by Julie Weston
Next morning, Nellie was up, dressed, packed, and ready by 8 a.m. When she entered the dining room, she stopped in shock. There were Mrs. Ah Kee and Sammy. Why wasn’t that man in jail? If not for assaulting Mr. Levine, then surely for causing the explosion last night. But then, no one else knew what she knew—that they had stolen her negatives, which she had stolen back, and they wanted them back again. Why, she had not yet figured out, but it surely must have something to do with the dead man. The police knew Sammy had been in the studio yesterday, but here he was, eating eggs and ham and biscuits and gravy as if he had no worries. He glanced up at Nellie with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.
Mr. Olsen guarded the door. “Your breakfast is in the kitchen, Miss Burns.” His attitude suggested he had misgivings about the Chinese couple.
Nellie was wrong. The same policeman who questioned her the day before waited at the kitchen table. When she entered, he stood, but sat down again when she did. An empty breakfast plate showed he had been waiting awhile.
“I wouldn’t let him up there to bother you before you was good and ready,” Mrs. Olsen said, slapping a plate down in front of Nellie. “You eat first. You’ve had a bad shock.”
The man looked more than ever like a cowboy, even without his Stetson, which sat on the cupboard by the door. His handlebar mustache had obviously been groomed that morning, and curled wickedly on either side of his mouth. “Can you tell me what happened last night, Miss Burns? Maybe begin with why you were in there so late.”
His tone was insolent, angering Nellie. “I was working, which is perhaps something you should have been doing. Why is that man out there in the dining room, scot-free, when he assaulted Mr. Levine yesterday?”
“As it happens, he didn’t. What were you working at?” He shoved his plate away and took out a cigarette from a pack and laid it on the table. The scratch of his match on his boot brought back the sound from the night before. She flinched and almost ducked. To cover her confusion, she reached for the pack.
“Do you mind?” She shook out a cigarette before he could answer and waited for him to light it. Now he was confused, but he accommodated her.
“How do you know he didn’t? I heard his voice in the reception area and the portrait room. I told you all that yesterday. How could it not have been him?”
“Because Mr. Campbell said it wasn’t.”
Then Mrs. Olsen chimed in. “But Gwynn hates all Chinamen, ever since—”
“That’s how I know Sammy didn’t do it,” the policeman interrupted. “If Mr. Campbell says so, we couldn’t get it from a better source, under the circumstances.”
Both Mrs. Olsen and the policeman knew something Nellie did not. It underlay all their words. “What do you mean? I may not be an eyewitness, but I’m an ear witness.”
“Gwynn’s daughter was killed by a Chinaman. She died of opium poisoning.” Mrs. Olsen’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper and she glanced toward the dining room door. “There’s folks that say Mrs. Ah Kee was responsible, her being the opium queen hereabouts, but I say, nobody forced Lily to take the vile stuff.”
“Mrs. Olsen, I’d like to talk to Miss Burns alone, please.” The man shoved his chair back and stood. He was two heads taller than the big woman.
“All right, Tommy. But you be nice to her. I knew you in knickers, you know. You don’t scare me.” She turned to Nellie. “And don’t let him browbeat you none neither. His record ain’t so spotless as he might make it sound.” She sniffed and went out the door.
“I’m gonna get straight to the point. Did you set off that bomb last night?”
Nellie was dumbstruck.
“You seem to be on the scene whenever something happens, Miss Burns. You say you ‘found’ a dead man north of Ketchum and then you hightail it down here on the next train out of town. Jake Levine gets bonked on the head when supposedly you’re in his darkroom. And then a bomb goes off when you’re back there in the middle of the night.”
Words failed her. Nellie took a draught from her cigarette, blew it toward the policeman’s face—Tommy?—and then crushed it out in the congealing remainder of the food on his plate. What could she do but laugh at such stupidity? And she did. Being alone in the West gave her more courage than brains.
Tommy’s face burned red. “Is that your answer?”
