Chapter Forty-Two
Monday Morning Errands
Reggie carried the hand-carved box to the library table. Everett opened a cabinet and pulled out a wooden shelf that held his scales and measurements. For the next half hour, Everett told Reggie about the gold he had brought. He showed him how to weigh the gold dust into one-ounce bottles. Then they weighed the nuggets in the pan of the scales and sorted them by size.
Everett placed them into jars and gave Reggie back the leather bags, which he placed in the empty box. He asked about the mine and how much Reggie knew about gold mining. Reggie described the mine and the chiseling pattern he followed. The man took Reggie over to another table that held a display of rocks.
"Do you know what this is?" asked Everett.
"Some type of gold," said Reggie as he examined it.
"It is pyrite; otherwise, it is known as fool's gold. See that jar? That represents every time someone has come to me thinking they struck it rich. See the cube like formations and the lines on the face of the cubes. Also notice the color. Gold is a bright yellow and untarnished."
Reggie was seeing the differences. Everett pointed out the unique characteristics of the rocks as he talked about minerals.
"Mr. Wellington, I must ask you about an issue Ivan had raised in his journal. He felt like he was being followed and watched when he came to visit. Is there anything I should be aware of when I leave today?"
"Come here. I'll show you."
The man walked over to a window and motioned Reggie to follow him.
"See that scruffy kid across the street? He watches my house every day and then he follows the clients who leave. I have friends that have told me of numerous times they have been followed. I think he is being paid to gather information on my clientele."
"Who is paying him?"
"I don't know. But your next step is to travel to the assessor's office with the gold. He will give you the cash or a check to take to the bank to deposit."
"I need to go to the bank to present the death certificate and the last will and testament so I can close the account."
"Can I give you some advice? Ivan gave me a third, which goes into my bank account, a third went to his account and a third he took as cash to pay his bills. That method has served him well."
"I can see your point. I would like to transfer some of the money to my account in Carlisle."
"Don't transfer too much to make people suspicious. I believe that small gold mine sustained Ivan and Martha, but they never flaunted their wealth."
"That leads me to another question I have for you. Ivan said you were responsible for him meeting Martha and saving his life."
"Oh, that," said Captain Wellington with a swipe at the air with his hand. "Ivan and I served during the war in the 104th Cavalry. We were always short men in the calvary, but the ones that rode fought like two soldiers, knowing the hills and valleys. Plus, we were all darn good shots."
"How did Martha fit in to that?"
"Ivan was hurt in a skirmish at Brandywine Creek in southeastern Pennsylvania. He had a slash in his forearm from a sword and lost his horse. By the time I found him, he had lost a lot of blood. I got him to a farm place where we hid. It was Martha's family that sheltered us until Ivan was ready to travel. Martha stitched his arm, and she spent two days taking care of him, and then we left to rejoin our unit."
"Did he find his horse?"
"No. He bought a horse from Martha's father, who was reluctant to sell but needed the money for food. Ivan and Martha exchanged addresses, and Ivan told her that after the war, he was coming back to marry her. We left and Ivan kept his promise."
"That explains it. He loved his Martha."
"Oh, I know. I am surprised he lasted that long after Martha's death. I was convinced that the first winter he would die of a broken heart. Was it his heart in the end?"
"No, Senator Randolph murdered Ivan. The senator and his aide, Mr. Albright, were trying to persuade Ivan to sell his property, and Kaiser attacked the Senator's arms, tearing his cuff. Ivan protected his dog as the Senator grabbed the fireplace poker. The Senator struck Ivan in the head. They panicked and left him for dead."
"I have read the papers, but they offered little detail, only sensationalism to sell papers. Poor Ivan. That makes me sad to think he had to die so tragically. The last time Ivan came to visit me, he went to see a doctor. His heart was failing him, and after that diagnosis, he spent every day putting his affairs in order and waiting for when he could be with Martha."
"Thank you for your time this morning, Mr. Wellington."
"Please call me Everett. If you find any unusual rocks, save them for me. I always enjoyed when Ivan would bring me unique specimens to examine and research."
"I would enjoy that."
Reggie reached into his satchel and brought out a bottle of Thanturnum whiskey.
"I know it is still early, but do care to join me in a toast to Ivan?"
"Now you're talking. I know Ivan liked his vodka, but I prefer a delightful blend."
