“Who is Chip Fenton?” Zach asked, curious.

Xavier winked at him. “His father owns the Inter Commerce and Trade Bank and made Chip its chief operating officer recently…” He lifted his index finger and pointed to his cell phone. “Hey, Chip! It’s Xavier Eamon. How are you?”

~ ~ ~

An hour later Zach and Xavier stood waiting at the side entrance of the bank, while somebody unlocked the door from the inside. Apparently, the predicament Xavier had helped Chip out of had been a big one, because he’d finally agreed—grudgingly—to give them the information they sought.

When Chip, a wiry man in his early forties ushered them into the building, he warned, “If my father gets wind of this, he’s going to disinherit me. And I don’t even want to talk about what the police are going to do. To disclose confidential banking information is a crime.”

“No worries, Chip,” Xavier tried to ease his concerns, “this’ll remain between us. We only want to know who this guy is. Nobody will ever find out how we got this information.”

Chip nodded, still nervous. “I hope so. This way. I’ve already gotten the file out. There isn’t much.” He led them to an office on the second floor, where he grabbed a manila folder from a desk. “Here.”

Impatiently, Zach took it and leafed through it. On the application to open a bank account there was the applicant’s address and telephone number. Zach noted it down and continued perusing the file. He noticed a copy of a driver’s license. He looked closer, staring at the photo.

“I need more light,” he demanded and rushed to the desk.

Chip switched on the desk light, and Zach held the copy of the driver’s license underneath it.

“Son of a gun!”

Xavier looked over his shoulder. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Zach turned around. “The guy looks like my twin brother. And I can assure you, I’d know if I had a brother.”

“Let me see.” Chip snatched the file and looked at it. “That’s crazy! And you’re sure you didn’t open the bank account yourself?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hmm.” Chip rubbed his chin. “I think I know how we can find out for certain.”

“How?” Xavier asked.

“The cameras in the bank.” He searched for something in the file. “Oh, here. The account was opened on the 17th of last month. Here’s the stamp with the time of day. Let me have a look at the surveillance video from that day and time. Miss Wollencraft was the one dealing with the new account. Her cubicle is on the first floor.” He motioned them to follow him. “The recordings are kept on the 3rd floor.”

Zach’s heart beat out of control. Who was this man who clearly looked similar to him? He could hardly wait as Chip led them to the control room and found the recordings for the 17th of the previous month. He wound them to the time of day when the account had been opened and pointed to a monitor, where the event unfolded.

“Here, that’s Miss Wollencraft sitting at her desk.” Chip pointed to an elderly lady with glasses. He advanced the recording until a man appeared.

“Stop,” Zach ordered. “Can you zoom in on him?”

“Sure.” Chip adjusted the picture so that the man was easier to see.

Zach whistled through his teeth. “That’s him. My doppelganger.” They watched in doubletime as the man who called himself John Miller opened the bank account and then rose from the desk.

Chip was about to switch off the recording, when Zach stopped him. “No. What’s he doing there?” He pointed to the monitor, where the man walked to a board on the wall and stopped in front of it.

“That’s our community board. We allow the people from the neighborhood to post notes there, you know, for events, to sell stuff, or find a babysitter.”

Zach watched as John Miller pulled a postcard from his jacket pocket and pinned it to the board.

“Do you see that? Is that still hanging there today?” He looked at Chip, who instantly pointed to another monitor.

“That’s the live feed from our entrance hall.” He typed something into the keyboard and zoomed in on the board. “Here it is.”

Zach stared at the postcard. Then he exchanged a look with Xavier and grinned. “Looks like Mr. Miller is an actor and currently appearing in a play in Greenwich Village. Are you in the mood to go see a play tomorrow night, Xavier?”

His friend grinned. “Don’t you know I love supporting local artists?”