The Collectors (Camel Club 2)

“We girls have to stick together.”

“Yes, we do,” Annabelle said as she turned and walked out with her deposit slip showing her “company” to be $40,000 richer.

Meanwhile, Leo raced through his group of checks, usually not spending more than ten minutes at each bank. Speed was the key here, he knew. Speed without sloppiness, however. His method was typically to crack a joke, usually at his own expense, to break the ice with the teller.

“I wish that money was going into my personal account,” he told one clerk in his guise as a company gofer. “Then I could make my rent payment. Is there anyplace in this damn town that doesn’t want your firstborn for a security deposit on a one-bedroom?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” the teller answered sympathetically.

Leo went on, “I mean, I don’t even have a freaking one-bedroom. All I’ve got is a one-sleeper-sofa apartment.”

“You’re lucky. On what the bank pays I’m still living with my parents.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got about thirty years on you. With the way I’m going, by the time you’re running this place, I’ll be living with my parents.”

The teller laughed and handed Leo a deposit receipt for $38,000. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” the young man chided.

“Not to worry,” Leo replied, tucking the paper in his pocket and walking off whistling.

By later that afternoon they’d passed seventy-seven of the eighty checks, with Tony moving ten of them and growing more confident with each one.

“This is easy,” Tony declared in the van as he changed clothes along with Leo. Annabelle was behind a sheet strung up across part of the van doing the same thing. Tony added, “Those idiots just stand there and take every line you feed them. They never even look at the paper. I don’t know why anybody bothers robbing banks anymore.”

Annabelle poked her head over the top of the sheet. “We’ve got three more checks. We’ll each take one.”

“And watch your head when you get out of the van, Tony,” Leo said.

“Watch my head, what are you talking about?”

“I mean, it’s so big right now, it might not fit through the doors.”

“Why the hell do you keep giving me a hard time, Leo?”

“He’s giving you a hard time, Tony, because passing altered checks isn’t easy,” Annabelle said.

“Well, it is for me.”

Leo said, “That’s because Annabelle in her infinite wisdom gave you the easiest ones to pass.”

Tony whirled around to look at her. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” she said bluntly, her bare shoulders showing above the top of the sheet.

“I can take care of myself,” Tony shot back. “You don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Annabelle answered. “If you go down, you’ll take us with you.” Her eyes glittered at him for an instant and then relaxed. “Besides, it makes no sense to throw a talented con in over his head. That can do a lot more harm than good.”

She ducked down behind the sheet. With a little light coming in from the van’s tinted windows, the sheet was somewhat transparent. Tony stared at Annabelle’s silhouette as she shed her clothes and put others on.

Leo jabbed him in the ribs and growled, “Have some respect, kid.”

Tony turned slowly to look at him. “Damn,” he said quietly.

“What, you’ve never seen a beautiful woman undress before?”

“No. I mean, yes, I have.” He looked down at his hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Leo asked.

Tony looked up. “I think she just called me a talented con.”

CHAPTER 11

IT WAS THE LAST PASS. TONY was standing in front of the teller, a cute young Asian woman with shoulder-length black hair, flawless skin and walnut cheekbones. Clearly intrigued, Tony leaned closer and rested his arm on the counter.

“You lived here long?” he asked her.

“A few months; I moved here from Seattle.”

“Same sort of weather,” Tony said.

“Yes,” the woman answered, smiling as she worked away.

“I just moved here from Vegas,” Tony said. “Now, that’s a fun town.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Oh, man, it’s a blast. You’ve gotta go. And like they say, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” He looked at her expectantly. “I’d love to show you around.”

She looked at him disapprovingly. “I don’t even know you.”

“Okay, we don’t have to start with Vegas. Maybe we just start with lunch.”

She said defiantly, “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“As gorgeous as you are, you probably do. But that means I have to work all that much harder to make you forget him.”

The woman blushed and looked down, but now she was smiling again. “You’re crazy.” She hit some keys on her computer. “Okay, can I see some ID?”

“Only if you promise you won’t say no when I officially ask you out.”

She took the ID from him and let her finger graze his. He gave her another smile.

She glanced at the ID and looked puzzled. “I thought you said you just moved here from Vegas?”

“That’s right.”

“But your ID says Arizona.” She turned it around to show him. “And that really doesn’t look like you.”

Oh, crap! He’d pulled the wrong ID from his pocket. Despite Annabelle instructing him to only take one ID pack at a time, he’d stubbornly carried them all. In the photo his hair was blond and he had a small goatee and was wearing Ben Franklin eyeglasses.

“I lived in Arizona but worked in Vegas, it was cheaper,” he said quickly. “And I decided to change my style, new color, contact lenses. You know.”

As soon as he delivered these lame lines, he knew it was over.

The teller stared at the check, and her look became even more suspicious. “This is a California bank check and a California company, but the routing number is for New York. Why’s that?”

“Routing numbers? I don’t know anything about that,” Tony said, his voice now quavering. From her expression Tony knew the woman had already pronounced him guilty of bank fraud. She glanced in the direction of the security guard and placed the check and Tony’s fake ID down on the counter in front of her. “I’m going to have to call my manager over,” the teller began.

“What is going on here?” a low voice said sharply. “Excuse me.” The woman pushed Tony out of the way and confronted the teller. She was tall and plump with blond hair and dark roots. Her glasses were slim designer models hanging on a chain, and she was dressed in a purple blouse and black slacks.

She spoke quietly but firmly to the young woman behind the counter. “I’ve been standing here for ten minutes while you two play cutie-pie with each other. Is that the kind of service this bank provides? Why don’t we get your manager over here and see?”

The clerk took a step back, her eyes wide. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, I was just—”

“I know what you were just doing,” the woman interrupted. “I could hear it, everyone in the bank could hear you two flirting and discussing your love life.”

The clerk’s face reddened. “Ma’am, we were doing no such thing.”

The woman put her hands on the counter and leaned forward. “Oh, really, so when you were talking about boyfriends and Vegas and he was telling you how gorgeous you were, that was what, official bank business? Do you do that with all your customers? Would you like to talk to me about who I sleep with?”

“Ma’am, please, I—”

“Forget it. I’m done with this place.” The woman turned and stalked out.

Tony was already gone. Leo had steered him out a few seconds after the woman had appeared.

Annabelle joined them in the back of the van a minute later.