"This is one of the best. We distill the whiskey at my father's estate."
Everett offered two glasses, and Reggie cracked open the seal and poured two glasses.
"To Ivan."
They toasted and drank to their friend. Reggie left the bottle and placed the empty box in his satchel. Everett pulled out a doctor's bag and packed the bottles and jars in the bag and then latched it shut.
"Mr. Sterling will return the bag. Here is the address to his office, and I wrote my account number and the address to the bank. Mr. Jeffers is the man you want to talk to at the bank."
"I have a strange request. Can I borrow a couple of pieces of that fool's gold?"
Everett looked at the young man strangely.
"It ain't worth nothing."
"I want to compare it in case I find any."
The older man's eyes lit up, and he gave him a couple of pieces from his jar. Reggie had another plan for one of the nuggets brewing in his mind.
"I appreciate the help and the information you have shared with me. I look forward to our visits."
"This has been delightful this morning. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. I read it in the paper."
Reggie rolled his eyes, realizing he had made the society column.
"Thank you. Charlotte is a wonderful girl, and I could not be happier."
"Her grandfather, Gaspar, and I are old friends. He knew Ivan, and he is a wonderful source if you have questions."
"Why that old sly fox? He stayed at our home and even visited Ivan's cabin, but he never let on that he knew the man."
"Ivan swore him to secrecy, and I don't believe Gaspar has ever gone back on his word."
"Ivan stressed so many times to show no one, tell even fewer. Charlotte knows, but I talked with no one, not even my brothers or my father until today. I can't tell you how refreshing it was to talk about a secret I have held for over a month."
"The mention of gold can make people crazy. I think you are wise to keep it quiet. I wish you safe travels in our city and be aware of your surroundings. You look like a fellow that could take care of himself in a fight, but I don't want you being jumped for your money by the thugs that seem to wait in dark alleys for well-dressed men to mug."
"Thanks for the advice. I will be discreet."
"Good day, Reggie. I look forward to your next visit."
"So do I. Wish me luck with the mining."
The gentleman said their goodbyes, and Reggie put the satchel across his chest and donned his cape and hat. They placed the medicine bag in an old burlap bag for him to carry out onto the street. When Reggie returned to the carriage, he placed the burlap bag in the floor compartment of the carriage and latched it shut.
"Oscar, I will be back in a moment. There is something I need to take care of first."
Reggie walked to where they had seen the boy standing. He looked around, trying to locate him, and then he walked down the alley between buildings. He walked to the end of the building and looked down the next alley to see if anyone was lurking around, looking suspicious. Nothing.
He turned and walked the other direction to the next alley. Reggie recognized the scruffy coat as the boy was watching the street. Quietly, he snuck up behind him. Within seconds, Reggie pulled his knife and grabbed the boy around the neck and pulled him back into the alley.
The large muscular man held the boy by the throat up against the brick wall with his feet barely touching the ground. Reggie held his large knife to his throat. He slammed his head against the wall and said, "I'm going to ask you politely one time and if I don't get the answers I want, I will cut you to ribbons. Understood?"
The boy shook his head in agreement with terror in his eyes.
"Who is paying you to watch that house across the street?"
"Senator Randolph," the boy admitted without a blink.
"He's in jail."
"That's all I know."
Reggie pushed the tip of his knife into the boy's throat.
"I think you know more."
"Okay. I watch the customers who go into Mr. Wellington's house, and I follow them to find out more about them and where they go. Then I tell the Senator, and he pays me every week."
"Who pays you? The man's in jail."
Reggie squeezed harder on his neck and the boy continued to spill his guts.
"Mr. Baldwin pays me."
"When? Where?"
"I meet him on Fridays at Sweeney's pub and give him a list of names or descriptions, and he pays me."
"You tell Mr. Baldwin that Reggie is looking for him. And if I get another report from my friend that his house is being watched, I will hunt you down. Do I make myself clear?"
By now, the boy could barely nod. Reggie let go of his grip, placing the boy on the ground. The boy coughed and felt the trickle of blood down his neck. He pulled a dirty handkerchief and wiped the blood.
Reggie turned and walked with long strides through the alley into the street. He gave the address to Oscar and climbed into the carriage. Oscar snapped the reins, and Reggie looked back to see the boy watching the carriage leave.
