***
A few hours later, Holmes returned. Miss Adler had fallen asleep, and I read by the fire.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Went to see Oaks, but he is dead,” he returned. “I have bought us three tickets for Indiana. If we are to find the Ivory man and learn why they killed Norton, we must follow the drugs. We leave in the morning.”
At five o’clock in the morning, Holmes woke us all. He informed Miss Adler of our next journey. We hastily packed and made ourselves ready. Quickly loading our luggage into a cab, and then we were off.
“Your husband did not die over a pair of fake earrings,” said Holmes inside the dark cab.
“I should hope not.”
“There is a larger game afoot, a devious web in which he tangled himself. I think that the earrings were a payoff of some kind. We know he was being threatened for something. Money is normally the driver of most threats, and you have been left safely out of it until now.”
“Then why was my house broken into?”
“A riddle we have yet to solve.”
We arrived at the station and boarded our train. Holmes had acquired a private cabin for Miss Adler while he and I sat in the main compartment with the other travellers. She came to us and asked us to join her for a while. Together the three of us sat and conversed. I was asked about Mary and my marriage, both of which I was happy to discuss.
“And what about you, Mr Holmes, is there no lucky lady for you?” asked Miss Adler with a grin.
“The department of love I leave in the capable hands of Dr Watson.”
“Come now, is there no lady out there who is a suitable match for the great Sherlock Holmes?”
“It is not a matter of suitability, Miss Adler. I am devoted to my work and nothing else.”
“Can no one share in your devotion?”
I sat there, passing glances between the two of them as they talked. When she landed upon this question, I saw a look upon my friend’s face that I had never seen before.
“My dear Miss Adler, as it is, I cannot offer feelings of that nature. I should like to pass another glance through Norton’s journal, so if you will excuse me I will return to my seat.” He rose and departed.
“I think I shall leave you be, Miss Adler,” said I.
“In another life, my good Doctor, your friend and I would have made a dynamic couple,”
“Nothing would please me more than to see him partnered and falling in love, but it is clearly not his way.”
“I regret the circumstances that brought us all together. I wish there was a possibility of stepping back into the past and making it different. Had I met him before…” She stopped.
“No good can come from daydreaming about what could have been. Hindsight is always clearer,” I assured her. “Besides, you’ve already had a strong impact upon Holmes. It is true that he kept your picture in a drawer inside his study.” Miss Adler smiled as I said this. “And there is no other woman for whom he has done such a thing.”
“Thank you, Dr Watson,“ she said with a smile.
I nodded and departed her cabin. I found Holmes sitting in his chair drinking a glass of brandy and reading through Norton’s journal. He was quiet and unresponsive. I left him to his ways and marvelled at the great American scenery speeding by on the other side of the window.
What Happened To Dr Watson
The train rolled to a stop into the very small station in Pendleton, Indiana. It was seven o’clock, and our twelve hour journey had been somewhat tiresome and lacking in any excitement. As the train pulled to a stop, the steam engulfed the long wooden platform in a white cloud. The three of us stepped out onto the platform. Holmes and Miss Adler were discomforted by the humidity which hung in the thick mid-western air. I found myself at ease in the oppressiveness of it, reminded of my short time in India. Together we walked into a small ticket-office. A large man with a plump belly sat inside, leaning back in a creaky wooden chair and chewing tobacco.
“What can I do ya for?” said he.
“We are looking for a local inn. Might you point us in the direction of one nearby?” Holmes asked.
The man looked at us bemused. “Boy, I ain’t never heard talk like that before!” he said with a laugh. “Where you from, Ireland?”
“England,” Holmes corrected.
“Ah, ya’ll sound similar, really!”
“Not quite,” began Holmes, but Miss Adler put her hand on his arm.
“My friends are from out of town, clearly,” she said, ”We are stopping here for a few days. Where could he find accommodation?”
“Good to see you Brits have got a fine American woman to show you around!” said he. “Up that road there, take it about ten minutes till you reach the main road. You’ll see a track for the local tramline. When you see it, turn right and it’ll take you right into town. You ought’a be able to find something up there.”
“Thanks, sir,” said Miss Adler, and we left. “Mr Holmes, it might be good for you to tone down your English side while we are here,” she said as we walked up the road.
“Perhaps you are correct,” said Holmes in a thick American accent.
Miss Adler smiled at him and chuckled. “Yes, something like that! And you too, Doctor!”
