by Tonia Brown
The sheriff chuckled. “I understand completely. It’s a little damp here, even for me on occasion.” He turned his attention to Dodger, asking, “Who’s your friend? I recognize the weapons but not the man.”
“This is …” Ched paused, looking to Dodger.
It took a second for Dodger to realize that Ched was wondering what to call him. He also realized that this was the first time they had met with a member of normal society since Dodger ceased being Arnold Carpenter. So this was it then. It was finally time for Dodger to make the decision. Was Rodger Dodger ready to officially come out of retirement?
Yes, yes he was.
“Rodger Dodger,” Dodger said, sticking out his hand.
The sheriff tipped his fingers to his hat before taking Dodger’s hand for a firm shake. “Sheriff Jack Stanley.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sheriff.”
“Well met, sir, but I have to say I’m a bit surprised. I never thought Washington would let those babies out of his sight.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dodger said as he laid his palms on the guns at his hips.
Ched cleared his throat, a sound made all the more nauseating by the filter of his clenched teeth. Dodger caught the warning tone in the phlegm-filled noise, and at once regretted his choice of words. Here was yet another town that hadn’t heard about Boon’s demise. Did anyone know?
“I’m afraid I have shome bad newsh about Wash,” Ched said.
“Oh?” the sheriff asked. “What’s that?”
“He met with an untimely passhing.”
The sheriff blinked a few times, as if trying to process the information. His jaw fell open, just a little, in surprise. “Washington Boon is gone?”
Ched nodded.
The sheriff looked to Dodger, as if for confirmation.
Dodger nodded as well.
“I’ll be damned,” Sheriff Stanley whispered. “I guess I just thought he’d be one of those men who’d live forever.” The sheriff turned sorrowful eyes to Dodger, looking him up and down. “I take it you’re his replacement?”
“I have that honor, yes, sir,” Dodger said.
“And what an honor it is. You have some mighty big shoes to fill.”
“I do my best.”
“We sure could’ve used him today, too.” The sheriff’s dark mood lifted a little as he tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to imply you’re nothing more than his substitute. It’s just … well … Boon was special. To all of us here in Sunnyvale.”
“I understand he was a good man.”
“That he was. That he was indeed.”
“I hate to rain on your funeral,” Ched said, in his ever-blunt manner, “but we need to get thish cargo off the shkiff and head on back. The doc hash more deliveriesh to make than I can shake a shtick at. Sho get the lead out.”
Rather than lend a hand, the sheriff shook his head, throwing a glance back to the crowd behind him. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you too. But especially for Professor Dittmeyer. Did he join you?”
“The doc shtayed at the line,” Ched said. “You know he hatesh to put in fashe time unlessh he hash too.”
“I see. Well, as much as I would love to help you unload the lamps, there’s no need. I’m afraid the town won’t be able-”
“Sheriff!” a man shouted at them.
From the front door of the bank, there emerged a paunchy middle-aged man in a well-made suit. All nerves and sweat, he pushed his way through the onlookers as he wrung his pudgy hands and chewed his lower lip.
“Sheriff Stanley,” the man said as he approached. “I was wondering where in the world you got off to. I thought I asked you not to leave the bank until this matter was settled.”
“Mr. Biddlesworth,” the sheriff said. “May I introduce Mr. Ched and Mr. Dodger? Gentleman, this is the owner of our little town’s bank. Mr. J.K. Biddlesworth. I’m sure you remember him from the last time you were here, Mr. Ched.”
Ched and Dodger touched the brims of their respective hats in greeting, but the banker grew ever more irritated with all the hellos.
“People?” the man snapped. “I don’t have time to meet people! I have problems! Real, pressing problems!”
The sheriff snatched the banker by the arm, pulling Biddlesworth close to him and leaning low to whisper into the heavier man’s ear. At each passing whisper, Biddlesworth’s eyes grew rounder and wider with surprise.
