“Just sharpshooting,” I said. “But I think California’s just about reached the maximum of its growth. Arizona has a long way to go.”

That was all the reference I needed. He made out a deposit slip, gave me a withdrawal card to sign, counted the two thousand dollars, and entered the amount in a deposit book. “Do you,” he asked, “want a flat checkbook or a pocket checkbook?”

“Pocket.”

He fitted a block of blank checks into an imitation leather folder stamped with the name of the bank, and handed it to me. I put it in my pocket, shook hands, and walked out.

I went to the Bank of Commerce, hunted up the new-account man, gave the name of Peter B. Smith, shook hands, told him the same thing, and deposited two thousand dollars. I also rented a safety deposit box and put most of the balance of Sandra Birks’ money in there.

It was late afternoon by the time I’d secured a room, paid a month’s rent in advance, and explained to the landlady that my baggage would be along later.

I walked around town, sizing up the automobile agencies. I picked the one which looked as though it was doing the largest business, walked in, and asked to be shown a light sedan for immediate delivery. I told the salesman I was thoroughly familiar with the performance of the car, that what I wanted was an immediate delivery. I wanted a car that could start out and go. I’d prefer a demonstrator to a new car. He said he had a demonstrator he could have ready for the road in thirty minutes. I told him I’d be back. He asked if I wanted to buy it on contract, and I said no, I’d pay for it in cash. I whipped the checkbook from my pocket, asked the total amount that would be due, and wrote a check for one thousand six hundred and seventy-two dollars.

I signed the check and said, “This is my first day in Yuma. I am going to be in business here. You don’t know of any good investments, do you?”

“What sort of investments?”

“Things where a man can put in a little money, figure on a quick turnover, and a large profit with no risk.”

It spoke volumes for his credulity that he stopped and gave the matter frowning concentration for several seconds before he shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t know of anything like that right now, but I’ll keep you in mind, Mr. Smith. Where are you going to be staying?”

I made a show of trying to recall the address, said, “I have rather a poor memory at times,” and fished the rent receipt from my wallet. I held it so he could see the name of the apartment house. “Oh yes,” he said, “I know the place. Well, I’ll keep in touch with you, Mr. Smith.”