Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14

by Robert P McAuley

  Bill sat on the bed and realized how tired he was. He lay back and woke up three hours later. He looked at his pocket watch and quipped, “4:45 P.M. Time to get some sort of a plan together. First wash up and shave.”

  The time traveler washed and shaved then put on his new outfit. “Now that feels good.” He smiled and thought, First time in a few years that you had to buy your own clothes, Bill, be sure you take care of them. He checked his watch again. “6:30. Let’s try Matt again.” He got his communicator and entered, SAMSON, followed by, MATT. CAN YOU READ THIS MESSAGE? BILL. He sat on one of the chairs and watched the blank screen for five minutes before turning the communicator off and putting it in his pocket. “Time to go meet with my new friends.” He left the hotel and walked over to The Gilsey House on Broadway and 29th Street.

  It was a three story private house that rented rooms and Bill saw Twain’s name hand written on a calling card over one of the three round brass speaker tubes in the vestibule. He put his mouth close to the opening and called out, “Hello!” His call was quickly answered by Twain’s voice saying “Come on up. Second floor.”

  Twain’s head appeared at the top of the stairs as Bill walked up. “Greetings, my friend. Perfect timing as I was about to say cheers to myself.”

  The two men shook hands and Bill asked, “Robert’s not here yet?”

  “Nope. He sent a message over this afternoon saying that he couldn’t make it but that we should enjoy ourselves just the same.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Twain picked up a bottle of bourbon and said as he poured two drinks, “Well I suggest we take his advice and enjoy ourselves.”

  They dined on roasted chicken that Twain had cooked to perfection, potatoes and onions and finished the meal with black coffee followed by another bourbon and a cigar. Bill thought he had never laughed so much as Twain told story after story of his growing up on the Mississippi River . . . most of which he admitted were made up. Bill told a few of his own but had to mentally check them as he told them in case he spoke ‘out of time.’ The two finished the bottle and Twain said, “Ain’t too many times that a man ain’t under the watchful eye of his spouse an’ this is one of them. I say we simply must go out and find a place that holds bourbon as dearly as we do. Do ya agree, Bill?”

  “I agree, my friend, and I know the place . . .“

  Both men said it at the same time, “Paddy Diamonds.”

  The two men were greeted warmly by the big bar owner and the first round was on the house. Although they had eaten, after four drinks they wanted something to munch on and had the bar’s traditional ‘chicken dinner’: a hard-boiled egg. They followed that with a plate of pig’s knuckles. A few of the old timers left when the writer started to sing what he called ‘River songs’. After too many drinks the two men insisted that Paddy sit with them on their side of the bar and after an hour the place got slow enough for the big man to join them.

  As he tipped back his floppy hat Twain said, “I suggest we have jus’ one more ta chase the first batch. What do ya say my friend?”

  Bill hung his head in mock thought and finally answered as though he had won an argument with himself, “Mark, I do believe that you have another good idea.” He turned to Paddy who was resting his head on the bar, “Paddy don’t bother yourself, I’ll make this round.” He stood and walked wobbly down the bar to the entrance and picked up a new bottle of bourbon and filled their glasses. He left the bottle there before returning to his seat.

  “Cheers!” said Twain as he held up his glass. The three men toasted each other and took a pull of the drink. Twain got up and walked down to the men’s restroom and Bill sat with his drink. He looked at his watch, Two o’clock! My gosh, I can’t keep this up . . . I have to find out where . . .where, ah, I need to find Matt. He shook his head as he continued his thoughts, I’ll just have one more. I mean it’s not every day that you have a drink with Mark Twain.

  He saw Twain walking wobbly back and giggled, “Hey Mark, you look like you’re on a boat in rough seas.” He finally got back as Paddy said, “Gents, I gotta close up before Margie comes up looking for me.” He looked at them and added, “Last call!”

