller. She started to smile back but his intensity moved her back and to the side of the nerdy Wattner.

"Your papers seem to be in order, detective, if you'll follow Miss Shawzeen she'll be happy to open the designated box."

Jerry emitted a lewd groan, jockeying for position behind Miss Shawzeen.

The box slid out into Bettmeir's hands and he nodded toward a cubicle with a half door. "In there?"

Miss Shawzeen blinked lawn rake eyelashes and waddled ahead to open the door, stepping back as both men tried to squeeze in at the same time.

"Why don't you go first, Detective Asper?" Bettmeir ground out the invitation between clenched teeth.

"Just call for me when you're finished." Miss Shawzeen said, happily leaving the company of the two men.

"I think I'd be callin' for you before I finished," Jerry said quietly to her retreating back.

"How about wetting yourself down and concentrating on business." Bettmeir opened the box and looked inside—disappointed. "Nothing that takes a key." He picked through the contents, keeping a couple of slips of paper and tossing the rest on the table.

"What are the papers?" Jerry picked up a folded sheet, opened it and read aloud. "This is just personal insurance stuff. What else is there?"

"An address. 2317 Montrose Avenue."

"What's there?"

"Gee, Detective, I thought you'd never ask. How the hell should I know!"

"It was rhetorical, smartass. What's that other slip?"

"Well what we have here, Detective Asper is a list of names—men's names and numbers. What do you make of that?"

Jerry took the sheet and humphed. "Not a hell of a lot. Clients? Classmates? Relatives?"

"Clients I might accept but classmates? Relatives? Jeez, Asper, no wonder you're on the recruiting poster."

"You think?"

"I do."

"So it's clients then?"

"It's where I'd put my money."

"Oh Miss Shawzeen!" Jerry stepped out of the cubicle and held the door.