Irene approaches the teller with trepidation, even though she has never seen the young woman before. She’s Asian and far younger than either Cash or Baker, which is good. Irene craves anonymity. The last thing she wants is to deal with someone who knows her family, even slightly. Irene checks the woman’s name plate: JOSEPHINE.

“Good afternoon, Josephine,” Irene says. She stretches her face into a smile, but she suspects it looks like a grimace. “I have some questions about my account.”

“Certainly,” Josephine says. She accepts the statement from Irene, then starts tapping at her computer keyboard. “Let me just bring this up on my screen.” She pauses. Her eyes grow wide.

What? Irene thinks. She’s worried she’s going to be exposed on the spot. She’d have to say, I’m here because my husband died under mysterious circumstances. I’ve just discovered he had a second life but I was never suspicious because, honestly, Josephine, I paid very little attention to him. And I know next to nothing about our current financial situation.

“You’re a valued and trusted account holder here at Federal Republic,” Josephine says. “With us since 2006?”

“Yes,” Irene says. She points to the amounts she underlined on the statement. “I was wondering if you could tell me where these two amounts were wired from? I don’t see any other account number or the name of the bank.”

Josephine checks the amounts on the statement, then blinks at her screen. “You’re referring to the seventy-five-hundred-dollar deposit on Monday, December tenth, and the seventy-five-hundred-dollar deposit on Monday, December twenty-fourth?” Josephine’s voice is very loud, Irene thinks. She seems to be intentionally drawing attention to her teller window. Irene quickly casts a glance around the bank. She lives in mortal fear of seeing someone she knows.

“Yes,” Irene whispers, trying to telegraph the delicate nature of the situation.

“Those deposits were made in cash,” Josephine announces brightly.

“Cash?” Irene says. She nearly adds: You mean to tell me Russ walked in here with seventy-five hundred dollars on his person and then did it again two weeks later?

“Yes, cash!” Josephine says with such gusto that Irene thinks, Why not just broadcast over the bank’s PA system that Russell Steele was a drug dealer?

“Okay,” Irene says. “Thank you. One more quick question.” She leans in, locking eyes with Josephine, hoping that Josephine will finally understand the need for discretion. “Are there any other accounts at this bank under my name or my husband’s name?”

Josephine pulls back a couple of inches. “Do you have the account numbers?”

“I don’t,” Irene says. She’s trying to choose her words carefully here, though really what she’s tempted to do is tell young Josephine a cautionary tale: I let my husband take over our finances and now I don’t know what I do or don’t have! “I think I may have a second account here, one I haven’t been keeping close tabs on. Would you be able to check using my name or my husband’s name, our address, or our Social Security numbers?” Here, Irene slides Josephine a piece of paper with both Socials clearly labeled. “I can’t find any paperwork on our other accounts but it’s a new year, so one resolution I made was to figure this out.”