Petticoat Detective (36 page)

T
hey waited.

Midnight came and went and still they waited. The temperature dropped and tempers flared. The full moon was now directly overhead and the alley was almost as light as day.

Coral snapped at Buttercup, “You’re standing on my foot.”

“That’s because your elbow is in my back,” Buttercup complained.

Checkers had stopped sneezing, but by that point he’d broken out in hives and his eyes watered.

“Maybe you ought to leave,” Miss Lillian suggested.

“And let you get the reward?” He rubbed his eyes with his handkerchief. “Not on your tintype!”

Amy had lost patience long ago. “Quiet, all of you,” she rasped. So help her, if her carefully laid plans were ruined she would personally wring each and every one of their necks.

Stakeouts were a necessary part of an operative’s job. She had done more than her share through the years but never under such difficult conditions.

“This is so exciting,” Mrs. Givings whispered, after only thirty seconds of blessed silence. “I still think we should use this opportunity to pray.”

“Only if you promise to pray for a cup of hot tea,” Buttercup said.

Mrs. Givings sniffed. “I can think of a lot of things you need, and tea isn’t one of them.”

“Shh.”

They waited.

“I wish something would happen,” Miss Lillian complained after a while. “We need our beauty rest.”

“I’m hungry,” Buttercup moaned.

They waited.

“W–what is that noise?” Polly asked.

“Sounds like crinkling paper,” Checkers said, and all heads turned toward Buttercup.

“What? It’s just a peppermint candy.” She popped the sweet into her mouth and tossed the paper wrapper to the ground.

Tom laid a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “I see something.”

“Quiet, everyone.” Amy dropped to the ground and peered around the corner. She saw it, too. A shadow; someone moved stealthily along the boardwalk toward the express office. She expected Monahan to arrive on horseback, not on foot. Apparently he was taking extra precautions.

“When do we catch him?” Miss Lillian whispered.

“Shh.”

For several moments, no one said a word.

Tom reached for his firearm. “I think he’s inside.”

Flood pulled out his Peacemaker. “No guns,” he hissed.

“What do you call that?” Coral asked.

“It’s called ‘I’m in charge.’ ”

“This is so exciting,” Buttercup said and tittered.

“Get off my foot,” Coral said in a harsh voice.

Minutes passed.

“What’s taking so long?” Miss Lillian asked.

“Robberies take time,” Checkers said. “Especially if you have to break into a safe.”

“Doesn’t he know his own combination?” Coral asked.

Checkers looked confused. “Good point.”

“I think he’s coming out,” Tom said.

Flood moved to the head of the crowd. “Okay, men … and ah … ladies. Stay put. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.” Ducking low, he ran out of the alley. “Put your hands up.”

A shot rang out, and the marshal doubled over like an empty purse.

Polly screamed. Mrs. Givings gasped, and Miss Lillian swayed. Shouts filled the air as men began pouring out of the Golden Hind Saloon like frenzied ants.

Monahan moved away, and Amy rushed to the marshal’s side. “Get him,” she called to Tom, dropping to her knees. “Get Monahan!” A dark stain marked Flood’s right shoulder. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it against his wound to stem the bleeding.

Flood grimaced and said something, but his voice was lost in the scuffle that suddenly exploded around them as a fight broke out. Fists flew and the pounding of flesh was followed by grunts and groans.

She searched the mass of moving bodies, hoping to find a familiar face. “We need a doctor!” she called.

Checkers barreled into one of the men headfirst, his arms windmilling. One clumsy punch from his opponent and he jackknifed to the ground. Miss Lillian jumped off the boardwalk onto someone’s back and pounded him with her fists.

Straining her neck, Amy searched for Tom, spotting him heading for the express office, gun drawn. A man took a flying leap and landed on Tom’s back. Heart sinking, she watched the two fall to the ground.

She grabbed Flood’s firearm. “Sorry, Marshal, but the one in charge is the one who didn’t take a bullet.” She stood and glanced at the express office but couldn’t find Tom amid the chaos. Nor was Monahan anywhere in sight. Stepping around two fighting men, she scrambled up the wooden steps to the boardwalk.
Where was he?