“Mr. Policeman, or can I call you Tommy? Let’s see. I’m perhaps five feet, four inches, weigh 112 pounds. I can carry my camera pack, which weighs around twenty pounds, with ease. I guess I could use it to kill the man in the cabin, freeze water on his face, then drag him across the river in the middle of the night and bury him in the snow. After that, I came to Twin Falls to meet a photographer I’ve never seen before in my life, but because of professional jealousy, I bonk him on the head, and then try to blow up his studio while I’m in it. Yes, I guess that makes sense. I am from Chicago, after all.” She scowled at Tommy. “Don’t I look mean?”
Her mother had told her many times that a smart mouth would get her in trouble.
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Burns. Mr. Campbell said he found you leaning over Jake with blood on your hands. And no one else was in that studio last night.”
“Someone was. But you certainly weren’t there searching for clues as to the assault on Mr. Levine.” Nellie stood up too. “If you think I did all this, arrest me. Otherwise, I’m returning to Ketchum after I visit with Mr. Levine. Where is the negative case? There are proof sets I promised to deliver for him. He, after all, has to earn a living and isn’t on the public payroll.” She bit her tongue. That perhaps was going too far.
“No wonder you’re still a ‘Miss,’ ” he said. His arrow stung. “Can’t imagine anybody that’d want to marry a bitch like you.” He grabbed his Stetson. “The negative case is in the studio.”
“Unguarded?” Her shock made her squeak.
“Who would want a cabinet full of negatives? We covered the door last night, so weather couldn’t get in. Good luck getting at it.” With that, he turned and slammed out the back door.
Nellie’s anger rose and fell. She deserved the stab, she guessed, but how could he be so stupid as to leave the negatives sitting in plain view in the studio where she’d left them? Maybe someone had the presence of mind to put them in the portrait room. But then, only she knew what was in the cabinet besides portrait negatives. And she knew, without a doubt, that the duplicates would be gone. If only everything else were intact so Mr. Levine wouldn’t suffer more damage.
Back in the dining room, she told Mr. Olsen that she was going to pick up the proofs to deliver to Mr. Levine. He could figure out how to deliver them to his customers, but at least they would be in safe hands and he wouldn’t lose the business. She asked Franklin if he would go along with her to the studio, the hospital, the music store, and then the bus for the train, making certain Mrs. Ah Kee and Sammy heard her.
At the studio, she did indeed have difficulty entering. Wood covered the doorway, but Franklin had no qualms about levering it away. The negative cabinet sat in the portrait room, which was sooty with smoke, but otherwise not damaged. She peeked into the darkroom, and it, too, was intact. Only the door was splintered. She took two bottles of chemicals, several packs of hypo, and some film, saying to Franklin, “I’m buying these from Mr. Levine.” He shrugged.
In the cabinet, she drew out the proofs and then checked for her moonshadow negatives and prints. They were gone. No surprise that, but nothing else was harmed. Her news to Mr. Levine wouldn’t be as terrible as she thought. She would pay to replace the darkroom door.
“Franklin, did Mr. Campbell’s daughter really die of opium poisoning?” She asked her question hesitantly. The Clarion Inn proprietor had hardly said two words to her in the time she stayed at the hotel.
“Some say so,” he said, and seemed not inclined to add anything else.
At the hospital, Franklin said he’d wait for her and reminded her of the time so she wouldn’t miss her connection to the train. And then he adde
d, “Maybe she had her reasons.” It took Nellie the walk up the stairs and down the hall to Mr. Levine’s room before she connected those words to Lily Campbell.
Nell stopped in the open doorway. The bandages had been unwrapped, his chin was bare, but several plasters still covered his lower lip, his nose, his left temple. She began to comment, then saw a visitor. Standing at the end of Mr. Levine’s bed was a willowy young woman wearing a hat, gloves, and a dress that covered her ankles. She looked like a poster out of time, perhaps 1915 or so. When Mr. Levine introduced her as Emmaline Sherman, she nodded her head and ignored Nellie’s outstretched hand. Nellie felt almost risqué in her much shorter dress, hatless head, bare hands, loose hair. In the confusion of the night before, she’d lost the barrette she used to tie her hair back in a more ladylike fashion. Until she met this picture perfect lady, she’d forgotten how she must have looked to Tommy the Policeman: wanton as well as brash. Emmaline’s lips were a perfect cupid’s bow and she looked at the floor while she murmured her sympathy for the difficulties Nellie was having in Twin Falls. No recriminations for causing distress to what was obviously her man friend.
