THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY SHOWBOAT

By Andamogirl

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ACT ONE

Three days later, Baton Rouge,

Show Boat River Queen,

Captain Simpson welcomed Jim West in person on the bridge. They shook hands. "Welcome to the River Queen, Mr. West. The head of the police informed me of your mission. I hope that you will put an end to these tragedies and find those who did it!"

Jim nodded. "What do you know about the sunken ships? Did they transport a lot of money? That could explain piracy."

Howard Simpson shook his head. "No, they were just old battered showboats, Mr. West, transporting food, supplies and touring troops – and people, passengers and crew members. All dead, now, killed or drowned in the murky swirls of the Mississippi River. They served as transporters for the Confederate troops during the war before becoming floating theaters again. As for the money – there's never much on board. The people coming here aren't rich; they're just ordinary people who want to have some entertainment, that's all. The ticket to come on board costs 50 cents. If they killed all those people for the money, they left with no more than 30 dollars, at most." He sighed, shaking his head, dismayed. "I had some good friends on board the White Queen and the Red Queen., you know, and now they're all dead."

Jim nodded. "I'm sorry Captain. They were attacked and sunk at two different places; do you know something particular about those places?"

Simpson shook his head. "There's nothing special there Mr. West, the water is deep, murky, the banks are covered with thick vegetation and further, there are swamps and endless bayous. But I suppose pirates can hide in those. No one ever goes there, it's far too dangerous because of the poisonous snakes and alligators and because of the treacherous quick sands too – and it's only accessible by boat. Those places are on our way to New Orleans…"

Looking at the Mississippi River through the glass panels on the bridge, Jim asked, "When are you scheduled to leave for New Orleans?"

Simpson glanced at his pocket watch. "In two hours, Mr. West. All the personnel are already on board, plus the touring troop and a few extras, like a fire-breather, a fortune-teller and a ventriloquist. The passengers will arrive later. I hope there will be at least a few. In winter people prefer to stay home." He frowned in concern. "Do you think that the pirates will attack us?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know, but don't worry. I asked for policemen – in civilian clothes – to mingle with the passengers. They will be armed."

Simpson sighed with relief. "That's good news. I feel reassured."

Moving toward the door leading to the upper deck, Jim said, "I'm going to explore your ship Captain, if you don't mind."

The Captain smiled proudly. "Be my guest, Mr. West. The River Queen is the most beautiful Showboat of the entire Mississippi."

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Effectively, the showboat was beautiful, Jim mused as he explored it. It was a white-painted barge that resembled a long, two storey, flat-roofed house. It didn't have any steam engine, because it possessed a large theater, since the engine would have had to be placed right in the auditorium. So, the ship was pulled along the Mississippi River by a towboat, attached to it.

He wandered on the decks, visited the passengers' cabins, then he headed toward the auditorium which had fifteen rows of comfortable seats, under a huge crystal chandelier. There was a bar lounge on the left of the stage and a buffet dining room on the right.

Jim jumped on the stage and explored what was behind the closed red and gold curtain. He found a man there, blond and bearded sitting on a chair, under a lamp. His nose was swollen, red and runny. He was holding a puppet made of wood, resembling a dark-haired mustachioed man.

He smiled. "Hiya, Artie, hello Chester."

Chester – the puppet said, "Hiya, Mr. West. Visiting the showboat?"

Looking at Artie whose lips didn't move, at all, Jim nodded. "Yes, and what do you do? Repartée with your master, the great Harry McArty?"

Chester looked up at Artemus and responded, "I'm trying to teach him a series of fun stories but he forgot them shortly after. I'm afraid that the spectacle is seriously compromised. But I don't blame my master. He has a big cold and a good part of his old noggin' is full of tapioca, as he likes to say."

Frowning in concern Jim noticed beads of perspiration (due to a fever) on his partner's flushed face. Artie shivered from time to time too. "You're right, your master is sick, Chester. The big cold which was supposed to disappear in a couple of days is still here and it's getting worse, it would seem."

Chester nodded. "That cold is resistant. But my master is strong, and that bad cold won't prevent him from doing what he has to do, don't worry."

Seeing other people coming, Jim said, "I'm looking forward to watching you on the stage, Mr. McArty. See you later then."

He headed back toward the stage.

Chester touched his master's forehead and said, "You're burning up pal."