C
rouching low, Amy darted past Harry’s Gun and Bakery Shoppe and paused at the corner. A sign overhead swayed back and forth in the soft breeze. Judging by the shouts and curses behind her, the brawl was still in full swing.

Compared to her derringer, the colt Peacemaker weighed a ton, but she kept it aimed in front of her.

A movement ahead made her stop short. Was that Monahan, or was the moonlight playing tricks on her? She jumped off the boardwalk and ran toward the church. The gate to the cemetery stood ajar.

Senses alert, she moved cautiously along the side of the church, staying close to the bushes. The iron gate creaked to her touch. The slight wind rustled the trees. Shadows flitted across the gravestones and her spirits sank. Monahan could be anywhere.

Something hard suddenly rammed against the back of her head. “Drop the gun.”

Mouth dry, she laid the Peacemaker down on the ground and turned. For a moment she thought the moonlight was playing tricks on her. “Mr. Studebaker?”

He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him, but the barrel of his gun never wavered. “Amy?”

She let out a sigh of relief. He had complained earlier of a sore throat, which is why she hadn’t recognized his voice at first.

“You near scared the life out of me. I thought you were—” She caught a whiff of tobacco and a horrid realization washed over her. “
You’re
the waxwing!”

He reared back, startled. “What?”

“The waxwing. It’s a bird with a mask.” Suddenly, all the missing pieces fell into place. It was Studebaker seen that night at the cellar door, not Monahan—an easy mistake since both men were similar in height and weight and even sounded alike. Buttercup had made a similar mistake. The man she heard Rose arguing with was Studebaker, not Monahan.

“
You’re
the Gunnysack Bandit!” That’s what had bothered her earlier in the parlor: Monahan’s cigar had a distinct odor far different from what she’d recalled from that night.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice grew harsher, as if his throat were lined with sand. “Do I look like I’m wearing a gunnysack? What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m a Pinkerton detective.”

An incredulous look crossed his face. “A Pink—” he croaked and stopped to clear his throat. “But you’re a—”

“A woman. I know.” Outlaws could be so predictable at times. “If you’re not who I think you are, put down that gun.”

The gun stayed firmly in place. “You should have stuck with fortune-telling.” He held up a jute sack. “You said I had a lot of notes in my future, and here they are.” He grinned. “
Bank
notes.”

She frowned. “How did you know about the money?”

“I heard you tell Monahan his ships were coming in. I’ve been in his office enough times to know about the painting on the wall.”

Not only did Studebaker have a loud singing voice when his throat wasn’t acting up, he apparently had big ears, as well.

“You can’t get away, you know. Not this time. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

An evil smile inched across his face. “That’s where you’re wrong. The Gunnysack Bandit is dead. Long may he rest in peace.”

“That’s what you wanted us to believe, and you almost got away with it.” Had he not been so greedy and decided to rob again, he
would
have gotten away with it. “You stole enough money through the years to make you a rich man.”

“Very,” he croaked.

“But you were almost caught during the last robbery, and you killed a bank guard. That’s when you decided that maybe your luck was about to run out. So you decided to call it quits.”

“Nothing like quitting when you’re ahead.” His voice grew rougher but he continued. “All my life I’ve worked my fingers to the bone in jobs I hated. Now I get to do what
I
want to do.”

“Like take singing lessons,” she said. Something suddenly occurred to her. “Only it wasn’t voice lessons you were after. You were looking for something. Rose’s journal, no doubt.” Now she knew who had searched her room. “You were also keeping your eye on the one person who knew you were the bandit.”

He neither confirmed nor denied her allegations. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

“You’re the one with the gun.”

“Yes, but you know a lot about me, and I know so little about you. Did you talk to—?”

“Rose?” she asked. “Dave Colton? Or someone else?”

He waved his gun. “No matter. They’re both gone to the great by-and-by, and you’re about to meet them there.”

“You won’t get away with it. Too many people know Monahan was robbed tonight.”

“Yes, but they’ll think that he did it. I made certain of that.”

“Just like you made certain that Dave Colton was blamed for your crimes,” she said. “Is that why you killed him?”

