Bart – The Peculiar Mr. Singer, Part I

The Houston River Belle wasn't available for the trip back to Texas, so we ended up taking the Bayou Princess. It was a smaller riverboat, but at least they got our accommodations straight. We had three bedrooms with a small, adjoining sitting room . . . and I got a proper place to sleep this time. In all the hustle and bustle to get checked into our rooms, we'd missed breakfast, so once we'd begun our trip home, we found ourselves in the dining room. That's one of the differences on a smaller riverboat – salons are downsized into rooms, and we were ready for lunch, no matter what they called the place we ate in.

We'd just finished ordering when one of the nightmares we thought we'd left in New Orleans showed up at our table. Elwood Singer. I had taken a swallow of coffee and was in the process of setting the cup down when he came around the corner of the room, and I almost dropped the cup. Bret was sittin' directly across the table from me, and he looked about as startled as I felt. The only one that didn't seem to have his feathers ruffled in the least was Pappy.

"How'd ya do, Mr. Maverick?" Singer asked, sounding like they were old friends.

"Not bad, Elwood. Care to join us?" Pappy's tone was downright hospitable.

Singer's face betrayed a small smile as he shook his head. "No, thanks. Just thought I'd let you know that I haven't given up yet."

"I didn't figure you would," Pappy's answer came back almost immediately.

Elwood tipped his hat and strolled off back the way he'd come. Me and Bret just sat there and gawked at Pappy, until Bret finally choked out a question. "What . . . was that?"

"Pappy?" was all I could get out.

"What? You do remember Mr. Singer?"

"Yes, but . . . "

"We thought . . . "

"Alright, I suppose I forgot to tell you." Pappy put the explanation on hold, as our food was delivered. Halfway through lunch he set down what was left of his sandwich and lit a cigar. That's usually what he does when he has something on his mind that's more important than what's left on his plate. Cigars could wait; I wasn't missin' any more of this meal. From the look of the food left in front of Bret, he felt the same way I did. Pappy blew out a ring of smoke and started to enlighten us.

"One afternoon while Olivia was otherwise engaged, I did a little investigatin'. Elwood Singer works for some insurance company outta Boston. They're the folks that insured the bank Hansboro and Wilkes robbed. Once they found out Hansboro was dead, they put Singer on the case of trailin' me, figurin' I had the missin' twenty grand.

"Of course we know that I don't; never did, and neither does Bentley. So Elwood is tryin' to collect the money and the reward, and he's gone from bein' sneaky and shifty to downright friendly. Thinks maybe I'll admit to havin' the money and splittin' the reward with him."

It took me a minute to absorb what Pappy had just told us and ask my question. "Is he gonna follow us all the way back to Little Bend?"

Pappy nodded his head solemnly. "Probably so. He ain't got nothin' better to do, and he still thinks if he follows me around long enough I'll lead him right to it." There was the smallest of pauses before he continued. "Or he might think I picked it up while we were in the bayou. Either way he's gonna be sorely disappointed."

"Have you ever given any thought to where the money might have ended up?" Bret asked, finally finished with his food.

Pappy blew out another ring of smoke before finally putting out the cigar. "Yup."

"And?"

"I've got an idea where it might be."

"Where?" I asked eagerly.

"Not so fast, Bartley. I got to ask some questions and get some answers first."

"Can we help, Pappy?" Bret questioned.

"Not until I get some answers."

"From whom?" I kept pressing Pappy for an answer.

"Elwood."

Huh?

"You boys finish your meal. I'm goin' for a walk. And no you can't come with me."

Bret started to stand up but Pappy fixed him with one of his well-known glares. I think it all but scared Bret to death. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a Beauregard Maverick death-stare. I patted him on the arm. "Sit back down, big brother. Pappy doesn't want your company." Bret did just that, and Pappy toddled off like he didn't have a care in the world.

XXXXXXXX

The trip back to Houston was quiet . . . I don't know whether we were all just worn out or too tired to care, but even pappy didn't show much interest in doing anything other than eating and sleeping. Two or three times a day we'd either see Mr. Singer or Pappy would go off in search of him. Whatever secret Pappy was keeping, he was doin' a damn fine job of keepin' it.

The Bayou Princess made a stop that the River Belle hadn't made, and that was in Beaumont, Texas. There was a twelve-hour layover there, and there was a lot of coming and going aboard, including three separate runs for telegrams. After the last run was made and we'd already headed for Houston again, Pappy informed us that Elwood would be joining us for supper. "He's got some information he wants to share with me, and I figured supper was as good a place as any."

