Chapter 22

After much discussion, the Bank Manager finally said, “I’m sorry Miss Post. I can not let you do that with our money,”

“I have no intention of using your money. I’m going to use my money.”

“No ... you’re not ... when you made your deposit you were, for all intent and purpose, giving us the money for us to invest. In other words ... it’s our money.”

“Your last word?”

“My last word.”

“Hmm.”

“Good day,” he said. That wasn’t the Good day of confirmation. It was the Good Day of get the fuck out of my office.

I shrugged, got to my feet and peacefully left.

As the door to his office swung closed, I heard the manager mutter, “Fucking wetbacks.”

“Come on, el Patrón. I have an idea.”

“I do, too.” He chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant chuckle.

It sounded evil. Somebody is in deep doodoo. I have a feeling my idea is considerably more legal than his.

<You’re being followed.>

“We’re being followed?” I asked.

“What?” said el Patrón.

“We’re being followed,” I said. Fuck, you guys ... you’re going to get me in trouble.

<You covered it well.>

“Let’s go get my car and go home.” That was just loud enough for the ill-fitting suit to hear. He was standing next to us while gazing at women’s corsets on display in a dusty store window. Nothing suspicious about that.

We stopped in at the Edwards ... John Q Senior’s hotel and his son Johnny’s pawnshop. Where I bought all those guitars ... lest you forget. We chatted with Johnny and played a few with John. I left el Patrón at the bench and strolled down to the Spur. My Vega was parked out front ... just like Bobby told me to. I opened the door and hollered at Bobby.

“Hey, Bobby. When is the Circuit Court Judge in town?”

From the counter, came a voice. “Who wants to know?”

“You must be her,” I said.

Bobby said, “Judge Armbrewster, Karen Post. Karen, Judge Armbrewster.” To no one in particular he said, “My civic duty for the year.” Everyone at the counter stools laughed.

The fella seated next to the Judge looked like he might be guilty of something and stood. He paid and I slipped onto the vacant stool.

“Pleased,” she said.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, I haven’t spun my tale of woe,” I said.

“Spill it.”

“The bank won’t let me have my money,” I said.

“How much?”

“On deposit or how much to I want?” I said.

“Either or both,” Her Honor said.

“Lessee ... it’s been on deposit for 9 months ... I don’t know what the interest rate is ... but last month the payout was a little more than Eight Hundred Thousand.”

I probably shouldn’t have sprung it on her like that because she blew coffee out her nose.

“I sunk it back in my account,” I said... “What?”

“How much more?”

“Fifty thousand,” I said.

“What do you do?”

“Lessee. For the foreseeable future I’m playing lead guitar in Bobby’s band...”

Bobby said, “I’m lucky to have her ... she’s good.”

“And mining my creek behind my house.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Bobby. “Find any gold?”

“Rocks and mud,” I said.

“Figures ... What?” said the judge

“What What?” I stammered, “Oh ... the principal? One hundred sixty.”