Stosch soon opened the door. He rolled his eyes at Jasper. “Doubt you’ll be of much help in this situation.”
“Hollock, get in here.” Mr. Rudin’s voice boomed from inside.
Jasper cringed at the rough tone. While he was growing up, Jasper could only remember Mr. Rudin being upset a few times. Less than that the times the man had raised his voice.
“I’ll fetch Miss Leslie for you, Mr. Stosch.” Denny pivoted on his heel and headed down the hall.
With a clearing of his throat, Jasper stepped inside and closed the door.
Mr. Rudin paced in front of the large window, his hands clasped behind his back. “This is horrible. Just horrible. All the bad publicity already, now a decrease in production and getting so close to Christmas when every sweet imaginable is in demand.”
“The part will soon be replaced, and we’ll carry on as usual.”
“And what will be next, detective? Do you have a handle on this case or not?”
Jasper sighed. “I’m getting closer.”
“Closer? Closer as in we’re closer to England than India?”
With a tug at his vest, Jasper straightened. Sharp words did not come from the Mr. Rudin he knew. “Mr. Rudin, I assure you, I am working as hard as I can. We’ll have this resolved soon. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you through this issue.” He ventured a step forward and reached out to touch his shoulder. “Uncle Rudi, it’s all going to be okay, isn’t it?”
Rudin’s blue eyes softened at the pet name. “Oh, Jasper boy.” His shoulders slouched, and he shuffled to his chair, heaving his tired form into the seat. “You haven’t called me Uncle Rudi since you were a boy of ten in a baseball cap.”
Jasper forced a smile. He remembered. Though he had outgrown the term, considering it technically untrue, he hadn’t outgrown their bond. His heart pinched as the bags under Mr. Rudin’s eyes bespoke what was at stake. And the lines in the elder man’s forehead were deeper than Jasper recalled. He swallowed the emotion building in his throat. “I have made some progress on your other case, sir.”
Instead of replying, Mr. Rudin buried his face in his hands and rubbed up and down.
Taking advantage of the moment, Jasper pulled out his notebook. “I believe you have lost sight of what potential your life yet has, Uncle Rudi.”
Mr. Rudin’s eyes peered between his fingers.
“Think of all the good you could do with your influence and experience, sir. You have done so much for those boys at the orphanage, but there’s so much more you could do. You could begin a program to train them in a skill and then find them employment with other businessmen in Denver so they can support themselves and become useful members of society.”
Rudin’s hands dropped from his face. “A program?”
“It would be such a wonderful thing for them. Put their feet on the right path.”
Tearing the list of ideas from his notebook, Jasper slid it across the desk. “We all have regrets, sir, but you could use these next years to reclaim what has slipped away from you. Take Mrs. Rudin on a long honeymoon, reconnect with your daughter.”
Jasper held his breath as Mr. Rudin looked over his list. He opened one of his desk drawers and withdrew a pen, and then marked a star next to several items and Xs next to others. Then he slid the paper back. Jasper frowned down at it.
“The stars are items I would like you to attend to after I’m gone. I like your program idea—you are the perfect man to see to it.”
After he was gone? “But, sir—”
“The Xs are the items that are impossible. I cannot reconnect with my daughter. She has shut me out, and I cannot blame her. I’m too late, Jasper boy. As for Mrs. Rudin, sins of my past have soiled her opinion of me, and I cannot change those. She will never forgive me, nor should she. I used her for my own selfish gain. These are things that can’t be undone, and the more I have tried to correct it, the worse I make it.”
Jasper opened his mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Miss Leslie peered in, her hazel eyes settled on Jasper. “Excuse me, Mr. Rudin. Denny said you wanted to see me, but I can come back later if you’re busy.”
“Come in, dear girl.” Mr. Rudin’s usual smile reappeared, masking the sincere desperation from a moment before. “I was hoping you could help me solve a problem.”
