by Guy Antibes
The man shook his head. “No. Ask them on my stoop.”
“I’m being tested to be an apprentice, and I need to consult with one of the constables,” Sam said.
“Suit yerself, young man.”
Sam dragged Lonny away from the doorstep. “You’ll have to trust me. That man is wearing a disguise. I’m going to ask him about his identity and his approximate age. When I do, if I nod I want you to put manacles on him. We will take him to the constabulary for further questioning. If you doubt me, I want you to look through my spectacles after he is secure.”
“Do you know what you are doing?”
“That man isn’t even middle-aged, for sure. You must trust me,” Sam said.
“It’s all your responsibility. The Chief told us to give you a long, long piece of rope today.”
“Then let me hold onto it,” Sam said, trying to force a smile.
Sam walked back to the stoop. Lonny positioned himself close to the miner. “I have a few questions. First your name and age, please. I want to make sure we are talking to the right person.”
“My name is Kellog Stoneman, and I am sixty-four years old. I celebrate my birthday next week.”
Sam consulted his list. They were at Kellog Stoneman’s house, and he would be sixty-five in five days. He took his spectacles off as if to clean them and nodded to Lonny. The two men grappled with each other. The man who called himself Kellog pushed Lonny down, but that was all the tall constable needed to go into action. Soon the imposter was on the ground.
“Look through these,” Sam said.
“I don’t need spectacles. He didn’t fight like an older man,” the tall constable said, but he whistled. “That is a mask, right?”
Sam gave the spectacles to Lonny. “You are right.”
“Our interviews are over for the day,” Sam said. “I need to have Harrison and Chief Bentwick talk to him.”
~
The Kellog Stoneman impersonator yelled from his cell, still thinking that his disguise was holding up. Harrison and Bentwick were going over Tom’s findings for the day.
“You arrested a miner?” Bentwick asked.
“I think I arrested a pollen-artist,” Sam said. “He is wearing a disguise. We need to send a team to Stoneman’s house to see if there is a body there.”
“I’ll send four constables. Your two men will remain here as witnesses,” Bentwick said.
Sam went through his day, producing the signed statement by Jay Youngbud. Bentwick whistled after he read it. “We can pick up Madame Plunk again,” Bentwick said.
“First we need to get constables to the Kellog Stoneman’s house.”
“Right,” Bentwick said as they descended the stairs to the foyer. The fake Stoneman still yelled like an old man in his holding cell.
Harrison took Sam’s spying glass and held it up to look at the captive. “Ah, I see the edges of the mask. Masterful,” he said quietly to Sam.
“Need a fancy spectacle? Eyes not right?” the fake Stoneman said.
“Not very good at all,” Harrison said. “The boy’s eyes are even worse than mine.”
Bentwick returned. “I sent Lonny with them. He knows the streets better than anyone in the constabulary.”
“What shall we do now?” Bentwick said.
Sam pulled out his wand and made sure the gold tip was on securely.
“Hold the prisoner down while I touch his face with my wand. Watch.”
They subdued Stoneman. Sam touched his face with the gold tip. He watched the mask deteriorate where the gold touched it. Bentwick gasped.
“It is a mask! I’ve never seen such a good one before.”
Sam looked at Harrison, who had let the constables hold the man. “Is there a way to remove a pollen-bandage? Maybe we can take this thing off his face.”
Harrison smiled. “There is. Spectacles, please.” He reached down and put his fingernails under the edge of the mask and scraped a bit of the man’s skin. He was struggling like a wild man, but four constables and Bentwick held him down. Harrison pulled. The man screamed.
Sam couldn’t see anything without the spectacles. All he saw was the face of the younger man, but after the scream, the criminal’s face turned red with tiny dots of blood welling in places all over his face and neck.
“A bit of powder in the hair,” Harrison said. He rubbed the man’s hair and sniffed. “Flour.” He leaned over closer to the man’s face. “And what is your real name, sir?”
