The sky that morning was clear and blue and the temperature as moderate as I had experienced since our arrival in Iowa. While on the second train of the morning to Wall Lake, Holmes turned to me with a sly, self-satisfied smile and spoke with a low voice. "While you were busy sleeping last night, I was continuing our investigation."
"Well, one of us has to sleep for both of us," I replied with a grin.
"Ha!" Holmes laughed. "Quite so."
"What did you learn?" I asked.
"I have found and learned much," replied Holmes, leaning back in his seat and placing his arms behind his head.
"Specifically..." I prompted. He was enjoying piquing my curiosity far too much.
"This," said he, retrieving a necktie of a garish shade of green from a coat pocket.
I gasped. "The one that snagged on the Hieman's house?"
"Precisely," Holmes replied, setting it aside.
"From the house Wright occupied?" I asked, wincing as the locomotive jarred my injured side.
"Naturally," Holmes replied.
"And it is not even the best of what I discovered."
"Out with it, then," I urged. "What else did you find?"
"Letters," said he, producing a bundle of papers from beneath his coat.
"How on earth did you find these?" I asked. "Or even know to look for them?"
"Observation and deduction," said Holmes. "I heard Wright concealing something before I broke down the door. It must have been near the back wall, for he was out of the window before I was one step into the room. Therefore, I checked under the floorboards and found these."
"That is not so complex," I replied.
Holmes shrugged and smiled. "I'm sure it would have seemed more impressive had you seen it in person."
"Have you made any deductions about them?" I asked.
Holmes lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "The contents are most instructive, but we must not speak of them here, in case of unwanted listeners."
I nodded mutely, wondering what was contained in the letters.
"The paper and ink were of some little interest," said Holmes.
I raised an eyebrow. "How is that?"
"They are written on stationery with the letterhead cut off, rendering the paper more squarish than is usual. The ink, however, is quite plain."
"Strange," I replied.
Holmes nodded but said no more.
My curiosity about the letters caused the train ride to seem to drag into hours or perhaps days or weeks of unending dim sunlight and insatiable curiosity. At length, we arrived back in the little town and found ourselves back at Holmes' room at the inn.
"Well, out with it!" said I.
"There are six letters here," Holmes said, "from someone with the initials P.T.C. to J.C.W., to Wright."
"It is certain he had an accomplice, then," I replied.
"No, Watson," said Holmes. "Wright was the accomplice."
"You do not mean to say there is someone more brilliant and dangerous than Wright behind all of this?" said I with no little amount of exasperation and disbelief.
"That is precisely what I mean to say," Holmes replied.
I collapsed into a chair and sighed. Was it not enough we had already captured one of Midwestern America's most notorious outlaws? How much more difficult to find and capture would this P.T.C. be than Wright was?
"I agree," said Holmes, answering my expression rather than my words, as was his wont at times. "I, too, believed we had caught the larger fish, but..." He scowled and shook his head. "I was wrong."
"Good heavens," I said. "Well, what on earth did you learn from those letters that put you in such a pleasant mood?"
"Perhaps you ought to read them first, so you have the opportunity to come to your own conclusions," Holmes replied, pulling the other chair over and sitting across from me.
"Fair enough," I said, and he handed me the letters. I shall not reproduce them here in full, for they were lengthy and full of abbreviations and veiled references.
The first was dated January 9th and stated that while "things are running smoothly," there was "no sign of the goods yet" and shared the word on the street about what the Sheriff knew of the death of Hieman and the robbery of the Blombergs. The second was shorter, stating that P.T.C. was working towards "a solution". The third was written a couple days after the second. It thanked Wright for "striking a new deal" and noted Holmes' arrival. The fourth was about Albright, and that Holmes suspected he was involved. It ended with the words: "They do not suspect me yet, but I fear they are closer on our trail than we know. Good luck."
I looked to Holmes. "'They do not suspect me yet'... Then we have seen this P.T.C."
"Precisely," said Holmes.
"But how does a thief and killer hide in such a small town?"
"I suspect he does not have to hide, because he is a part of the small town."
"Of course!" I cried. "Good Lord, I wonder who he is and whether we have spoken with him."
Holmes shook his head. "It is difficult to say with certainty."
I picked up the fifth letter; it mostly dealt with searching for "the goods" and P.T.C.'s growing frustration. I frowned.
"You are confused?" said Holmes.
I nodded. "Why did Wright and this P.T.C. character not leave town after killing Hieman and taking the jewels? What was the use in staying?"
"That is what has been bothering me most about this case," Holmes replied, "but I think we finally have an answer. What if our criminals were intercepted before they managed to leave town with the jewels?"
I frowned. "That only raises a whole host of other questions!"
