As we walked down Abenaki, I gave Pish the official tour of the town, such as it was. He noted all the empty storefronts and clucked his tongue. “This place has potential,” was all he said.
Shilo took off to meet up with McGill, (who had indeed warned Zeke and Gordy, on pain of legal punishment, to keep their mouths shut until everything was sorted out) so Pish and I strolled into the Autumn Vale Community Bank together. I allowed Pish to take the lead. Isadore looked nervous at the sight of me and my briefcase-carrying, Brooks Brothers–wearing companion, but Simon Grover, in his glass office, appeared oblivious, drinking coffee and reading the only local paper, the Ridley Ridge Record. We approached the teller window, just as Gogi Grace entered through the curved, glass doors.
Isadore tried a smile, but it looked ghastly, a rictus grin. “Ah, there is Mrs. Grace. You know, I had better look after her. Such a busy woman! How are you, Gogi?” she called out, straining to look over our shoulders. “How are you doing with that shocking book we’re reading in club?”
Gogi ignored Isadore as she examined Pish and met my gaze, eyebrows raised. I had a sense that she might already know what was happening from her son. “I’ll wait, Isadore. You look after Merry and her companion, first.”
Pish set his briefcase on the teller window ledge, opened it, and took out several bank records, and laid on top the envelope—now open—addressed to Turner Wynter Global Enterprises.
Through the barred teller’s window I said, “Miss Openshaw, this is Pish Lincoln, my financial adviser. He has questions regarding my uncle’s accounts. As Melvyn Wynter’s heir, I give you permission to tell him anything and to fully answer any questions he may have about accounts involving my uncle’s company.”
“I . . . I believe I already told you . . . I’m not sure—”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Openshaw,” he said comfortably, with much the manner of a genial doctor. “I’m a trained professional. Now, looking through Merry’s uncle’s records, we came upon odd references to all kinds of bank accounts opened under different names, some variations of Turner Construction and Turner Wynter Construction and even Wynter Estates.”
That was not quite true, beyond the one envelope with “Turner Wynter Global Enterprises” on it. We had done some guesswork, and Pish was an excellent bluffer. You do not want to play five-card stud with him, as many have discovered to their poverty. He may look like an effete art dealer, but he has a sharp and pliable mind, and a great poker face.
Miss Openshaw stoically held her tongue. Hoping the wire I was wearing was not visible, I said, “I just want to know what is going on, Miss Openshaw.” I watched her face, over which an array of expressions, from fear to indecision, played. “I’m sure you’re aware that Dinah Hooper was arrested yesterday for murder and attempted murder. She’s been talking. A lot. Of course, being the kind of woman she is, she’s been trying to shift the blame onto others for things she has done.”
That was all true. She was now trying to blame Isadore for everything, including my uncle’s murder. Isadore had been desperate to point me in the direction of Dinah, but didn’t have the guts to come right out and accuse her. I wanted to know why. “I keep thinking there is more to her staying in Autumn Vale, and her dealings with this bank and Turner Construction, than meets the eye. Do you have anything to say, or do we need to call in the feds and have them go over the bank records account by account, starting with anything labeled Turner or Wynter?” They were going to do that anyway, but she didn’t need to know that yet.
She folded. I mean that literally; she actually crumbled, as in, sank beneath the counter, wailing incoherently.
“Goodness. What’s this all about?” Gogi said with a glance at me. “I think it would be permissible for us to go behind the counter to help the poor woman,” she said.
By the time Simon Grover clued in that his teller was distressed, and had bumbled out, loudly asking what was going on, we were all behind the desk, helping Isadore to her feet and over to a chair by a desk.
“Why don’t you tell us what’s up, Miss Openshaw?” I asked, giving Gogi a look to keep her quiet.
Gogi satisfied her need to do something by getting a glass of water and offering it to Isadore, who gulped greedily, then waved it away.
“What’s going on here?” Grover blustered. “I’ll call the police. You people should not be behind . . . why, it’s trespassing!” He wailed on in the background, but no one paid any attention.