Part 5 (1/2)
”Did she say where she was going?”
”No, but her luggage was taken to the Union Station and placed on the one o'clock train for Phoenix and Los Angeles.”
This was not what Bell had expected. He cursed himself for letting her slip through his fingers.
Who really was Rose Manteca? Why would she take the train for Los Angeles when there was no record of her living there?
Then another thought began to tug on Bell's mind. Where would his nemesis strike next? He couldn't even begin to guess and he found it frustrating. He had always felt as if he was in control of his earlier cases. This one was different, too different.
8.
THE BLOND-HAIRED MAN WITH A THICK, YELLOW-BROWN, pomaded handlebar mustache had a prosperous appearance about him. After walking through the train depot, he settled into the backseat of the Model N Ford taxicab and enjoyed a beautiful, cloudless day as he viewed the sights of Salt Lake City nestled beneath the Wasatch Mountains. He was dressed in the neat, dandified fas.h.i.+on of the day, but with a sophisticated business look. He wore a silk top hat, a black, three-b.u.t.ton cutaway frock coat with vest and high rounded collar, and an elegant tie. His hands were encased in pearl gray kid gloves, and matching spats covered his midstep to just above the ankle over his shoes.
He leaned slightly forward as he stared from window to window, his hands gripping the handle of a sterling silver cane adorned with an eagle's head with a large beak on the end. Though it was innocent-looking, this cane was a gun with a long barrel and a trigger that folded out when a b.u.t.ton was pressed. It held a .44 caliber bullet whose sh.e.l.l could be ejected and a new cartridge inserted in the barrel from a small clip in the eagle's tail.
The cab pa.s.sed the church of the Latter-Day Saints-the Temple, Tabernacle, and a.s.sembly Hall. Built between 1853 and 1893, the six-foot-thick gray granite walls were topped by six spires, the highest bearing a copper statue of the angel Moroni.
After leaving Temple Square, the cab turned down 300 South Street and came to a stop in front of the Peery Hotel. Designed with European architecture only a short time earlier during the mining boom, it was Salt Lake City's premier hostelry. As the doorman retrieved the luggage from the rear of the cab, the man ordered the driver to wait. Then he entered through the cut-gla.s.s double doors into the stately lobby.
The desk clerk smiled and nodded. Then he glanced at a large clock standing in the lobby and said, ”Mr. Eliah Ruskin, I presume.”
”You presume right,” answered the man.
”Two-fifteen. You're right on time, sir.”
”For once, my train was punctual.”
”If you will please sign the register.”
”I have to leave for an appointment. Will you see my luggage is taken to my room and my clothing placed in the closet and drawers?”
”Yes, Mr. Ruskin. I will personally see to it.” The clerk leaned over the registry desk and nodded at a large leather suitcase set securely between Ruskin's legs. ”Would you like me to send your bag up to your room?”
”No, thank you. I'll be taking it with me.”
Ruskin turned and walked out to the curb, cane in one hand, the other clutching the handle of the suitcase, the weight of its contents tilting his right shoulder downward. He pushed it through the cab's door and reentered the backseat.
The desk clerk thought it odd that Ruskin hadn't left the bag in the cab. He wondered why Ruskin would lug such a heavy case into the lobby and then carry it outside again. He speculated that something of value must be inside. His thought soon faded when another guest showed up to register.
Eight minutes later, Ruskin stepped from the cab, paid the driver, and entered the Salt Lake Bank & Trust lobby. He walked to the security guard who was seated in a chair near the door.
”I have an appointment with Mr. Cardoza.”
The guard rose to his feet and motioned toward a frosted-gla.s.s door. ”You'll find Mr. Cardoza in there.”
There had been no reason for Ruskin to ask the guard where to go. He could just as easily have seen the bank manager's office door. The guard did not notice that Ruskin had observed him closely, how he moved, his age, and how he placed the holster, containing a new .45 caliber Model 1905 Colt Browning automatic pistol, at his hip. The brief study also revealed the guard was not particularly alert and watchful. Day after day of seeing customers come and go without the slightest disturbance had made him listless and indifferent. He didn't appear to find anything unusual about Ruskin's big case.
The bank had two tellers behind the counter in their cages. The only other employees except for the guard were Cardoza and his secretary. Ruskin studied the big steel door to the vault that was open to the lobby to impress the customers and suggest that their savings were in solid, protective hands.
He approached the secretary. ”h.e.l.lo, my name is Eliah Ruskin. I have a two-thirty appointment with Mr. Cardoza.”
An older woman in her fifties with graying hair smiled and stood up without speaking. She walked to a door with ALBERT CARDOZA, MANAGER painted on the upper part of the frosted-gla.s.s pane, knocked, and leaned in. ”A Mr. Eliah Ruskin to see you.”
Cardoza quickly came to his feet and rushed around his desk. He shoved out a hand and shook Ruskin's palm and fingers vigorously. ”A pleasure, sir. I've looked forward to your arrival. It's not every day we greet a representative from a New York bank that is making such a substantial deposit.”
Ruskin lifted the suitcase onto Cardoza's desk, unlocked the catches, and opened the lid. ”Here you are, half a million dollars in cash to be deposited, until such time we decide to withdraw it.”
Cardoza reverently stared at the neatly packed and bundled fifty-dollar gold certificate bills as though they were his pa.s.sport to a banker's promised land. Then he looked up in growing surprise. ”I don't understand. Why not carry a cas.h.i.+er's check instead of five hundred thousand dollars in currency?”
”The directors of the Hudson River Bank of New York prefer to deal in cash. As you know from our correspondence, we are going to open branch banks throughout the West in towns that we think have potential for growth. We feel it is expedient to have currency on hand when we open our doors.”
Cardoza looked at Ruskin somberly. ”I hope your directors do not intend to open a competing bank in Salt Lake City.”
Ruskin grinned and shook his head. ”Phoenix, Arizona, and Reno, Nevada, are the first of the Hudson River branch banks to open in the West.”
Cardoza looked relieved. ”Phoenix and Reno are certainly booming.”
”Ever have a bank robbery in Salt Lake?” Ruskin asked casually while looking at the vault.
Cardoza looked at him quizzically. ”Not in this city. The citizens would not allow it. Salt Lake is one of the most crime-free cities in the country. The Latter-Day Saints are upstanding and religious people. Trust me, Mr. Ruskin, no bandit would dare to attempt a robbery of this bank. Your money will be absolutely and one hundred percent safe once it's locked up in our vault.”
”I've read of some fellow called the Butcher Bandit who robs and murders throughout the western states.”
”Not to worry, he only strikes in small mining towns and robs payrolls. He wouldn't be stupid enough to try robbing a bank in a city the size of Salt Lake. He wouldn't get past the city limits before the police shot him down.”
Ruskin nodded toward the vault. ”Very impressive repository.”
”The very finest vault west of the Mississippi, built especially for us in Philadelphia,” Ruskin said proudly. ”An entire regiment armed with cannons couldn't break inside.”
”I see it is open during business hours?”
”And why not. Our customers enjoy seeing how well their deposits are protected. And as I've mentioned, no bank has ever been robbed in Salt Lake City.”
”What is your slowest time of day?”
Cardoza looked puzzled. ”Slowest time of day?”
”When you have the least customer transactions?”
”Between one-thirty and two o'clock is our slowest time. Most of our customers have gone back to their offices after their lunch hour. And, because we close at three, a number of customers come in for late transactions. Why do you ask?”
”Just curious as to how the traffic compares with our bank in New York, which seems to be about the same.” He patted the suitcase. ”I'll leave the money in the case and pick it up tomorrow.”