In Search of a Ghost
"We've been traversing this road now for an hour, Moreau. Are you sure the two agents couldn't have disappeared somewhere else?" Mordecai asked, voicing his frustration about looking at the same patch of corn and gravel.
"Quite certain about the location, Mr. Heller. This was the road Asa said the agents were assigned to, and both were experienced enough to not get lost." Just then, something seemed to catch Moreau's eye. "Stop the car Nico, I see something."
The Savoy brother did as he was told, hitting the brakes hard. This, of course, disrupted Mordecai, who smashed his face into the back of the seat. Adjusting his glasses, the black cat glared at Nico, who turned around and gave an "okay" sign. Heller rolled his eyes and proceeded to exit the vehicle as the cloud of dust enveloped the car, rolling onwards with the wind.
Moreau went to the spot by the side of the road and crouched low to look at something in the grass. Pulling out his notepad, the cat wrote down his observations, taking brief pauses to look up and down the road.
"What'd you find, Moreau?" Serafine asked as she too got out of the car to light a cigarette.
"Blood, Miss Savoy. Blood and glass shards. Rain would have washed most of it away, but this rock is limestone. It's porous structure has allowed some of the blood to remain. The glass, of course, got caught between the rocks."
"So you believe this is where the agents were attacked?" Mordecai hypothesized.
"Precisely. Although this road has had significantly more traffic, wiping out any tracks we might find. At least that's the case on the road. I'm wondering about these field entrances. There's no other place a car could park and not get stuck in the clay mud."
Soon, all four were checking over each field access. The first cut of hay would be soon, and with the coming of trucks and tractors any other evidence or tracks would be wiped out, erased by thick treads and wide tires. About 250 yards down the road, Mordecai noticed the distinct glint of brass. Pulling out a handkerchief, he carefully pulled the brass casing out of the mud. "Mr. Moreau, I believe I have something for you."
"Tracks, Mr. Heller?"
"No, a spent rifle cartridge."
Moreau rushed over and allowed Mordecai to drop the spent brass in his outstretched palm. Holding it up to his face, Adam examined it.
"Springfield 30 caliber, 1906. It's old ammunition from the war, probably been in a box for at least ten years."
"The only thing in the Marigold arsenal with that caliber are our Brownings, but there would certainly be more than one spent case."
"Which means, Mr. Heller, that this was likely fired by the ghost we've been hunting."
"Or it was a local farmer shooting at a game animal whilst it crossed the road."
"We're at least two hundred yards from that spot of blood, and the lack of other disturbances in the dirt means that whoever made that shot was either kneeling or standing. A farmer would likely use a rest, such as the fence post right there…" Moreau then pointed to the barbed wire running parallel to the road. "Nico there is back at the car. Could you make that shot with your piece?"
Mordecai focused, looking down the road from where they were parked. Nico found some straw to chew on and was leaning against the back of the sedan. He noticed the two agents looking his way and gave a friendly salute to them. After a moment, Mordecai reached his conclusion.
"No. At this distance that would be a lucky shot."
"And that's because, Mr. Heller, you've mostly just practiced with that colt in your vest, correct?"
"That is true, but what's your point?"
"The point, Mr. Heller, is we have a competent, trained shooter on our hands. That was a two-hundred-yard shot, taken freehand. There is only one brass casing out here, so the shooter only needed one shot. We can continue to examine the evidence to reach conclusions about this shooter, perhaps figure out a motive. For instance, the shooter wasn't a local, otherwise he would have used the fence or the terrain to his advantage. But he's also not a common thug, or else he would have missed and a lengthy shootout would have taken place."
By now, the pair were back at the car, having walked the distance. Mordecai, though secretly impressed by the deductive reasoning, still wasn't sure. "While you may be right, Moreau, the most definitive evidence would be found in the agents' car, which clearly isn't here."
"Quite right, and that's certainly a problem. But I think we can safely rule out our missing agents running off in the middle of the night to parts unknown. They were here, doing their job, and were attacked. I'm certain of that much at least. Nico? You've got history disposing of cars and bodies, correct?"
Nico smiled and nodded as his reply, mouth busy chewing on his straw.
"If you had to get rid of a vehicle quickly from this spot, where would you go? "Nico thought for a minute, hand stroking his chin. His head then swiveled one way, then the other, before coming back to the two agents. Sticking a thumb over his shoulder, he has a simple reply. "Missouri."
"So our professional carjacker would dump the vehicle, or at least the bodies, in the Missouri. Then that's our next location."
A minute later, the car was speeding down the road toward muddy bottomlands of the Missouri. The road wound its way through the groves of cottonwood trees and meadows of marsh grass before taking a sharp bend near a backwater channel of the river. The muddy clearing by the side of the road still had perfectly preserved tracks.
"There, Nico. These are just the tracks we've been looking for!"
