Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder (22 page)

“I could never thank you enough for coming out to my aid.”

“Holmes was determined. Aiding you was most important to him.”

“And why do you suppose that is?”

“Above all he admires you.” She laughed.

“Sherlock Holmes admires me? The great detective in the silly hat,” Adler returned.

“He does. He hold very few in high esteem, and you are one,” said I. “You're not fool, Miss Adler. The world would be a very different place if more women were as bold and cunning as you.”

“Well, maybe one of these days we'll see a world like that,” said Miss Adler with a smile. “Let's get back in case he needs us.”

I agreed, and we strolled back to the Rose Inn. We walked up the steps, and saw a man, wearing a wide brimmed hat, seated in a rocking chair and smoking a cigarette.

“Good evenin',” said the man.

“Good evening,” I returned cautiously.

“I hear yous are looking for a Mr Homer Smith?”

Adler and I paused and gave the man another look.

“Mr Holmes?” Miss Adler asked.

“Good work!” came Holmes' voice. He stood up and removed the hat.

“Where did you get that stetson?” I asked.

“I like it better than your deerstalker,” Adler commented. Holmes appeared unfazed by her remark and continued.

“I bought a couple from the small boutique. There's one for you too, Watson,” he said. “I also learnt where we can find Homer Smith, but let us speak in the privacy of our room.”

We came inside from the cool night air, and sat in our room, which was lit by half a dozen candles and two oil lamps. Holmes stood, arms crossed, in a corner while I sat atop the dresser and Miss Adler reclined in a chair.

“Let me recount my evening's events. After I left you, I attempted to get a better idea of what was around and at our disposal, should we encounter an emergency. I stepped back into the Brownie Restaurant and approached the bar, as I did earlier.

“‘Come back again?' asked the bartender.

“‘I found the Rose Inn, thank you. Thought I would come back for a drink; what do you have?' I asked, putting my American accent to use.

“‘We got some bourbon and beer.'

“‘Give me a pint of beer.' The man pulled out a glass and filled it up. I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a sip finding, to my pleasure, the taste to be most enjoyable. “‘You serve a fine brew,' said I.

“The bartender smiled and nodded.

“‘Tell me, any chance you know a man by the name of Homer Smith?'

“The bartender leaned down, resting his forearm on the counter and clasping his hands. ‘Why do ya want'a know?' he asked, clearly suspicious.

“‘He is an old friend of mine. I heard he was around here, so though I'd look him up.'

“‘An old friend?' he returned. ‘Homer told me what to do if any “old friends” came looking for him.' At this point, the bartender had stood upright and his hands were below the counter. He swiftly lifted them to reveal a sawn-off shot gun, to which I quickly darted out of the way as he fired a shot.”

“That must have been the shot we heard before we went for a walk!” said I.

“Most likely,” confirmed Holmes. “I snatched the gun from the bartender, only to see a room full of pistols aimed at my head.

“‘Drop the weapon!' someone roared. I laid the gun down slowly so as not to seem a threat to this trigger-happy folk. Thankfully, a man burst through the front door. He was wearing a brown leather coat, thick trousers tucked into his high boots, a holster, and in his hand sat a rifle. I saw upon his chest a badge, and knew he was local authority.

“‘What in tarnation is goin' on?' he shouted. ‘All of you drop your damn guns, now!'

“The room calmed, and each man tucked his gun safely away.

“‘Good evening sheriff!' said the bartender. ‘This man here is causing trouble!'

“‘I ain't seen your face around here before, boy. Where are you from?'

“‘I am Altamont,' said I giving the first false name that leapt into my mind. ‘Altamont Jones of New York City. I am a Pinkerton.'

“‘A Pinkerton, you say?' returned the sheriff. ‘Well, come with me.' I followed him out the door and we walked up the street, a ways passed the Chandler Block building, until we came to a street called Broadway. On the corner of the street sat a small police station, which we entered. The Sheriff pulled out a chair and indicated for me to sit there while he walked around a desk and sat behind it.

“‘So, Altamont Jones, what are you doing here?' he asked.

“‘Forgive me, sheriff, but we haven't been properly introduced. You know my name, but I am unaware of yours.'