“Do my very best, ma’am,” said I.
Both Holmes and Miss Adler laughed at my failed attempt.
“It might be best, Watson, for you to remain silent,” said Holmes.
“Not all the time of course, Doctor,” said Miss Adler.
We found the tramline and followed it into town. It was intriguing to see what the Americans had achieved as they colonised this new country. The difference between the great city of New York to this rural town, was something quite unique.
The centre of town was made up of three blocks of brick buildings where the two main roads intersected. Looking down one street, towards a park, were a drug store and a butchers shop in the Chandlers Block building. If one was to turn right one could see a Christian church steeple. We, however, turned left. There were several horses and carts tied outside of the buildings. We walked down the street, and I saw a dental practice, an establishment called The Brownie Restaurant, Davis & Co. Undertaking, a post office, and a small medical practice.
“I wonder where the inn is?” Miss Adler asked.
“Let me go inside the restaurant and ask,” said Holmes, “Watson, stay with Miss Adler.”
I nodded.
Holmes passed through the swinging doors into the yellow glow of the establishment. The sound of men laughing, glasses colliding, and cutlery chiming echoed through the street. He walked out a moment later, and pointed his finger back up the road. We followed him and turned left down the road towards the park.
“There’s a small inn up here,” Holmes informed us.
The Rose Inn greeted us warmly. A kind elderly lady with spectacles hanging on a chain around her neck met us.
“Good evening,” she said in a small, high-pitched voice. “What can I do for you?”
“Ma’am, we are looking for a couple of rooms for the next few nights,” Miss Adler asked.
“Hmm, let me see what we got,” and she pulled out a large book and placed her spectacles upon her nose. “Yes, we have a couple of rooms. One that would suit this lovely couple.” The woman paused to look up at Holmes and Miss Adler. “And one for you,” she finished, and looked down back at her book.
“My good lady,” said Holmes, “let me be clear, we shall need a room for me and my associate here,” pointing towards me, “and a private room for the lady,” pointing toward Miss Adler.
“Oh! Forgive me, sir, I thought you two were a couple!” said the old lady with a smile that creased her face. She took two sets of keys and asked us to follow her. The room Holmes and I would share was downstairs while Miss Adler’s was on the second floor. We were informed that a breakfast was provided every morning at six fifty, but dinner was our own concern. We had not been in our room but ten minutes, and I c
ould see the eagerness on my companion’s face.
We helped Adler take her cases to the second floor.
“Be careful with that,” she instructed me.
We set her things down and she asked me to set the heavy case on the bed. She opened and motioned for us to come over. Lifting the case’s lid inside were several handguns and rounds of ammunition.
“Quite the arsenal you have with you,” said Holmes.
“I expect trouble, and we’ll need these.”
“I should like to get the lie of the land, Watson. Why don’t you and Miss Adler get an idea of the local area, and I’ll see what I can learn from the high street?
“Besides; if you run into trouble all you must do is shout, and we’ll be bound to hear you,” said I with a chuckle. Holmes turned to leave.
“Mr Holmes.” He stopped when Adler spoke. “Take this,” she handed him a loaded revolver.” He placed it in his jacket and darted out.
“Well, shall we have a look around?”
***
Adler and I explored the area, most of which was patches of woods, wild growth, and a small farmland with the occasional row of houses lit with yellow glows. Every so often the toot of a train whistle fluttered in the air. We both froze suddenly at the sound of a boom in the distance.
“Was that a gunshot?” I asked.
“I think so!”
“Maybe it was a local farmer,” I said coming to my senses. The two of us walked up towards the park. The evening air was refreshing and cool. The sky was clear and littered with white stars, far more than one would see in London or New York.
“Wonder how Holmes has got on? He never stops, does he?”
“Certainly not,” said I.
“Do you not think that he misses the beauty the world has, always being driven to solve puzzles and crimes?”
“Surprisingly, his powers of observation extend into all matters. He is a thinking machine, but he does recognise beauty and wonder when he sees it.” We found our way into the park and walked along a creek until we came to a bridge built directly above the falls. We agreed that this was a good place to rest.
“Do you suppose we’ll actually find these people, the man Ivory who controls the Society, or Homer?”
“I believe we will. Having spent near a decade with Holmes and documenting countless cases, unique in their own right, I believe in Sherlock Holmes. He will be able to track these men, even in a place as vast as America.”
“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 office
s 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.
Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder Page 18