“I thought we agreed that you’d handle all your transactions through the bank! Carrying cash is an open invitation to the criminal element, remember?”
“What kind of a shakedown is going on here?” Weasel demanded, emerging from the door behind us. “This sure doesn’t look like a friendly chat to me!”
A crowd was starting to form around us as people on the street drifted over and shopkeepers emerged from their stores. None of them looked particularly happy . . . or friendly.
“I know you want to handle this yourself, little sister,” I murmured. “Would you mind if I at least showed my fangs to back some of this rabble off a ways? I want to get out of here alive, too.”
“NOW JUST HOLD ON, EVERYBODY’:’
Hoos was standing on the seat of his vending cart holding up restraining hands to the mob.
“This little lady has a legitimate bill she’s collecting for. That’s all. Now just ease off and go back to whatever you were doing. Can’t a man do a little business in private any more?”
That seemed to placate most of the onlookers, and they began to disperse slowly. Weasel and the bank manager didn’t budge.
“Let me see that bill,” the manager demanded. “Do you recall incurring this debt, Mr. Hoos?”
“Yes, I recall incurring this debt, Mr. Hoos,” Hoos said, mimicking the manager’s voice. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just pay it and the matter will be settled.”
“Well, this is most irregular. I don’t know why they didn’t simply follow regular channels and present their claim at the bank.”
“We did stop by the bank,” Tananda snapped. “All we got was a runaround.”