As he walked through the muddy clearing, the scene played out in Moreau's head. One car, two trucks. One truck heavier than the other, likely loaded down with booze. The empty truck which came from the South pulled a U turn and went west. The loaded truck came from the west, stopped to pick someone up, and then headed North to the bridge.
"That just leaves the car…" Moreau said to himself.
"Clarify, please?" Mordecai requested, not understanding the agent's muttering.
"I see tracks of a car coming to this spot, but I don't see it continuing down the road. No, instead, the car ran down that path on the other side of the clearing. See the faint tire tracks in the grass?"
"So the vehicle is in the woods? I suppose we can spread out and—" Mordecai stopped to swat a fly that landed on his arm, "—get this over with."
Moreau just smiled. "I doubt the car is still on dry land, Mr. Heller. Nico, how'd you like to take a swim?"
Fires
Shutting the door to the garage, Rocky and I headed upstairs to tell Mitzi about Zib's predicament. As we entered the office though, we were greeted by a certain intensity hanging in the air between our boss and Mr. Sable.
"Rocky, Ethan, did you find Zib?"
"Eh, not exactly…" I replied, though Rocky was a little more dramatic. "Oh, Miss M, it was terrible! If it weren't for Ethan, I would have been robbed of my violin! And probably the car along with everything in it. It boggles even my mind why you and Zib would willingly go to such a wretched place…" I rolled my eyes at the antics.
"You poor thing… but I see you two boys are still in one piece. So, Zib is still missing?"
"Yes, well, Rocky left out an important detail. Apparently Zib was arrested fighting with a one-eyed, raggedly looking cat."
"Virgil…"
"You know him?" I asked.
"He tried to rob us last night. Wasn't successful in that regard, but that little tussle must have gotten the cops called."
"Well, he's downtown. Rocky and I will go get him soon. Though our violin-playing, brain-concussed, mastermind does bring up a good question. What business would either of you have in a neighborhood like that? It's worse than anything in Butte, even the bottom of the mine shafts is more pleasant."
"Yes, Mitzi, do tell. Your employees ought to know where you got the money." Wick said, crossing his arms.
Mitzi looked between us and Mr. Sable, before slumping back in her office chair. Rocky was still confused, but I quickly started putting it together.
"Miss M, you didn't steal that money, did you?"
Defeated, she finally looked up at us. "…yes."
"So it was you that cashed that check!" Wick stated. "I can understand why you'd want me as a business partner, Mitzi, but to steal from me?"
"I have every intention of paying you back, Mr. Sable, and with interest."
"It's not about the money, Mitzi. Heck, while my accountants might throw a fit it's barely even pocket change compared to the operations of my quarry. But to steal from a friend… just to buy booze?"
"It wasn't just for coffin varnish, Wick, my employees are starving. The band hadn't been paid in weeks, I owe Ethan week's wages, the café needed repairs as well as the vehicles, and if we don't get customers coming into the Lackadaisy soon…"
I could hear Wick sigh as he sat down on the chair. "Well, I suppose that's not as bad as I feared. But still, Mitzi, I can't tie my business to yours… I love coming to Lackadaisy, but you and your crew are criminals, that's not something I can just sweep under the rug when my investors start asking-".
"Uh, should Rocky and I…" I said, thumbing for the door while I grabbed Rocky by the collar. Both Wick and Mitzi looked at us.
"No, no, you both are welcome to stay." Mitzi reassured us. "You're both part of Lackadaisy, so you should know what's happening, especially now that the truth is out."
"And I certainly don't want to make it sound like its your boys' fault for this… situation. Clearly you didn't know." Wick said, partly walking back what he said a moment before.
I nodded before pulling up a chair from the corner. "Here Rocky, rest for a bit. I can check on the head wound while the adults are discussing matters." As I removed Rocky's hat and looked under his hair, Wick caught a glimpse of the injury.
"My word, Rocky, what happened to you?"
"A little run-in with the front bumper of a hearse, Mr. Sable." Rocky said, turning his head away from me. "Hey, Rocky, hold still. This thing needs to be cleaned out or else it will get infected."
"So first Viktor, and then Rocky. Mitzi, you can't keep this up!"
"Well, Wick, this is exactly why I need a business partner. At the moment, we're scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get by, all so our few loyal customers like yourself can continue to have a good time in that cave."
"And while I'm happy to contribute to your operation through purchasing drinks for myself and the occasional friend, becoming a business partner carries far too much risk. I'm sorry Mitzi, but my answer is still no." Those words then brought me back to a week prior in a discussion with the boy sitting in front of me right now.
"Mr. Sable, I know exactly how you feel." I said, not sure if where I was going would help matters or not.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You see, after the Lackadaisy was attacked last week, I was standing in this office telling Miss M pretty much the same exact thing. I was ready to walk out, take Riley with me, and find somewhere else to work where it would be quiet and safe."