Miss Leslie slipped inside, notepad tucked under her arm. Her head tilted in question, bringing the pencil holding her bun in place into focus. Today, her copper-brown vest and skirt somehow made her eyes seem even more prominent. “I’ll be happy to, sir. What seems to be the matter?”
Mr. Rudin, surely, was hoping Jasper would take his leave and let the subject drop. Not a chance. He would stay, even if the troll did look at him as if he were a rat in a meal barrel. He planted himself in a chair and rested one leg across his knee.
“Have a seat, Miss Leslie.” Mr. Rudin motioned to the chair next to Jasper.
Her long skirt brushed his shoe as she stepped over and sat. He shifted away from her and folded his arms across his chest. He could feel the throbbing of his pulse in his wrist. Funny how her entrance always seemed to be simultaneous with his temper. No matter. This interruption would soon pass, and he could resume his conversation.
Mr. Rudin rested his hands on the desk. “Two of the four boiling machines are down, and we won’t be able to get them fixed until the end of the week. Obviously, this is going to be a problem with production.”
Miss Leslie plucked a second pencil from her vest pocket and rolled it between her fingers. This woman must have a fetish with the things. Although, that was something Jasper could understand.
Her breath hitched before she spoke. “Perhaps we could split the shift and have the second half work through the night to keep up.”
Jasper blinked. The troll did have a brain behind those sculpted brows.
“Do you think they’d be willing to do so? I hate to interrupt their schedule, but I really see no other way.”
“You’re so kind, Mr. Rudin. I will speak with them, but I think I can safely say they will be glad to work through the night rather than be sent home for a week.”
Mr. Rudin let out a breath, and his mouth turned upward. “Thank you, Miss Leslie. I appreciate your help. Do let me know what the boys decide.”
She stood and offered him a smile as sweet as the candy on Mr. Rudin’s desk. Since when had she been capable of that? “Of course, sir. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll keep up.” She cast a sideways glance at Jasper. “I’ll not interrupt your meeting any longer. Excuse me.”
She slipped out of the room as quietly as she came. Jasper leaned forward, clasping his hands. He waited for Mr. Rudin to meet his gaze, and then pushed the list back at him.
“Think about this list. Take it home. Pray over it. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk more.”
Mr. Rudin nodded. “All right, Jasper boy. Though I warn you, I haven’t been in the habit of prayer.”
“I’d venture to say that’s your first problem, sir.”
A tilt of his head granted that, but Mr. Rudin said nothing. For now, Jasper would take what he could get. He exited Mr. Rudin’s office and eyed Stosch’s vacant desk. The man had been gone the last few times Jasper had come around. He couldn’t really complain, but it did seem odd. Where could he possibly have an excuse to slip away to so often?
Turning down the hall, he sought Denny. He still needed to report on his conversation with the boy from the pharmacy.
When Jasper exited the factory building, Denny was waiting beside his bicycle. “How’d it go?”
“I think he’s stable. For now. Tell me about your afternoon.”
Denny walked his bike along, keeping pace with Jasper as they headed down Lincoln Street toward his apartment. “I found the kid, but he was pretty tightlipped. Took me a while to coax anything out of him. He told me a man met him out on the street and paid him to deliver the note to the newspaper office.”
“Did he identify w
ho the man was?”
“He said he didn’t know who he was, though he’d seen him before. Said he was of average height, dark hair, businessman by the looks of him. That’s all.”
Could have been Mr. Stosch. Could have been anyone. “Not terribly helpful. No identifying marks or scents?”
Denny’s brows pulled together. “Scents?”
“What’d the guy smell like?”
“I didn’t think to ask the kid.”
Hmmph. This boy had a lot to learn. “Smells can give a lot of clues. You’ll learn to pay attention to them. Ever notice how almost everyone at the factory has a hint of sweet smell?”
“I…uh…guess so.”
“A mechanic smells of oil. Businessmen smell of cologne or ink or something of similar nature.”
“What do I smell like?”
“Usually those sausages you like so well. Today you smell like sweat and melting snow.”
Denny’s eyes widened, and he sniffed his jacket self-consciously.
