A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) (10 page)

“I didn’t sink his boat. I rescued them from drowning.”

“What else did he say?” the deputy asked Woo Sing.

“They say, he make them think cousin up here, so they buy train ticket. But cousin not here. This man trick them. Leave piece of paper, ‘Go to Weedsport, four o’clock train.’”

He handed the deputy a piece of paper, who then showed it to us. It was the note Nell had handed me back in Albany.

“You gave them that, Harry?” she asked.

“I didn’t give it to them—I must have dropped it and they found it. It seems we all came to Weedsport because an adulterous sheet music drummer had planned an assignation.”

“What’s Johnson have to do with it?” Deputy Carson asked.

“Nothing, really. Just a vague resemblance to another fellow.”

“Well, then, why don’t you all just go back to New York?”

“That would suit me fine,” I said.

“These men have no more money,” Woo Sing explained. “Spent last dollar on ticket to Weedsport. Because of his trick.”

“Maybe you could help them get back to New York?” the deputy suggested.

“Why should I pay their fare?”

“It would just make things go a little easier all around. That way I won’t have to bring you up for making a false arrest.”

“He trick them,” Woo Sing repeated.

“You did in a way, Harry,” Nell added.

“Oh, all right. But no more waving sticks at us.”

Deputy Carson drove us back to Weedsport and then on to the depot. He watched as I bought four tickets for the evening train and handed two to the Chinamen. Nell complimented him for his wisdom in the matter, and then asked if he could return the prop gun she had borrowed. He did so, and then charged me three dollars for the rental of the horse and wagon. Why is it the preferred solution to every dilemma ends with me paying costs?

We’d missed Carlotta’s act again, but listened raptly over dinner as she described another stage triumph. Then Nell bought some sandwiches to give the Chinamen, her attitude toward the erstwhile highbinders having mellowed a good deal.

Catching a glimpse of her healthy bankroll, I asked to borrow twenty dollars of it.

“All right, Harry. But you really should learn to live within your means.”

A little later, Carlotta, Thibaut, Nell, and I boarded the evening train and found a pair of empty seats facing one another. Just before the train left the station, the two Chinamen came on board. By then there weren’t many seats left, and when they tried to sit across from two women, they were shooed away.

“We need to make room for them,” Nell insisted.

She sent Thibaut to entreat them to join us. They were a little wary, but finally sat down on the seat beside Nell, with Carlotta, Thibaut, and me wedged into the seat opposite. Nell handed them the sandwiches and they were devoured in short order.

“They look as if they haven’t eaten in days, Harry.”

“I didn’t realize it was incumbent on me to provision my pursuers.”

“They’re only looking for their cousin. Just as you’re looking for Emmie.”

“And about as effectively.”

“Aunt
Nell
’s RIGHT,
Har
ry,” Carlotta interjected. “You should be helping each other.”

“The blind leading the deaf and dumb? You’re forgetting we don’t speak the same language.”

“I bet Thibaut could talk to them. What do you want to know?”

“Why did Lou Ling run off to the canal boat?”

That simple question took about five minutes to convey to Thibaut. Then he played a form of double charades with the two Chinamen for a good five minutes more. Then another five minutes of patois with Carlotta.

“The cops came to the farm twice the day after the shooting, so his cousin told him to take a boat trip. He says the cops never believe a Chinaman.”

“Why that particular boat, the
Sophie Arnould
?”

This went relatively quickly.

“It’s the boat that brought him down from Canada. Something about champagne. Do they bring champagne from Canada?”

“Champagne?” I was beginning to realize just how wrong we’d been. “Could it be Lake Champlain?”

The older fellow nodded on hearing it. I turned to Nell.

“And could the town frequented by Mrs. Stanton that began with a ‘W’ have been Whitehall?”

“Yes! That’s it. Where’s Whitehall?”

“Whitehall’s on the
Champlain
canal. It’s a lumber town. The Chinamen she smuggles into New York must be brought down from Canada. She meets them on Lake Champlain, then picks up the lumber for the Steinway Company in Whitehall. The farm on Bowery Bay is just a few blocks from the piano factory, making it an ideal way-station.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Go to Whitehall, I suppose. The
Sophie Arnould
must have to spend some time there loading up.”

