One of them had just finished with a customer, a brief gap before the next person stepped up. He got up and walked over. The teller was young, already reaching for the next customer’s paperwork. He looked up when Elias approached. “Sir, if you’re making a transaction you’ll need to join the —”
“I’m not here for a transaction.” Elias kept his voice low but he could hear something fraying at the edges of it. “I have an appointment with Mr. Fitch. I’ve been waiting since half past nine. It’s about my late wife’s account — she passed in March, someone from the bank called and asked me to come in.” He glanced toward the corridor. “I just watched a man walk in off the street and get taken straight through. I’ve been here two hours.”