A Lockdown Production
Sassy, audacious and independent, Portia DeLysle's impulse to help in any situation stirs up a troubling mix of guns, gangsters, gals, booze and money.
Enjoy some jazz from the era as well
Kitty sat across from the big desk, plucking the red gloves from her fingers slowly. Her crossed legs gave Karl an unencumbered view and she smiled at his distraction.
"He definitely is against the idea while going along with it, but I think he could prove troublesome shortly." Kitty picked up her drink glass and held it to her lips.
"Is that what you learned from your bim dyke friend?" Karl handled his wolfhound's ear and it snapped at him.
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"Mildred is not, as you so daintily describe, a dyke. And yes she is my bim. At least she doesn't treat me like he does you." A shoe came up pointing toward the dog.
"Fine, whatever you say. What else did you learn.?"
"Mildred is fine with the arrangement but she's right - or David Ashby is right - making huge cash deposits sets the bank's beezer twitching."
Karl shifted away from the growling hound and defensively lit a cigar.
"So what's she suggest?"
"Not dealing with Roland for one. He can only see dollar signs, and he's careless. You need your own bank, Karl, or at least a bank you can control."
". . . Yeah . . . yeah, that would be good. A bank I can control." He puffed on the cigar thoughtfully. "So, what about this Ashby, do we need to straighten him out?"
Kitty stood and gathered her things. "I think, if it isn't broke, don't fix it . . . yet."
"Okay. Tell Rose to get hold of Dennis on your way out. I want to talk about that bank idea." She smirked and told him he was welcome.
Karl made a face. "Thanks, Kitten. Get yourself some new shoes on me."
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David left the bank feeling like a scolded child. This plan would never work. When Rolly issued a cheque for almost the entire deposit the bank would see another reason for a red flag. He chose to head home instead of going back to work.
The Model T rocked to a stop by the curb and David stepped out, handing the fare back through the window. He plodded up the front step and let himself in to the lobby. He paused and stared at his mailbox. The door had been pried open and it was left bent up at the corner.