“Sounds like fun. But Thibaut and I have to go on to New York,” Carlotta told us. “We have a new turn beginning tomorrow.”

At Syracuse there was a twenty-minute layover and Nell got off to stretch her legs. The two Chinamen followed her and then Carlotta moved opposite me.

“You know, Harry, I still don’t understand why you and Emmie went chasing after Lou Ling. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. What you need to figure out is who switched a real gun for the prop gun.”

“When did you last use it?”

“Just the night before. At Jimmy’s.”

“Then you took it home?”

“Sure, I can’t afford to lose it. I need it for my act. When that one went missing, I had to borrow another from the property man at Tony Pastor’s.”

“And you didn’t use it again until you brought it the night Ernie was shot?”

“Why would I?”

“So you put the gun in the bunk there. When was that?”

“I suppose about ten.”

“You suppose?”

“I always wait until I’ve changed and taken my place.”

“So just about any of the Chinamen could have switched the gun between then and eleven, when we showed up?”

“Sure. I wasn’t watching it every second.”

We were pulling out of the depot, but neither Nell nor the Chinamen had returned.

I went off and walked the length of the train looking for Nell. When I returned, the Chinamen were there having an excited exchange with Thibaut. Then Thibaut had an excited exchange with Carlotta, this time forgoing the pantomime act.

“AUNT
Nell’s
BEEN kidNAPPED!”

Every child under five years in that car and the next two began sobbing.

“Kidnapped?”

“Yeah. Either that or she was strangled.”

“What? Where did this happen?”

“Right on the platform, there in Syracuse. It sounds like Cliff Ainslie.”

“The White Rat? Why would he kidnap Nell?”

“To keep you from spying on the Rats!”

“I’m not spying on anyone.”

“He thinks you are. He definitely doesn’t like you, Harry.”

“I can’t say I’m too fond of him, either.”

“Aren’t you going to do something?”

“She probably just missed the train. Or these fellows saw someone keep her from jumping on the moving car and just leapt to the wrong conclusion.”

“They seem pretty sure.”

“How would Ainslie know she’d be on the platform in Syracuse at 7:30 Sunday evening?”

“Maybe he has one of the other Rats following you.”

The idea that Nell had been abducted was farfetched, but not noticeably more than other recent events. And Ainslie did say he was going to Syracuse to see Mrs. Twinem. If he got there Saturday night, it wouldn’t be surprising that he was waiting for a train out of town on Sunday evening.

I asked Carlotta to leave word at the depot in Albany for Nell to meet me at the Ten Eyck Hotel, and also to wire me the next morning to let me know if either Nell or Emmie was back at the apartment in Brooklyn. I disembarked in Utica and caught a westbound train back to Syracuse, arriving just after eleven.

I found the office for the station cops and told the sergeant in charge of Nell’s possible abduction—leaving out the fact the only witnesses were two Chinamen who spoke no English and that I communicated with them via a French pantomime who knew neither English nor Chinese.

Without much urgency, he took me out to the platform and spoke with a couple of his men. Then he interviewed several of the porters, one of whom thought he might have seen Nell.

“Was there someone with her?” I asked.

“She was talking to someone, but it didn’t look friendly. She was crying.”

“Did she leave with him?”

“Didn’t see. But I saw two Chinamen watching her. You think the white slavers got her?”

When I confirmed that there were two Chinamen involved, the sergeant asked me repeatedly if I was sure I hadn’t just dozed off and dreamt the whole thing. He assured me, however, that he’d file a report.

I caught the next train to Albany and arrived there about four that morning. The message Carlotta had left hadn’t been picked up by Nell. It was possible that on missing the train in Syracuse, Nell went straight to New York. But that possibility wasn’t enough to allow me much sleep. About seven I went down to the desk, then checked back at the depot. Still no sign of Nell.

