again." Ryan had already headed toward the president's office when


Cole called out to him. "What am I looking for? " "The names of the


people who did their banking yesterday. Sloan told me that the


president insisted his tellers keep accurate records. They were


ordered to write down the name of every customer they helped."




"Once we make the list of the names, then what? " Cole asked.




"We talk to all of them because one might have noticed something out of


the ordinary."




"Has that ever happened before? " "No, but we still have to ask.




Those bastards are going to slip up one of these days.




Maybe one of them came into the bank earlier to look it over. "


"That's wishful thinking, Ryan."




"Yeah, I know, but we still have to go through the routine. We have to


cover all the possibilities. From the looks of all these stacks of


paper, there were quite a few customers yesterday. It's going to take


us the rest of the day to go through them." They divided the stacks


between them. Ryan went back into the president's office to work


there. Cole stayed out in the lobby. He searched through the top


drawer of the ink-stained desk for a notepad and pencil so that he


could make his list, found what he needed, and put them on the


desktop.




He was on his way to get the chair Ryan had kicked over when a glimpse


of blue on the floor under the desk's kneehole caught his attention.




"We're going to have to go through everything in here at least three


times, " Ryan warned. "Just in case we miss something the first and


second time around."




"We'll be here a week, " Cole shouted back as he bent down on one knee


and reached inside the kneehole. He pulled out a pale blue bag with a


blue-and-white satin string.




He opened it and looked inside. There wasn't anything there, just blue


satin lining. Cole stared at the thing for several seconds, then


called out, "Hey, Ryan, do you know who works at this desk? " "Yes, "


Ryan shouted back. He was seated at the president's desk, methodically


going through the contents in the top drawer. "I've got the name


written down in my notes."




"Do you remember if it is a man or a woman? " Something in Cole's


voice caught Ryan's attention. He glanced up, saw him down on one


knee, and called out, "A man sits there."




"Was he one of the men killed? " "No. He was home sick yesterday."




Cole stuck his head into the opening. "Well . . . well, " he


whispered.




"Did you find something? " Ryan shouted.




"Maybe, " Cole answered. "Then again, maybe not." He stood up and


turned to Ryan. "Do you happen to know how often this place gets


cleaned? " "That's the first question I asked Sloan, since we also


have to go through the trash. According to him, MacCorkle was obsessed


about keeping the place spotless. He had it cleaned every night and


inspected every nook and cranny in the morning. All the trash in the


bins is from yesterday's business."




"You're positive it was cleaned Tuesday night? " Ryan stopped what he


was doing and walked back to the lobby. He spotted the wad of blue


fabric in Cole's hand.




"Yeah, I'm sure. Why? What have you got? " "A possibility."




"A possibility of what? " Cole smiled. "A witness." hree women had


been inside the bank between the hours of one and three o'clock in the


afternoon on the day of the robbery. Cole and Ryan knew that was fact,


not speculation, because of Sherman MacCorkle's taskmaster rules. Just


as the sheriff had told Ryan, the president of the bank had demanded


that every transactionţeven change for a dollar billţbe recorded by


name on a piece of paper and filed in the cash drawer. If the figures


on the papers didn't balance with the money in the drawer, the teller


had to make up the difference. MacCorkle had also insisted that each


day's tallies be separated into the morning and afternoon hours. The


receipts for Wednesday morning's transactions were still on MacCorkle's


desk in three neat piles. There was also an open filing cabinet behind


MacCorkle's desk filled with documents, loan applications, mortgages,


and records of foreclosures. Every piece had a date on top.




God love Sherman MacCorkle for being such a stickler for details.




With all the interruptions, it took until evening to sort out all the


names. In all, twenty-nine men and women had come into the bank that


day. Eighteen had taken care of their business during the morning


hours, and none of them were women. The bank had been closed for lunch


from noon until one o'clock, and that afternoon, eleven people had come


inside, and of those eleven, three were women.




One of them had left her bag behind.