“Oh my!” the man shouted. “I remember you now. You’re from that marvelous professor and his marvelous train. Well then, that’s different. Please excuse my earlier manner. It’s been a trying day. Not that anything is wrong. No. Quite the contrary, now that you’ve arrived.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ched said.
And Dodger knew the driver meant just that.
“Sheriff,” Biddlesworth said. “If you would, please help them unload these precious life-saving lamps. I would like to speak with the professor. If that’s possible. Please.” As the banker continued to speak, he looked around Dodger and Ched, as if Dittmeyer were crouched behind them, hiding on purpose.
“The doc ain’t here,” Ched said.
Biddlesworth wrung his hands once more, a whine returning to his voice. “But I need to talk to him about the subject of payment.”
“We already arranged the shubject of payment.” Ched stepped between the unloaded cargo and the banker, crossing his arms across his bony chest. “You pay ush. End of shubject.”
“Mr. Ched, I appreciate that your employer trusts you to handle the details of his business, but I think for this particular transaction, I will need to speak to the man in charge.”
From his speech, Dodger got the sense that the banker wasn’t willing to pay the agreed-upon price.
No. That wasn’t it.
It wasn’t a lack of desire.
It was a lack of ability.
Dodger eyed the bank in the distance, the crowd outside, and considered the man’s words when he first joined them. “You can’t pay us, can you?”
The sheriff shot Dodger a curious glance. “How do you-”
“Who are you?” Biddlesworth asked over the sheriff.
“Dodger, sir,” Dodger said. “I’m Professor Dittmeyer’s new chief of security.”
“New? What happened to the old one?”
“He kicked the bucket,” Ched said.
“What bucket?”
“He passed away,” Dodger explained.
“Oh my,” the banker said. “Sorry to hear that. Well then, Mr. Dodger, I’m pleased to inform you that yes, we are very capable of paying your employer. We just think this mysterious professor of yours is charging us far too much for his silly little lamps. Far too much. I want to renegotiate the terms of our contract-”
“If the lampsh are sho shilly,” Ched said, “then maybe we should jusht pack ‘em up and leave?”
Biddlesworth gasped. “No! No need for that. We just wanted to make sure we are getting our money’s worth. I mean, how are we to know if they’ll even work?”
“The Dittmeyer name should be guarantee enough,” Ched said.
Dodger made a note to remember that line. And the pride with which Ched said it.
The banker wasn’t as impressed. “Yes, well, I’ve heard things about your professor that make me wonder.”
“Mr. Biddlesworth,” Sheriff Stanley warned.
The banker stopped and flashed an angry stare at the sheriff before returning his attention to Dodger. “As I was saying, I would like to speak with your boss directly-”
“Jesse,” the sheriff said again. “These men deserve an honest explanation.”
“I am giving them an honest-”
“The professor’s men dealt straight with us. We’re going to be straight with them. Now tell them the truth.”
Biddlesworth stared in silence a moment longer at his sheriff. After a long sigh, the banker finally explained, “All right, then. Yes. You’re correct. We can’t pay you what you’re asking.
”
“I knew it,” Ched said.
“But not because you don’t want to,” Dodger said, making a final leap of logic. “You’ve been robbed. Recently, if I’m reading this situation right.”
The banker gasped again.
“That’s uncanny,” the sheriff said. “How do you know that?”
Ched smiled, wide and weird, as he nodded to Dodger. “He’sh not ash good looking ash Boon, but he’sh sharper than a butcher’sh besht blade on shlaughtering day.”
“You can say that again,” Sheriff Stanley said.
“It was just a guess,” Dodger said, trying not to turn red with embarrassment. He never could take a compliment, especially when it was in reference to his cunning. “Mr. Biddlesworth said there was a problem at the bank. Something that would require the town’s lawman to remain on watch until the issue was settled. Considering that crowd out front, I just reckoned your reluctance to pay us was associated to the bank somehow. Yes?”