Jasper couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He spun the boy’s cap around. “Go home and take a bath. Bring me a newspaper first thing in the morning. We need to keep a close eye on McCracken.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going for a stroll. Then I’ll do exactly as I’ve instructed you.” He hoped his answer would suffice. He didn’t want a kid along on his next errand.
Chapter Twelve
Jasper dragged his eyelids open and fumbled for the alarm clock clanging on the table beside his bed. He rubbed his eyes. He’d need three cups of coffee this morning.
After following the pharmacy boy around and scouting out the other end of town half the night, he was beat. And to say his feet ached would be an understatement. He cringed at the thought of wiggling into his cap-toe boots.
He put on the coffee, splashed water on his face, and changed his rumpled clothes. He inhaled deeply. Thank You, Lord, for whoever invented coffee. It must be Your mercy on Your weary servants. He poured a cup of the steaming liquid into his favorite mug and savored a blessed first sip.
A horn blared outside, interrupting his serene moment. He drew back the curtain and peered down at Mr. Rudin’s Model 6 Berline Limousine parked at the curb. The chauffeur opened the door, stood, and waved his arms in frantic motions. What in the world?
Jasper unlatched the window and pushed it open. “What’s that?”
“Hollock, get down here! Not a moment to waste.”
Those words were stronger than the coffee he left on the table as he tugged the window closed. Tucking his pistol into his waistband, he dashed out the door and down the stairs. He slipped into the passenger side of the car, and the chauffeur slammed it into gear and tore down the street. “What’s going on, Mitch?”
“The Wobblies showed up. A horde o’ them.”
Jasper’s fists balled until his knuckles whitened. “What do they want?”
“One of the men on shift must have been upset about the schedule change and gone to them. That, combined with the logs released in the paper this morning, have them in an outrage.”
“Outrage?”
“The tensions were high when Mr. Rudin sent me to fetch you. They’re chanting and demanding Mr. Rudin come out to address them. He wants to, but Mr. Stosch convinced him to wait for you or the police.”
“Mr. Stosch?”
Mitch glanced at him. “That surprise you?”
Avoiding the question, Jasper bit his cheek. “What did you say about the newspaper?”
“Logs bearing the Rudin Factory emblem were published containing records of a recent hair contamination and previous incidents.”
Dash it. What had McCracken gotten his hands on this time? Jasper’s fingers worked his vest buttons as he thought.
“The lab.” It had to be.
They curved a corner, and the factory loomed ahead. But no steam rose from the stacks. A large crowd clogged the parking lot. As the limousine swerved to the back entrance, workers stared down from factory windows.
Before Mitch could shift to park, Jasper leapt from the car and bounded inside.
Mr. Rudin met him halfway down the hall. “They’re insane, Jasper boy. Insane. What should we do?”
Jasper felt for his gun. He pressed forward to the window where Mr. Stosch, Miss Leslie, and a few others were gathered.
The crowd’s unified voice sent out an eerie warble. “Tyrant, tyrant, Rudin rages. No more, no more, come and face us.”
The windowpane rattled beneath Jasper’s fingertips.
Miss Leslie’s eyes, wide and tinged with golden fear, met his. “This is my fault, detective. I asked the men to work an overnight shift to make up for the broken machines.”
Jasper gave a slight shake of his head, his anger swelling. “A perfectly reasonable request, Miss Leslie.” Did these Wobblies know they were intimidating a woman? A troll—though she may be—still didn’t deserve to be scared out of her tiny, heeled boots by a mob. “Let me handle this, Mr. Rudin.”
He started for the door, but his employer snagged his arm. “No, let me. I’m not afraid to face them. The worst they can do won’t bother me.”
Now who was insane? They’d likely stone him if he stepped outside. Jasper was not about to let that happen. “That’s precisely why you’re staying right here.” With a firm grip on the man’s arm, he shoved him back a step. “I don’t even want you in view of the window.”
“But, Jasper, they might hurt you.”