When Reggie arrived at the accessor's house, which was only two blocks away from Mr. Wellington. He removed the medicine bag and instructed Oscar to pull around to the back alley.
Reggie brought the bag into the accessor's office, and a receptionist ushered him back to Mr. Sterling's office. He introduced himself and explained his meeting with Mr. Wellington, giving no details.
Mr. Sterling knew the measurements would be accurate. He set to work calculating the gold dust. Then the nuggets were weighed individually, and when the figures were totaled, he drafted two checks: one to Captain Everett Wellington and one to Reggie.
Without looking at the checks, he placed them in his inside pocket.
"May I use your back door?"
"Sir, with some of my clients, I prefer you do."
Reggie bid the man a good day and followed the hallway to the back door. Oscar was waiting. Reggie gave him the address to the bank and slipped back into the carriage. He was all alone in the enclosed carriage.
When he pulled out the checks and looked at the amounts, Oscar heard a war hoop of joy resounded through the carriage. The driver smiled, knowing the man only had smiles for Miss Charlotte, and he was happy he had received good news.
Reggie couldn't believe the figures. He quickly calculated in his head, dividing his check into thirds. He wanted money deposited in the Carlisle bank and he wanted a third in cash. The last third would remain in the bank in Harrisburg for when he came to visit his in-laws.
When Oscar pulled up in front of the large bank, Reggie walked into a pristine marble lobby with iron bars in front of the tellers. Using his Thanturnum charm, he selected the prettiest teller and asked to see Mr. Jeffers.
She was professional, with a pleasant smile as she led him back to his office.
"Mr. Jeffers. A gentleman wishes to see you," said the pretty receptionist.
"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"
Reggie was ushered into a large office and offered a chair. Before sitting, Reggie offered his hand and introduced himself.
"Hello. Mr. Jeffers. My name is Reggie Thanturnum, and I received your name from Mr. Wellington."
Then Reggie pulled out the paperwork and sat down to explain the details to the banker.
"As you have probably read in the papers, Senator Randolph murdered my friend Ivan Polansky. Here is Ivan's death certificate. This is his last will and testament, and I have his bank account number along with Mr. Wellington's."
Mr. Jeffers picked up each piece of paper and examined the authenticity.
"First, Mr. Thanturnam, allow me to express my deepest sympathies to you about the loss of your friend. I always enjoyed Mr. Polansky's visit. He has been a customer with us for a long time."
Then the banker pushed a button on his desk, and Reggie heard a bell ring. Mr. Jeffers' secretary came through the door.
"I need Mr. Ivan Polansky's file."
While they waited, Reggie handed him the pieces of paper with account numbers, including his bank account with the banker of Carlisle's signature along with the two checks. Moments later, the secretary came in with the file for Mr. Jeffers.
"First, we need to change the name on the account. Here is the current balance on his account."
Reggie tried to hold his smile and switched to his poker face as he was exploding inside his head. Mr. Jeffers didn't seem to be phased by the amount as he withdrew some documents from his desk drawer. Reggie signed the papers, and he was given a bank book with the balance.
"I would like to deposit one third in the account here, one third in my Carlisle account, and the last third in cash."
"That was a method that worked for Mr. Polansky. You are smart to follow his advice."
Mr. Jeffers left his office with his check. His secretary offered him coffee while he waited, and he accepted. Numbers swirled in his head as he looked at the balance. Reggie smiled to himself in the privacy of the office. Mr. Jeffers returned with his cash in an envelope. He asked for the bank book, and he entered the deposit and wrote the new balance before he handed it to Reggie.
"I will deposit Mr. Wellington's check in his account," said the banker as he moved the papers aside.
Reggie collected the death certificate, the will, and his deposit slips.
"Also, I will transfer the remaining money to the Carlisle bank," reassured Mr. Jeffers.
By now Reggie was standing. He had placed the papers in his satchel and the money in his coat pocket. The two men shook hands, and Mr. Jeffers told him he would look forward to future visits. When he arrived back in the lobby, he went to the pretty teller and asked her to break down a large bill.
"I need tip money. It seems everyone in the city has their hand out waiting for a tip."
"Well, if it is any constellation, we are not allowed to accept tips."
Reggie laughed as he pocketed the smaller bills and the coins.
He bid her a good day and walked out of the bank. He handed Oscar a tip.
"Take me to Senator Randolph's office."