Touching his warm forehead Artie nodded, "I know… plus I have a mother of all headaches…Let's hope that I'm not going to be sick…"

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Much later

River Queen, now navigating on the Mississippi River

Halfway between Baton Rouge and New Orleans

In the auditorium

Harry McArty was sitting on a chair on the stage, holding Chester the puppet on his knees, when Jim took his place in an empty seat.

He looked at the old woman sat on his left and asked, "Is he good?"

She nodded, grinning. "Good? He's formidable! I had never seen a ventriloquist on a stage before. It's fantastic, and all his jokes are very funny." She frowned. "Where have you been? You missed the whole show!" He elbowed Jim. "That McArty's a handsome man. If I wasn't that old, I could, no I will keep him company tonight in his cabin..."

Jim chuckled.

On the stage Artemus stood and said, his voice hoarse, "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, that's all for tonight."

And Chester added, "Maybe for you, as for myself I have a date tonight."

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise Artie said, "A date? But you are a puppet. You are not alive and you can't go anywhere by yourself. How can you have a date?"

Suddenly a lovely cleavage-baring brunette in a red dress climbed on the stage and took Chester in her arms, kissing his wooden head. "Oooh, Chester…"

Chester looked at his 'date' then at the man holding him and said, "You're fired!"

Everyone in the auditorium burst out laughing and then all the people gathered there applauded loudly as Artie bowed, grinning.

Still smiling, Artemus took his marionette back and headed toward the end of the stage – barely standing on his legs, all his muscles painful. Once in his dressing-room he dropped Chester on his trunk and coughed. He coughed so hard that he doubled over and sank on his knees.

Entering the room in his turn Jim was at his side in a second. "Artie, you can't stay like this. You need to see a doctor…"

His nose congested Artie said, "I think so, yes."

Suddenly a familiar voice said, "Need a doctor? I'm a doctor, and I can help you." Dr. Loveless took a step forward, framed by two bulky henchmen each holding a gun. "Don't do anything unconsidered, Mr. West. I'll hate to have to say "fire' to my men. You deserve a creative death – not an ordinary one. And you too, Mr. McArty, or should I say Mr. Gordon – and bravo for your show, I enjoyed it immensely. A special agent of the Secret Services who's a ventriloquist, who would have guessed?"

Artie nodded. "I can sing pretty well too, but you know that already, don't you? You tried to kill me when I was playing the part of Leonora, in Fidelio."

Jim helped Artemus to sit on a chair and looked down at Miguelito Loveless. "So, you're the one who killed all those people and sank the ships."

Loveless shook his head and grimaced, looking offended. "Absolutely not. Pirates did that, not me. That's primitive! That's brutal! That's unaesthetic! It's not my style; you should know that by now. I have nothing to do with those deaths and those sunken showboats. I'm here for something else… for gold. One million dollars in gold precisely." And he rubbed his hands greedily. "And that gold will be mine."

Puzzled Jim frowned. "One million dollars in gold?"

Removing the blond wig and his phony mustache Artie said, "Yes, Jim, the gold that the Confederates hid in a showboat during the war – and the pirates are searching for that gold too. I did some research myself, talking to the crew."

Dr. Loveless nodded. "Yes, four showboats served to transport troops during the war, and there was a trunk filled with confederate gold hidden on one of them. But nobody knows which one. Two of them have been searched thoroughly, and then pillaged, and the passengers and crews killed and then the boats sank in the Mississippi River. The pirates didn't find anything. There are only two showboats left on the list, this one, the River Queen and the Miss Blue. My men are actually searching every place on that boat. If the gold is here, they'll find it." He smiled and rubbed his chin pensively. "I now have to find a creative way to get rid of the two of you definitively, but before that I'd like to play with you. I love games."

Glaring at Loveless Artie stood. "Oh I'm sure that you will rapidly find something– you have such a vivid imagination. That's not a compliment." He coughed.

Suddenly Artemus' knees buckled as he felt a wave of dizziness and nausea come over him. He gasped, clapping his hand over his mouth, as bile rose in the back of his throat, and, on his knees, he vomited his lunch on the floor. He retched until his churning stomach was empty, his throat burning and his eyes watering. He continued to dry heave as the nausea still rolled through him, letting out a concert of strangled sounds, groans, gasps and hoarse croaks.

He tried to stand but was too weak to. He managed somehow to struggle into a near-upright position, and leaned against the bulkhead, his energy drained. He moaned. "Oh boy! I'm as weak as a newborn kitten," he said, blinking groggily.

Jim grabbed Artie's arm, hauled him to his feet and helped him to sit down on the chair again. Then he gently rubbed his partner's back following his protective instinct.

