This she’d expected, though, and could understand why he was so famous for his intuition. It was as though he was stalking her as she was stalking him.

The music ended and they stood together on the dance floor waiting for the orchestra to begin the next musical arrangement. He stepped back and ran his eyes from her shoes to the top of her beautifully styled hair. “You are a very lovely lady. What prompted your interest in me?”

“You’re an attractive man. I wanted to know you better.”

“You knew my name and where I came from before you met me in the elevator. Our meeting was obviously premeditated.”

Before she could reply, the orchestra began playing “In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree,” and Bell led her around the floor in a foxtrot. He held her against him and gripped her hand tightly in his. Her waist was small, made even smaller by a corset. The top of her head came up even with his chin. He was tempted to press his lips against hers but thought better of it. This was neither the time nor the place. Nor were his thoughts on romance. She was spying on him. That was a given.

His mind was trying to formulate a motive. What interest could a total stranger have in him? The only possibilities he could conjure up were that she’d been hired by one of the many criminals he had put behind bars, shot, or seen hanged. A relative or friend out for revenge? She didn’t fit the image of someone who associated with the scum he had apprehended over the last ten years.

The music ended, and she released his hand and stood back. “You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Bell, but I must return to my friends.”

“Can we meet again?” he asked with a warm smile.

She slightly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He ignored her negative reply. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she answered, with a haughtiness in her voice. “And even in your fancy tuxedo you couldn’t bluff your way into the Western Bankers’ Ball at the Denver Country Club like you did tonight at the benefit for St. John’s Orphans.”

Then she threw out her chin, swept up her long skirt, and walked back to her table.

Once seated, she stole a glance back at Bell, but he was nowhere to be seen among the crowd. He had completely disappeared.

6

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, BELL WAS THE FIRST ONE in the office, using a skeleton key that could open ninety doors out of a hundred. He was sorting through bank robbery reports at the end of the long table when Arthur Curtis and Glenn Irvine entered the conference room. Bell rose to greet them and shook hands.

“Art, Glenn, good to see you both again.”