“‘Name's Jesse Flood.'

“‘Pleasure to meet you,' I returned, extending a hand.

“‘I'm no fool. I'm not shaking that hand till I know more about you.'

“‘I'm here looking for a man named Homer Smith. I have reason to believe he is involved in an underground club that deals, ships, and delivers opium into New York.'

“Sheriff Flood sat back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘That's a mighty tall order, son.'

“‘If you will point me to him I will be on my way.'

“‘What proof do you have?'

“I reached into my pocket and withdrew the telegram Miss Adler had shown us previously. ‘This note was picked up from the offices of this underground club before an explosion tore it to pieces.'

“He looked over the note some time. ‘All right, Pinkerton, here's what I'm goin' to do, because unfortunately my hands are figuratively tied. Homer Smith is a powerful man and one nobody wants to deal with. So I'm goin' to give you an address and I'm goin' to give you a train arrival time. Both of these things will be important to you. If you're not gone tomorrow, and word gets out you are sniffing around about Homer, he'll have you killed. But I gotta say, if you go approachin' that house, you best have a damn good reason.'

“‘What is this address and time?' The sheriff told me that if I followed the road by the park, north, I will come across a large brick house that sits just near a railway crossing; that house is Homer's. The sheriff also gave me the time of one thirty a.m. I have thus been to the train station, which we got off from, and learnt that two miles up the road is a railway yard for freight.”

“What do you plan, Holmes?” I asked.

“I want you, Watson, to stake out at the railway yard. Learn all you can from this train that is soon to arrive. I will handle Homer. We should plan to meet back here no later than four o'clock. The time is just after midnight. The sheriff was kind enough to leave a stable door open for us to borrow a couple of horses.”

“And what am I to do?” asked Miss Adler. “Sit here while the men go out?” She looked disapproving.

“Our situations are dangerous! I should not wish to put you in any harm,” returned Holmes.

“This won't do!” she declared.

“Woman, for me, please stay behind,” said Holmes in a softer tone.

She paused and looked at him a moment, blinking several times before nodding. “Be careful, both of you.”

“Let us get ready!”

***

Holmes revealed that a stetson was not the only thing which he had purchased. He had also picked up two pairs of boots for us to change into, and two sturdier jackets. His was long and brown while mine stopped at my waist and was grey. I slipped the boots and hat on, and I admit that it wasn't an uncomfortable fit.

With Miss Adler's approval of our new American disguises, we made our way to the stable the sheriff had mentioned. We found a small building and two horses inside. One was jet black with a white diamond on its nose and the other was white with chocolate brown spots dotted about. We saddled the horses, and the two of us road off into the night, Holmes headed towards Homer's and I towards the railway yard.

I followed the railway for about a mile. Where it came to a fork, I turned right. The stars were still ablaze above me, and the bright circular moon superbly illuminated the landscape. I carried on with great haste until I saw the rail yard. The yard itself was laden with freight cars. Adjacent to the yard stood a large brick building, which had been painted an off-yellow colour. The building, I assumed, served as a loading bay. I dismounted, and led my white and brown horse along the tracks. There was a small wood and I decided to hide the horse in there. I tied it to a tree. As I walked down the path, keeping an eye on the rail yard, I straightened my new hat. I withdrew my fob watch, and saw the time was quarter past one.

Stealthily, I crept into the yard and saw two men step from the building. One seemed to be looking at his watch, and the other was smoking a cigar. A train whistle blew in the distance. The men perked up at its sound, so I made my way closer. Dodging in and out of cars, hiding in shadows, I got nearer and nearer. The ground began to rumble as the powerful locomotive charged ahead. In the distance, light from inside the engine room glowed, and I could hear the breaks screeching as the train began to slow down. I watched as the train drew near and stopped alongside the platform where the two men stood. The name Pemberton Rail was painted on the engine. Four men stepped out of one of the freight cars. There was something familiar about the men, but I could not make it out. Staying to the shadows, I moved forward enough to hear their talk.

“Bit early tonight,” said one of the two men I saw upon arrival.

“We've had a heck of a time,” said one of the men.

“We can see that. We got your shipment from New York earlier today. Everything has been stored away.”

