Mildred and the Bank Robbery -- fiction

"I know downsizing is hard, but did you have a good turn-out for your sale?" Carmichael asked as he opened the car door for Mildred.

"A good what?" she asked propping her cane against the console as she got in.

"A good sale? Were you able to sell everything you didn't want to keep?" He spoke more loudly.

"You've got to speak up, Dear. And, yes, I was able to sleep. She settled herself into the car seat and put her handbag on the floor at her feet.

"No, not sleep. Did you sell everything you didn't want to keep?" He closed her door and went around to the driver's side door.

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you over that radio."

He turned the radio off. "Mildred, are you wearing your hearing aids?" he asked pointing at his own ears.

"No. Forgot to get batteries, but I can hear well enough if you will speak up and speak clearly."

He made no further attempt at conversation. "I'll just let you off at the bank and run over to the pharmacy for a minute," Carmichael turned into the parking lot. "Would you like me to get anything for you?"

"That's all right, Dear, you can just let me out in front," Mildred said gathering her purse and cane.

"I'll pick you up some batteries," he said.

"You know, you might pick me up some batteries, if you don't mind. They know what size I use."

Mildred smiled at the tellers as she crossed the lobby. She never could remember that blonde girl's name. Ashley or Amy or something like that. The young black woman's name was Julia.

First thing in the morning when the bank was just opening was the best time of day to come. It was never crowded then. Come around closing time and you'd be lucky if there wasn't a line practically out the door. There were only two other patrons at the windows. She didn't know either of them. She didn't see the Renfro boy at all. He was her favorite teller. His father and her youngest son Jerry played on the same baseball team in high school. He was probably in the back.

She took her purse over to the counter against the wall. She seldom made deposits any more since her Social Security and annuity checks were set up on that direct deposit program. She resisted making the change, but it turned out she was wrong. Direct deposit really was more convenient and she hadn't had any problem with them losing her checks or depositing them in somebody else's account. A pleasant surprise, she must say.

Jerry had offered to fill out her deposit slip for her at home. He was a good boy. A really good help getting everything ready for the sale. But she didn't want to be a bother. Plus she didn't think it was safe to endorse the checks until she was at the bank. After all, anybody could cash them then.

She chose a deposit slip from the documents in cubbies at the back of the counter and rummaged in her purse for that silver and gold ballpoint her granddaughter Chelsea gave her for Christmas last year. She removed the oversized paper clip from the eleven checks and began carefully entering the information onto the correct lines of the deposit slip.

As she concentrated on the work at hand, three men entered the bank behind her. She didn't notice them. They wore black hoodies and distorted masks that looked like that painting by Edvard Munch. She knew his name, but she hadn't the vaguest idea which of the Scandinavian countries he was from. Or maybe he was Austrian.

"Everyone get up against that wall," the men ordered.

There must have been screams, but Mildred didn't notice. She made every effort to endorse each check with her best handwriting which was not as good as it had been when she was in school. She still had the certificate showing she'd won third place in penmanship in the state competition when she was in the fourth grade.

Using the calculator function on her cell phone she added the entries three times, coming up with the same total twice. Close enough, she decided. And kids these days didn't think someone her age could use electronics.

Before leaving, the masked men herded everyone but Mildred into the vault and closed the door. Why the robbers let her continue working at the counter no one would be able to explain.

She looped the handles of her bag over her left arm, gathered the completed deposit slip and the endorsed checks in one hand and her cane in the other, and turned toward the teller windows. The room was empty.

"Amy?" she called quietly. Or maybe it was Ashley. The two customers she didn't know were gone. Julia was gone. She walked toward the back of the bank. "Jared. Jared Renfro?"

Just then Carmichael came through the glass doors into the lobby, his face ashen. "Mildred, are you hurt?"

"Do what? Speak up, man. I can't hear a word you're saying." She looked around the room again. "Where is everyone?"

"The bank's been robbed." Carmichael shouted at her. "I saw them leave."

By then, the police had arrived and the bank employees and other patrons were being freed.

Carmichael helped her to a chair and got her a glass of water. "I got your hearing aid batteries," he said.

 

#atozchallenge