The Way You Say My Name Ch. 07

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Dillon had known Henry Lee for most of his life, as had Jamie. The man was one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people Dillon had ever met. He was also a bitter enemy of Dillon’s father, having been the subject of one of Douglas Carver’s gay bashing crusades. Dillon was a bit worried that Mr. Lee might hold it against him, but the warm smile Lee extended to him and Jamie told him otherwise. The old saying must be true, then. The enemy of your enemy really is your friend.

Jamie said, “Actually, you can help us, Mr. Lee, if you aren’t busy.”

Again, Lee smiled. “Not at all. How can I help?”

Jamie fished his key out of his pocket. “My friend had a safe deposit box. When he d--” Jamie took a deep breath. “When he died, he left the contents to me. I have the will, if you need to see it.”

“That won’t be necessary, James. The key is enough.” Mr. Lee motioned for them to follow him to his office. Once there he opened a strong box located on top of his filing cabinet and searched for the matching key. As he did so, he said, “By the way, Dillon, I heard about what happened with your father.” He stopped the search long enough to give Dillon a look that was two parts understanding, one part pity. “It saddens me that you had to suffer through that, Dillon, and if there’s anything my partner or I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir.”

Lee nodded, then said, “Ah ha.” He held up the key. “Found it. If the two of you will follow me, I’ll fit my key in first, then leave you to open the box in privacy.”

The vault was little more than a metal box with a table and a couple of chairs. Mr. Lee pulled box number five sixty seven from its perch and placed it on the table. After unlocking his side, Mr. Lee waited until Jamie popped the latch, offered his regrets to Jamie about Ben, and then slipped out to give them privacy.

Dillon sat across from Jamie, watching him for any sign of distress as he removed the lid and rifled through the contents. Dillon could see two envelopes, one manila, the other a white, legal sized paper with the D.M.V.’s seal on it, the car title, he guessed. He could also see a brown paper sack--filled and folded--taking up the other end of the box.

Jamie sat the envelopes aside and reached for the sack. He upended it, spilling the contents on the table. Dillon stared in blank-faced astonishment as cluster after cluster of bank-banded, one-hundred-dollar bills spilled out.

Jamie’s hands were shaking. “Good God.”

Well put. Dillon had never seen that much cash in his life. Jamie said, “Would you count it please, Dillon? I can’t think.”

Dillon nodded and went through each stack of bills, putting them back in the sack as he went. When he was done, Dillon placed the bag back on the table and breathed, “Finished.”

“What’s the verdict? How much was there?”

Dillon said, “You aren’t gonna believe it. Hell, I counted it, and I don’t believe it.”

“How much?”

“Give or take a hundred, I’d say you’ve got about forty-two thousand dollars on your hands.”

{To Be Continued}

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