Ryan and Cole were cautious about the discovery and decided in hushed,


urgent voices to keep the possibility of a witness to themselves for


the time being.




"We could be jumping the gun on this, " Cole warned. "In fact, we


probably are."




"Yeah, but I got a feeling . . . " "Me too, " Cole whispered. "The


thing is. . . it could have been under the desk for weeks."




"We should talk to the couple who cleans the place right away. I've


got their names and address somewhere in my notes, " Ryan said as he


flipped through the pages of his notepad. "Here it is.




Mildred and Edward Stewart. They live over on Currant Street. Let's


go talk to them now. I want to get out of here for a few minutes and


get some fresh air."




"It's past nine, " Cole said. "They might be in bed." He was already


moving toward the front door as he reminded Ryan of the time. They


locked the door on their way out and walked over to the Stewarts'


cottage on the outskirts of town. The couple's daughter opened the


door for them and explained that her parents were working.




They cleaned the bank, the church, and the general store every night.




The marshals backtracked. They could see the lights inside the general


store. The shades were drawn, but Edward Stewart opened the door as


soon as Ryan knocked and told him who he was.




Mildred was down on her knees scrubbing the floor. The heavyset woman


got to her feet and wiped her hands on her apron when the marshals came


inside. Both she and her husband were olderţaround fifty or so, Cole


speculatedţ and from their haggard expressions and their stooped


shoulders, he knew they had had to work hard all of their lives.




Ryan made the introductions, and then said, "We know you're busy, but


we sure would appreciate it if you would answer a couple of


questions.




" "We'll be glad to help any way we can, " Edward said. "There's some


chairs behind the counter if you want to sit down. The floor should be


dry by now."




"It won't take that long, " Ryan said. "Did you and Mildred clean the


bank Tuesday night? " Edward nodded. "Yes, sir, we did. We clean it


every night but Sunday, and MacCorkle paid us every Monday morning."




"Do you think the new people running the place will keep us on? "


Mildred asked. "We do a good job and we don't charge much." They


could tell she was worried. She was wringing her apron in her hands


and frowning with concern.




"I'm sure they'll keep you on, " Ryan predicted. "When you clean the


bank, do you wash the floors or sweep them? " "I do both, " Mildred


answered. "First I give them a good sweeping, and then I get down on


my hands and knees and wash every inch of my floors.




I use vinegar and water, and when I'm done, the hardwood shines,


doesn't it Edward? " "Yes, it does, " he agreed.




"You don't move the furniture, do you? " Cole asked.




"I don't move the heavy pieces, but I move the chairs and the trash


tins. I get under the tellers' windows, under the desks, and behind


the file cabinets that aren't against the walls. We do a real thorough


job, " she insisted.




"MacCorkle always inspected our work. Sometimes he'd get down on his


knees and look into the corners just to make sure we didn't miss a


speck of dust or a cobweb, and if he found any, he deducted from our


pay. He was real finicky about his bank."




"He bought old, used-up furniture for the lobby and his loan officers,


but he told us, with enough elbow grease, we could make the wood shine


again. Some of those desks should have been thrown away years ago, but


MacCorkle wasn't one to waste anything, " Edward said.




"He had fancy new furniture put in his office, " Mildred interjected.




Cole spotted a basket of green apples on the counter. He took a coin


out of his pocket, tossed it on the counter, and then selected two. He


threw one to Ryan and took a bite out of the other.




"Ma'am, did the folks who came into the bank ever leave anything


behind? " "Sure they did, " Mildred answered. "I found a pretty


brooch once, and Edward found a wallet with six whole dollars inside.




Anything that's left behind is put in the lost-and-found box in


MacCorkle's office. It's in the corner by the safe."




"Did you happen to find anything Tuesday night? " Both Mildred and


Edward shook their heads.




"Do you remember cleaning under the desks Tuesday? " Cole asked.




"Sure I remember, " Mildred said. "I clean under the desks every


night, but Sunday. Why are you asking? " "I was just curious, " Cole