Voices were coming from the vault corridor. She froze in her tracks.

“I don’t give a fuck, Teddy!” one man bellowed. “She got away.”

The voices were getting louder. Beatrice spun and scurried silently across the carpet away from the sound.

“We’ll find her. She couldn’t have gone far. Just stay focused, all right?”

Beatrice brushed past a red velvet curtain. The voices moved into the lower lobby as she ducked behind it into a booth.

“Do you have any idea the mess you’ve gotten us into? City hall is already breathing down my neck, and the feds are petitioning for warrants. As of three hours ago, the city is bankrupt, and we’re public enemy number one. We need to get the deposits out now before the morning papers hit the street!”

“Let’s not be hasty.”

Beatrice shrank into the folds of the curtain and took only the shallowest of breaths as she listened.

“I’m done playing around, Teddy. Give me the keys.”

“Don’t be absurd! I don’t have them.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have them?”

“What do you think, I walk around with them in my pockets? What do you take me for?”

“I don’t care if you keep them up your ass. We need to move the money tonight. We’re under investigation, for crying out loud! The vault is going to be on lockdown. What are we supposed to tell the investors? That we’ve come up with a new ingenious holding strategy? That’s not going to fly. Where is the master key?”

“These transfers haven’t been authorized.”

“You’re out of the loop, Ted. The board wants out.”

“Out? Out to where? Where are they going to go? Where else are they going to keep their assets secure and tax-free? Their mattresses?”

“It no longer concerns you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t! You won’t even be able to sort the accounts without me. You really think I just deposited tens of millions in Mr. Wackerly’s name or yours or mine, where any cop with a warrant might find it? The deposits have been dispersed.”

“You mean, you put them under false names? Do you really think that’s going to throw the feds for a loop? A bunch of fake names?”

“Who said the names were fake?”

“They belong to active customers? Jesus, you have balls, Teddy! What’s to stop the dummies from making withdrawals, huh? One old lady wants to come admire her coin collection and we’re fucked!”

“Keep your skirt on! Most of ’em are dead or don’t even know they have a box. That meathead Thompson’s been feeding me dead boxes for years. It’s part of our little arrangement for me ignoring his indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions? Is that what you call homicide these days?”

“Don’t you read the papers? That was a hit-and-run, and it was four goddamned years ago. Water under the bridge.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. Homicide. Rhonda Whitmore was murdered.

There was a loud sigh. “This whole scheme is just like you, Teddy—too risky. You said it would be easy. You sold the finest families in town on a legitimate, high-yield investment. Sure, they turned a blind eye to the fact it was too good to be true, to be legal, but do you really think they’re going to let you drag them through the mud now? The money’s not worth the risk.”

“What money comes without a little risk? It’s a dirty business, Jim!”

“Well, it’s simply gotten too dirty. Now that bimbo of yours Maxine is causing trouble. Your drunk son was caught red-handed in the vault just last week. The money isn’t secure.”

“Leave Randy out of this. I’ll handle him.”

“Like you handled the investments?”

“We needed to protect our interests, damn it! When the feds moved in, we had to start making adjustments.”

“Who authorized those adjustments?”

“When the gold market opened up, we had to get in. Nixon fucked us all when he started printing money, and you know it. Our cash assets would have dwindled down to kindling with this inflation. We had to get in commodities.” Teddy’s voice was growing louder and more erratic.

“You really thought you could start stockpiling gold and no one would notice?” Jim asked. “My sources downtown tell me the feds still have someone embedded at the bank.”

“They’ll never make a case! This thing is so tight, they can’t even pull a warrant.”

“They’re watching Bill. He’s going to cut a deal.”

“Bill can be dealt with,” Teddy said dismissively.

“What, you think the river’s got room for one more? You should be the one worrying about that, Ted. I’m losing my patience here. Now you’re going to give me the keys I need.”

“Or what are you going to do? Beat me to death with your fountain pen? I’m telling you, I don’t have them.”

“If you don’t have them, who does?”

Beatrice swallowed hard, not twenty feet away.

“Yes, please tell us, Teddy. Who has them?” It was a different voice now. It was strangely familiar.

“Carmichael, what took you so long?”

Beatrice sucked in a breath. She recognized the voice from the Theatrical Grille. It was the friendly bartender with a soft spot for Max. She peeked through the curtain in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you dragged the Covellis into this, Jim. We have it under control.” Teddy laughed uncomfortably.

Tony had said the Covellis were still connected to Sicily. Max had called them gangsters. Carmichael was a member of the Mob, Beatrice realized, and covered a gasp with her hand.

“They hold one of the largest interests in the bank, Teddy, and you know it,” Jim said with a sigh. “You’re in over your head. We know you’ve been talking to the feds. I suggest you cooperate.”

Carmichael drew out a gun. Beatrice heard an iron click as he cocked it at Teddy.

“Hey, take it easy, Carmichael! Jim, we’ve been friends for twenty years. You can’t be serious! The transfer records are encoded. You wouldn’t know where to begin without me!”

“It’s out of my hands now. If you cooperate, I’ll do my best to protect your family.”

“Instead of wasting your time with me,” Teddy shouted, “we need to be tracking down that bitch!”

“What does she matter now?”

“She’s the only one left that knows how to work the damn keys for one thing. There’s some sort of system to it.”

“And whose fault is that exactly?” Jim demanded. “That desk clerk, Sherry or whatever her name was, would have cooperated if your drunk son hadn’t decided to take matters into his own hands.”

“You can’t prove Randy had anything to do with that,” Teddy protested. “Shirley might have just left town. She might be back to work on Monday.”

Beatrice’s stomach dropped to her feet. Shirley, the safe deposits clerk and Doris’s friend, was missing or dead. Randy might have killed her. She stepped back from the curtain and sank to her knees.

“Let me see if I got this straight. Are you telling me you stashed over fifty million dollars in that vault, and you don’t even know how to open it?” Carmichael chuckled. “You fuckin’ bankers. Never want to do nothin’ yourself. Did it ever occur to you the help might get wise?”

“That’s enough, Carmichael,” Jim said, and put his hand up toward the bartender. “If some secretary can figure it out, we’ll manage. What else can you tell us, Teddy?”

“If I talk, what’s to stop you from pulling that trigger, huh? I want to speak to Alistair.”

“Who do you think sent us?” Jim sighed. “Carmichael, will you please?”

There was a muffled yell and several thumping sounds. Then nothing.

Beatrice stayed crouched behind the curtain, staring into the dark. The bankers were hiding gold in the safe deposit vault for the richest families in town. Teddy said Bill had been feeding him dead boxes for years. Boxes Doris and Bill had raided, no doubt. After Rhonda Whitmore’s name showed up in Doris’s journal, the withdrawals became more frequent. Bill had looked like he’d seen a ghost the day Rhonda showed up at the bank—that’s what Max had said. He was finally caught in the act, but instead of handing him and Doris over to the authorities, Teddy saw an opportunity.