Alfonzo didn't know exactly what she was up to, but he didn’t really care. She was a steady customer that paid well and on time. She rented the cot from him each weeknight. Then every morning at five o'clock he woke his young unnamed guest and transformed her into Jean Harlow. He costumed her and released the reincarnated starlet back into the living world of the Citadel. It seemed like he was doing the men of the city a service. The process became a ritual. The strange arrangement may have seemed weird to anyone else, but it certainly wasn't the oddest thing he'd participated in during his gypsy travels. He could only imagine what she was up to but never asked. He wasn’t paid to.
Professor Langley was surprised how quickly the mysterious Witness X returned with results. She entered his office with a thick grocery bag containing enlarged photographs of documents.
He chose one and breezed through it quickly. He checked for clues of authenticity. He picked up another one. It had names and dates and Carson's signature. The third one seemed to indicate a federal crime. She wasn't lying. These were real! If she could keep this up, her crazy scheme could really work. They could take down Carson.
He stammered. “I can't believe you have access to this kind of material.”
She said. “They don't make it easy to get, but I am pretty resourceful.”
“Yes, yes I can see that.” He said while reading.
She asked. “Will these be useful?”
"Indubitably." He spoke as if from a daze. “These are incredible. You are a good student."
She smiled with pride. "There are a lot more where they came from."
He began sorting the contents of the bag, commenting to himself between discoveries. "Oh my… Well I’ll be…Would you look at that?"
He was lost in the contractual treasures. His awareness of Witness X drifted in and out.
She said. “I don’t think you need me anymore tonight. Why don’t I leave you with these to study? I’ll bring you back more on my next visit.”
“Quite right, my dear, quite right.” His attention was thoroughly absorbed by the documents.
She left him with her discovery and slipped away into the night.
For as nervous as Betty was when she started robbing the bank, digging through the secret files had become as routine as delivering coffee to Carson with a phony kiss. The entire charade was far easier than she imagined, and so was the heist. No one appeared to suspect a thing. Around the office she was just a dinghy secretary with a crush on her powerful boss.
Each night Betty visited the file room, she was meticulous in her search. She took time collecting pieces of connecting information. During her nocturnal perusals she ran across a wide array of interesting tidbits.
Apparently the bank had made a lot of money during Prohibition through nefarious means. These deals would have been crimes if it hadn't been repealed. There were lists and files on several speakeasies, including Razzles. It first opened its doors in 1921. At one point they had stills on the premises. Over time Razzles expanded into the pleasure dome it had become and according to their deposit history, their revenue was astronomical. Betty was shocked by their weekly income. During a typical weekend they raked in enough loot to buy back her family farm.
There seemed to no end to the Citadel Bank's entanglement. There were many international clients, including several dealings with German companies. She had fielded calls from them in her receptionist role. It was hard to figure out what they were up to since half the documents and contracts were written in German.
There was also something called Schadenfreude.
In a cache of real estate files, she discovered more information about the destroyed Paragon building. Clients, friends, and other Silver Spoons lined up to profit from inflated estimates for the unnecessary reconstruction project. Obviously, they took advantage of the WPA but she didn’t know if they actually broke a law. Apparently the tenants were considered collateral damage caught in the crossfire of progress.
She didn’t expect to find anything personal during her nightly bank invasions, but one surprised her. She discovered the actual deed to her family's farm amid some foreclosure papers. She held the crinkled document in her warm hands. Before this moment, her covert actions in the bank felt like a game, but this stripped the fun from the mischief. This discovery was all too real. She had possession of the deed at that moment and wanted to keep it.
She said. “I can’t believe I'm holding this.”
She thought she put a stoic's distance between her feelings and her acts of burglary, but she was distracted from her true task. She wanted to cancel the entire operation, take the deed and go home, but she couldn't let her wants overpower her needs in that matter. She knew she had to acquire it by legitimate means or she risked losing the farm forever. If she didn’t figure out a way to stop Carson, he would continue to spread misery to countless others. At least until he was dead. She tried to ignore the artifact from her past and concentrate on the investigation but couldn’t.
She leafed through the rest of the documents in the folder about her home. She was greeted by her father’s signature. The familial discovery penetrated her disguise and struck Betty's heart. His handwriting was bold and direct, nothing fancy, just like the man she remembered. Her chin quivered.
She was supposed to be Witness X, not Betty that night. It was too late. Her cover was blown. She felt exposed. She wanted to get out of there, but had to maintain her composure for just a few minutes more. She struggled to hear her internal, exit checklist over her screaming heart. Each night she made sure she left the environment in the same condition she encountered it. She thought of the file room as a sterile field that she could not contaminate with evidence of her presence. It was clean except for one thing. Reluctantly, she returned the deed to its cold prison.
She ran out of the bank and into the night.
Alfonzo was surprised to hear his unnamed guest return to the costume shop so early. She was clearly upset. He offered to help unmask her. He helped her into the dressing room chair. He peeled back the glamorous mask to reveal Betty's true face. It looked so sad. The Gypsy tried to console her but didn’t want to intrude into her life by asking a lot of questions. He said, "If you need me poppet I am here for you."
She broke down into his large arms. She cried extremely hard in a short burst then recovered. She became silent. She had to remember that she was supposed to go it alone. She couldn't risk involving anyone else. It was for their own good, and hers. She couldn't allow her emotions to compromise the secrecy of her lives. She pulled away from the gypsy and thanked him. She assured him that she was fine and excused herself. She took a long, hot shower then cried herself to sleep alone.
Betty and the Professor reviewed the material several times over the course of weeks. She didn’t set up regular meetings. He’d anxiously awaited her surprise visits and the packets full of goodies she'd bring. He would often linger at his office, waiting for this dark lady justice to reappear. The more she brought, the more excited he became. He reconstructed several crimes at once, but there were missing parts in every story line. It was frustrating to be so close, but all he could do was to sit and wait for more. He had no idea how to contact Witness X. All he could do was sit and wait night after night until she appeared again.