“I don’t have a reluctance to pay you,” Biddlesworth said. “I just want to renegotiate the terms with your superior.” He glanced to the sheriff, who continued to frown at the banker. “What? That part is true. We can’t pay right away, but I was hoping we could work something out. I mean, two hundred apiece is a little bit much, don’t you agree?”
Dodger repressed his urge to gulp at the price. Two hundred dollars apiece? The cost of sunshine ran mighty steep in these hazy parts.
“Two hundred wash what you agreed to,” Ched said. “Two hundred. Four unitsh. That’sh eight hundred total. Take it or leave it.”
“I am sorry, gentlemen,” Sheriff Stanley said. “Our town needs those lamps worse than anything, but … well … the money’s all gone. We have nothing to give you.”
“Then that’sh that,” Ched said. He lifted the corner of one of the boxes, nodding for Dodger to grab the other end. “Come on, Sharge, we got work to get back to.”
Dodger ignored the impatient driver. “What happened here?”
“What happened ish theshe tightwadsh are trying to get shomething for nothing. I’ve sheen it before.”
“Mr. Ched,” the sheriff said. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I was hoping you knew me better than that.”
Ched lowered his end of the box and said, “Of coursh, you’re right, Sheriff.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I don’t know you very well.” He returned to lifting his side of the cargo. “Chop-chop, Dodger. We ain’t got all day.”
“Please don’t take them back,” the banker begged. “Surely we can work something out?”
“Hang on, Ched,” Dodger said. “Just wait a cotton-pickin’ minute. Sheriff, what happened at the bank?”
“None of your business,” the banker said.
“Shut up, Jesse,” the sheriff said. “They have a right to know what happened, considering a large hunk of that change was theirs to begin with.”
“Fine, then,” Biddlesworth said. “Air our dirty laundry if you must.”
The sheriff shrugged. “You called it right the first time, Dodger. We were robbed. Took it all, too. That vault’s as clean as a whistle.”
“Are you organizing a posse?” Dodger asked as he eyed the restless crowd gathered at the front of the bank. “Do you need help tracking them down?”
“You see, that’s the strange part. It wasn’t that kind of robbery. The money was there at closing, but gone the next morning. It wasn’t so much a robbery as a vanishing.”
“The money is just gone,” the banker said. “Just gone. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
With the men’s explanation, Dodger got that far-off itch. That burning sensation that something was amiss. This was more than a robbery; it was a mystery, and Dodger couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into the middle of it.
“Show me,” Dodger said.
“Excuse me?” Biddlesworth asked.
“Show me what happened.”
“I don’t think that’s a good-”
“Follow me,” the sheriff said over the banker. “I’ll show you.”
“Sheriff Stanley, I insist you reconsider involving this stranger in our affairs.”
“This man might be able to help us. I’m bamboozled as it is, and a pair of fresh eyes can’t hurt.”
“Fresh eyes? More like prying eyes.”
“Anyone man enough to take on Washington Boon’s job is okay by me.”
“How can you say that? He’s practically a stranger.”
While the men devolved into a whispered argument, Ched pulled Dodger aside to ask, “Sharge, what do you think you’re doing?”
Dodger was dying to know what the sheriff and banker were having words about, but it was too difficult to talk with Ched and keep up with the other men’s conversation. Dodger found himself wishing Boon were around. That way he could know what the argument over there was about, because the argument over here was boring.
“What are you trying to pull?” Ched asked.
“I’m trying to get the professor his money,” Dodger explained.
“They jusht shaid they ain’t got it. Or were you not lishtening again?”
“No, they said it vanished. When have you ever known money to just disappear?”
“My ma alwaysh shaid the fashtesht way to make money vanish wash to pour it down my father’sh gullet.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yesh, and I alsho know they shay they don’t got our money. The doc’sh polishy ish shimple. No pay, no play. They can’t meet the contract, we vamoosh. Got it?”
Dodger had to admit, that was certainly a sound policy. “Give me five minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because I think there is more going on here than a simple robbery. Let me have a look-see at their bank, and if I’m not convinced I can help the sheriff solve this crime, then I’ll go right back to the line with you, lamps and all.”
