"Tell me, do you trust my brother?"
I hesitated, not sure what game he was playing. "As much as I have to."
He nodded. "My brother can be a real dick, but I still love him. I worry about him." He turned and waved to Ash, who was getting closer. "What will you do if my brother did kill your parents?"
I let my face go cold. "Whoever killed my parents will suffer the same fate."
Chapter Seven
No Extradition
PRESENT DAY
WE MET JIM at the bank the next morning and Ash used his clout to get a face-to-face with the president after the cashier proved less than helpful. Mr. Lemony, who, in an unfortunate coincidence had skin that resembled pale citrus and looked nearly jaundiced in his dark blue suit, and whose yellow hair and eyebrows did nothing to help that look, escorted the three of us into his office.
He sat behind his desk and Ash and I took the chairs in front of him while Jim stood arms crossed by the door, looking particularly sinister with his bald head and thorn and rose tattoos trailing down his neck into his tight black shirt. When he saw me looking he flexed his muscles and winked, and I blushed and turned back to Mr. Lemony and Ash.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Davenport? I trust your accounts with our bank are serving you well?" He fidgeted with his tie and his show of nerves reminded me again how much fear, respect and awe my soon-to-be husband commanded in others with his massive wealth and reputation.
"I'm actually not here about my accounts. They are fine."
Mr. Lemony let out a breath and his shoulders slumped imperceptibly. "Then what can I do for you and your…" He looked to me with a raised eyebrow.
"My fiancée, Miss Catelyn Travis."
"Of course. Congratulations to you both. And what can I do for you?"
"My brother was in here recently to withdraw a sizable amount of money. That kind of withdrawal would have taken time. I need to know how much he withdrew and if anyone else was with him at the time."
Mr. Lemony's hand hovered over his black desk phone, his fingers twitching, before pulling his hand back into his lap. "This is highly irregular. I feel it's better that I talk to the detective on the case in this instance. I'm terribly sorry for your loss, but it's bank policy not to give out information about one account holder to another unless they're also on the account. Even with family."
Ash smiled, not the warm, spine-melting smile he gave me, but the cold, chilly smile that made people scared to disobey him. "I understand completely. Actually, now that I have you here, I would like to discuss closing my accounts. I think my fiancée and I would get better service somewhere else. Can you get me the appropriate paperwork?"
Mr. Lemony's lemon-colored face turned white. "Oh, surely that isn't necessary, Mr. Davenport. We will do whatever we can to make your banking experience here the very best it can be. You're our most valued customer, of course."
Ash waited, silent, with a raised eyebrow, and Mr. Lemony sighed and picked up the receiver of his phone. "Miss Trindle, please join us in my office."
Jim stepped to the left to allow the petite banker into the office. With no other seats available other than a couch on the far wall, she stood by the desk, her eyes darting nervously to Jim and back to her boss. "Yes, Mr. Lemony?"
"Do you recall the day Jon Davenport came in to withdraw money from his accounts?"
"Yes." She turned to Ash and me. "You're his brother, aren't you? I'm so sorry about what happened. And at your wedding. That's just… terrible." Her brown eyes teared up and I wondered how well she knew Jon to be so affected by his death.
She noticed me looking at her and gave a sad smile. "Jon came in all the time to deposit money or talk investment strategies. He'd always bring in baked goods for the bankers and I was the one who managed his accounts. I didn't know him well, but what I knew of him was all good. He treated everyone here with a lot of respect."
I didn't know that about Jon, and it made my heart hurt a little to hear someone else speak about the kind of person he is—was. It was hard to remember him in past tense, hard to imagine that everything that seems so alive and present in the now will some day live only in the past and in memory.
Mr. Lemony searched his calendar and pointed to a date. "I remember him coming in because we had a birthday party for one of our tellers. He joined us for cake after filling out the paperwork."
"Was he alone?" I asked.
"Yes," Miss Trindle said. "But he kept texting someone and it seemed important."
"Did he behave differently than normal?" Ash asked. "Did he seem distracted or… just anything unusual?"
Mr. Lemony shook his head. "He seemed relaxed and happy to me."
"Did he say why he needed so much money?" I asked.