Bret and me exchanged glances, and without another word, Pappy headed for the poker room. We headed for the bar. Bret got coffee; I had a glass of wine and we moved to a table. Once we were settled we started throwin' theories around at each other. After about an hour of that we just sat and stared. No matter what we came up with, it didn't sound right. Big Brother finished his coffee and stood up before he said anything. "I'm goin' to find me a game," he announced. "You comin' with me?"

"Nope, go right ahead. I'll see you and Pappy at supper." He gave me a kind of squirrelly look and headed the same way Pappy'd gone. I switched to coffee and began to wonder just what was goin' on between Beauregard and Elwood. I checked my watch; almost another hour to go before I could find out.

My eye felt better than it had since Langley hit me, but it was still botherin' me some. I reached up to rub it; I know I wasn't supposed to do that, but I was doin' it anyway. That's when I saw 'em, all bright and shiny like new copper pennies. Langley, Olivia and Singer. They were sittin' at a table, way back in the corner, actin' like they were the best of friends. Langley and Singer appeared to be deep in a discussion of some kind, and Olivia looked bored. They talked for another few minutes, then the men shook hands and Langley got to his feet. He helped Olivia up and they left the table, headed off to God knows where. Singer finished his drink, left some money on the table, and headed for the dining room. I was sorely tempted to follow the couple but it was almost time to meet Pappy, so I, too, followed Elwood. I had the feeling this was gonna be good.

When I found the Maverick table, Pappy, Bret and Elwood were already there. I took the seat opposite Mr. Singer and waited. "Thought we was gonna have to send the hounds out for you, Bartley. Where were you?" Pappy asked.

"In the bar drinkin' coffee," I replied slowly, without givin' anything away. "I saw Mr. Singer talkin' to an old friend of yours, Pappy,"

"Oh?" Pappy inquired.

I didn't offer anything further and the table remained quiet. Bret kept an eye on me like he usually did when he knew I was up to somethin', but he seemed content to let me play the hand. The waiter came and we ordered coffee and supper, and once he was gone, Pappy pulled what looked like a very old letter from inside his coat pocket. "What's that, Pa?" Bret finally asked.

"Somethin' Mr. Singer's been lookin' for. Matter of fact, he's not the only one that's been lookin' for it."

"Martin Langley."

Pappy turned toward me and beamed. "Good guess."

Big Brother had figured it out. "It wasn't a guess, Pappy. I'd wager that's the old friend Bart saw."

"Correct."

"What's Langley got to do with all this?"

"Langley is actually Martin Langley Wilkes; the brother that Tyler Wilkes didn't know he had. When I took Tyler's letter to his mother he was only three or four years old." Pappy sat back and played with the food left on his plate. His appetite seemed to be shrinkin', and I wondered what else was goin' on that I hadn't noticed.

"Has he been doggin' you, Pappy?" Bret asked politely, but there was an undertone in his voice.

"Lookin' for me is more like it," Pappy clarified.

"And Olivia?" I asked.

"She's an innocent in all this. They really are engaged to be married, and the argument between 'em was real, but forced by Langley. When his momma died, the letter from Tyler was lost. The letter tellin' her where the money was buried. It took him years to figure out that I knew where the money was, too."

"You read the letter, you old scoundrel," Bret chuckled.

"Of course I did. I ain't gonna deliver somethin' that might unjustly accuse me."

God bless Pappy. Now I know where I get my deviousness from.

"You've had the letter all this time?" Elwood just about choked.

"Not the letter, Elwood, just a copy."

"And you let everyone think you'd never even seen it?"

"Yep."

Mr. Singer didn't waste any time. He pulled his gun and trained it on Pappy. "Hand it over, Beauregard."

"Did you make a deal with Martin?" Pappy asked.

"I'm sure he did. That's who he was meetin' with in the bar."'

Pappy casually handed the 'copy' of the letter to Elwood. "Good luck, Mr. Singer. You're gonna need it."

Elwood scrambled up and away from the table, the letter clutched tightly in his hand. When he was out of sight, we turned to Pappy and waited. "You boys expectin' somethin'?" Pappy chuckled.

"You gonna give up a big reward?" Bret asked.

"Just like that?" I followed up.

"Ain't gonna be no reward. Ain't gonna be no money recovered. Remember when I went into Beaumont and sent a couple telegrams?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"I found out somethin' Elwood don't know. Seems the state of Texas bought the land from Langley after his momma died."

"So?" Bret questioned.

"You ever hear of Hutchins State Jail in Dallas?"

I had; it's the biggest prison in the state. And its size is massive. "Are you tellin' us what I think you're tellin' us?"

Pappy just grinned from ear to ear. "Yep. The money's buried somewhere under the prison. They'll never get to it." Then Pappy started to laugh, and he couldn't stop. And before long Bret and me had joined in. And we laughed practically all the way back to Little Bend.

TBC