She worked until she was out of film, then packed up her bag, removed all evidence of her presence, and slipped back out through the elevator shaft. Upstairs she collected her other clothes and escaped into the night.
Getting into the bank at night was difficult, but getting out was easy.
She strolled to the costume shop and using her own key, crept inside so she wouldn't wake Alfonzo. Although she doubted he would hear anything over his snoring. It rumbled the entire space. She entered a dressing chamber in the rear of the shop and removed her platinum blonde disguise. She was getting used to seeing Jewel's face and wore it more than Betty's these days. Betty was the one who looked like the stranger. Once her disguise was removed, she took a hot shower, stuffed her ears with plugs and fell asleep on a cot the Gypsy set up for her.
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.