Mr. Lick’s office was not plush like the other rooms in the Lick House Hotel, but simple. It had leather chairs & a workbench at the back with woodworking tools & sawdust on the floor.
Two policeman helped Mr. Ray G. Tempest AKA Jonas Blezzard into one of the leather chairs. Detective Rose let me come in, and also Martha, Zoe, Affie & Ping. The five of us stood with our backs to the workbench.
Two more policemen came in, along with Mr. Isaac ‘Icy’ Blue. They held some familiar-looking leather mailbags.
A distinct smell of horse manure pervaded the room.
‘The stolen silver ingots and gold coins,’ I cried. ‘You found them!’
‘Where were they?’ asked Detective Rose.
‘In two big travelling trunks,’ said one of the policemen. ‘Just like he said.’
‘There were tags on the trunks,’ said the other. ‘It appears the two of them had tickets on a cruise to the Sandwich Islands departing this very evening.’
No wonder everything had been done in such a rush. They were going to take that gold and silver with them, you bet!
‘I will get you for this!’ gasped Blezzard. He was looking at me.
‘If you confess now,’ said Detective Rose to Blezzard. ‘In will go easier for you. You might not swing.’
‘Swing?’ said Blezzard, his face blanching. ‘Do you mean at the end of a rope?’
I fished in my medicine bag for my silk butterfly but Mr. Jonas Blezzard was already co-operating.
The double threat of death by hanging and butterflies made him Spill the Beans, as they say.
Right there in that sawdust-scented workroom he told us how he had come up with the plan.
‘It all started with that half-Injun,’ he said, glaring at me. ‘She riled Violetta who became intent on revenge.’
‘Start from the beginning,’ said Detective Rose.
‘Just after Christmas last year,’ said Blezzard. ‘Chance and I were playing poker in the Bella Union saloon here in Frisco. There was a new lady in town, a shapely widow named Violetta De Baskerville. We got ourselves places on her table. She was drinking Pousse Lamour cocktails and by the end of the night it was only the three of us. We got to talking about how much gold and silver was pouring out of those Comstock mines. She was tipsy, and told us about a scheme she had once devised. She and a lawman friend of hers in Virginia City had planned to hire a couple of roughs to rob the stages. He would “capture and arrest” the desperados and split the takings with them, allowing them to “escape” on the way to custody. The traitorous lawman would then tell the authorities that the robbers got away without revealing the location of the stash.
‘Deputy Marshal Jack Williams,’ I said to Affie under my breath. ‘Violetta shot and killed him.’
Blezzard continued, ‘Violetta told us her lawman pard had been killed in a shooting affray. She did not know anyone stupid enough to play the dangerous parts of Reb Road Agents. I told her we knew a couple of bit-part actors who would pretend to be brigands for a spell. I said me and Chauncy could play lawmen. You got any whiskey?’ He asked Detective Rose.
‘When you finish telling us.’
Blezzard took a deep breath. ‘Violetta said she would fund us if we promised to exact revenge upon a brat in Virginia City. Violetta told us the kid was training to be a detective in order to join her pa’s agency. Well, I have a friend in Chicago, owns a jewelry store near the Pinkerton Agency. I asked him to tell me everything he could about them. He sent me a letter full of useful information about Robert and Allan Pinkerton. Chauncy was good with accents so he decided to play the kid’s pa.’
Jonas Blezzard shot me a glare. ‘We had briefed Johnny and Jimmy to stop a stage with a little girl riding on top. That was how they would know the one with the silver.’
‘How?’ said Detective Rose. ‘You could not telegraph a couple of Reb Road Agents hiding out in the high Sierras.’
‘It was our plan from the beginning,’ said Blezzard. ‘Violetta thought if we could get her to admit she was a girl it would serve three purposes; it would hurt her friends and help mark out that stagecoach.’
‘And the third purpose?’
Blezzard shrugged. ‘It would be easy to shoot her dead.’
I thought, Dang! that Violetta is a clever one.
‘What happened to Chauncy?’ said Detective Rose.
‘He threw down on me,’ said Jonas. ‘I shot back in self-defense. It was justified.’
‘That is a bald-faced lie!’ I cried. ‘You killed him in cold blood and with no warning. You tried to shoot me, too.’
Detective Rose turned to me. ‘Where is Chauncy Pridhaume now?’ he asked.
