Author's note:
Thanks go to Jade for her valuable and knowledgeable suggestions on the look of a nineteenth century apothecary's shop, as well as for helping me brainstorm over just what was in that bottle, and also to California Gal for graciously betaing this story for me. Any remaining errors are on my head.
The Night of the Shoplifters
Teaser ~~~~
He was only nine and he was scared to death. He didn't know how long he'd been here, sitting at this little table all alone in the small room, but it felt like forever since the policeman had hauled him in here and left him.
His hat was in his hands; he kept turning it, his eyes locked on the door. It was closed up as tight as a tomb, and the boy certainly felt as if he'd been thrown into Limbo. Would he ever get out of here? All he'd had to do was one simple little thing so the men would let him off the hook. But he'd messed it up and the policeman had grabbed him. They had said they would send the police after him if he failed, and that's what they'd done. They had told the police he was a thief. But he wasn't a thief. He wasn't!
If only his Pa were here… The boy whimpered, trying not to cry, but he could feel a tear slide down his cheek anyway.
The door sprang open and four men came in. The boy looked up at them nervously. The first man through the door was solemn-faced, a stranger with sandy graying hair and grim eyes. Behind him came another stranger, this one wearing the brightest blue suit the boy had ever seen on a man, his eyes the same stunning color as the suit. After him was a third stranger, this one in a tan jacket with fringes at the shoulders, a kindly smile on his face as he met the boy's eyes with friendly interest. And after him crowded in the fourth man, his face haggard, his eyes anxious.
"Pa!" The boy leapt from the chair and into his father's arms.
"Oh, Billy! Billy, I didn't know what had become of you, son! I went into the general store and they told me you hadn't even set foot inside…"
"Mr Cummings," said the sandy-haired man.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"We need Billy to tell us what happened now. If you don't mind?"
"Oh! Oh, sure." Pa sat down on the only chair and Billy stood at his side, their arms draped round each other's waist as if each was afraid to lose touch with the other.
"Thank you, Mr Cummings," said the man in blue. He smiled at the boy and said, "How do you do, Billy? My name's Mr West, and this is Mr Gordon."
The man in the fringed jacket smiled and nodded.
"And that man is Col Richmond. And we're all very glad that you're safe. Can you tell us what happened this morning?"
Billy looked up at his pa, who nodded. "Well…" the boy answered softly, "we came into town to get supplies, sir."
"We live on a ranch not far outside of Denver," Mr Cummings explained. "The old Morgan place."
Mr West and Mr Gordon exchanged a glance. "Mm," said Mr Gordon. "Yes, we've been there before. So, Billy, you got to come into town with your pa today?"
The boy nodded. "Yes sir. Pa needed to see a blacksmith too so we went there first, but that wound up taking a while so he handed me the list of supplies we needed to pick up at the general store and sent me on in there to give them the list."
"Except he didn't come back, and the clerk at the store said he was never even in there," Mr Cummings sputtered, "so what could have…!"
Mr Gordon held up a quelling hand, and the rancher subsided.
"So what happened next, Billy?" asked Mr West.
"Well, sir, I gave the list to the clerk, and he bragged on what a big boy I was and said I could help myself to a licorice whip, said it would be on the house. So I, uh, did." The child dropped his eyes, a woebegone look tugging down the corners of his mouth.
Mr West and Mr Gordon exchanged another glance, and now the man in blue hunkered down to look Billy in the face. "When you took the licorice, did something bad come of it?"
The boy nodded. "Y-yes sir. The next thing I knew, someone was saying I stole the licorice, and the clerk who told me I could have it was gone. This big man grabbed me and took me around back to another man. He yelled at me, calling me a thief and a shoplifter. But I didn't steal it! Honest, I didn't!"
Mr Cummings' arms tightened around his son. "I know my boy, gentlemen," he said. "He knows better than to steal. He don't lie neither."
"No one here is accusing him of either one, Mr Cummings," the colonel assured the rancher. "What happened next, Billy?"
"Well, the men told me they were going to turn me over to the police for stealing. And then one of them said maybe if I'd do a chore for them, they'd forget all about it and let me go instead."
"And you agreed," said Mr Gordon.
"Well, sure!" said the kid. "Wouldn't you?"
The men smiled. "What was the chore, Billy?" asked Mr West.
