Dead Shot

by Wendy M Wilson

  Inspector James took a final swig of his tea, pushed the cup aside and stood up.

  “I have connections in Gippsland. I was there for a few years. Time for another telegram I think.” He turned to the women. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to insist you stay in your rooms for the day. I’ll leave a guard at the door of the hotel. Sergeant Hardy, finish your breakfast and come with me. We’ll see if Robinson is in his shop. Did you give him any reason to think you were going to report him?“

  “I said I just wanted my wife back. I told him to pass on that message. I don’t think he’ll have made a run for it…not yet…he can’t afford to.”

  “I’ll take him in for questioning,” said the inspector. “Could you come with me to the book shop to make an identification?”

  “I’m sorry, Mette. But I think I need to…”

  “Your wife can stay with me,” said Mrs. Patterson. “I have a large suite. I have some letters to write, but I’ll have my coachman fetch some magazines from the book shop. I’ll just pop out and let him know…” She left in a swoosh of black silk and rose water.

  Mette watched her leave. “She’s very kind,” she said to Frank. “But do I have to stay with her all day? She tires me out. I’d rather sit with Hop Li…”

  * * *

  The door to Robinson’s book shop was open, and Mrs. Patterson’s coachman was waiting outside, his hat squashed nervously in his hands.

  “He’s not here,“ he said. “There’s a light inside, but no one answered my knock. I opened the door and called out. I think I heard a door slam, but…”

  Inspector James pushed past him. A candle flickering on the table had been burning for no more than thirty minutes. Beside the candle sat a closed ledger and an open, empty cash box. James handed Constable Crozier the ledger. “We’ll look at this later.”

  A gust of wind reminded Frank of the back door - a door he remembered well. He’d visited Mette here when she lived in the room at the back. He knew that beyond the door was a path through the bush that went directly down to the river. It seemed that Ernest had been spooked by something and made a run for it with whatever money he had in the shop.

  “He’ll head for the river.”

  He ran down to the river’s edge, Inspector James a few feet behind him. Several small boats were moving slowly downstream towards Foxton and the sea; a few tacked upstream towards the ranges. Either direction would offer an escape route for someone trying to get out of town fast.

  “Which way would he go, do you think?”

  “Foxton, most likely,” said the inspector. “If he makes it to Foxton he could head north by sea and he’d have several options for disembarkation. I’ll send Pardy a telegram and have his men watch the ports at Patea and Waitara. My men will be on the alert in Wanganui. If he chooses to go towards the ranges he’ll run into the Gorge and it’ll be easy to cut him off. I’ll send a trooper up there to watch for him. But I’m betting he’s headed to the farm outside Hawera.”

  “I’ll go along the river to the bridge near the old pa,” said Frank. See if anyone saw him pass underneath. At least then we’ll know the direction he’s headed.”

  He took off at a run along the riverbank. The path had improved in the last two years, and was mostly used as a place for courting couples to stroll in the evening. Now that the pa had been torn down and the families living there dispersed, townspeople considered it a safe place to walk. A tennis club surrounded by park land had sprung up, and large new homes were being built on the grounds of what was once a marae - a Maori meeting place.

  He reached the new bridge and crossed to the middle. The boats passing below were mostly small canoes, some with passengers. If Ernest was using the river to escape he wouldn’t have got far; and the river wound so much that the trip by road to Foxton of twenty-four miles would turn into eighty miles by canoe. Now that he thought of it, Ernest would be a fool to attempt an escape by river. If he was on his way up to the farm in Hawera to look for sanctuary and help leaving the country, the roads or the railway would be better options.

  He crossed the bridge to a small dock on the other side. A canoe sat idle by the dock, from which a young man with a plaid blanket over his knees was casting a line into the water. A boot boy, probably, catching salmon for the hotel dining rooms. Inspector James would be happy about that.

  “Have you seen anyone cross the bridge in the last twenty minutes?”

  The young man nodded and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “There was a feller a while ago came running down the path - same as you - and he took off into the bush.”

  “Not along the road?”

  “Nah. Looked like someone was after him. Looked scared…”

  “What did he look like this man?”

  The young man shrugged. “Just an ordinary man. Average height, not much hair, glasses, about your age… carrying a bag and I would’ve thought he was running to catch a train, but he was going in the wrong direction. Couldn’t run fast…he was limping.”

  “How far to the nearest railway station if he kept heading in that direction?”

  The young man pulled in his line and cast it again, thinking. “Nothing but ranges that way. He’d be all the way through the Gorge to Woodville before he caught a train. He could head the other way towards Karere Junction I suppose. But he’d have to cross the river again. Why wouldn’t he just catch the train in town?”

  “He was the only person you saw?”

  “The only person I saw who came across the bridge. But there was a man as well…”

  “A man on the bridge?”

  “He was on this side…didn’t come across the bridge. He must’ve been sitting down that way somewhere. And he went the same way the man with glasses went, into the bush.”

  “Anything about this man that stood out?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing special…typical sort of man you’d see around here.”

  “Are you sure he was following the first man?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said the young man, annoyed. “I said they went in the same direction. Coulda been following, coulda just happened to be going in the same direction. People do that sometimes.”

