The Teller
A lonely old man with $1 million saved. A desperate bank teller who takes it when he dies. But grabbing a million that isn’t yours can cost you…way more.
Elaine Kelly – a sweet-natured, dutiful young bank teller at a branch in Queens, NY -- struggles to pay her bills and care for her dying mother.
Elaine has a regular customer – old Mr. Desirio – who comes in every week, waits in line for Elaine, and makes his deposit. He’s clearly all alone in the world –it’s just him and his savings. 1.3 million dollars, to be precise.
When lonely old Desirio is hit and killed by a delivery truck while crossing the busy street in front of the bank, Elaine impulsively switches his savings to her own account. But the truck hitting the old man was no accident. And he wasn’t just some lonely old man. And Elaine is in a world of trouble.
“Stone’s plotting is tight as a drum, and his writing lean, with short, staccato sentences that create an immediate and immersive experience. Fans of Stone’s other suspense titles will be thrilled, and newcomers will scramble for more.”
— Library Journal
“Stone’s excellent writing triumphs…”
— Kirkus Reviews
Sample of The Teller
Always dressed the same.
That same unwashed black raincoat. That same black hat. The wrinkled pants and frayed pant cuffs and scuffed-up black shoes.
The unchanging routine of someone with nothing else to do, no one else to talk to, nowhere else to go.
He shuffles into the bank branch once a week or so, comes in from the busy chaotic commercial boulevard outside – traffic snarled, horns honking, sidewalks packed and hot – into the sudden coolness and serenity and pristine cleanliness of the bank branch, with its oddly holy silence – high-ceilinged and church-like – except for the clicking of heels on bare buffed floor and of fingers on terminals.
He shuffles dutifully into the roped line, but waits for her. Clearly, to exchange a few words. She isn’t sure exactly when he started coming in, or when he started to wait for her. Some other customers do too. A couple of shy young men with eagerness in their eyes. An older woman who loves to chat. And what does it hurt her to give them each a quick, warm smile, brighten their day a little, take their minds off the fact that the money they’re putting in is already spent, that they can’t pay their bills – like herself, like most of them.
Except him, of course.
She blinked the first time she saw it. A conventional, no-frills, old-fashioned savings account with over a million dollars in it. Every shuffling visit, he would make a deposit. Never spending a dime of it, as far as she can tell. The balance has only grown.