The Case of the Deadly Desperados (15 page)

Ledger Sheet 34

JACE GESTURED WITH HIS CIGAR.
“See those men playing poker?”

I looked in the direction he had tipped his head. Four well-dressed men sat around a table. They might have been grocers, or clerks. One of them, a man with a pockmarked face, was dealing cards.

“Watch their feet,” said Jace.

I did. The men picked up their cards & examined them.

“See anything?”

I said, “When they looked at their cards, they all moved their feet a little. Especially that bald man with the bushy mustache. His feet are kind of twitching.”

Jace nodded. “His feet ain't just twitching; they're dancing. That man believes he has a winning hand.”

I said, “You can tell that by his feet?”

“Of course,” said Jace. “You only dance when you're happy.”

“Why is he letting his feet do that? Won't the other men see?”

“He is not aware that his feet are dancing. Nor are his friends. They are only concentrating on the parts above the table.”

I stared. It seemed hard to believe, but Jace was proved right a few minutes later when the bald man raked in the pile of coins. None of the men knew what their feet were getting up to under the table.

Jace put down his cigar & I felt the toe of one of his boots brush my shoes as he shifted in his chair & sat forward. He placed his cigar carefully in the shiny brass ashtray. “Feet don't lie, P.K. When Stonewall brought you in here, I could tell you were afraid not by your face but by your feet. They were pointed away from me. When you sat down you hooked your ankles around the chair legs & sat on the edge of your seat. You warmed your hands on your coffee cup. When we are scared our hands get cold. But now your feet are pointing towards me, ain't they?”

I looked down at my feet. Sure enough, they were pointed towards Jace. How did he know that?

“How do you know that?” I said. “You can't see my feet through the table.”

“A moment ago I very lightly touched the tips of your shoes with the toe of my boot. Did you feel it?”

I said, “Yes. But I thought you were just shifting your feet. What does it mean if my feet are pointed towards you?”

Jace almost smiled. “It shows you are interested in what I am telling you.”

I stared down at my feet, which were still pointing right towards him.

Jace was right. I was interested.

I was more than interested.

If he could help me understand people, then maybe I could overcome my Thorn & become a good Detective & follow in my father's footsteps.

I looked back up at him.

Suddenly Jace leaned in close, so close that I could smell the coffee as well as the cigar smoke on his breath.

“The other sign you are giving now,” he said, “is that the black part of your eyes just got a little bigger.” He sat back in his chair & looked at me from under the brim of his hat. “That is something people cannot control. When a person gets excited or aroused, then their pupils get a little bigger. When a person sees something they do not like, the pupils shrink. Most people do not notice such tiny clews. But I do.”

An idea struck me. “Is that why you had me sit facing the window?” I said. “So my face is lit up?”

He said, “Bravo, P.K. With a little training, I can teach you to read other people as easy as I do.”

I said, “But I promised my ma I would not gamble. It was her dying wish.”

Jace picked up his cigar & sucked. “You told me that before,” he said. “And that suits me just fine. It means I won't have any competition.” He blew smoke up towards the ceiling. “But what if you just helped me? Do you think your dead ma would object to that?”

I pondered this for a few moments. “No,” I said at last, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don't think she would mind.”

Jace smiled. “When a person rubs the back of their neck like you just did,” he said, “it often means they are not telling the whole Truth.”

I stared at him. He was right. Ma Evangeline certainly
would
mind if I helped a person gamble. I had not even admitted that to myself and yet he had known it. I was struck with admiration.

Jace puffed his cigar. “There might be such a thing as a ‘poker face,'” he said, “but there is no such thing as a ‘poker body.' An example. See that lady over there? She is saying yes but shaking her head no. Which do you think she really means?”

I said, “No?”

He said, “Correct. Her mouth is lying but her body is telling the Truth.”

Jace put his feet right up on the table, ankles crossed, & tipped his chair back so that the front legs were off the ground & his shoulders were leaning on the wall. He put his hands behind his head with the elbows out.

“This,” he said, “is the posture of a confident boss. And this”—here he tipped his hat down over his eyes—“this is the posture of a relaxed person having a little nap. But really I am watching everything.”

I nodded. It did look like he was napping, but up close I could see his narrow black eyes scanning the room.

“Bring your chair round, P.K. Come sit by me,” he said. “I am going to start our first lesson right here and right now.”

I looked at Poker Face Jace.

I needed to go to the Notary Public to get money for my Letter. But Jace had just offered to teach me how to understand people. I reckoned that was more important. I would give
anything
to learn what Jace knew. Even the Letter in my medicine bag.

Ledger Sheet 35

I DRAGGED MY CHAIR
next to Jace's & sat on it. Then I tipped it back & put my feet up on the table. I tried to shade my eyes like he was doing, but a plug hat does not have a wide enough brim.

“We'll start at the bottom and work our way up,” said Jace. “I'll start your education with the most honest part of the body and end with the lyingest. And in return I want you to help me tonight. Is it a deal?” He reached his hand across his body to shake on it.

“It is a deal,” I said & shook his hand. His fingers were cool & firm & smooth.

“But first,” he said. “I am going to show you something very simple that will open your eyes forever. See those men at the table? They are all smoking cigars. When a man blows the smoke up in the air, that shows he is feeling happy and confident. And if he blows his cigar smoke down, what do you think it means?”

“That he is not happy nor confident?”

“Correct. It means he is feeling insecure and unhappy. Also, the faster a man blows, the stronger his feelings are. If he blows smoke fast & down, he is probably angry. And if he blows smoke real slow down out of the corner of his mouth, well, that means he is very low.”

