Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan (8 page)

5:30 PM

We were repacking Judge’s evidence
kit when William Henry entered the Pullman. In his arms, he held a squirming, slobbering creature, which he pushed on me
as if it were a soiled baby. “Why do I know this beast belongs to you? I found him sniffing around first class.”

“Teddy!” Just who I needed to cheer me up. I took my bulldog from him, but rather than scolding Teddy for leaving our seat,
I gave him a good scratch behind his ears.

William Henry frowned at us. “And I will not even name the thousands of reasons you should not be in this car.”

“Good. What information do you have?” Judge asked as I put Teddy on the floor.

Glaring at me, William Henry said, “If you don’t get out of this car now, you’re going to get me in trouble. I’m responsible
for Miss Pinkerton.”

“Oh, come on, are you a man or a schoolmarm?” I said, and saw his eyes spark.

Judge added quickly, “William Henry, Mr. Spike is a fool. Somebody has to do something.”

William Henry sighed, took off his cap, and ran a hand through his thick brown hair “All right but I am not helping you. I’m
just passing along information.”

“Understood,” I said, but thought, Oh, just tell us, you big baby!

“We’re scheduled to stop in Cincinnati in three hours,” William Henry began. “But Dr. Freud believes the man, while still
unconscious, is out of danger. The amyl nitrate has blocked the destructive power of the cyanide without killing him. Dr.
Freud thinks he would be better off remaining on the train until San Francisco, where he can receive the best medical care.”

Since William Henry seemed willing to share information, I asked, “Who else had access to this car?”

“This Pullman belongs to the government.”

I said impatiently, “Yes, we know. But who else had access?”

“Well, I did. And Agent Howard, of course.”

“And the other man?” I asked.

He blinked. “What other man?”

I scowled at him. “Yesterday, at Pennsylvania Station, I saw two men board this Pullman. In fact, they dropped a dollar bill,
which I was trying to return to them this morning.”

“You’re full of balloon juice. I haven’t seen anyone else in this car.”

Balloon juice? Who did he think he was talking to? “That only means you haven’t seen the other man,” I hissed between clenched
teeth. “It doesn’t mean that he hasn’t been here.”

William Henry mouthed the words “balloon juice” to Judge and made a face as if indicating that I was crazy.

I felt my fingers curl into fists.

“But Agent Howard did have a cat!” Judge blunted, cutting through the tension. “I saw a man carrying a cat last night when
he passed through our car to the dining car. The poor thing was very still and looked like it was sick. It must be frightened
and is hiding, because I haven’t seen it since.”

“Not to worry.” I leaned down to pat Teddy, who had been sleeping at my feet. His big head rose groggily.

“Cat. Find cat, Teddy. Find cat,” I said to him out loud. But Teddy just looked at me, wagging his tail. He was waiting for
me to give him a hand signal in Teddyspeak. With my right hand I pointed sharply away from me, the signal for FIND.

He didn’t budge. Find what? his eyes asked.

I glanced at William Henry, and wished he wasn’t watching this. Then, I turned back to Teddy and made the signal for CAT.
I stuck out my tongue and put two fingers behind my head like pointy ears.

William Henry burst out laughing and I felt my face redden, but it was worth it. Teddy understood the signal. He began to
sniff around the room. Finding nothing that interested him, he propped himself on his hind legs and used his front paws to
turn the brass doorknob. It took a few little hops to reach the knob, but when he got the door open, Teddy trotted off to
check the rest of the train.

William Henry chortled. “I believe I can die a happy man, for now I’ve seen everything. You might just as well have asked
that old shoe to find the cat.”

I had my doubts about Teddy–the smell of a piece of cheese would be enough to distract him from his mission. But I didn’t
want to give William Henry the satisfaction of knowing that. “Don’t die yet. You’ll want to see me crack this case first,”
I said coolly.

I wanted to show him he was dealing with a skilled detective, so I continued in my professional-sounding voice. “We should
write down what we know so far. It will help us focus.”

Taking a pen from the desk, I wrote:

What we know so far:

1. Agent Howard has been poisoned.

2. Two men boarded government Pullman. Only one has been seen since.

3. Suspect may still be on the train.

4. Agent’s cat may be on the train.

The three of us looked at the list.

William Henry tapped the paper with one grease-stained finger. “There are 173 people on board this train. How can we determine
who the criminal is?”

“Simple,” I answered, talking off the top of my head. I wanted to regain some ground with William Henry, and so I tried to
sound confident. “We narrow down that large number to a smaller number of suspects.”

He arched a blonde eyebrow doubtfully. “Yes, but how?”

“We figure out what kind of people commit a crime like poisoning and make a description of their personality traits.” I gained
steam as I spoke. “Then we compare that description to the passenger list. Whoever doesn’t match that description, we eliminate.”

“That’s brilliant!” Judge cried. “They did something similar in the Jack the Ripper case in London almost twenty years ago.”

“Exactly,” I said. “We have to create a criminal profile! Let’s go back to the laboratory compartment and begin.”

Once there, we settled onto the comfortable chairs

and couches. William Henry disappeared for a moment. He came back carrying a small tray of tea and biscuits, and we helped
ourselves. Outside, the early evening sky had grown overcast, but I could still make out the midwestern prairie our train
was traveling through. The flat landscape seemed to go on forever.

Setting my cup and saucer on a table, I went to a small chalkboard and wrote CRIMINAL PROFILE.

“Where do we begin?” Judge asked.

“If we are trying to track the criminal,” I said, “I think it’s important to look at the crime.”

“It was a crime of poison,” Judge said immediately, and I wrote CRIME IS POISON.

“Well,” William Henry said, “to know something about poison, I would think you’d have to be educated.”

“True,” Judge agreed. While I didn’t want to give the porter too much credit, I wrote EDUCATED on the chalkboard under CRIMINAL
PROFILE. “What else?” I asked.

“You can poison someone from a distance,” Judge said.

William Henry nodded. “Yes, it is not like using a gun or a knife, where you have to be near the victim. You can simply leave
the poison somewhere, perhaps in food or drink. This could mean our suspect does not like to be around other people.”

I wrote ANTISOCIAL on the board. But this seemed fairly obvious. After all, poisoning someone wasn’t exactly a friendly thing
to do.

“I have something I’d like to add,” I said. I wrote the word ACCESS on the board. “Our criminal would have to have access
to the scene of the crime. And I can only think of one person in this room who fits that description.”

William Henry’s face turned dark.

“Now, now,” Judge said, trying to cut through the tension again.

“Who else had the opportunity and the ability to enter the Pullman–”