Nellie maintained as businesslike a tone as possible, placing the proof sets on the table, returning the key to the drawer, telling Mr. Levine what had happened and that little damage had been done. “I did take the chemicals and film we agreed upon.” She extracted several bills from her purse. “Here is the payment. I owe you for the door as well.”
Emmaline spoke directly to Mr. Levine. “Jacob, I’ll take the money to the bank for you.”
Nellie handed the bills to Emmaline. “The last set of negatives, the ones we discussed,” Nellie said, “are missing. I have the originals. I doubt if you’ll be bothered by that customer.”
Emmaline filled a glass for Mr. Levine, moving to the other side of the bed, and holding it to his lips as if he were helpless. Nellie watched for a minute, and then said, “Thank you for the use of your darkroom, Mr. Levine. If you don’t mind, I’ll call next time I’m coming to town. Perhaps we could work together again. And any time you wish to consult regarding anything, please telephone me at Mrs. Bock’s in Ketchum.” Emmaline turned toward her, daggers in her eyes.
On the train ride back to Ketchum, Nellie gradually relaxed and succumbed to the stark desert beauty. The train scooted around Timmerman Hill, and when it neared Silver Creek, the partially snow-covered hills looked like chocolate with a heavy sprinkling of powdered sugar. She felt as if she’d been gone for eons. Two days away, and already she longed for deep winter, although she had awakened sneezing.
Mrs. Bock and Moonshine met her at the train station, several blocks from the boarding house. The dog barked and wriggled in pleasure as Nellie knelt and hugged him. She should have taken him with her. He followed at her heels as the two women walked along the cleared boardwalk. Sun sparkled on ice crystals in the air, and the bracing cold invigorated Nellie and chilled her too. She half-listened to Mrs. Bock’s concern about the news from Twin Falls and the half-questions at every turn in her chatter. Well-being filled Nellie’s lungs. Her incipient congestion had disappeared. She absorbed the clean crisp smell tinged with a faint remnant of motor oil and she stopped and hugged Mrs. Bock. “It’s nice to be back!”
At the boarding house, Moonshine held back from the front door and barked. “I’m home, Moonie. What’s wrong?”
A shiny motorcar sat out in front, with a printed label on the door: Blaine County Sheriff.
All of Nellie’s spirits deflated. Now she would pay for her brash escape to Twin Falls. She remembered Sheriff Azgo’s cool air of competence, nothing like Tommy the policeman’s innuendos. Moonshine growled in a half-hearted manner.
The door opened and the sheriff, also shiny in a new dark blue uniform, stepped out.
“Good heavens, Sheriff. You and your auto look like brand-new pennies. Did the county fathers strike gold and fill your coffers?” Nellie asked, laughing. Mrs. Bock gave her a warning jab.
He scowled.
Nellie stopped laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I was joking.”
“Miss Burns, you have some explaining to do, running off like that.”
“Run off? Not really. I went to Twin Falls to do some developing, and I now have what I promised to give you.”
Several people on the boardwalk had stopped to listen. Nellie could see Henry behind the sheriff and Rosy walked around the corner just then. “Hi, Rosy,” she said. “I even missed you!” She surprised herself by grabbing his arm, and he surprised her by planting a beery kiss on her cheek.
“We heared you had yourself a spot of trouble, girl. Glad you’re back where it’s safe!” He chuckled and was obviously pleased she had singled him out.
Sheriff Azgo came down the steps. “Miss Burns, you will accompany me to the city hall. I have some questions for you.” Moonie growled at him as he neared her. The lawman grabbed her pack and she had no recourse but to follow him to his auto. The male voices behind her buzzed.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Rosy called. “Go easy on that big bad criminal.” Everyone laughed.
The sheriff’s ears turned red. Nellie waved at Rosy, thankful he at least was on her side. Moonie leaped into the motorcar when the sheriff opened the door for Nellie. He frowned, but let the dog stay.
“Did you go across the river and get the body?” Nellie asked when both doors were closed.
Sheriff Azgo ignored her while he turned on the ignition, choked the gas, pressed the starter, and prepared to drive away. “Yes, no thanks to you.”
“I told you where it was,” she said.