“I killed him because he knew too much and was about to turn me in. You can blame Rose for that. One night I had too much to drink, and I said things that made her suspicious. While I was passed out, she went through my belongings and found incriminating evidence—a map of a bank and list of robberies. She showed them to her beau. That’s when he started nosing around.”

“So you had to kill him. But that still left Rose.”

“She wasn’t a problem. I told her that if she said a word to anyone, Dave Colton’s kid would never see the light of day.”

Amy stared at him. Supposedly only Coffey knew about the baby prior to Rose’s death. So how did Studebaker find out?

“You’d be amazed what a woman will do to protect a young one,” he added.

She knew firsthand the sacrifices a woman would make to protect a child. Isn’t that what she’d done in St. Louis when she’d walked away from Cissy? Protect her? Same as Georgia had done when she’d knocked on Miss Lillian’s door.

He pointed his gun in the direction of the cemetery. “Move, and don’t try any funny business.”

Just as she started toward the iron gate, something whizzed by, missing her head by barely an inch. It struck the church wall hard and bounced back to hit Studebaker on the temple.

“Ow!”

All at once a barrage of objects flew out of nowhere. He fought them off with frantic thrusts of his arms. Dodging low, Amy grabbed his wrist and they wrestled for the gun. She kneed him where it counted, and he loosened his hold.

“Drop the gun!” Tom’s voice was music to her ears.

Still smarting from the low blow, Studebaker let his gun fall to the ground. Blood trickled from his forehead where he’d been hit by flying items.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she said.

Tom moved into the moonlight. “Sorry, I was what you might call occupied.” He gave her a crooked grin.

The marshal hobbled up behind him, his arm in a makeshift sling. “Here.” He tossed a pair of handcuffs to Tom with his one good arm. Tom snapped them around Studebaker’s wrists.

Miss Lillian limped toward them followed by her girls and the three churchwomen, all in stocking feet.

“We got him!” Miss Lillian cried.

Amy handed the marshal his firearm and picked a velvet slipper off the ground. “Shoes? You threw shoes?”

The madam shrugged. “The marshal said no guns.”

Mrs. Givings giggled and glanced around. “Anyone see a pair of high-button boots?”

“Over here,” Mrs. Albright called from behind a bush.

Tom holstered his gun and cupped Amy’s elbow in his hand. “You all right?”

She grinned up at him. “I’m fine. You?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Except for a couple of bruises, I couldn’t be better.” He picked up the gunnysack that Studebaker had dropped. “Look a here.” He held up a packet of banknotes.

Mrs. Givings clucked her tongue. “Just think what the church could do with that much money.”

Checkers limped up looking bedraggled. His suit coat was torn and his bow tie askew. “Does this mean I have to share the reward?”

Coral glared at him. “What are you talking about, reward? I don’t see any of
your
shoes here.”

“I’ll decide who gets the reward,” Flood said.

Polly walked up to the captive. “I hope you hang for what you did to Rose.” She shoved him on the chest. “And even that will be too good for you.”

Studebaker glowered but said nothing.

Polly stepped back and glanced at the others. “Why are you all staring at me?”

Amy squeezed her arm. “It’s because you didn’t stutter.”

Polly’s hands flew to her mouth. “I didn’t, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Buttercup said, and she threw her arms around her. Even Coral gave Polly a quick pat on the back.

“I’ll take it from here,” Flood said. He gave Amy a sheepish look. “If you ever get tired of working for Pinkerton, I could use someone like you.”

It was probably as close to a compliment as he was likely to give, but that was okay. They caught the Gunnysack Bandit, and Tom’s brother was now off the hook. That was enough for her.

“You better have the doctor look at that shoulder of yours,” Miss Lillian said.

Flood nodded. “I will, just as soon as Studebaker here is behind bars.” It was probably the most civil conversation he and the madam ever exchanged.

Amy helped the others find their shoes. She handed Coral a velvet slipper. “Thank you for your help.”

Coral took the shoe without so much as a thank-you.

Buttercup hopped on one foot while she slipped on a satin slipper. “We were glad to help.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” Polly said. “To help each other.”

Amy felt a lump form in her throat. She never thought to call anyone
sister
again, and now suddenly she had a pack of them. God sure did have a funny sense of humor.