“No, naturally, readers have to pay to receive the paper. It is a product, like everything else, and it does cost money to produce. But supporting print journalism in these troubled times is well worth the small subscription cost.”

“Cancel my subscription,” Coy said. “And I’m not paying money for a newspaper I never asked for in the first place and never even got.”

The woman’s voice hardened. “Then we will be forced to garnish your wages.”

“Try it.”

“As part of the extended First People’s family, I’m sure you realize that we—”

He hung up on her.

Looking out the front window, he saw that the paperboy had moved to the other side of the street. The little punk was attacking the Wallaces’ door, and Coy smiled, knowing that the couple was on vacation in California for a week. Served the brat right.

He went into the bedroom to get ready for work.

At the bank, the mood was somber. As it had been since Jimmy’s death. The teller’s murder had hit all of them hard. Ben was the only one who seemed unaffected, and try as he might, Coy could not forget the conversation he’d had with the manager immediately after First People’s Bank had agreed to work with them.

“We had to give something up.”

“What’s that?”

“Jimmy.”

The words seemed ominous now, and try as he might, he could come up with no interpretation other than the obvious one: Ben had known what was going to happen. For there was no doubt in Coy’s mind that First People’s was behind Jimmy’s death, no matter what anyone might say.

“They wanted him.”

The manager was not here today. It was a scheduled absence, a meeting of some sort, but each time the phone rang, a small part of Coy could not help thinking that it was the sheriff calling to tell them that Ben’s body had been discovered crucified on the Bank of America building.

He spent the first hour of the day going over the paperwork of two loan applicants he had met with yesterday. Only one of them actually qualified for the loan he was seeking, but Montgomery Community’s policy had shifted since its affiliation with The First People’s Bank, and under the new formulations, the applicant who qualified was scheduled to be turned down, while the one who was almost guaranteed to default within the next six months was to emerge from the process with flying colors. This was a dangerous road, Coy knew. He had no idea how Ben and the board could go along with this, and if Montgomery Community had been in trouble before, it was doubly in jeopardy now. First People’s might be backing them up, but there was no way the bank could remain anywhere close to solvent if it continued on this way.

His phone rang, and Coy picked it up.