The captive bit his lip and didn’t answer.
“Perhaps you are the illustrious Les Oakbrush,” Bentwick said.
“That’s not me,” the man said.
Sam looked closely at the man’s face. Now everyone saw what he did. “Then who are you?”
~
“He is definitely part of the gang,” Bentwick said. “Even after a little physical persuasion, the man didn’t part with one bit of information.”
Lonny showed up, a bit breathless. “The real Kellog Stoneman is dead. It’s been a few days with the real miner planted in the back garden. It is an amazing likeness,” he said, after being shown the remnants of the prisoner’s mask. “A work of art, if you will.”
“Did you search the house?” Sam asked.
“We did,” Lonny said. “One of the men found the shares certificate. I suppose the imposter would have taken it to the lawyer who holds the other shares. The prisoner likely intended to walk around for a few days or a week before disappearing on some pretext. We would have never known about Stoneman’s death had it not been for Sam.”
“I’ll have to investigate all those who didn’t answer their doors,” Bentwick said. “I would be surprised if we don’t find another body or two.”
“And we are a little further along,” Sam said. “But if the prisoner doesn’t talk, then what will we do?”
“Try the man for murder. We have enough evidence for that, the body in the back garden and the man portraying the dead miner,” Bentwick said.
Sam had an awful thought. “Can a person commit suicide with pollen?”
“Pollen isn’t poisonous. If you eat it, you don’t keep it long, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, but that is an artist in the cell. What if he makes a pollen mask without air holes!” Sam said.
They ran downstairs and found the guard on the floor struggling with a mask over his face. The cell was open.
“He grabbed the keys. I went to the bars and he threw this on me,” the constable said, sitting on the floor.
Sam leaned against the wall watching Harrison pull the mask from the constable’s face. The fugitive hadn’t made any attempt to hide the gag over the man’s face. The key to the cell was in the lock. Sam’s spectacles showed a stiff pollen cord that the fake Stoneman had somehow used to lift the keys from the guard’s belt from within his cell.
“He walked out with a different face,” Tom Elbow said when called from the foyer. “I’m sorry. None of us thought about an escape.”
Sam had thought about a suicide, not an escape, but the prisoner used pollen to walk out of the constabulary.
“What do we do now?”
“I remember what the man’s real face looked like, don’t you?” Bentwick said. “We are going to get a drawing.”
“But the man can change faces at will,” Sam said.
“Maybe someone will have seen him. It’s time to bring in Ionie Plunk,” Bentwick said to his constables.
“I don’t know if uncovering the imposter was a good thing,” Harrison said. “Now Ionie Plunk has found a way to disappear. Maybe she is wearing a disguise, too.”
Sam nodded his head. “So we can send one of my spectacles with some constables to examine the ladies at her establishment. Will they be able to rip the masks off?”
Harrison nodded. “It is not unknown for some ladies to smooth their faces with a pollen appliqué, but there is a difference between a mask and a patch.” Harrison ran his hand over the mask. “This has a distinct fee
l to it, stiffer than skin.” He looked at Bentwick. “Do you have any lady constables?”
“Not full-time,” he said. “Oh, of course. I will get two of them to accompany the constables if they are going to be touching faces.”
Sam sat in the upstairs conference room. He wondered how long Jay Youngbud would last with the imposter on the loose. He asked Lonny about it.
“Bentwick already had sent him to Oak Basin to visit a sister. Jay knew Stoneman and readily agreed to leave in a constabulary carriage.”
At least Lonny’s friend and their key witness to Ionie Plunk’s pressuring was taken care of.
Harrison walked into the constabulary and crooked his finger for Sam to follow him upstairs. “That was much more productive than I thought,” the healer said. “Baskin hasn’t heard of a full face and neck pollen mask, Bentwick told me. We also learned that a true pollen-artist can do all kinds of creative things that the rest of us can’t imagine, except you did, Sam.”
“I thought he would commit suicide,” Sam said.