"But it would explain why they remained and what these goods' are for which P.T.C. is searching with such limited success."
I nodded. "I suppose so. But what evidence do we have to that effect?"
"We have three witnesses who claim they saw Hieman speaking with them on the train," said Holmes. "If Hieman tricked them into handing over some of their bounty, that would explain why they came after him."
I gasped. "Do you suppose Hieman was trying to get in on their scheme?"
Holmes shook his head. "Rather, I imagine he feigned that he was, in the interests of returning the Blomberg's jewels, or perhaps he was brilliant enough to foresee it would keep the two nearby long enough to capture them."
I shook my head. "But that information died with him."
"We may yet hope to uncover the truth," Holmes replied.
My head spun with these new theories and I turned my attention to the final letter. Most was incomprehensible to me, but the last two sentences were clear. "I have exhausted all my means of searching. Holmes is our only hope."
"That is interesting," I commented, pointing at the last line. "This person is very much counting on us."
"Indeed," said Holmes. "We shall have to be exceedingly careful regarding who we inform about information and developments."
Nodding, I continued reading to the end of the letter. I picked up the sixth. This one contained mostly information about the death of Albright, saying that Holmes had seen through the suicide ruse and warning Wright to stay hidden. "I know you hate it, but Holmes comes closer to finding the goods every day. Soon this will all be over and you can go back to Chicago."
"Chicago," I said aloud. "Mrs. Blomberg's brother lives there. When is he due to arrive?"
"He should have arrived last night," said Holmes."
"I do wonder..."
"We will know soon enough," said Holmes."
I nodded and handed Holmes back the letters.
"Ah, but there is one more," said Holmes. With a dramatic flourish, he extracted it from a pocket and placed it in my hand. It was dated between the first and second letters and was far more brief and less cryptic than the others.
J.C.W., I spoke with B.B. again. He still swears he was delayed and had nothing to do with what happened. He fixed the equipment and can still carry out the job. I have high hopes for finding the remaining goods. The town is in an uproar and I have little doubt I shall be able to lay my hands on them within a week. — P.T.C.
I looked to Holmes, who was radiating excitement.
"You believe this 'B.B.' might know something?" I asked.
"If nothing else, he may be able to identify the face or voice of our P.T.C., and that would be helpful indeed."
"But how on earth do we find him?" I asked.
Holmes gave a bark of laughter. "Watson, how many jewellers by the initials of 'B.B.' do you imagine there are in the area? We ought to be able to narrow the search quite quickly."
Now I understood the cause of Holmes excitement. "Let us lose no more time, then, and find 'B.B.' before lunchtime!"
Holmes shook his head. "No, let's begin by informing our clients that we have not been neglecting them, and that we have arrested one of our duo and have a lead on the other."
"Fair enough," I replied. "I do enjoy bringing good news to clients. Shall we divide the joy among us? I can speak to Anderson and you to the Blombergs."
Holmes frowned. "I should prefer to handle both myself."
"But in the interests of conserving time," I said. "I will not say more than needs to be said."
"Very well," Holmes replied. "I suppose it would be most prudent to divide and conquer."
Pleasant events are often the most uninteresting in the telling, and so it was with that morning. All were overjoyed to hear of our progress, and it was high time we began the search for information about 'B.B.'
This proved more difficult than anticipated, for Sac County had no census records or address books we could reference, and as we made our way across the town, Holmes decided that I ought to once again visit Mrs. Pattison at the post office while he tried city hall.
"Let me at least have a little lunch first," said I, with more heat than intended.
Holmes snorted. "Go ahead, Watson, I shan't stop you. In fact, I might join you."
"And eat two meals in the same day while on a case?" I feigned melodramatic shock.
Holmes delivered a teasing elbow to the ribs. It hurt far more than it normally would have and I gave a little hiss of pain.
"Sorry, old fellow!" he said, turning pale. "How are those bruises today?"
"Not much different than last night," I replied.
"No worse, at least, then," Holmes replied. "As for eating another meal, I was thinking more of a black coffee, but I might be talked into a sandwich."
I was glad when we were back to the warmth of the inn and gladder to see Holmes partaking another meal. As we worked our way through beef stew and a couple of biscuits, Holmes informed me that Albert Harrison, the brother of Mrs. Blomberg, was delayed by a blizzard in Chicago and expected to arrive this evening, and warned me to swear Mrs. Pattison to secrecy about our search for this 'B.B.'
"How do we know those are even his real initials?" I asked.
"Rarely is anything certain," said Holmes. "But, at present, it is one of the few leads we have."
I could not disagree.
We finished our food and were soon back on the street, Holmes heading to city hall and I to the post office.