I slept fitfully, but through most of the night and later into the morning than I intended. Light was streaming through the window and my head and side were throbbing in tandem. With a groan, I hauled myself out of bed and dressed quickly. I knocked on Holmes' door, but there was no reply, so I made my way to the dining room, where I found him seated with a newspaper and a steaming mug of coffee.
"Good morning, Watson," he said. "The next train to Sac City leaves in ten minutes, but I presume you would like to eat first?"
"Would I ever," I replied, seating myself across from him. "I've skipped quite enough meals during this case."
Holmes smiled. "I suspected as much."
After a hearty breakfast, we took the ten-thirty train to Sac City, where the Sheriff was more than eager to see us.
"I'm so glad you fellas are here," said Sheriff Sweet when we entered. "The paperwork Des Moines needs is an absolute nightmare."
"The real reason Holmes is a consultant," I said with a grin.
Holmes chuckled. "Not completely inaccurate, I'm afraid, but I'm willing to assist, nonetheless."
Sheriff Sweet nodded. "Good of you. The main things I need are a list of all evidence and its significance, including things later lost or destroyed, and I'd also like to hear your account of what happened the night Hieman was killed and Mrs. Blomberg's jewels were taken."
The Sheriff sat behind his desk and Holmes and I seated ourselves on the other side of it.
"Let us begin with the evidence," replied Holmes. "Watson, have you your notebook with you?"
I nodded, pulling it out of my jacket pocket. "I have notes from all but yesterday."
"Excellent," he replied, retrieving his own. "Between us, we ought to be able to finish this list."
It was a somewhat tedious process, and took well over an hour, but the Sheriff managed to complete his list. It was time to move on to the account of the night of the crimes.
"As little as I savour the idea," I said, "I believe we ought to do this within earshot of our two criminals so they can interject and correct us as necessary."
Sheriff Sweet and Holmes both nodded. Sweet gathered a few sheets of paper and a pen while Holmes grabbed three chairs. I opened the door and let the others through.
Crowe and Wright could be heard speaking in hushed tones when I opened the door, but they stopped as soon as we entered.
"I've got paperwork to do," said the Sheriff, "so Holmes here is going to run through what happened the night you fellas wreaked havoc on Wall Lake, so holler if he messes anything up. Clear?"
I glanced to Holmes, who was exchanging an icy look with Crowe.
"View's a bit different this way around, isn't it?" said Holmes with a smile.
"Don't antagonise him," said the Sheriff. "Not because he doesn't deserve it, but because we want an honest account, and riling people up isn't the best way to go about it."
Holmes nodded and we seated ourselves in a sort of semicircle facing the cells, with Holmes in the middle and the Sheriff and me on either side. The Sheriff and I readied our pens and papers.
"The afternoon of January 8th, Pat Crowe and Jesse Cleveland Wright took a train southwest from Chicago and arrived in Wall Lake after dusk but well before the last trains north or south departed. They crept into the home of the Blombergs via the front door, whose lock Crowe picked, and Crowe stole upstairs while Wright remained guard downstairs."
Wright broke in. "I followed upstairs, once Crowe figured out it wasn't too creaky."
Holmes gave a nod. "Crowe stole up the stairs and Wright followed after. Once in the master bedroom, Crowe cracked the safe—a considerable feat, I must admit—and emptied it of all valuables. He then removed the earrings from Mrs. Blomberg's ears for good measure and realised that Wright had taken a handkerchief of Mr. Blomberg's and placed it on the sill."
"I was against it," said Crowe. "But before we could argue about it, one or the other of them shifted in their sleep and we leapt out the window before they could wake and practically dashed back to the train station. It was about ten, but being a Friday, the last trains were yet to come."
"The two had plans to meet with young Bill Brogden, son of the shopkeeper in Sac City, but Brogden missed the appointed hour, and by a strange chance, Hieman was on his way back from rejection by his fiancée. They mistook Hieman for their man, and he went along with it. He convinced them to board the train back to Wall Lake with him and part with the most valuable of their loot."