  * * *

  Frank returned to the book shop. The fisherman was right. Ernest could have been going anywhere. No point in running madly after him. As for the second man, probably a coincidence although it could have been Bernard. Perhaps he had been keeping an eye on things from some vantage point near the river.

  Inspector James was no longer at the book shop, but had left, according to Mrs. Patterson’s coachman, to send a flurry of telegrams from the telegraph office.

  “He said to tell you to wait for him,” said the coachman. “He won’t be long.”

  Frank waited outside the telegraph office feeling somewhat foolish about his mad dash. Policing was not like it had been in the past. The arrival of the telegraph had given police a chance to get out in front of criminals. Too bad they still didn’t have a way to send a telegram directly to someone’s house, other than by delivery boy. They’d still be using letters twenty years from now.

  As he waited, the mayor came out of his auction rooms.

  “Ah, Sergeant Hardy. There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Are your men ready for the review tomorrow?”

  Damn. The review. He’d forgotten about it. “Ah yes, the review. We’ll be ready…what time…?”

  The mayor bristled. “I gave the whole town a day off. The Wanganui Rifle Volunteers are coming down by train, and volunteers from Marton and Feilding, as well as several dignitaries and a volunteer band. I hope you have a plan for the day.”

  Inspector James came out of the telegraph office. “Plan?” he asked.

  “The council has planned a volunteer review for tomorrow,” said the mayor. “I’ve put a lot of work into the day. Colonel Roberts is coming down from Parihaka. I spent a lot of time persuading him to come…and Major Noake, of course…”

  “Deerfoot Roberts?�
�� asked Frank. “Von Tempsky’s old companion?”

  The mayor nodded. “He’ll bring in huge crowds. I wanted him to see how well our volunteers were doing. He’ll be overseeing them when they’re called to the front.”

  “I do have a plan,” said Frank. “Inspector James, while you’re waiting for replies to all your telegrams I’d like to talk to you about it.”

  “You can talk to me about it,” said the mayor. “I’m the one who’s going to look like a fool if the review doesn’t go well.”

  Frank glanced at the inspector. “It’s not just a plan for the review…” He decided he could trust the mayor, who he’d known for years. “Inspector James is tracking the leader of a gang from Australia who’ve set up a base outside Hawera…near the front. They want the horse, the one I just took charge of - and I’d give them the damn horse if it was mine to give. But they’ll have to take it from me in a fight. I thought we could set up something as part of the review…draw them out…”

  “Excellent idea,” said the inspector. “If you flaunt the horse in front of them and they go for it we can catch them in the act…what do you have in mind exactly?”

  “I’ll include Dead Shot in the review…I’ll ride him. See if it’ll help flush out any other members of the gang. And Ernest and Bernard as well. They’re both hiding in the area somewhere I think.”

  “You mean to start a battle in the middle of town with this gang?” Asked the mayor. “A real battle? I can’t allow that…there’ll be woman and children watching, and the elderly…”

  “It’s a good idea, Hardy,” said the inspector. “But we have to get them away from town. Somewhere where there won’t be innocent people put at risk…” He snapped his fingers. “The train…with the volunteers from Wanganui.”

  Frank was catching on. “We’ll put it about that I’m sending Dead Shot back to Patea by train, after the review. And we’ll stop somewhere and hope they attack the train…we’ll make it easy for them. And you can have your men in place waiting for them…”

  “Still a lot of people on the train,” said the mayor, not convinced. “The volunteers will have their families with them in a separate carriage. We can’t put the families at risk. I’m not in favour of that.”

  “And we can’t guarantee an attack,” said Inspector James, ignoring the mayor. “I’ll put some of my men in with the Wanganui volunteers. The horse will be in a box at the end of the train right behind the volunteers. That will create a buffer between the families of the volunteers and a possible attack…”

  “Where would you expect them to attack?” asked Frank.

  “The train stops for refreshments at Halcombe…the Foxton train meets it there as well. Then after that stop the railway crosses the Rangitikei River and passes up some sharp gradients and around several curves…somewhere around there I would think, when the gradients and curves slow the train down.”

  The mayor was on board now. “You’ll need to do something special with the horse to be sure everyone hears about it…and let them know that he’s going to be on the train.”

  “I’ll ride behind the volunteers…make sure I’m all over The Square,” said Frank

  “No,” said the mayor. He was positively beaming now. “I have a better idea. We’ll have a sham battle…I always wanted…”

  Frank glanced over at the paddock of the Royal Hotel. Will Karira was coming towards them.

  “A sham battle where you and your men fight the natives, and…” the mayor continued.

  “The natives?” said Frank. “Are you imagining me having a battle with Constable Karira, and beating him? Do you think he’ll want to take part in something like that?’

  “Take part in what?” asked Karira.

  The mayor rushed on, oblivious to signals from Frank.

  “You and Sergeant Hardy are going to perform a sham fight tomorrow at the review. You can recreate the attack at Otapawa, where all the natives ran for their lives…”

  “I suppose you want me in a loin cloth and tattoos,” said Karira coldly. “Wielding a tomahawk…”

  “That would be exciting…” began the mayor. He stopped, realizing the losing side in the that particular battle was unhappy, possibly even enraged.