“I’ll be fine, but I won’t let them treat you like this, Uncle Rudi.”
A click and the roar of the crowd increased. Jasper whirled around in time to see Miss Leslie slip out the door. “Bet, no!”
The door shut. He lunged for the handle and jerked it open. She stood facing the crowd, holding up one of her small hands to quiet the mob. He eased close and leaned down. “Are you out of your mind?” His whisper came out more of a hiss, which didn’t help.
Her jaw tightened. “Gentlemen, please.” Her delicate voice was nothing against the crowd. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
“What’s to misunderstand about the tyrant forcing men to work all through the night?” A man with his hands wrapped in rags strode forth.
“No, it’s not that at all. We—I—asked the men if they’d be willing to split the shift and only for a week to compensate for a downed machine.” From the front, Miss Leslie looked completely calm. But her hands wrung like a laundry machine behind her back.
“That’s how it always starts. The promise of temporary until his greedy tongue gets a taste of the money. Rudin has no compassion for his workers. We’ll see if his blood runs red or green.”
Miss Leslie took a step back as the crowd roared their agreement. “Gentlemen, please, be reasonable.” She raised her voice, but their clamor thundered louder.
“What reason is there in letting our children be slaves in sugar factories with tyrants like him? Let the coward come out, or we’ll bust his windows.” The man gripped a rock and tossed it in the air, a gleam of hatred in his eye.
Jasper stepped forward, a protective grasp on Bet’s elbow. “Now listen here. What good will violence do you? Do one lick of harm to this building or anyone inside, and your children will see you sent to jail and your name villainized in the papers. You fought for your right to free speech, and the same freedom applies to Mr. Rudin. He has a right to the pursuit of happiness the same as you. You can’t hate a man simply because he succeeds better than you.”
“An empire built on the backs of helpless workers like us!” The man raised his rag-tied hand in a fist, and his eyes flashed. “But we’ll no longer allow him to force us into working all night long to produce poisoned sugar. He’s an evil Russian trying to kill off the American working class. We won’t stand for it!”
“The police will be here any moment. Fight with brains not stones.”
“What? The brains you capitalists think we don’t have?”
“You’re crazy. Stand do
wn, or I’ll haul you in.” Jasper advanced, reaching out to grab the man’s arm, but he jerked free. “Don’t let ’em, boys! Don’t let them take our own.”
The horde shouted and lurched as one. A stone zinged past him. Miss Leslie let out a cry. Jasper whirled as she fell to the ground, blood streaming from her temple. “Bet!”
“There he is. There’s the Russian tyrant.” The hothead pointed to the window. “Take him, boys!”
Before Jasper could reach Bet, the mob surged forward, pushing him farther from her. They slammed him against the brick wall. Rocks pelted the windows. Fists hammered the door at the same speed of his heart. Jasper struggled to get his hands free of the crush. If he could just reach his waistband. Finally, he gripped the pistol.
Bang.
Screams followed his gunshot, and the crowd retreated. Panic gripped his middle as he scanned flailing limbs and frantic faces. He pushed bodies aside, fighting toward where Bet had fallen.
A boot mashed his foot. An elbow met his nose. Still, he pressed.
Bang.
The crowd cleared out quicker after the second blast. He prayed the bullets he’d shot into the air didn’t find a person when they came down. Unless it was that ragged hothead. He might deserve it.
Mercy, Lord God. Miss Leslie.
Terror twisted his middle. Sprawled face down at an odd angle, she’d been rolled several feet by the stampeding mob. A trail of blood followed. Her dark hair had torn loose of its bun and matted with sticky red against the visible side of her face. He gripped her shoulders and eased her over as gently as his gangly hands could manage. Her closed eyelids already tinted blue and purple.
“Miss Leslie—Bet—are you all right? Please, say something.”
Dash it. He shouldn’t have let this happen. But what could he have done? If it weren’t for the Wobblies… She’d better wake up, or Denver might meet the equivalent of a witch-hunt. “Somebody, bring a doctor!”
Solve by Christmas Page 9