Loveless frowned. "You look terrible, Mr. Gordon. You are sick as a dog. It looks like the influenza more than a bad cold. What are your symptoms?"

Artemus shot his Nemesis a black look, his face flooded with color, breathing deeply. "Why do you care? You're going to kill me anyway."

Loveless took a prudent step back. "As you are flushed and sweating, you probably have a high fever and, as your voice his hoarse, I think that you have a sore throat. You're moving like an old man, grimacing with pain, so you have muscles pains. You're coughing and you're obviously feeling tired as you can't keep standing, and you're nauseous and you just vomited. Here's my medical prognosis: you have influenza Mr. Gordon. It's very contagious. Your partner here was certainly contaminated by the virus too." He took another step backward. "As I don't want to be contaminated in my turn – because the virus spreads through air from coughs and sneezes, over relatively short distances, I'm going to let you live – well, I mean, I'm not going to kill you. But influenza will, or not. It's uncertain. I'm going to lock you in here, while I finish what I have to do. So it's either an au revoir, or an adieu. I would prefer the au revoir; because it would give me the extreme pleasure of killing you myself, later."

Loveless took the key sitting in the lock, moved into the corridor, still framed by his goons, and closed the door behind him.

Moving like a very old man, his whole body sore, Artie reached the table where a bowl and a pitcher were both sitting. He poured water directly in his mouth from the pitcher holding it up to his mouth. He swished the liquid around his mouth, glad to get rid of the foul vomit flavor that remained in his mouth. Then he spit it out in the bowl and finally wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

He took a step backward and the room started to spin. "Oh boy!" He leaned heavily on a table, swaying on unsteady legs.

Jim took out a lockpick he kept hidden behind the lapel of his jacket. 'I'm going to open that door in a couple of seconds." His features pinched with concern he said, "I'm going to ask Captain Simpson to stop this showboat in the next port. You need to see a doctor Artie. I don't want you to die of complications. And you stay here, of course. You're not coming with me."

Nodding, Artie buried his pounding head in his trembling hands. "Yes, complications like pneumonia. I'm not going to let you do this alone Jim, it's too dangerous. Loveless and his goons are outside. They could kill you – fearing to be contaminated."

Pivoting to face his partner, Jim nodded. "Same thing for you buddy. You stay here; you can barely stand on your own two legs. No discussion."

Standing again Artie narrowed his eyes, staring at Jim mutinously. He waved a stern finger. "I don't take orders from you, Jim. You're not my commanding officer. I'm your partner, you… oooh!" He didn't finish his sentence and slowly slid to one side.

In a flash Jim caught the other man, just before he hit the floor, and gently lay him down at his feet. Then he took his jacket off, rolled it into a ball, and placed it under his partner's head. "I'll be prudent Artemus, don't worry," he said.

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On the bridge of the River Queen

Howard Simpson had his hands tied up to the helm when Jim West entered the bridge. Loveless was sitting in the captain's chair.

His shadows – namely the two goons were there too, armed of course.

Miguelito grinned. "You're so predictable, Mr. West. I knew that you would escape and come here to ask the captain to head for the next port. Tsk! Tsk!... and you left that poor Mr. Gordon alone. You shouldn't have. One of my men, Burke, who is immune to influenza – he's now carrying your partner to the upper deck, to starboard, precisely. Once there, he'll throw him in the River."

Blanching with dread, adrenaline coursing through him, Jim bolted out of the bridge, sprinting to the upper deck of the showboat. He went to starboard and… froze when he saw a giant held his partner above his head like he weighted nothing – before throwing him overboard.

He heard a loud splash and hurried toward the rail and spotted Artemus, his hands tied, lying on his back, trying to stay afloat.

He immediately stepped over the railing and dove into the water. He did the crawl as quickly as possible and reached his partner. He wrapped an arm around Artie's chest, placed his head on his shoulder and moved away from the oncoming towboat.

Shortly after, they found themselves alone in the middle of the cold and murky Mississippi – watching the showboat, and the vessel pulling her, going away.

Barely conscious Artie mumbled, "I'm sorry, Jim. I tried to defend myself… but I'm so weak…"

Jim maneuvered behind Artemus and slung his left arm over his partner's chest, using his hand to push up the other man's chin. Then he started to swim awkwardly toward the closest bank, doing his best to keep both their heads above the water. "It's going to be alright Artie. We'll soon be on firm ground."

They both reached the bank half an hour later.

Tbc.