"They gave me a big package wrapped up in paper and told me to deliver it to a man who would be standing in the park." The boy stopped and looked up at them all. "That's all I had to do, just carry a package for them. But I messed it up! Somebody bumped into me before I got to the park, and I dropped the package, and the paper broke open, and all this money spilled out! I was trying to pick it all back up and put it back in the package when a policeman grabbed me and the package too and brought me here." Again the boy looked at them all. "So I'm trouble," he said. "I didn't deliver the package, so they made the policeman come after me for taking the candy. And I can't prove I didn't steal the candy, but I didn't." Long streaks of tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "How long am I gonna be in jail?" he asked in a tiny voice.
"No time at all, son," said the colonel kindly. "Now, Mr Cummings, what was the name of the general store you sent Billy into?"
"Finnegan's. But when I went there to look for Billy, they all denied he'd ever been there."
"Yes, we understand," said the colonel. He glanced at West and Gordon, then said, "That's all, Mr Cummings. You and Billy can go on home now. Thank you for your time."
"Honest?" squeaked Billy, hardly able to believe his good luck.
Mr West shook the boy's hand, as did Mr Gordon and Col Richmond. "You've been a big help, son," they told him.
The three watched father and son leave. "So that's how the counterfeiters have been doing it," said Richmond.
West nodded. "Frightening kids into making the deliveries for them by accusing them of being shoplifters."
"It's a pity we can't make any arrests based on young Master Cummings' testimony," said Gordon. "But a sharp lawyer would be able to turn it all into a case of 'He said, they said' in a heartbeat."
"Right," said Richmond. "And while I tend to agree with Cummings senior's assessment that his son does not lie…"
West nodded. "Try to get a jury of twelve grown men to convict based on the testimony of one little boy."
"So we're going to have to catch them in the act," said Gordon.
"Well," said West, giving his partner a pat on the arm, "that's what they pay us the good money for, huh, Artie?"
"Right, Jim. And at least now we have a starting place. That's more than we've had so far."
West nodded. "Finnegan's General Store." He put on his hat and turned to shake Richmond's hand. "Good afternoon, Colonel."
"Good afternoon, Jim, Artemus. And good luck."
"Hope we won't need it," Artie muttered to Jim as the pair of them left the Denver office of the Secret Service.
…
"Idiots! Bunglers!" snarled the boss.
"We… we're sorry, sir!" sputtered the store clerk.
"It won't happen again!" agreed the burly guard.
"It better not!" the boss growled at them. "This was going to be the final delivery before we could cut out of here, and that fumble-fingered brat you two picked to move it drops the package!"
Clerk and guard stammered out more apologies, only to be cut off by the boss slamming a hand down on the desk.
"He dropped the package right in front of a goldurned policeman who made off with the funny money, you morons! Now we can't leave until after I print up a new batch for Mr Briggs, and that's going to take me all night."
"Can't we…" the guard started, but trailed off when the boss glared at him.
"Can't we what?"
The guard kept still, but the clerk finished his thought for him. "Can't we just go ahead… you know… and leave now?"
The boss turned his ferocious glare toward the clerk. "Without delivering the package to Mr Briggs that he's already paid for? Are you insane? Nobody stiffs Mr Briggs." The boss looked at his two henchmen, then said, "Now we'll need to deliver the new package tomorrow morning. We can't work out of Finnegan's again, so we'll need to move on to somewhere else. Let's see…" He gave it some thought, then clicked his fingers. "Harper's, that will do. The apothecary's shop. We'll do what we always do - wait for the regular clerk to be busy with a customer, then you go in and find a kid alone."
His clerk frowned. "But Harper doesn't have a clerk," he ventured, only to earn himself another searing glare from the boss.
"Then you wait for Harper to have his back turned, moron!"
Sheepishly the clerk nodded. "Y-yes, boss."
The boss rubbed at his face. "Just this one last delivery, and we can get out of Denver and find somewhere else to set up shop for a while. But..."
That "But" didn't sound good. "Something, uh, wrong, boss?" asked the guard.
"Wrong?" He looked at his henchmen, his eyes cold and dead. "The only thing wrong is the way you two messed this up. Do that again and I'll have your hides! Now, pick a better kid this time, a smart one. Wait - a girl!"
"Ok, boss."
"And let me tell you, if she messes it up, you'll know what to do with her."
The guard reached into an inside coat pocket and produced a revolver. With a grin he spun the barrel, checking to be sure it was fully loaded before putting it away again. "Oh, yeah, boss," he said, "I'll know what to do, all right," and he chuckled, a raspy grating sound, the sort of sound that chills the marrow down deep in the bones.