I stared at the men & saw immediately that he was right. I could not believe I had never observed something so simple & so true.

Over the next few hours, I did not think about my murdered pa & ma or my dead Indian ma or my dead Pinkerton pa. I did not think about Belle Donne or Isaiah Coffin or Dan De Quille or Titus Jepson. I did not wonder whether Walt & his boys were still staking out the Recorder's Office or whether the Notary Public was now closed for the day. I was too busy watching people.

I watched the men playing cards & blowing smoke up & sometimes down.

I watched the thirsty teamsters come to the bar & point their feet at the bartender as they ordered cool beer for their parched throats.

I watched the sweaty miners coming off their shift & I could tell who was friends with whom.

I watched more Hurdy Girls coming down from upstairs to relieve the miners of their hard-earned wages for just a dance or two. Jace showed me how to tell which ones really liked their partners & which ones were just bluffing. Some of them shook their heads no as they said yes.

Afternoon became night & I did not notice.

The music was fine, but it did not entrance me.

I was entranced by Poker Face Jace, who was teaching me how to understand people.

He was opening a Door of Knowledge. It was like a Veil had been lifted from my eyes. The signs had been there all along, but I had never seen them. The trick, Jace said, was not to look at people's faces, but at their clothes & their props & their bodies & the way they stood. That afternoon we concentrated mostly on feet.

He taught me twelve things about how feet never lie. I did not write them down at that time, because I memorize things real fast, but I will write them down now for the benefit of whoever finds this record.

1. Feet are the most honest part of a person because we are not always aware of what our feet are doing.
   
2. If feet are set wide apart, the person is feeling strong & sometimes also angry.
   
3. If a person has the heel of one foot on the ground with the toes pointed up to the sky, he is happy.
   
4. If the feet get jiggly & do a little dance, the person is excited & happy.
   
5. If one foot starts twitching or kicking, it shows the person is unhappy.
   
6. If a foot is tapping & there is no music, that means the person is nervous or wants to go.
   
7. If someone's body is turned towards you but one or both feet are not, they don't really want to be with you.
   
8. One or both feet sometimes point in the direction the person wants to go.
   
9. A person sitting with legs stretched out & ankles crossed is feeling relaxed & confident.
   
10. Ankles hooked around the chair leg show the person is nervous or trying to control himself.
    
11. People usually cross a leg towards a person they like.
    
12. Deliberately touching someone else's foot under the table is almost always a signal of some kind. Between a man & a woman it means desire.
    

When Jace told me this last rule I asked him what exactly he meant by “desire.”

Jace asked Stonewall to bring him a whiskey & while he was at it to treat himself to one, too & he might as well get us a fresh pot of coffee & some cake.

Stonewall ordered the coffee, put a bottle of whiskey & three glasses on the table & then went off to find some cake. Jace filled one of the small glasses & offered it to me. When I shook my head he took a sip.

He said, “P.K., do you know about men and women, and what they do together?”

I said, “I have seen horses & dogs mating. And once a man and a woman behind the Dry Goods Store in Temperance.”

“Well, sometimes it is about more than just mating. There is desire.” He nodded towards a pretty Mexican woman who was coming downstairs. She was wearing a shimmery low-cut dress & a wave of men moved towards her like iron filings to a magnet.

“Oh,” I said. “That kind of desire. Sparking.”

“Don't you ever feel desire?” said Jace.

“No,” I said. “I think what men and women do together is stupid and strange.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

Jace sipped his whiskey. “You'll feel different in a few years,” he said.

“No,” I said. “I don't think so.”

Jace raised his eyebrows, then leaned forward & looked at me real hard.

“P.K., if you don't mind my asking, are you a boy or a girl?”

I stared at him.

Why was he asking me that question?

Nobody had ever asked me that before.

Was it because I had been dressed in pink gingham when he caught me and he had only just now recognized me?

Or was there another reason?

I glared at him.

Jace examined the tip of his cigar. “The West can be a dangerous place for a girl. Here on the Comstock there are about a dozen men for every woman. Maybe more.” He gestured towards the woman in the sparkly dress. “That's why girls like Mercedes over there get rich so quick. They can charge as much as they like for a dance. But a year from now she might be dead of too much dope or of despair or of having her throat cut, like poor Short Sally. They say one of her lovers cut her throat from jealousy,” he added, taking a pull from his cigar.

My mind was a jumble of things I could say to him, but I did not know which of them to speak out, so I just fumed.

Jace blew the smoke down. “A dozen men to one woman ain't natural. The papers claim we are all gentrified here in Virginia City, with our school and front gardens, our churches & charity balls, and our new piped water. But this is still a rough place for a woman. Or a girl.” Jace looked up at me. “If I had a daughter I might consider dressing her up as a boy, just to keep her safe.”

At that moment, Stonewall came up with a fresh pot of coffee & refilled our mugs. A Chinese waiter appeared from behind him & put down three plates of vanilla layer cake. He gave us each a knife & fork & linen napkin.

Jace nodded his thanks to Stonewall, who had pulled up a chair.

I had finally decided what to say. “There is a verse in Saint Paul's letter to the Galatians,” I began.

But Jace held up his hand to stop me. “Don't you go quoting Scripture at me. Stonewall might tolerate it, but I won't.”

Stonewall kind of smiled & picked up his fork & dug into his piece of cake.

So did Jace.

He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments.

Then he winked at me. “You may be a Freak of Nature, P.K. But you are a freak that is going to earn us both a lot of money.”

I thought, “Money is good. But what you can teach me is worth all the gold & silver in the Comstock.”