Crowe spoke. "We were under the impression we would be meeting somewhere in Sac City, but Hieman quickly talked us round to the inconspicuousness of a train as a place to meet and reassured us that the last train back from Wall Lake to Sac City had not yet departed."
"He offered us liquor," added Wright, "which led to several boneheaded moves that night."
"Like murdering my best deputy?" growled the Sheriff.
"We shall come to that soon enough," replied Holmes. "Let us continue in the order these events occurred. The train arrived in Wall Lake, and Hieman departed with Mrs. Blomberg's heirloom necklace and a couple others among the most expensive items. Crowe and Wright then took the last train back to Sac City, and as yet they did not doubt that it was Brogden with whom they met. They arrived in Sac City and made their way to the abandoned house past the edge of town, where we later captured Wright." Holmes halted a moment, brows furrowed. "What prompted you then to return to Wall Lake, and how did you do it?"
"The real Brogden showed up at our hiding place—he was the one who told us where we could stay, relatively unnoticed—and told us his mother and one of his sisters had fallen ill and with his father gone, he'd had to care for them and had not been able to get away till then. He helped us figure out who it was we talked to and gave us directions to his place. We also discovered that he was just a kid, younger even than we thought, and cutting these jewels for us would take several times longer than we'd supposed, but he'd agreed to do it for dirt cheap, so we gave him most of the loot and he let us take his parents' two horses back to Wall Lake."
Holmes nodded, but the frown did not leave his face.
"It wasn't the perfect crime, I'll admit," said Crowe. "We'd bungled it up so badly—"
"You had bungled it up so badly," sneered Wright.
"Fine," said Crowe. "I'd screwed things up at every turn, but I really wanted that necklace, and we needed Hieman out of the way if we were to stick around, as he could surely identify either of us. Murder wasn't my first choice, but..."
"It was my first choice," said Wright with a trace of a grin.
The Sheriff seemed to be biting his tongue to keep from speaking.
"The two rode back to Wall Lake on the Brogden family horses and arrive at the home of the Hiemans. They saw a light coming from an upstairs window near the back of the house but decided to enter regardless. They crept up the stairs and found it was Hieman, with a bottle of whiskey and a few odds and ends before him on the table. He had been drinking for some time due to the loss of his fiancée and had already opened the window. Wright incapacitated him easily—"
"We can't gloss over the only thing I did," Wright complained.
"Then give us a fuller account," said Holmes coldly.
"I crept up quietly behind him. He stood three feet away from the open window, muttering to himself. I grabbed him by the neck and used a combination of brute force and a couple advanced baritsu techniques to knock him unconscious, then struck him hard at the base of his skull and threw him headlong into the snow. I was certain he was dead, but Crowe insisted on checking."
"He was dead," replied Crowe, whose face had turned a little grey. "We searched everywhere for the goods we'd given him earlier in the evening, but they didn't turn up. By then it was too close to the time early risers awaken to stick around any longer and we rode back to Sac City and returned the horses."
The Sheriff spoke up. "Then what possessed you to decide to impersonate a Des Moines detective?"
Crowe coloured a little.
"It's a sweet story," said Wright, his expression and tone betraying his distaste for such things. "His girl, Hattie Murphy, always told him he'd be better off on the other side of the law. I don't imagine this was what she meant."
Crowe scowled. "That was my inspiration, yes. But I already had no chance of winning her back."
"Meanwhile," said Holmes, "Hieman had placed the jewels in a jar with rocks for the Kelly boys, likely for safekeeping until the morning. Several days later, the jar went to the Kelly's, but their grief kept them from examining the gift."
"Wonder why he did that," said Crowe.
"We'll never know, now," the Sheriff replied flatly.
Holmes only frowned.
"Perhaps he was being cautious, in case Crowe and Wright figured out the ruse," I suggested. "Or maybe it seemed convenient to him to make the two deliveries, the diamonds, and the rocks, in one go; after all, the Blombergs and the Kelly's live in the same direction from the Hieman's home."
