The Ink-Stained Trail - Chapter 11

I retreated to my room for the heat of the day. The time I didn't spend regretting leaving that bottle with her, I spent going over the conversation. The comment about shipping was interesting. She wouldn't be the first to clear a space for herself by destroying an established competitor. It didn't explain implicating the Raccoons. It couldn't be common knowledge she was planning to enter the shipping business, even if people knew she bought some trucks. If it was, she'd have been a suspect. Thompson was smart enough to look into that. Unless he was being paid off, which might mean Charlie was involved, his claims of innocence to the contrary. Maybe it was payback for the Raccoons kicking him out. Or maybe Thompson didn't tell Charlie all the deals he had going. Or maybe shipping was just something Maggie told me to set my head spinning. If so, it was working.

That evening, I stepped out for some air, maybe grab a bite. Two blocks east from the boarding house, there's a bunch of ball fields. Hadn't really planned to go there, but I could get more of a breeze out i the open, and it was on the way to all the eateries.

It's a pretty nice place to play. Dirt infields looked neat, grass was trimmed, real bases and fences. It wasn't just some section of field the kids had claimed. A sign at the entrance stated plainly it had been built with money donated by the Charlanes. I wondered if they donated their groundskeepers as well, and if so, would they try to run me out of here, too.

I watched the game from under a tree, enjoying the rare sensation of my shirt not stickin' to me like a second skin. Both teams were shorthanded. One had 2 outfielders, the other was trying three infielders. Both were a work in progress. I would have said the first team had the right idea, but the boy manning the middle infield for the second team could move. 3 infielders was enough. The game wound down, I wasn't sure who won. The kids made their way off the field and one of them noticed me. He waved. "Hi mister!"

I said before I don't like to use kids in my work. They get in enough trouble on their own without someone else encouraging them to find more. Still, it doesn't hurt to find out what they already know. So I waved back. "Hi yourself. You boys put on quite a show."

"Gee, thanks!"

The other kids had turned to watch the chat. One of the taller ones spoke up. "Aren't you that nosy p.i. from the coast?" As quick as he said it, his eyes dropped. I guess the "nosy" crack was made by whoever he'd been listening to.

"That sounds about right," I agreed. "Name's Milo, though I do answer the "Nosy Gumshoe". It's one of the nicer things I've been called." That broke the ice a little. Most of the kids were still at an age were a private detective talking to them might seem neat. Much older, and I'd just be another adult nosing into their business.

"I'm Chet," the first boy piped up. "That's Tommy," he jerked his thumb at the taller boy, then went around introducing the rest of them. He was smaller than most, but they deferred to him. Some people just have that, even as kids. "So what are you investigating now? A murder?" He sounded pretty eager, and the rest of the kids leaned in.

"No, nothing like that." Their faces fell. "Unless you know of one around here that needs looking into?"

Chet shook his head. "A murder? Around here? Naw, we figured you followed a lead out here on some other case."

"Nope. I came out here for my health." The boys looked crestfallen, reality coming up short of their dreams. "I have a severe lead allergy, so I left town for awhile on the advice of, well I wouldn't call them friends, exactly." The boys acted like they caught my meaning, or pretended they did. Now that they knew I investigated things that might get me shot, I had their interest again. "I'm looking into the thefts of the Charlanes' food shipments."

"They hired you? I bet that riled Sheriff Thompson, having to work with you." That came from a freckled, big-eyed kid named Samuel.

"I'm operating independently of Thompson, but he's still not too happy." I shrugged, like unhappy cops were no big deal. "I'm hoping to catch them in the act."

"Then you should be down at the yard. One is going out tonight." Everyone looked at Frank. He shrugged. "My dad works there, ya know."

"That seems early."

Frank shrugged again. "I don't know. I heard my dad say the boxes arrived last night, and he has to work tonight so. . ." he trailed off, maybe worried it wasn't as obvious to us as it was to him.

