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By A. Conan Fats
Special
to the Gazette
Editor’s
note: A. Conan Fats is a maternal-side descendant of
English mystery writer A. Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock
Holmes stories. He is currently a resident of Greater Grace and
owns and operates a rare-book shop that specializes in first
editions of British mystery fiction. Acey (for A.C.) as he is
commonly known around Grace, is also a collector of notebooks,
unpublished manuscript fragments and letters attributed to A.
Conan Doyle. From these he has now written a story about a
hitherto unknown visit by Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson to
Grace in 1899 to solve what seemed at the time an insoluble
mystery. As was usual in the Holmes stories, the narration is by
Dr. Watson.
Chapter
8
We
retired to the so-called Presidential Suite at the Akimbo Arms
Hotel. Holmes paced the sitting room for some time until he
stopped abruptly and said, “It is time to speak to Marshal
Jonsen again.”
Summoned
by a bellboy, the marshal soon joined us. ”I see you have
finessed your foray into the Fitz fiefdom,” he said with a
chuckle.
“A
clever alliteration,” Holmes replied. “But it was a mere
impetuous lark without merit or pertinence to the case. However,
I wish to know where all your six suspects happened to be on the
night of the robbery.”
“The
majority played in a high-stakes poker game in the back room at
Archie Leach’s saloon. That includes Archie, Fitz Fritz, Spud
Russet and Rev. Biggotte.”
“The
reverend is a gambler?” I asked.
“One
of the biggest in this here town. And he’s got the money to
play for high stakes.”
Holmes
said, “How did you verify their presence?”
The
marshal shrugged. “Well, I happened to drop in and play a few
hands. Not that I’m a regular.”
“I
see, but where was the infamous Sundown Kid?”
“Haven’t
the foggiest idea, and he ain’t talkin’.”
Holmes
reached for his pipe and tobacco, a sign he was cogitating.
Finally he said, “How does Mr. Fritz generate his income?”
“He’s
cornered the market in used buggies, and all the replacement
parts that go with it. He’s got a huge spread up toward
Maltby--more buggies than you ever saw in your life. He’s got
a store that sells nothing but buggy whips, and another one with
any kind of wheel you could ever need. Rumor has it he’s
buying up all his competitors from Vancouver, B.C., all the way
to San Francisco.”
“And
from whom does he obtain financial backing?” Holmes asked.
“Danged
if I know,” the marshal replied. “But I imagine his cronies
might be chipping in. They’s all pretty well flushed with
cash. Especially Spud Russet. He’s got banking cohorts up and
down the coast.”
“I
see, and would Mr. Russet be familiar with stock flotations?”
Marshal
Jonsen looked nonplussed. “What’s a stock flotation, sending
a herd of steers across a river?”
“No,”
I interjected, “it’s a means of raising capital by selling
shares to finance an enterprise. Much like Berry Berry Jarvis
did with you and your fellow citizens.”
“That’s
a relief. I’m past my prime when it comes to herding them
recalcitrant cattle, even if I’ve got a stake in the herd.”
“Let
us move on,” Holmes said. “It seems that the only suspect
without an ostensible alibi is the Sundown Kid. Does he have a
real name?”
“Horace
Hoople, but don’t tell him I told you. He gets a bit testy
about it. I suppose he figures Quick-draw Horace Hoople don’t
make the grade in the Police Gazette or the penny dreadfuls.”
“Where
could we find him?” Homes persisted.
“Down
at Archie’s saloon, I figure,” the marshal replied. “But
you’d best not approach him unless you’re willin’ to slap
leather. And you don’t much look like a gunfighter.”
Holmes
smiled in that way I had seen so often when his manhood was
challenged. “I shall take your caution under
advisement, sir. But I have one more question. Who asked you to
cable me to come and assist your investigation of this
affair?“
“I
did it all on my own, knowing you was such a great detective and
all.”
“And
you were prepared to pay my fee out of your own pocket?”
“Well,
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. I ain’t a rich man,
just a town marshal what gets by on a salary and a bounty for
all the drunks and thieves I bring before the judge.”
“Then,
marshal, I submit that you were directed and, as your countrymen
say, bankrolled by a woman. A woman known as Irene Adler. Do you
deny it. sir?”
The
marshal shook his head morosely. “It seems you’ve divined
the truth of the matter, Mr. Holmes. Danged if I know how you
did, but I had promised the lady that her involvement in this
here situation would remain a secret, what us public servants
call privileged information. I can only beg that you and Dr.
Watson keep that secret.”
“Not
to worry, marshal. Rest assured that Watson and I shall keep
your admission in the strictest confidence.”
“Thank
you, gents, but now I’d better say adios before I sink deeper
in the hot water.”
After
the marshal departed I said to Holmes, “How on earth did you
know of the woman’s involvement?”
“Simple
deduction, Watson. Who else in this humble village not only knew
of me but also had the wits to entice me here. After all, that
cablegram was worded in such a provocative manner that I could
hardy dismiss it out of hand.”
“But
why would she wish to see you become involved in this affair?”
“That,
Watson, is truly the question. But we can only wait until the
lady deigns to come out of hiding and disclose her motive.
Meanwhile we must persevere in our investigation. First we will
visit banker Russet, and then we will track down the nefarious
Sundown Kid.”
“Perhaps
I should bring my pistol with me.” I said. “Merely as a
precaution, of course.”
“Yes,
and I shall bring my walking stick.” Holmes laughed and added,
“Together we will make a formidable team.”
Next,
In chapter 9 ....
Holmes queries Russet, "who
might benefit financially by stealing or suppressing the
(Jarvis) invention?
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