"Those do seem to be likely possibilities," Holmes replied. "Regardless, the trip was never made. Meanwhile, Crowe laid low a couple days, then began his charade as Marshall Reagan, hoping he would find the remaining jewels in the first week. When a week, then two or more passed, he and Wright decided they needed eyes and ears more than his. Wright's appearance was rather too clearly that of the murderer from the 'wanted' ads, so he hired Silas Albright. As the investigation wore on, and Watson and I arrived, he grew more and more curious about things Crowe and Wright did not wish him to know. In the meantime, Crowe also broke into the Blomberg residence a second time." Holmes looked to Crowe. "What did you hope to gain by this?"
"There's no real secret to it," replied Crowe. "I needed to bring Wright more food, and I was receiving no income at this time; Des Moines wasn't paying me, like all of you were meant to think, and I hadn't the chance to sell any of the cut jewels. Some things I did purchase, while I was here, but some I stole from those who seemed wealthy enough they would not miss it. I didn't realise their housekeeping girl was so close by." He shrugged.
I shook my head. "I was reading far more into that incident than there was, apparently."
Holmes gave a single nod. "Back to Albright, now. Wright attempted to keep him in the dark about who the second man was, so even if he betrayed them, Crowe's position would remain secure. But Albright grew increasingly sloppy in his efforts to watch others out of sight and began to suspect the truth about Crowe. He was now more of a liability than an asset and Wright arranged his murder to look like a suicide."
"I was all for blackmail," said Crowe. "He had regrets coming out of his ears, but Wright insisted."
"The second death for Wall Lake," said Holmes. "But whose revolver was in his hand?"
"Mine," said Wright. "I keep several around, and Crowe promised it would go with police evidence, so he could steal it back when this was all over."
"It was cleverly constructed, though I saw through it with relative ease," said Holmes. "Sheriff Sweet was not so easily convinced."
"I didn't know you so well then," replied the Sheriff.
"All the while, Crowe was doing his best to work himself into my confidence," Holmes continued. "He appealed to my ego, a rational choice, but a method I was using upon him in turn."
"I knew you were being too nice," said Crowe.
"I remain unconvinced," replied Holmes.
"Well, I do now, at any rate," Crowe muttered.
I caught a glimpse of Holmes smiling, but then his serious demeanour returned.
"The days wore on, and Watson and I were moving ever closer to the solution. The turning point came when we discovered Wright's hiding place just past the edge of town. Crowe accompanied us, so as not to lose our trust, but his hopes to undermine us were dashed when the Sheriff and Wright wounded one another. Wright was moved to jail, where he waited with mounting frustration for Crowe to break him out so they could leave town. At that point, they still might have gotten away clean, but Crowe wanted the missing jewels, and the Brogden boy was moving slowly indeed. Out of desperation, Crowe broke into my rooms at the inn and stole all the evidence he could find, a devastating blow to our investigation. I rashly decided to steal the Blomberg jewels from young Brogden, and left them here at the jail, where it was far too easy for Crowe to meddle with the note and frame me. I had begun to suspect Crowe, among several others, but it was not until I was arrested that I realised the truth. While Watson begged and borrowed for bail money, I sat in the cell, planning our next move. It was clear that Crowe wanted one of us to find the remaining jewels, so he could take them and leave town. As little as I cared for the idea of playing into his hand, it seemed the best path. It took a little thought and time, but we soon located the jewels at the Kelly's and laid our trap." Holmes flashed a small smile. "The rest we all know, I think."
"Excellent," said the Sheriff as he scrawled down a few final words. "I daresay our work here is done, then." He stood.
Holmes and I rose as well, and we each shook his hand in turn.
"Keep us informed," said Holmes, handing him a calling card. "I should like to know how all of this pans out."
Sheriff Sweet nodded. "Certainly. I'll send word as soon as the trial's over." He smiled, looking at both of us. "Well, I never suspected when you fellas showed up that I'd take a liking to you, but I have, and I'll be sad to see you go."
"I will miss this place," I replied. "Not the jail in particular, but this corner of the world."
The Sheriff chuckled and nodded.
We gathered our chairs and returned to the Sheriff's office. Before the door closed behind me, I cast a glance backward at Wright and Crowe. Wright was glassy-eyed, gazing straight ahead, but Crowe fixed me with a venomous stare. I felt a shiver run down my spine and quickly closed the door.