At the city hall, he ushered her into a small office marked Blaine County Sheriff. The dog accompanied her and then sat down, nosing at the pack.
“Why not put me in jail? The police in Twin were going to do that, I think.”
“Miss Burns, I am not the police in Twin.” His voice was low and dignified.
“I know you aren’t, Sheriff. But I have been subjected to more incompetence than I care to think about. Being met by the law upon my return upset me. I’m sorry if I’ve been disrespectful.” She lowered her gaze and folded her hands. “How can I help?”
“Do you have the photo you took at the cabin?” He sat down behind the scarred desk. She wondered if he had a choice, new desk or new auto, and chose the latter. The room was hardly large enough for the desk, two chairs, and two people. Moonie would have to move to let anyone else in.
Nellie opened her pack and pulled the photo of the dead man from her paper package as carefully as possible, so as not to expose the blank paper to light. “Here it is. Do you know him?”
He studied the photo, and then looked up at Nellie. “Is this a joke?”
“What do you mean?”
“The body across the river was Chinese. This man is not.”
CHAPTER 12
Nellie reached for the photo. As she studied it again, she could smell the burning wood, feel the emptiness of that house. She patted Moonshine. “No, of course, he wasn’t Chinese. I would have mentioned that.” Then the sheriff’s words sank in. “I don’t understand.”
“The man I found across the river, buried in snow just like you said, is Ah Kee, a man well-known in Hailey.”
“Mrs. Ah Kee—”
The sheriff had been searching for something in a drawer and glanced up, giving Nellie a sharp look. “That’s his wife. You know of her?”
“She was on the train to Twin Falls and stayed at the Clarion Inn, where I did. They said she sold opium.” She supposed she would have to tell him the whole story about Sammy and the fiasco with the negatives, Mr. Levine’s injuries, and the bomb in the darkroom. “It was her servant, Sammy, who stole my negatives—the one you’re looking at now. He left them at the photographic studio where I went to do some work. It was pure chance I found them, and then he stole the duplicate negatives as well.”
“Sammy is her son, not a servant.” He brought out a photograph of a dozen Chinese m
en standing in front of a Chinese restaurant. “This is what’s known as a Tong—a sort of rotary group of Chinamen, but much tighter. They control the businesses and hierarchy and have much power. Ah Kee was head of this Tong.” He pointed at a figure. “Tong wars are murderous. Fights between tongs result in butchery.”
Nellie shuddered. She could believe Sammy might butcher someone, but then she realized that was unfair. She didn’t know him and all the xenophobia she’d been around in the last week might be causing her reaction. “Was Ah Kee . . . butchered?”
“No, that’s what’s strange. He was killed by a hard blow to his head—no fingers chopped and his throat wasn’t cut. Remember that ‘toy’ the dog there brought to you?”
“The one you stole from my room?”
A glimmer of a smile played on the sheriff’s face. “That one.”
“Was it the murder weapon?”
“It might have been. It was heavy enough and the sock had blood and maybe hair on it.”
“But sheriff—” Nellie didn’t want to think of the strength it would take to kill someone with a rock, and the death of a Chinese man seemed removed from her. “What about the dead man I found?” She motioned to the photo. “Where is he?”
The pack fell sideways from Moonshine’s nosing, and he stuck his snout under the flap, barking and whining.
“What do you want?” She tried to grab her pack and move it, but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m sorry. So far, this dog has been well behaved.” Again, she tugged at the pack, but now he had a strap in his mouth and pulled back. “Moonie. Let go!”
Sheriff Azgo stepped from behind his desk and grabbed the dog and held him. “Open the pack, Miss Burns.”
“But it’s just my camera and chemicals, film and gear.” But she did as instructed, releasing the straps and opening the mouth. “Oh, and the bathrobe.” She removed the camera box and slid her hand to the bottom, then pulled out the Chinese robe. Moonshine almost had a fit trying to free himself. His barking in the small room was deafening. The sheriff released him and the dog jumped on the robe and moved his nose from side to side until he got it into one of the pockets and pulled out a sachet with his teeth. He looked at Nellie, the sheriff, the door, and then crawled behind Nellie’s chair, circled around twice, and lay down with the lavender packet between his paws. Then he growled.
