Return of the Dixie Deb Read Online Free PDF Page B

okay?” he whispered to the manager beside him.
    “Wilbur Duffy? Yes, he’s fine. All this is probably just jump-starting his pacemaker. It’ll give him something to talk about at the V.F.W. fish fry this weekend.”
    Jan’s gloves were giving her trouble with the latches on the briefcase. As he moved toward the counter to bail her out, the older man actually reached over to help her, sliding his hands down hers.
    Everything secured, she looked back to nod at him. Under her fingertip veil, she looked as pale as she had facing Andrews back in Atlanta.
    He checked the clock as he held the door for her. Seven minutes. Not bad. They’d been aiming for ten or under.
    The car was where he’d positioned it, at the edge of the lot, front end pointed out toward the alley.
    As the rear door swung shut behind them, he could hear noise erupt inside.
    “Call the police! Call 911!” He thought he could hear Jan’s teller calling as the manager tried to say something.
    “Do you know who that was?”
    Jan’s elderly admirer was huffing and puffing.
    “Do you know? She’s back. That was her. That was the…”
    ****
    She thought Mac’s friend looked more relaxed this time as he let the man into their room. Derossiers gave her a quick smile and slapped Mac on the back as she finished combing out her damp hair.
    “Better day today, wasn’t it? A smooth operation, don’t you think?”
    “Was from our end.” Mac looked over to where she was sitting.
    “Well, better than the first time. No one tried to mace us today. We didn’t give anyone a heart attack, did we? The teller’s face was beet red and that elderly customer was breathing like a steam engine.”
    “Everyone’s all right. The old gentleman was enjoying his time in the spotlight when I called Whittaker. The local news crews were setting things up to do interviews once officials cut those involved loose. We may get some decent coverage this time.”
    “What about the surveillance camera footage?” Mac asked. “Was it usable?”
    “It looked okay. The tech booted it up and was running it.” Derossiers pulled a chair away from the desk, turned it around, and straddled it. “Some good pictures of our new Dixie Deb. It should attract airplay around the area.”
    “Thanks.” Jan made a face and got up to rummage in her bag for conditioner.
    “Mac, why don’t you walk me through how it went down today?”
    “Just as planned.” Mac took a seat on one of the beds and leaned forward. “We got into town in plenty of time, drove past the bank, checked the parking lot again, and drove around for a while to relax. About a quarter of, we headed back and were in position by noon. The rear entryway was open and the bank manager was standing at the end of the hall when we entered. She gave me the high sign and we proceeded. It was evident she was nervous, but keeping it under control. Hopefully, no one caught on that she knew something was going to happen. There was just the one teller on duty with the older customer.”
    She listened with half an ear as she worked conditioner into her scalp. The beautician the Bureau had sent her to back in Atlanta had been full of styling suggestions and tips. Before she left the salon, she’d been armed with more styling gel, hot rollers, shampoo, conditioner, detangler, brushes, a curling iron, and hair spray than she’d known existed. Apparently it was all considered as necessary as McKenzie’s dark glasses and concealed weapon.
    She capped her conditioner and studied her nails. She’d need another manicure soon. The temptation to nibble on a nail in times of crisis had been too much to resist.
    It was reassuring that as “tarted” up as she was now, no one who’d known Jan Thimmons in her previous existences as tomboy, high school all-state volleyball player; dean’s list college student; or independent businesswoman would recognize her. She settled back in the chair and watched Mac and Jake. About the same age, there