I said, ‘You will find the body of my bogus pa in a shallow grave near a cave in a place called Grizzly Gulch a few miles west of Friday’s Station. ‘I had my account all written out,’ I added. ‘But it was in the pocket of my greatcoat and I lost that.’
Detective Rose smiled. ‘We got your greatcoat,’ he said. ‘With all the incriminating documents and also a ledger book and a fine pair of buckskin gauntlets.’
At that moment the door opened and in came Violetta de Baskerville AKA Mrs. von Vingschplint AKA Mrs. Jonas Blezzard.
Her bosom was heaving and her violet eyes were flashing sparks. She looked mighty pretty. I heard all the men in the room exhale & even Ping & Affie were staring with their mouths open. Violetta was in the custody of another uniformed policeman. Jace was behind them.
It was now fairly crowded in that room.
All eyes were on Violetta. She looked around at us all & her gaze fell on me.
‘I wish I had let you die up in the mountains last year,’ she snarled.
I said, ‘If you had not sought revenge you would now be living in peace and prosperity. I hope you have learned your lesson.’
‘Why, you sanctimonious little blank!’ she spat out. (Only she did not say ‘blank’.)
‘Ladies, ladies! That is enough,’ said Detective Rose. ‘I believe I see the way of it.’ To the policemen he said, ‘Take Mr. Blezzard and his wife and lock them up. In separate cells,’ he added.
‘Jacey, help me!’ pleaded Violetta. Once again she swooned.
However, this time he made no move to catch her & she fell to the floor with a thud. One of the policemen helped her up and escorted her – now writhing and cursing – from the premises.
Detective Rose turned to me. ‘Thanks to your resourcefulness and bravery we have apprehended two possible murderers and nearly half a million in stolen gold and silver. Ever thought of setting up a branch of your detective agency here in San Francisco? I could use some operatives like you and your friends. That is, resourceful kids with a knack for disguise.’
‘Ping, too?’ I said.
‘Of course,’ said he. ‘We have a big Celestial population and not enough good men to help us there.’
‘Martha and Zoe, too?’ I said. ‘And Affable?’
‘You bet. You are all good detectives.’
I nodded happily. It looked like I was going to remain a Private Eye after all.
Read on...
The sun had set in Genoa, but when we reached the top of the pass, why, there it was again, like an old friend. It was very low in the sky, lighting up some puffy clouds all red & purple & yellow. This fiery sunset was reflected in Lake Bigler, which some folk call Tahoe. It was so pretty it made my spirit want to fly up into those clouds like a hawk.
Dizzy flipped a coin to a toll-gate keeper. A few moments later he guided the puffing team of horses off the road & onto a muddy patch of ground in front of a couple of raw-plank buildings. There was a smell of wood smoke & stables.
‘Is this Friday’s Station?’ I asked.
‘Yup.’ Dizzy reined in the team and we rocked to a halt. ‘Wanna get down or can you last one more stage?’
‘I need the jakes,’ I said.
While Dizzy was helping me down, two men came out of the shack. One had a little nose and a big mustache. The other had a big nose and a little mustache. Big Mustache went to get a fresh team and Little Mustache started undoing the whippletree.
When I got back from using the outhouse, Big Mustache was telling Dizzy how another California-bound stage had changed teams an hour before and a rider came by not long after.
‘Dang,’ said Dizzy. ‘They are now a whole hour ahead of us. We’d best not dilly-dally.’
It was chilly up here with a breeze coming off the lake. The pine-scented air came cold into my chest & made me feel light-headed. I pulled my pink shawl around my shoulders. Then I remembered the coat I had bought for the dummy to wear. I went towards the coach.
Through the window, I saw that the dummy was leaning against the corner & her hat was down over her watermelon face, so it really did look like a lady was sleeping. That was good.
I gave a soft knock on the door and opened it.
Mr. Ray G. Tempest was lying on his back upon the bed of mailbags with his head back, his eyes closed and his mouth open. His hat & Dizzy’s shotgun lay nearby on one of the other mailbags.
I took the coat off the dummy & gave her my shawl instead & restored her to her former position.
Ray snored on.
I quietly closed the door of the stage and then put on the coat. It was a lot warmer than my shawl. Mrs. Wasserman had called that coat a ‘sacque’ & told me it was the girliest coat she had & that it was the latest fashion. It was like a cape only with sleeves, made of silk-lined purple velvet & white fur trim. When I put my gloved hands in the little slits at the front I discovered a hidden pocket.