  “The Battle of Waterloo?” said Frank quickly. “Or something stirring like the The Field of the Cloth of Gold? I can be Henry and Karira can be Francis…or I can get Mr. Todd from the bank to pad himself with cushions and he can be Henry. His colouring is more appropriate…”

  “I would suggest the attack at the Eureka Stockade,” said the inspector. “Get the Australians riled up. I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of men willing to act as miners and die dramatically on the stockade after you and your volunteers overwhelm them. A bit of fencing will pass as the stockade.”

  The mayor left to round up volunteer miners and spread the word that Sergeant Hardy and his volunteers were going to perform a sham battle. He’d been instructed to tell as many people as possible that the horse the sergeant was using was due to be sent back to its owner on the train at the end of the day.

  “Sorry, Will,” said Frank. “That was thoughtless of the mayor.”

  Karira ignored him. “What’s this in aid of,” he asked. “What are you trying to achieve with this sham battle?”

  Frank filled him in quickly.

  “Do you think it’s worth risking Dead Shot in this endeavour?”

  “It’s risky,” agreed Frank. “I’m not sure…wait…I have a better idea. And I’ll need your help.”

  27

  Trouble at the Bank

  Mette had been sitting with Hop Li for an hour; she was feeling restless. He was a good friend, but she had grilled him on every aspect of his life and had run out of things to ask. He answered her carefully and simply, not adding any interesting details, and did not ask her any questions about her own life, even though she could have talked for hours about her childhood, or coming to New Zealand. Or about how she and Frank had built the farm. That would be interesting to him she was sure.

  A soft knock on the door saved them from silence.

  “Who’s there,” he said sharply. “Don’t answer, Mette.”

  “It’s me.”

  “It’s just Wiki,” she said. “I can open the door to her…”

  He hobbled over to the door. “Are you alone, Wiki?”

  “No, I have Hohepa with me. Let me in. We’re bored.”

  Hop Li opened the door an inch, braced his foot against it, and peered out with his good eye.

  Wiki pushed past him into the room, followed by Hohepa. “I want to go out. There’s nothing to do here and we’re stuck in the bedroom.”

  “The inspector told us we had to stay in the hotel,” said Mette. She was inclined to do as she was told.

  “You can’t go out by yourselves,” said Hop Li. “And I can’t protect you. I’m finished as a protector.”

  Mette squeezed his shoulder. “No you’re not. In a few weeks you’ll be as good as new.”

  “I can protect them,” said Wiki. She drew out her Bowie knife.

  “Very nice,” said Hop Li approvingly. “Could I have a look?’

  She handed it to him and he spun it around and put it against her throat. “I think you aren’t a good protector either, Wiki. You’re too easy to fool. Don’t trust anyone.”

  In the doorway, Mrs. Patterson gasped. “What on earth…?”

  “Hop Li is giving Wiki a lesson in not trusting anyone,” said Mette. “We want to go out but Inspector James told us to stay in the hotel. We’re bored.”

  “I was coming to suggest a walk,” said Mrs. Patterson. “Just the two of us. Surely a short walk around The Square would be safe. We could stop in to Snelson’s and buy you a new dress. The one you have on is quite finished after all your travails.”

  “Wiki will come as well,” said Mette. She saw Mrs. Patterson frown at Wiki. If she didn’t realize by now that Wiki was a girl, Mette was not going to tell her. “Hohepa can stay with Hop
Li.”

  “I can come,” said Hop Li. “You need to be protected. Frank won’t like…”

  “My coachman will come with us,” said Mrs. Patterson. “He’s stronger than he looks. And as I said, just around The Square. What do you say?”

  The thought of a walk around The Square and a new dress tempted Mette. The one she had on was not just tired, but also filthy. And she would be with three other people. Surely that would keep her safe.

  “We’ll just go over to Snelson’s,” she said. “And the Bank of New Zealand. I need to get money for the dress.”

  “Oh, I can lend you some,” said Mrs. Patterson. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Mette looked at Wiki, who shrugged. “Thank you for your kindness Mrs. Patterson. But I think we’ll go to the bank first, and then to Snelson’s. Just the three of us. The bank is a few steps from the hotel. Nothing will happen between here and the bank. When I have some money we can come back here and then go on to Snelson’s with your coachman.”

  “Of course. If that’s what you’d like to do.”

  They moved out the front door in a tight group. The constable was reluctant to let them leave, but when Mette told him she was going over to the bank to get some money he said he would follow them at a short distance. Mette was beginning to worry that she was in danger, but having Wiki and Mrs. Patterson on either side of her made her feel better about the short trip. She linked arms with the two women and they set off to the bank.

  Mr. Todd was seated at the teller’s desk at the front of the bank, and he greeted her warmly. “Mrs. Hardy. How are you feeling? Have you recovered from your ordeal?”

  “Hello Mr. Todd. I need to withdraw some money from our account. As you can see I badly need a new dress. I know I don’t usually come in here, but you know me and…”