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“Why not?” he asked, slamming his hand down on the wood counter.
“I’m sorry to hear of your brother’s passing, and especially in such a fashion, but the account doesn’t belong to you.” The teller, Rob Simms, who we knew from many a night of cards over the long winter, was remarkably calm considering the amount of patience Thomkins required. He was an asshole unlike any I had met before, and I’d met many.
Being in a small town, and a small town cut off from the world for half the year, only made the man even worse since there was no escape from him. I had to imagine the number of people who wanted to shoot him. The sheriff would no doubt award the man—or my sister, Piper—a medal instead of a stint behind bars for the task.
“He’s dead. Of course it belongs to me and Curtis.”
I glanced at Knox, who rolled his eyes.
There were three Thomkins brothers. Melvin Thomkins had died in a rock slide just the week before. A severe thunderstorm had blown through and the waterlogged ground had given way. Rocks and mud had wiped out the man’s house as he slept. I had to hope he hadn’t awoken and had died instantly. Remnants of the home were visible, but not much. There were no remnants of Melvin. Curtis, the youngest of the three, was the town’s schoolteacher. And the one before us complaining was the town’s pest. He didn’t work, for he had some money on his own, and that had him interested in the town council’s activities, and everyone else’s. No one called him anything but his last name and I had to admit, I didn’t even know what his first name was.
The teller shook his head. “No, sir. As you know, as the entire town knows, he had himself a mail order bride. Your brother Melvin, I mean.”
“Yes, I know which brother had sent for a bride,” Thomkins countered. “What about her?”
“Well, she’s his bride, legally and such, which means the money’s hers.”
“What?” I saw Thomkins’ fingers turn white where they gripped the edge of the counter.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you.” The teller offered a crisp nod and looked over Thomkins’ shoulder to me and Knox. Clearly, he was not interested in arguing further with the man, especially about something that was a legal matter and not banking related.
“Need to withdraw some funds,” I said. Someone else came into the bank and I nodded his way.
Thomkins didn’t move from his spot before the counter, but turned and narrowed his beady eyes at me and Knox. He was a foot shorter than we were and from our vantage, we could see more of his bald head than most. The hair he did have was fair, which didn’t help him any with regards to covering that challenge.
“Sorry for your loss, Thomkins,” Knox offered. “Your brother was a nice man.”
He had been, too. How Melvin had gotten all the personality and kind demeanor for all three brothers, I had no idea. It mattered not, except Curtis Thomkins taught the children of Slate Springs. Surely a day in his classroom wasn’t overly pleasant. I remembered being in the schoolroom. While I hadn’t liked being cooped up, looking at the lovely Miss Carmichael all day had certainly made it easier. As for her, with five Dare boys to teach, she’d probably gone home every night and drank heavily.
“Would you excuse us, Mr. Thomkins? It’s a little difficult to make a transaction with other customers with you standing there.”
Thomkins looked to me and Knox and saw the other man waiting as well. His cheeks were florid and his eyes narrowed, most likely upset at being overheard. He muttered beneath his breath and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. It was no wonder the glass on it didn’t break.
“Sorry about that,” Rob told us as we stepped forward. While his voice was chagrined, I was sure he was just glad to see the back of the man.
“Not your fault,” Knox told him.
I shared the amount I wished to withdraw and as he was collecting the bills, Rob made small talk. “Headed down to Jasper?”
I nodded. “Collecting more supplies. Just spent our first winter here and I feel like a squirrel collecting nuts before winter comes again.”
Rob laughed and counted out the money. I took it off the counter and put it away. “Need us to pick up anything for you?”
We didn’t mind being neighborly.
“Not this time, thanks. But you could see about Melvin Thomkins’ widow.”
Knox leaned against the counter. “Oh?”
“You heard him.” Rob lifted his chin toward the door, indicating Thomkins’ angry retreat. “That woman stands between him and a large sum of money.”
“Melvin’s bride is a wealthy widow and doesn’t even know it,” I said.
Rob nodded. “Exactly.” The teller was married and had two small children, so he was concerned for the woman just because he was a nice person, not because he was after her newfound fortune. “While Thomkins is married—” he paused, obviously thinking of the man’s poor wife, Agnes, “—his brother Curtis isn’t.”
He gave us both a pointed look.
I understood, and when Knox nodded, I knew he did, too.
