Страница 12 из 84
“Whoopee for you!” Leo shot back.
A
A
“But what if the bank teller looks at the check and sees that the routing number is wrong?” Tony asked.
“I guess you never saw that TV program, did you?” Leo asked. “The one where investigative reporters zip into a bank with a check that had written across it, ‘Don’t cash me, I’m a forged check, you effing moron.’ And the effing moron still cashed it.”
A
After the checks had dried out, Freddy sca
A
“My favorite part,” Leo said eagerly as he finished a ham sandwich and washed it down with a large swallow of beer.
Chapter 10
They’d decided that A
A number of the checks were made out to individuals, none for over $10,000, since that would require IRS notification. Because of that limit, they would have to move far too many personal checks to reach the $2.1 million mark to be practicable. Thus, the rest of the payees on the checks were businesses that A
Over a two–day period A
The first ten passes went very smoothly. A
Leo was, in turn, a businessman, a company gofer, a retiree and a lawyer, among others.
A
With the eleventh teller she confided, “I’ve had this consulting business for four years, and this is the biggest payment I’ve ever gotten. I worked my butt off for it.”
“Congratulations,” the female clerk said as she worked on the transaction. “Forty thousand dollars is a big payment.” The woman seemed to be scrutinizing the check and A
A
“My ex left me for a younger woman and cleaned out our accounts,” A
The woman’s demeanor changed, and she said in a low whisper, “I know exactly what you mean,” she said as she completed the deposit. “Twelve years of marriage, and my ex decides to trade me in for a new model too.”
“I wish we could just give them a pill that would train them right, you know?”
“Oh, I want to give my ex a pill, all right. A cyanide pill,” the clerk said.
A
The clerk hesitated. “Well, normally, there would be with a check this size.” She looked at A
“That’s great, I really appreciate it.”
“We girls have to stick together.”
“Yes, we do,” A
• • •
Meanwhile, Leo raced through his group of checks, usually not spending more than ten minutes at each bank. Speed was the key here, he knew. Speed without sloppiness, however. His method was typically to crack a joke, usually at his own expense, to break the ice with the teller.
“I wish that money was going into my personal account,” he told one clerk in his guise as a company gofer. “Then I could make my rent payment. Is there anyplace in this damn town that doesn’t want your firstborn for a security deposit on a one–bedroom?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” the teller answered sympathetically.