“He might have done that if the guard didn’t carry a key. No way to tell, without real information,” Harrison said, giving Sam a grin. “I think there is an even chance that Ionie is still at her place of work.”
“It depends if they have given up on Mount Vannon for a little while,” Sam said. “I imagine Chief Constable Bentwick will be sending lots of birds tonight.”
“Not just about the escaped prisoner,” Harrison said. “Tom found some interesting things, too.”
“I didn’t know.”
“We had other excitement. Now we can get you caught up,” the healer said. “The Fealty Mining Company is actually back in operation as of three months ago. Its head office is in—”
“Shovel Vale,” Sam said.
Harrison smiled. “Of course. Right where they are building a wall.”
“Did you find out who the new owner is?”
Harrison pressed his lips together. “Of course, not. We do have a lawyer’s name in Mountain View.”
“Bentwick has sent orders picking him up?” Sam asked.
“The bird just arrived with the reply. The lawyer has gone missing.”
“Buried in the back garden, most likely,” Sam said. “The pollen-artist probably impersonated him for a while, too.”
“Perhaps,” Harrison said. “Why do you say that?”
“If the trick worked with the lawyer, it would certainly work with Kellog Stoneman.”
“And Bentwick is pursuing that, as well.”
Sam nodded. “So we wait for the king’s army to show?”
Harrison nodded. “We do. It’s too dangerous for us to continue our tour.”
“Even though I’m just your helper, I can agree with that. I want to see Emmy. Can I get an escort?”
“I thought you’d never ask. I miss the mutt, too,” Harrison said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
~
A S IT TURNED OUT, THE CONSTABLES FINISHED INVESTIGATING the list of shareholders to The Fealty Mining Company. Three miners had been killed and were missing. A lot of gardening was happening in the back of their houses and cottages, thought Sam. The few remaining all admitted to being hounded and threatened by Ionie Plunk after learning of the way Kellog Stoneman had been killed.
Harrison got more samples of the podica-mendica combination. Jay Youngbud’s medication was a different formulation of the drug, the first with traces of pollen. “Sheep’s pollen, the kind that sheep use to communicate. He said it was to make him calm, not happy. One other miner got the new formulation.”
“I made sure he put that down on his statement,” Sam said. “I thought it might have some extra meaning.”
“And it did,” Harrison said. “I wish we could experiment to see what it does, but that is too dangerous.” He yawned. “Too much for two days’ work. I’m ready to turn in.”
Sam couldn’t resist mimicking Harrison’s yawn. “Me, too,” he said. “I’m tired.”
They went to their apartment. Bentwick met them in the hallway. “Keep alert. If something is going to happen in the constabulary, it will be soon. We are putting a lot of pressure on the Fealty Mining operation.”
Sam slept with his weapons as a result of Bentwick’s warning.
“Before you all sleep, I prepared some tea,” a constable said. “It will make you sleep better.”
“Why, thank you, Constable Temper,” Bentwick said grabbing the cup in his hand.
Harrison looked at the Chief Constable before taking his mug. “I’ll drink this just before I go to bed.” He smiled at Harget Temper, the renegade constable.
There was one mug left on the tray.
“None for me, thanks,” Sam said. “I’m too young for tea.”
Harget pursed his lips. “You’ll sleep better.”
“Don’t hound the boy, Temper.”
“Yes, sir. Have a good night, both of you.”
Sam was glad he had so easily avoided the tea with Harrison’s help. He went to his room and shut the door. Someone knocked. Sam had his wand in one hand and his sword in the other.
“Come in.”
Harrison poked his head in. “Good. You remembered who Constable Temper is. I nearly broke into a smile when he showed up with tea. It was probably the same thing he did with Tom and Ralt.” Harrison slapped his hand on the edge of the doorframe. “Good—”
He fainted dead away. Something must have been painted on the outside of the mug! He dragged Harrison in the healer’s bedroom room and ran across to the Chief Constable’s apartment and found him asleep, as well. He dragged the heavier Bentwick across the hall to join Harrison.