"That certainly would have been the smart thing to do…" Wick said, clearly listening.
"Yes, it would have been the smart thing to do. And I was three steps away from the door when Rocky here tried to convince me to stay."
"And I did a good job of that, right?" Rocky said as I was wiping down his wound, holding his hair back so I could get a better angle.
"I wouldn't say it was a 'good' job Rocky, but you did say something that clicked. You see, Mr. Sable, it is just my sister and me. If I'm working, then Riley is alone. If I get sick, hurt, or killed, we both starve. Now, I'm sure you pride yourself on keeping a very safe quarry business."
"Of course…"
"But deaths and injuries still happen. It's part of the job. I had to bury both of my younger brothers one fateful day, that's just how mining is. It's nature if you will. Ironically, staying at the café and working for Miss M is one of the safest options out there. Riley right now is either in the apartment or down in the speakeasy studying, reading, or whatever…"
"Ethan, I certainly don't doubt that Mitzi has every intention of keeping all her employees safe. I mean, she just stole from me to keep your operation going, but—"
"Allow me to finish Mr. Sable, please. What I'm getting at is that as a crew, we have mutual protection which we would lack if we are all one our own in this city. If Ivy wasn't with Rocky when his injury occurred, he wouldn't be here with us right now. If Freckle wasn't downstairs the night the speakeasy was attacked, everyone except for you and Ivy would be dead and the Lackadaisy would be no more. And If I had followed my head and walked out that door, Ivy would have been gunned down the other night trying to deliver the liquor you have been enjoying the last couple of days."
"Well, strength in numbers is certainly real. I didn't know about any of this… but what is the point of telling me this?"
"The point, sir, is that without each other, we'd all be lost one way or another. We're currently sitting in the shadow of Atlas May…" I pointed to the giant portrait hanging on the wall above us in his office. "And while we should move out from under that shadow, he seemed to believe a similar thing. After all, that's why all these "strays" of society are here. But more importantly, Mr. Sable, you could be making the same contributions."
"And as I've been telling Mitzi now every time the subject is broached, I'm not the type of person who can be funding underground operations of Lackadaisy's nature."
"No, Mr. Sable, you're right about that. Lackadaisy is a risky investment. Right now we're barely treading water, and that's only because of the money you so graciously loaned us—"
"Stole, Ethan."
"Details, Mr. Sable." Rocky said as I finished cleaning out the wound and checking the stitches.
"Anyway, while the Lackadaisy is a risky investment, the Little Daisy isn't. In fact, now that we're open again, business has been very good. What if you bought the café, or rather the building that it's in? We could create fake tenants, propped up by the existence of an actual business on the first floor. You'd be assisting us in our own way, being the rock that we need like Atlas was."
"And if the Lackadaisy is found out?"
"You would be able to claim deniability. You own the building, Mr. Sable, not the cave underneath it. Besides, the speakeasy has been running since the start of prohibition, I assume, and it hasn't been raided. Not for real, anyway. If you invested in the legitimate business, the rest of us would be able to focus our energies into keeping your favorite gin joint open and the booze flowing."
"Well… I'll admit that logic is sound, Ethan. But it's still a lot to think about."
"By all means, sir, think about it. In the meantime, the Lackadaisy crew will be working hard to earn back our ill-gotten windfall and I'm sure Miss M will see to it that you get your money back, with interest."
"I suppose we can table this discussion for another time then. Perhaps a Sunday afternoon out at Forest park?"
Miss M finally spoke, having kept silent and observing the conversation from behind her desk. "That would be lovely. Besides, I think a do-over is necessary from our last discussion."
"Until then. Rocky, Ethan, Miss M…" and with that, Wick took his leave. Silence filled the office but was interrupted by the sound of our resident maniac.
"So was all that true, Ethan? Strength in numbers and all that?"
"Each of us would not be here if we were all working alone, so it is safer to stick together than to risk it on the streets. At the same time, when Lackadaisy had financers, it had everything else from connections to quality product to enforcers that protected the whole operation. If we can get the same investment, we can rebuild."
"Ethan, you may have just salvaged my friendship with Wick. Truly, I'm thankful. Investing in the building hadn't even crossed my mind."
"Well, Miss M, if Lackadaisy goes under then so does my job, so let's just say I've got a vested interest in keeping our operations going… and making sure the kids don't wind up dead in the process." I winked at Rocky, rubbing his hair so that it better covered his wound.
"Now that one fire has been put out, we'll have to focus on the other. You said Zib is at the station?"
"That's where we were told he would be. We'll probably need bail money and find a public attorney."
"Too bad you didn't mention that when our newest investor was in the room."
"Crap… But I guess we'll just have to make do with what we're lucky enough to have instead of relying on hope alone, right?"
"Indeed. You boys head down there and figure out how much it will be to get Zib out, I'll try to round up every cent I can… legitimately this time."