“And if you think you can sholve it?”
“Then we’ll up the asking price of the lamps.” Dodger grinned. “After all, my assistance doesn’t come cheap.”
“You shly dog.” Ched grinned with him, and with the sight of it, Dodger really wished the man hadn’t. “Fine, then. You can have your five minutesh. Go and play detective or whatever. I’ll load the lampsh jusht in cashe.”
Dodger broke away from their huddle with that gnawing itch all but setting his mind on fire. Whoever robbed the bank had done so with such efficiency, such smoothness that the money seemed to vanish. Yet despite this amazing feat, the robbers made a simple and costly mistake.
They hadn’t figured on Rodger Dodger coming to town.
****
back to top
****
Chapter Five
Bank on It
In which Dodger gathers clues
The community of Sunnyvale was typical of a new town. Just a few years old, the business fronts reeked of resin, and many homes still bore some signs of the late stages of construction. It would take a few more years of wear and tear for the town to gain that ‘lived-in’ look. If it lasted that long. There was a good chance that it would gain a ‘moved-out’ look first if Dodger couldn’t resolve this missing-money issue. And in order to do that, he had to inspect the bank.
Unlike the rest of the town, the bank was anything but typical. The building was enormous, much larger than the single-counter affair of a normal town. A counter that usually doubled as a post office or even tripled as a saloon. The interior of the bank was lushly furnished and decorated. The atmosphere was posh, but from what Dodger understood, the townsfolk were not. Now, what didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Dodger was why such a small town, such a typical town, such an out-of-the-way town, had such a very large and fancy bank.
Dodger wandered through the bank while the crowd peered through the closed glass doors in wonder.
“As you can see,” Biddlesworth proudly explained, “our bank has all the modern conveniences.” He paused, waiting for Dodger’
s praise.
“It’s nice,” Dodger said.
“Nice?” The banker huffed and puffed. “It’s more than just nice, sir.”
Dodger didn’t know how to make it up to the man. “It’s very nice?”
The banker ignored Dodger and continued in his presentation. “The counters are cherry. The floors are oak. Most of the furniture came from Paris. As did the artwork. Paris is in a country called France, in case you were wondering, Mr. Dodger.”
“Thanks for the clarification.” Dodger smirked, more amused than offended by the banker’s condescending tone.
“We wanted gold filigree for the molding, but alas, expense prohibited such good taste. Living out here in the wilderness, we had to make due with silver instead.”
“Must’ve broken your heart.”
“You have no idea. Our walk-in vault at the back is made from an impenetrable lead casing. A half-inch thick on all sides. The only entrance or exit is this single door. We had the whole thing shipped in special from New York.”
Dodger nodded to the vault, the furniture and the cherry-wood countertops. “I see. I see. Yes, all very nice indeed. But what I don’t understand, and pardon me for asking this out of turn, but what I can’t seem to wrap my head around is … why?”
“Why? Why what?”
“Why such a large and impressive bank in the middle of nowhere?”
“Because our town founder wanted one,” the sheriff said. “And what Benjamin Wilson wants, Benjamin Wilson gets.”
“Because a bank brings prosperity to a town,” the banker said. “Mr. Wilson understands this. And the better the bank, the better the clientele. Like attracts like, as it were.”
Sheriff Stanley leaned low to whisper to Dodger, “That and Biddlesworth is Wilson’s nephew.”
Now that made all kinds of sense. Though it was hard to picture the pudgy banker as being related to anyone, much less the nephew of a doting uncle. A very rich doting uncle, from the looks of things.
Dodger crossed the bank floor, the click of his boots echoing across the vast room with each step. He stopped as his toe touched the edge of the vault. Crouching eye level with the lock, Dodger considered the barrier. Even from the outside, he could see the vault was more along the lines of a strong room, lead lined but not constructed in one piece as the banker suggested. Which of course left Dodger to wonder just what else the man thought he knew but in reality had no idea about.
