The Father Hunt

"I'm going to. Every month for twenty-two years Mrs. Elinor Denovo cashed a bank check for a thousand dollars. She always asked for and got it in hundred-dollar bills. That's where the contents of that box came from. She never spent a dollar of it. From your expression I suppose you're thinking this may be leading to something ugly, blackmail for instance, but it isn't. It's perfectly clean. The point is, we have assumed that Mrs. Denovo cashed the checks here, probably a hundred of them in nine years, and her daughter wants to know the name of the bank that drew them. She would also like to know if they were payable to Elinor Denovo, or to cash or bearer."

His eyes went to Amy and he thought he was going to ask her something, but returned to me. His face had cleared some, but he was still a banker and always would be. He spoke. "As you said, Mr. Goodwin, banks are choosy about giving out information regarding their customers. They should be."

"Sure. I wasn't crabbing."

"But since it's for Miss Denovo, and it's about her mother, I'm not going to, uh, hem and haw. I don't have to consult my staff to answer your questions. As a man of

wide experience, you probably know that it is considered proper and desirable for a bank official to keep informed about the-well, call it habits, of the customers. I have known about those checks cashed by Mrs. Denovo for several years. One each and every month. They were drawn by the Seaboard Bank and Trust Company, the main office on Broad Street, payable to bearer." He looked at Amy and back at me. "As a matter of fact, I tell you frankly that I'm obliged to you. Any banker, if someone walked in with a quarter of a million dollars in currency, would be… well, curious. He should be. You understand that. So I'm glad you told me… well, I'm obliged to you. And to you, Miss Denovo." He actually grinned- a real, frank grin. "A bank you can bank on. But that's all I can tell you about those checks because it's all I know."

"It's all we wanted."