Nothing was ever left to chance. Every move was carefully thought out, then rehearsed and rehearsed again and again. All possible contingencies were considered and dealt with. Nothing escaped Cromwell’s attention, down to the last detail. No bandit in the history of the United States, including Jesse James and Butch Cassidy put together, came close to matching him in the number of successful robberies he pulled off and the amount of loot he collected. Or the number of people killed.
At the mention of Bell’s name, Margaret’s mind traveled back to when they danced together at the Brown Palace Hotel. She cursed herself for wanting to reach out and touch him. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. She had known many men, a great number of them intimately. But none had affected her as much as when she was in Bell’s arms. It was a wave of yearning she could neither understand nor control. She began to wonder if she would ever see him again, knowing deep inside it would be extremely dangerous. If they ever did meet, he surely would learn her true identity and find a path to her brother Jacob.
“Let’s leave,” she said, angry at herself for allowing her emotions to lose control.
Cromwell saw the faraway look in her eyes but chose to ignore it. “As you wish. I’ll return tomorrow to oversee the finished results.”
They turned and walked through a door into the warehouse. Cromwell paused to lock the door and set a bar in place so no one could enter. Their footsteps echoed throughout the deserted interior of the building. The only furnishings were in one corner, two desks, and a counter that looked like the tellers’ windows at a bank.
“A pity you can’t lease this space out and put it to good use,” said Margaret, fussing with her hat that had tilted to one side of her head when the pin slipped out.
“I must have a place to park the boxcar,” Cromwell replied. “So long as it sits unnoticed on a siding, next to the loading dock of an empty warehouse whose owner cannot be traced, so much the better.”
She gave her brother a suspicious glance and said, “You have that look on again.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’re planning another robbery.”
“I can’t fool my own sister,” he said with a grin.
“I suppose it’s a waste of time trying to talk you into retiring from the robbery business.”
He took her hand and patted it. “A man can’t bear to give up a pursuit in which he excels.”
She sighed in defeat. “All right, where this time?”
“I haven’t decided yet. The first step is to make discreet inquiries in banking circles about payrolls. Then I have to select towns that have railroads and sidings for freight trains. The getaway is the most important part of the operation. Next is a study of the streets and location of the bank. Finally, I have to carefully plan the actual robbery itself, the timing and my disguises.”
Margaret stopped beside the desks and counter. “And this is where you rehearse.”
He nodded. “After our agents obtain a layout of the interior of the bank and I arrange the furnishings accordingly.”
“You have it down to a fine science.”
“I try,” he said loftily.
“Your method of operation is becoming too polished, too sophisticated,” she cautioned him.
He took her by the arm and gently squeezed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
17
BELL CAME TO THE OFFICE DIRECTLY FROM THE TRAIN and found Irvine and Curtis already in the conference room waiting for him. He could tell the news was good because there were no frowns or grim looks on their faces. The jovial mood was enhanced by Irvine smoking a cigar and Curtis pulling a silver cigarette case from his coat pocket. “You two seem to be in good spirits,” said Bell, setting down his suitcase.
“We found some leads,” Curtis said, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing earth-shattering, but a few small pieces to fit in the puzzle.”
“How about you, Isaac, did you turn up anything?” asked Irvine.
Before Bell could answer, Agnes Murphy entered the conference room carrying a tray with three cups and a coffeepot. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said sweetly, “but I thought you gentlemen might like some coffee.”
Bell took the tray from her and set it on the long table. “That’s very kind of you, Agnes.”
She turned and started for the door. “I’ll be right back.” In less than a minute, she returned with a sugar bowl and cream pitcher. “I didn’t forget. I just couldn’t carry it all.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” said Curtis with a broad smile, as he lightly kissed her on the cheek.
Bell and Irvine exchanged glances, smiling. They both knew that Curtis and Agnes were just pals and always teasing each other. Agnes gathered her skirts as she turned, left the conference room, and closed the door.
“Besides the coffee,” said Bell, “it was thoughtful of her to close the door.”
Curtis blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “She knows the score. Agnes has no more respect for Alexander than we do.”
“You were about to say…” Irvine prompted Bell.
“I discovered that, besides a missing finger, he probably has red hair. And rides a motorcycle, which he’s used on more than one robbery.” Bell reached into his pocket and lifted out a small silk sack, opened it, and spilled the cartridge out on the table. “We now know the Butcher Bandit uses a thirty-eight-caliber Colt automatic. This shell casing was found under a carpet. The killer somehow missed it since he hasn’t left any shells at his other bank hits. Sheriff Murphy of Bisbee was a smart man and had the county coroner remove the bullets from the murder victims. They all came from a thirty-eight Colt.”
“We can check sales of all thirty-eight Colt automatics,” said Curtis.
“There couldn’t be more than ten thousand of them,” Irvine replied sarcastically. “It would take ten agents years to check out every gun dealer, salesman, and hardware store owner who sells thirty-eight Colt automatics.”
“Art is right,” Bell said as he stared at the brass cartridge. “It would be a tremendous long shot.”
Curtis grinned like a fox. “Not if we have a lead to where the bandit hides out. Then we can check out dealers in the area.”
“Good thinking,” Bell agreed, not knowing what Curtis was about to reveal. “In the meantime, I’ll send it off to Chicago and see if our agency experts can pull any fingerprints.” He relaxed in a chair and tilted it back on two legs, propping a foot against the table. “Now, let me hear what you two have unearthed.”
Irvine opened a bound ledger and placed the book on the table in front of Bell and Curtis. “I hit pay dirt in Elkhorn, Nevada. They had recorded the serial numbers of the fifty-dollar bills in their vault the day before the robbery.”