One of the things I hate about dresses is that there are no pockets so the only place to put things is in a purse or similar. But now I had found a pocket in this sacque. Hallelujah!
I took my four-shooter out of my medicine bag & put it in the secret pocket along with a few spare cartridges. Then I let Dizzy help me back up into the box. He took the reins from Big Mustache, released the brake & we were on our way again!
My stomach growled so I opened my yellow drawstring purse which I had tied it to the rail of the driver’s box. I took out some beef jerky & shared it with Dizzy.
I noticed a wooden sign down by the side of the road. It said, WELKOM TO THE STATE OF CALIFORNEE. We had left Nevada Territory behind and were now in California, a state I had not heretofore set foot in.
The sun had set for good & dusk was gathering fast.
I said, ‘Do you think the Reb Road Agents have held up the decoy stage yet?’
‘I hope so,’ said Dizzy. ‘Soon it will be too dark to see. If they miss the decoy they might hold us up instead. We should of set out earlier.’
‘At least they are an hour ahead of us.’
‘Yup,’ said Dizzy.
I said, ‘When Icy Blue and his agents catch them, what will they do with them?’
‘Why, clap ’em in irons and take em back to Virginee. Hopefully we will see them coming back this way, mission accomplished, at any moment.’
My spirits lifted. I might see my victorious pa soon & then he would turn around and ride to Sacramento with us and soon we would go to Chicago covered in glory.
‘Want to see something awful?’ said Dizzy, chomping his piece of jerky.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘See that bend we’re coming up to? Scoot on over to the left and look down.’
I scooted over to the edge and looked down. As we came to a curve in the road I saw a steep slope tumbling down to a rocky gorge far below. My sharp eyes saw a wheel on the jagged gray rocks & some broken crates & then the worst thing of all: a smashed up stagecoach and what might have been the bones of a horse. I could not be sure about the horse bones, for the light was fading fast.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Coach went off the road,’ said Dizzy. ‘Crashed on them rocks below. Happens more than people think.’
‘Stagecoaches going over the edge and crashing on the rocks below?’
‘Yup. That is why they never put glass in the windows. In case it breaks and cuts you to ribbons.’
‘Were the passengers killed?’ I asked.
‘Only a couple,’ he said. ‘The others escaped with just a few broken bones and cracked heads.’ He chuckled. ‘Driver broke both arms. When they took the bandages off, he found one arm was an inch shorter than the other.’
I held out my arms.
I tried to imagine having one arm shorter than the other.
I could not do it.
We rode for a while without speaking. I tried to listen out for the sound of a pa and the decoy stage coming our way, covered in glory & with the Reb Road agents in irons.
But it was hard above the noise of 24 thundering hooves and a creaky old stagecoach.
Soon it was so dusky I could hardly see the road.
I said, ‘How do you light the road when it gets dark?’
Dizzy said, ‘You don’t.’
I said, ‘Because there is an almost full moon tonight?’
He said, ‘Moon won’t rise for an hour or so. But we don’t use lights even when there ain’t a moon.’
I said, ‘How do you see in the dark?’
He said, ‘You don’t.’
I said, ‘You drive in the dark?’
‘Yup. Dark. Rain. Storm. Snow. You gotta remember that each team of six horses just goes back and forth over ten or twelve or fourteen miles at most. They know their stretch of road so well they could do it blindfolded. Why, some of the drivers just have a little sleep while they are holding the reins.’
‘You won’t sleep, will you?’ I asked.
‘Nosiree. Not with the chance of Reb Road Agents behind any pine and a crumbled road at any bend.’
‘The road crumbles some times?’
‘Yup,’ said Dizzy. ‘You got any more jerky?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Gimme,’ said Dizzy.
He opened his mouth like a hungry bird and I gave him another piece of beef jerky.
I was glad of my gloves and velvet sacque for it was now cold.
We were going up a rising bend. Our fresh horses from Friday’s were working hard. I looked over the edge and saw what looked like a sheer drop. The granite rocks far below were almost as jagged as the hundred black pine trees that poked up like needles. I did not want to look, but I could not tear my eyes away.
‘Jumping Jesus!’ said Dizzy.
‘Beg pardon?’
Dizzy swallowed hard & cussed. ‘Looks like we got ourselves company. Those Reb Road Agents must of let the decoy stage pass right on by. Here they are, all right: fixing to hold us up.’
Read on...
