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on the check or contained credentials showing they worked for the company the check was made out to. Annabelle had instructed Leo and Tony to only carry one set of ID at a time. In case they were stopped, it would be difficult to talk their way out of a jam if they had eight aliases in their pockets.
    A number of the checks were made out to individuals, none for over $10,000, since that would require IRS notification. Because of that limit, they would have to move far too many personal checks to reach the $2.1 million mark to be practicable. Thus, the rest of the payees on the checks were businesses that Annabelle had set up accounts for at various banks. Company checks could be made out for over $10,000 without triggering interest from the IRS. But the hitch was no bank will cash a company check. The full amount has to be deposited. For that reason, over a period of months Annabelle had been depositing funds into and out of these accounts, to establish a track record. She well knew that banks tended to get antsy when freshly minted accounts all of a sudden started to throw off lots of cash—that just screamed money laundering.
    Over a two-day period Annabelle and Leo had grilled Tony on every conceivable obstacle he would face when passing the bad checks. They took turns playing the roles of tellers, managers, security guards and bank customers. Tony was a fast learner, and at the end of the two days they pronounced him ready to take his baby steps as a bad-check passer after he had watched Leo perform a few times for real.
    The first ten passes went very smoothly. Annabelle was a redhead at one, a blonde at another and a brunet at a third. The back of the van had been set up as a changing area with a small makeup table and mirror. After several passes she and Leo would hop in the van and alter their look on the way to the next bank. At some places she wore glasses, at another a scarf around her head, at another pants, sweatshirt and a ball cap. With the right makeup, clothing, padding and hair she could significantly change her appearance and age. She wore only flats, since her five-foot-nine-inch height was less noteworthy than one of six feet with heels on. And while she never looked at it, Annabelle was always conscious of the bank surveillance camera taking her glossy.
    Leo was, in turn, a businessman, a company gofer, a retiree and a lawyer, among others.
    Annabelle’s practiced delivery with the tellers was smooth, without a trace of apprehension. She immediately put the clerk at ease, talking about the person’s clothes or hair or how much she loved the beautiful city by the Bay, even with the gloomy weather.
    With the eleventh teller she confided, “I’ve had this consulting business for four years, and this is the biggest payment I’ve ever gotten. I worked my butt off for it.”
    “Congratulations,” the female clerk said as she worked on the transaction. “Forty thousand dollars
is
a big payment.” The woman seemed to be scrutinizing the check and Annabelle’s perfectly forged identification and corporate papers a bit too much.
    Annabelle noted the woman wasn’t wearing a wedding band but had worn one recently, because the skin was lighter where the ring would’ve been.
    “My ex left me for a younger woman and cleaned out our accounts,” Annabelle said bitterly. “I’ve had to build my whole life back. It hasn’t been easy. But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction, you know? I’ll take the damn alimony because I
earned
that. But he’s not controlling my life.”
    The woman’s demeanor changed, and she said in a low whisper, “I know
exactly
what you mean,” she said as she completed the deposit. “Twelve years of marriage, and my ex decides to trade me in for a new model too.”
    “I wish we could just give them a pill that would train them right, you know?”
    “Oh, I want to give my ex a pill, all right. A
cyanide
pill,” the clerk said.
    Annabelle glanced at the docs on