Betrayal - Fern Michaels [96]
“What? When?” Debbie shouted to the bank manager. “I’m coming down there right now.”
If she found out Don had managed to get access to her bank accounts, she’d throw his worthless ass out in the street. I don’t know why I keep him around anyway. He’s as useless as tits on a boar.
She raced down Highway 41 to the Sun Bank. Telling her she was overdrawn by $43,000! She knew to the penny how much money she had in her accounts. There was plenty to cover her expenses each month. She was not overdrawn. One of those teenyboppers that worked at the bank had screwed up her accounts. If she had to rip each and every hair out of that stupid bank manager’s head, she would. He’d assured her this wasn’t a mistake. He said that she herself had made the withdrawals.
She practically skidded into the bank parking lot. She raced inside the bank. They wouldn’t screw with her money. They were about to find out how pissed she was.
She entered the bank, bypassing several customers waiting in line. “Where is the manager? He just called me. You tell him Debbie Winter is here, and I want to see his ass now!” She slammed her fist down to emphasize just how mad she was. An older woman in line jumped. “Sorry,” Debbie muttered as she waited for the manager.
A small man, typical of what you’d imagine a bank manager would look like, came running out of the back office. For a minute, Debbie thought he was a dwarf. Damn, men keep getting smaller and smaller. What the hell happened to tall, dark, and handsome?
“Mrs. Winter? I’m Sheridan Finkel. Please, let’s go to my office.”
Sheridan Finkel? If she hadn’t been so upset, she would’ve laughed at the name.
“Mr. Tinkle, Finkel, whatever, I want to see these so-called major withdrawals I’m supposed to have made.”
They entered the typical square box—plain desk, two chairs, and a plant in the corner office—de rigueur for most banks. They must mass-produce this crap, Debbie thought as she sat down.
Finkel hit a few keys on his computer screen, then hit the Print button. “This is the most current printout of your account, Mrs. Winter. As you can see, most of the withdrawals were made using Internet access. I took the liberty of checking your banking history. You do use the online service quite often.” He gave her the papers.
She scanned them. “I did not take this much money out of my account! Where the hell is it? It didn’t just magically form legs and walk out of this bank. I want you to find out who took my money! If I find one of your tellers has dipped into my accounts, this bank will have my name on the sign. Do you understand, Mr. Finkel?” Debbie stood to leave. It didn’t matter what the papers read; she hadn’t made any withdrawals from either of her accounts.
“Mrs. Winter, the only other option you have is to make a deposit to cover the insufficient funds; otherwise, I’ll have to close your account permanently. Do you understand?”
“No! I don’t! I don’t care what you have to do to get my money back, I want it back in my account before the end of the day, or else I’m calling the Troubleshooters! They’ll have this on every news station in the state. You’ll have customers emptying out their accounts faster than I can say fraud. Do you understand?” Debbie peered into the little man’s face.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If not, I’ll be forced to call security. Please.”
“I’ll leave, little man, but I’m coming back with my attorney. You’ve not seen the last of me!” Debbie stormed out of the bank.
Kate observed this while she waited to open her new account. She now had over fifty thousand dollars to deposit, but she would wait until she had the account set up for Internet access. Then she would transfer Debbie’s money back into her bank, just a different account. She finished the paperwork required for opening new accounts. She would be able to view her transactions by two o’clock the next day. Payback