“Good work! Well, let's get this stuff unloaded so we can call it a night!”

I watched as the men went to work unloading unmarked crates from the car and bringing them into the building.

“Did ya hear what happened?” said another of the four men to one of the two.

“Nah, what's happen'd?” he asked.

“The whole New York compound went up in smoke. Some bird was sniffing about, apparently she ‘ad some important people on our tail after Dog here killed her husband. Saw the place explode from a boat out in the bay. Quite the sight!”

“Golly! Sounds like a pr'tty close call!”

I recalled Miss Adler telling me that when she was captive, one of the men she called an outlaw was named Dog. It was this man who killed Norton! The very men Holmes and I saw leave pier 4 and get onto the steamboat.

“So, with all this extra opium are we goin' to get a treat?”

“I suppose we could,” said the man who had been indicated earlier as Dog. “Can't have too much though, this is our bread and butter. Ivory's already got plans for a new set up, just working things out with the boss. And if he finds out we took some, boy your life ain't worth spit.”

Holmes was correct. The entire operation was driven on opium.

“Who's to say one of the crates wasn't damaged, right?” one of the outlaws said, and the group laughed in agreement.

“How much longer is this going to take? We got another shipment to deal with tomorrow afternoon, and I'd rather get some sleep than suck some opium,” another outlaw said.

We had them! The outlaws would be here at least until tomorrow. I needed to get back to Holmes and tell him. We could warn the sheriff and bring these men to justice and hopefully be led to this man, Ivory, and learn why Norton was killed! I crept away. I placed my foot, unknowingly, onto a large iron nail. It rolled as I pressed off and I fell to the ground in a commotion.

“Who's that stumbling around in the dark?” yelled an outlaw. “State your business or prepare to get winged!”

I had no time to lose. I could not foil our plans and be caught by these bandits. I raced through the wood. The men shouted as they saw me dart off. The sound of guns firing echoed in the night. Whizzing bullets flew past me. War is the same, no matter where you are. If I did not outrun my enemies, I'd wind up with another wound, and perhaps this time it would be fatal. I found my horse still tied. Dark figures were following after me still. Quickly I untied the steed and jumped upon its back. The men were shouting, but the bullets had ceased. Coming out onto the main road, a way behind I saw two men also on horses.

They spotted me, and the chase continued. Their revolvers roared again. I withdrew my service revolver and returned fire. Ahead were two more men upon horses. Guns were drawn and shots fired. I turned the horse, and we raced into a thick wood. Four men were charging after me. I wished for the moon and stars to be hidden. The visibility for targeting was far too easy on this night. A bullet flew right past my head. One of the men was gaining upon me. As steadily as I could, I aimed and fired one shot. The man fell from his horse. My horse suddenly jerked, frightened, and I fell off into a creek.

The water was moving swiftly and carried me along. I fumbled for sometime and eventually grabbed hold of a low branch. Pulling myself out of the water, I fell upon the bank.

Forcing myself up I ran in the best direction that would take me back to the Rose Inn. I felt disoriented as I charged on. I came out to a dirt road and I looked it up and down. Which way would lead me back to my companions? I thought. I could hear the shouts of the outlaws not far off. A shot was fired. Up the road I could see a dark figure on a horse. My heart began to race as the rider blazed towards me as the gunfire echoed. I crept back into the wood and watched, with relief, as the rider passed me by.

I walked back out onto the road and ran up the road. Suddenly I fell back as horse burst from the woods. It rose on its hind legs and waved it's front before slamming its hooves with each shaking force. There was a horseman on the creatures back, and a gun was aimed at my head.

“Hold steady,” said the rider to the horse. I kept still. Under the moonlight I could see the rider had a thick beard mouth. Their eyes barely visible under their hat. “You got yourself into a bit of old, ain't ya?” they said. “We got some people who want to talk to you, put these on.” The man threw over a pair of metal handcuffs. I didn't move. “Boy, you put those on, or you'll find yourself with the angels soon.” I bent down to pick them up. A gun went off and I fell to the ground putting my hands over my head. There was a moment of silence and I heard a thud. I looked up and saw the rider lying on the ground. I turned behind me to see a figure. The slowly approached.