I looked at his face, but I could not read it.
“Do I have a choice?” I said.
He tipped his head back & blew some smoke up in the air. “No.”
“Then I will come with you.”
Ledger Sheet 33
THE FASHION SALOON HAD slatted wooden half doors that swung each way. Jace held open the right-hand door & Stonewall the left. I took a deep breath & stepped inside. It was dim in there and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust after the brightness of the day outside. There was sawdust on the floor, but the strong wind had already blown it into a little drift against the end of a long bar along the right-hand wall.
There were plain pinewood tables opposite the bar & also at the back of the room. Some of the tables were round & some were square. It smelled of stale beer & cigar smoke & sweat. A fat woman had a hurdy-gurdy on her lap & she was cranking out a version of “Camptown Races.” Three miners were dancing with some Hurdy Girls who had hardly any clothes on.
“Come on,” said Jace, who was halfway across the room. The sawdust was thicker here. It muffled the sound of my heavy shoes as I followed him.
Jace gestured towards a table near the back of the saloon, near a window with a 100-mile view. I could see the air outside was full of dust & a man’s hat flew by.
Jace saw it, too. “Danged Washoe Zephyr,” he said. He pulled out a chair for me.
I hesitated.
My Indian ma had taught me always to sit with my back against the wall so nobody could sneak up on me. But I did not think I had a choice this time, so I sat without protest. Jace sat opposite me. I observed that he had his back to the wall, and that he kept his hat on.
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see that the barkeeper was closing a set of full-length inner doors. Once closed, those doors made the saloon quieter and calmer, but darker, too.
It made me feel trapped.
I reckoned Poker Face Jace had read the article in the newspaper & worked out who I was. Like everyone else, he wanted my document of great value.
“What’ll you drink?” he said, taking the cigar from his mouth & tapping ash into a brass ashtray.
“Water,” I said.
Jace said, “Nobody drinks the water here in Virginia. It is a mixture of arsenic, plumbago and copperas. It is only good for washing.”
“Coffee, then,” I said. “Black coffee.”
“Stonewall?” said Jace. “Bring us a pot of coffee and two cups and keep watch at the bar.”
“Yes, boss,” said the big man.
Jace looked at me & I looked back. Everything about him was straight. His nose was straight & his mouth was straight. Even his black eyebrows were straight.
I thought, “What does he mean to do to me?”
He sucked his cigar & blew some smoke up towards the ceiling. “You look familiar to me somehow. Have we met before?”
I did not know what to say, so I said nothing.
“You are inscrutable,” he said. “I cannot tell what you are thinking.”
“That is my Thorn,” I said. My hands were cold & now that I was sitting down my knees were trembling.
“Beg pardon?”
“A Thorn in my side. I cannot understand what other people are feeling or thinking.”
Jace gave a small nod. “I suppose that means you have trouble showing your own emotions.”
“Yes, sir. Also, sometimes I cannot recognize people I have met before. If they have grown a beard or their hair is different I get confused. Once, in Dayton, I walked right by my foster ma. She was wearing a brand-new store-bought bonnet & I did not recognize her. Luckily she understood and was not too mad at me. It is a Thorn. A Thorn & a Curse.”
Jace tapped some more ash into the ashtray. “What is your name?”
“P.K. Pinkerton,” I said. I figured he would find out anyway.
Jace’s eyebrows went up. “Related to Doc Pinkerton?”
“No. I am related to the famous Pinkerton Detectives of Chicago. Allan Pinkerton is my uncle. My pa was his brother Robert. I am going to Chicago to work for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”
“We never sleep,” said Jace.
It was my turn to say, “Beg pardon?”
“That is their motto,” said Jace. “On their signs and letterheads. The words ‘We Never Sleep’ underneath an eye. They call themselves ‘Private Eyes.’”
“I know they call themselves ‘Private Eyes,’” I said. “But I did not know about the motto.”
“Thank you, Stonewall,” said Jace as the big man put a tin pot of coffee & two china mugs on the table. Stonewall filled both mugs, pushed one towards Jace, one towards me & then went to resume his position at the end of the bar.
My hands were still cold. I put them around the mug to warm them.
Jace rested his cigar in the ashtray & took a sip of coffee. “P.K.,” he said. “I believe what you call a Thorn & a Curse is really a Blessing. Furthermore, I think I can help you.”
“What do you mean you can help me?” My hands around the coffee mug were a little warmer, but my knees were still trembling.
Jace picked up his cigar & took another suck. “Have you ever heard of a card game called poker?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I played it once or twice on the wagon train coming west.”
Jace nodded & exhaled smoke up into the air. “How about faro and monte?”
“I have heard of them but I do not know the rules.”
“No matter. If you understand poker you can play those other games. Have you heard of a ‘poker face’?”
“Yes,” I said. “It means not letting your face betray the cards in your hand.”
Jace sat forward & tapped the ash from his cigar into the ashtray. “You are exactly right. A poker face means a face that expresses no emotion. No pleasure at getting a royal flush. Nor disappointment at getting a passel of small worthless cards. I have only once met a poker player with a face as inscrutable as yours and he was an Indian.”
“I am half Sioux.”
“I suspected as much.” He sat back in his chair. “You know, P.K., it has taken me years of training to achieve what you naturally have.”
I said, “But a poker face is only useful if you can tell what other people are thinking. I know, because I played with those men once or twice and they always won.”
“Bravo,” said Jace. “You are a very smart boy.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I am smart. You show me something once, I never forget it. Also, I can do large sums in my head.”
Jace raised an eyebrow. “What is nine times nine?” he said.
I said, “Eighty-one.”
“What is thirty times twenty-two, with ten subtracted and then divided by five?”
I said, “One hundred and thirty.”
“What is one hundred and thirty-eight times three thousand five hundred and sixty-seven?”
I thought for a minute, seeing the numbers in my head. Then I said, “Four hundred ninety-two thousand two hundred forty-six.”
He said, “D-mn.” He glanced over at Stonewall and then looked at me for a moment. Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of playing cards. He shuffled them, dealt himself seven & fanned them out in his hand. He swiveled his wrist, showed me the hand for about the count of three & then put the cards face down on the table. “What cards did I hold?” he said.
I said, “Queen of Spades, Three Hearts, Five Diamonds, Queen of Diamonds, Jack of Clubs, Ten Spades and Ace of Spades.” As I named each card in order, he flipped it over to show I was right.
“D-mn,” said Jace again. “You are an unmined vein, P.K. If I could train you to read what people are thinking, you would be the best cardsharp west of the Mississippi.”
Jace stared at me for a while. I could not read his expression.
“And do you always keep your promises?” he said at last.
“I try.”
Jace looked over at Stonewall & shook his head. “An honest genius, Stonewall. What a discouraging combination.” Stonewall grunted & took a sip of beer. Jace put his cigar in his mouth & narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you going to drink your coffee?” he said in his drawl. “Or are you going to hug it all day?”
“I like it cold.”
Jace took the cigar out of his mouth. “P.K.?” he said. “What do you think is the most honest part of a man’s body?”
“Beg pardon?”
“When you are trying to understand how a person is feeling, where do you look?”
“At their face.”
“A man’s face is the most dishonest part of the body,” he said. “Whereas the most honest part of a man’s body is in fact the part furthest from his face.”
I said, “His feet?”
Jace nodded. “His feet.”
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.
Feet are the most honest part of a person because we are not always aware of what our feet are doing.
If feet are set wide apart, the person is feeling strong & sometimes also angry.
The Case of the Deadly Desperados Page 13