"Boxes? What boxes?" Tommy had decided to interrogate. Frank shrugged. I wondered if it was really a twitch. I knew a fella, his right arm would jerk forward sometimes. It jerked forward when Katarina Rodonsky was standing in front of him, and the arm wound up a chew toy for her wolfhound. While it was still attached to the original owner.

"Maybe it's boxes to store food in." That was Joey, or Josephine. Bright eyes, hair back in a ponytail she tried to hide under her hat.

"Don't be dumb, Joey!" Tommy retorted. "They already have boxes for that!"

Joey flushed red. "Maybe they don't have enough, Thomas! Besides, the boxes have to come from somewhere!"

"I think the boxes already having something in them. I heard him complain about how heavy they are, and how careful you have to be unloading them."

I'd kept quiet through this. The kids were doing a fair job laying the pieces out. "Well, it sounds like I better get over there. Don't want to miss a thing. The Charlanes are real eager for this to be wrapped up before their boy gets home from school." I tipped my cap and started off when a different voice piped up from the back.

"Their son isn't away at school." It was a boy who'd been hanging back, like he wasn't totally in the group. His name was Juan, and when he sniffed and wiped his nose across his arm, it hit me. Hector Gutierrez' son. The one with the allergies.

"What do you mean, Juan?" I tied to be easy with him, easier than I'd been with his dad. He looked nervous, and I didn't want him to clam up. "Need a handkerchief?" I handed him mine, which he took and blew into loudly.

"I heard my Mama and Papa talking one night. I was supposed to be asleep, but with my nose, I couldn't breathe well. . ."

"I understand. I get summer colds, they're like that." Juan accepted this, and maybe noticed how all the other kids were giving him their undivided attention. I doubt he got that much. He stood up a little straighter.

"They were downstairs at the dinner table. Papa was drinking some coffee. He said the Charlanes were worried about their son. That his letters weren't coming as much, that they said things were getting worse over there."

"Where's 'over there'?" Joey asked.

Juan shook his head. "I don't know. He just said 'over there'. Wherever their son is. My papa said the Charlanes were really worried about the shipments not getting through, how they're watching all the help, thinking they're in on the thefts."

"Well yeah, if your dad's gonna go blabbin' everything!" Frank remarked.

Juan's face grew tense. "He just told my mom!"

"Easy," I cut in. "I've met Juan's dad. He likes the Charlanes, and I don't think he'd do anything to make their lives difficult if he could avoid it." But Maggie's nocturnal visits to his house lingered in my mind, arguing differently.

Frank tried to save face. "Well, I didn't mean he was doin' it on purpose!"

"Really? Sure sounded like it."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, frank." And I thought syndicate guys turned on each other fast. I tried to steer the conversation back on track before the other kids measured Frank for cement shoes.

"Did your parents say anything else?" Juan looked around nervously. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure about sharing it with so many people. "If it helps me solve the case faster, then it'll be helping the Charlanes." I hoped Juan and the others took the hint, that he was doing a good thing.

Juan sucked in a breath, then blurted out, "My mom said she didn't know how much longer the Charlanes could keep trying. They were only making things worse. My dad said things were already bad enough, for everyone. They couldn't make it worse."

Vague, but ominous. Not my favorite lead, but take what you can get. "Thank you, Juan, you've been a big help. I really better move if I'm going to make it to the yard."

"Wait a minute, mister." It was Tommy again. I noticed he wasn't using "Milo". "If you're working for the Charlanes, how come you didn't know this stuff already?" Kid was sharp. Put it together with his charisma, he'd go far, on either side of the law. Still, it wasn't a hard question to answer.

"In my experience, rich people are used to giving servants orders and having them done without explanations. They get to the point they handle everyone that way. Even people who need to know to do their job. The Charlanes are rich people. You do the math." I tipped my hat, again, and walked away before Tommy could raise any other questions. I wasn't sure he bought it.