There didn’t seem much point in contacting the Albany police, but I felt some further action was in order. So I wired Detective Sergeant Tibbitts, a New York cop I’d generally gotten along with in the past who happened to owe me a favor. I asked him to send out bulletins on Nell and Cliff Ainslie. By then a wire from Carlotta had arrived. There was no sign of either Emmie or Nell at the apartment. I decided the best I could do was take the morning train up to Whitehall and try to find Emmie.

On arrival, I went off toward the lumber mills that lined the canal and saw a number of boats taking on loads. There was no sign of the
Sophie Arnould
. But I did locate the mill that sent lumber to the Steinway company. Mr. Clapsaddle, the foreman, was just finishing his lunch.

“Have you sent out a shipment in the last two days?” I asked.

“Not to Steinway. Have one ready though.”

No sooner had he finished eating than he’d taken a big jaw-full of tobacco. From then on I had to stay on my toes. Either Mr. Clapsaddle had horrible aim or an exceedingly perverse sense of humor.

“Is that to go on the
Sophie Arnould
?”

“That’s right. The she-boat, I call her.”

“Captain Stanton’s?”

“Her and her daughter, and her little boy.”

I went and ate a large lunch myself, bought a newspaper, and then sat reading beside the mill. It was a warm afternoon and I had just dozed off when I was woken by the sound of a tug. It was coming from the north, so I was about to turn over and try for another bit of sleep when I noticed a Chinaman standing on deck.

The tug docked a little further on. I hid behind a stack of boards and watched as the canal boat it was towing coasted to the wharf beside the mill. There was a middle-aged woman at the tiller. As soon as it came to shore, a young boy jumped on the bank and began tying it up, with the help of two young women on deck. One of whom was Emmie.

Another Chinaman had emerged from the tug and walked back to the canal boat and just sort of stood guard there. Mrs. Stanton spoke with him.

“I need to send one of the girls into town for supplies,” she told him.

He clapped his hands and the other Chinese fellow came over. He was given instructions and then he and Emmie went off toward town. I followed, but from well behind. At one point Emmie started drifting away from the fellow. He pulled her back, flashing a rather impressive dagger as a warning.

They went into Mrs. Gregor’s grocery. After a bit I followed and tried to just hover about unobtrusively, lifting things and setting them back down. Now and then glancing over my shoulder to see what the others were up to.

Unfortunately, my behavior aroused the suspicion of the proprietress, who evidently was a woman of action. She picked up a broom and jabbed me in the midsection with a fairly substantial blow.

“Jeez,” I cried.

“Harry?” Emmie had recognized my expostulation.

The Chinaman pulled her away, and I made sort of a half-hearted lunge at him. My heart, always chivalrous to a fault, started out fully invested in the program, but then my always-more-cautious cerebellum reminded it of the dagger. The lunge was enough, however, to distract the fellow. Emmie exploited the opportunity by walloping him on the head with her usual aplomb. But also with her usual ignorance of even the most basic principles of physics. Her weapon of choice was a sack of flour. It achieved little beyond blanketing the three of us in a powdery snow.

I had no alternative now but to finish the job with a jar of pickled lambs’ tongues—a delicacy previously unfamiliar to me, but whose bouquet we were all three destined to know well. The brine splattered every which way and made a very effective paste wherever it encountered the flour coating. But at least the Chinaman was out cold.

Mrs. Gregor, however, had no intention of withdrawing from the fray. Just as I was dispatching the Chinaman, she gave me another blow. This one a jab to the kidneys from behind. I fell to my knees and only narrowly missed the follow-up shot to the head.

“I think we should probably be on our way,” Emmie suggested as she helped me to my feet.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I’m not sure I want to patronize this establishment after all.”

We stumbled out with Mrs. Gregor just behind.

“You can’t leave your Chinaman here!”

“I suggest we find a safe place to formulate our strategy,” Emmie said.

“I suggest we do it on the run. Mrs. Gregor is drawing attention.”

We sprinted in the direction opposite that of the canal, passing through a few blocks of houses, then crossing a large field, and finally collapsed in a copse of trees on the bank of a small brook. We washed ourselves as best we could, but the water seemed less than pure. It was then I noticed the herd of dairy cows a few hundred yards upstream from us.

“What did you get yourself involved in, Emmie?”

“It’s rather a fantastic story, Harry.”