Page 71 of Death is Familiar

After all, he did have the key to the safety deposit box, and a keen interest in taking his share.

Half.

†

“I’ve gotta say, summer agrees with you, Delilah.” Mads approached, hands in his pockets. “All that sweat is giving you a glow.”

I was sitting in the trunk of my rental car, feet dangling, when he finally decided to show up. “You’re late.” I popped to my feet and shut the trunk.

“You’re gonna give me shit for being,” he checked the time, “thirty minutes late after a twenty-hour drive?”

“Come on, we don’t want to keep the bank waiting.” I led the way, not once mentioning that we were, in fact, going to arrive five minutes early. When I booked the appointment, I’d accounted for the fact that a cross-country drive would have delays, but I wasn’t going to tell Mads that.

Entering the bank, we were hit by a blast of cold air. The sweat that accrued during our walk solidified in a cold, icy, sheet against my back.

My least favorite part about summer—wearing next to nothing to battle the heat, then being frozen to death when entering a building. And my least favorite part of the day was dealing with Mads. Which was saying something given how unpleasant my morning had been.

Our steps echoed as we crossed the floor to the only staffed teller booth. With only two people who appeared to be working, a teller and a dozing security guard, it all felt rather empty.

“So, this is it, huh?” Mads surveyed our surroundings. “A bank in the middle of nowhere. Never would have found this on my own.”

No duh. “You brought the key?”

He held it up with a flourish.

My response was a nod as we reached the teller, an older woman with a hearing aid poking out beneath her powder-white hair.

“Hello, hi there, we have an appointment.” I waited to make sure I had the woman’s attention before making my ask. The teller took a moment to look up. Her eyes magnified by her thick-lensed glasses, she blinked twice. “We’re here to visit a safety deposit box.”

“Yes, yes, you’re the one that called.” She pulled out a bundle of notes that looked like chicken scratch, and pointed to a particularly jagged set of lines. “The box of Lawrence James. You’re his sister?”

It had been a while, but I used to get that a lot. I pulled out my ID. “Delilah James.”

“Hm.” The old woman clucked to herself as she confirmed my ID with whatever was written in her form. “Resemblance doesn’t run in the family. Adopted, was he?”

Except when we were with our parents, people had always assumed that he was adopted, not me. I had almost forgotten how biased and disconnected people in smaller towns could be. “Nope.” She wasn’t going to get more than that.

“Hm.” She clucked again, eyes darting between me and Mads. “I’ll call Marlon for you.” I thought she was going to pick up the phone and dial the man, but instead she took a deep breath and shouted, “MARLON!”

I swear the sound reverberated off the plexiglass partition, and left a thrumming in my eardrums.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” Mads blinked back and stuck a finger in his ear, as I fought back a laugh at the absurdity of it. “You’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

The teller paid no attention to Mads, as a wisp of a man appeared from around the corner. Even though he must have been at least seventy he looked downright youthful next to the woman at the teller booth.

Marlon bounded over to Mads and me with a large smile on his face, which as far as I could tell was genuine. “Hello, hello! Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The teller held up her note and tapped at the illegible chicken scratch. “Ms. Delilah James and guest for safety deposit box number 128.”

Marlon clasped his hands at his waist. “Ah yes, the big dark fellow. Such a lovely man.” He got one pass on that. One. “This way if you please.” Then he shot like a dart down the hallway.

Boy, did the man walk fast. Like he drank twelve cups of coffee, fast. It felt like Mads and I were chasing him down the bank’s corridors and into the vault.

Marlon came to an abrupt stop as he input a code on an alarm. “You know when the dark fellow first came in, he really made an impression.”

And…. he said it again.

“His name was Lawrence, not the dark fellow.” Not something I’d think would need to be said in today’s day and age but… alas.