Sam wondered if any of the constables were still awake. He gathered his sword, knife and wand and took a deep breath. He had to make sure that Temper didn’t let others into the constabulary. Sam felt he had a chance against one person, but not against more.
He wished Emmy were at his side as he slipped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. He slid to the back stairway and had to retreat when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He was too anxious to detect if it was more than one person. He wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his wand hand.
Sam slid into an alcove as two figures padded past him. So intent were they on their mission that the pair ignored him. He saw the glint of long swords held in their hands. This wasn’t the time for niceties. Sam pulled back his sword and was ready to plunge it into the second man, but he screwed off the gold tip of his wand instead and poked it as hard as he could. The gold paint remaining on the tip was enough to get through the pollen armor that Sam felt. He pulled out his wand and thrust it again as hard as he could into the same place and pushed.
“Temper, what’s—” the man in front said as Sam let the man he had just disabled slide to the floor.
Sam swung his sword in the side of the front man’s neck. The blade bit deep enough that the man dropped immediately.
“Boy, you were supposed to be asleep,” Temper said, grimacing in pain with the wand still poking out the back.
Sam looked at Temper lying in a pool of blood. He saw the light leave the constable’s eyes. The man relaxed, and the fight was over, or was it? Sam returned to his room and checked Harrison and Bentwick. They were still unconscious, but breathing regularly.
He left them where they were and retrieved his wand before he crept down the front stairs. The other constables had been killed. Their bodies looked forlorn in the lamplight. The sight turned Sam’s stomach. The door to the constabulary was unlocked. Sam slid the bolt, locking him inside the constabulary.
He heard a grunt to his left. Another man dressed in black walked into the far side of the room, but from the look of his loose clothes, Sam could see where the pollen armor pressed against him.
“Fancy yourself a swordsman, do you?” the man said, looking very confident. “I’ll disabuse you of the notion.”
Sam jumped back, wondering if he should run upstairs and lock himse
lf in his room, but he’d never make it at this point. He put the sharpened golden tip back on his wand before the intruder moved across the room.
“Do you think that little stinger will sting me?” the man laughed, as he moved the sword from hand to hand, but Sam could tell he was left-handed by the difference in the two grips.
Sam wanted to address the taunting, but he decided to put his energy into thinking rather than talking. He ignored the man’s babbling and backed up towards the stairs, keeping the bodies between both of them. The intruder had taunted enough and walked directly towards Sam. Just as the man stepped on the blood-soaked floor, Sam attacked! He moved from side to side with feints and thrusts, alternating and then repeating his actions as best he could, trying to be random while deflecting the man’s own slashes. The intruder hadn’t advanced and was playing with Sam, who didn’t back up further. Neither made an offensive move until the assassin paused to thrust.
The tip of his sword broke through Sam’s defense, scoring his stomach, but the man’s forward foot slipped on the bloody floor, giving Sam the last chance to poke his wand into the man’s eye. The intruder lost his concentration briefly, so Sam thrust the wand, scoring a hit with a thrust where Harrison had drilled Sam time and again.
Sam’s next move was to slam the edge of his sword on the man’s sword hand. The assassin screamed and dropped his sword. Sam sliced the man in the neck, not knowing where the armor stopped. His opponent fell to the floor, his own blood mixing with those he had killed.
Sam wanted to scream but ended up sobbing, instead. He clambered halfway up the stairs. He had killed three men who had done much, much worse. He checked on the man on the floor below, to make sure he was dead before retreating upstairs to do the same with the other two.
His stomach began to hurt, so he put his hand to his abdomen, and it came away bloody. Sam had no idea how badly he was wounded, but other than the pain and the tearing when he moved upstairs, he made sure the other two men were dead before he unlocked his door. He could not make a pollen patch like Harrison could, so he tore his bed sheet into strips and wound them around his torso as tightly as he could before he tied the makeshift bandage off.