  “Just one more fer me,” called Twain as he pushed his glass forward followed by Bill doing the same. They both had the drink they didn’t need and after many goodbyes they left Paddy closing up.

  “We can walk home,” said Twain as he started to walk.

  “Nope! Not me, I’m going to get us a carriage. We ride in style!” He waved a cab down who stopped in front of them before calling out, “Good night gents,” and pulled away.

  Twain and Bill looked at each other and started to laugh uncontrollably.

  “He-He thinks we’re drunk, Mister Twain!”

  “Ha! What does he know about being drunk? Why I once drank whiskey out of a thimble with a group of goblins . . . now that was a drinkin’ spree my friend!”

  Still laughing Bill waved a second cab down and finally had to have Twain hide behind a tree to entice the fifth cab to pick him up only to have Twain jump in next to him. They laughed all the way to Twain’s apartment.

  They said goodnight at least three times before Twain got out of the cab and went up the three stone steps to the door as Bill sat in the cab trying to remember where he was staying. The cabby showed great patience as Bill had told him that he would be paid at the last drop off.

  “Ahh! I remember!” he said as he heard Twain say as he opened the cab’s door, “Well my friend, we need ta go back ta Paddy’s. Seems I must o’ left my key there.” After another bout of laughing Bill said, “He closed when we left.”

  “Well then, best take me ta the park bench ya met me on.”

  “Cosmopolitan Hotel!” Bill suddenly shouted out as he remembered where he was staying and the cabby wacked the horse on its rump so he could get rid of the two drunks as fast as he could.

  “My friend,” he told the writer, “tonight you stay in my place and tomorrow we’ll go back to Diamonds and find your key. Good?”

  “If you say that we go back to your favorite watering hole, then yes, good!” Ten minutes later Bill paid the driver and tipped him nicely. Both men stumbled up the steps and then the stairs as the desk clerk pretended to look elsewhere.

  Bill opened the door and found the matches to light the gas lamp. There was no thought of washing up before bed as Twain simply lay down on the couch and Bill across his bed.

  Bill woke the next morning to the sound of singing in the bathroom and Twain came out in his pants and undershirt. “Howdy partner, I had ta use some o’ your tooth powder on my finger to brush my teeth. Hope ya don’t mind.”

  “No problem. Sleep well?”

  “Like a baby. And just like a baby I need me some breakfast. Let’s get some vittles and it’s on me.”

  “No need. Breakfast comes with the room.”

  “And what a room it is! Lawd, it sure is pretty. How long ya been here?”

  “Just since yesterday and I only have it for one week.”

  “And then where do you go?”

  Bill shrugged, “Not sure yet.”

  They sat at a table in the corner of the hotel’s dining room and read the menu. “Coffee for me,” said Twain then I’ll have them eggs and baked yankee beans.”

  Bill grinned, “Like in a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court?”

  “Sorta. So tell me Bill, what is it that ya do for a livin’?”

  He shrugged, “Not much at the time, Mark. I’ll be looking at some options soon though.” The waiter came and poured two coffees and they gave their orders.

  “I have to find a new place to stay because this place is an arm and a leg.”

  The writer sat back and laughed. “Bill, I swear you have some of the funniest sayings: An arm and a leg. I just gotta use that in one of my novels.”

  Bill winced inwardly, I really have to watch what I say, he thought as he took a sip of coffee, I’m just too screwed up about my position
and forget that I have to stay in character.

  The two men ate breakfast and went back to Paddy Diamonds. As they entered the big Irishman waved and went to the cash register and took a key out of the drawer. He ambled down the long bar and asked, “Does this key belong to either of you two gents?”

  The writer held out his hand, “Ahhhhh, the errant piece of iron that allowed me to sleep on a couch that was far more comfortable than my bed.” He bowed to Paddy, “I thank you sir.” He turned to Bill and said, “Not to have you think less of me my friend but I cannot have a sip of the good drink at this time as I have a show this evening and must be at my best. However, tomorrow is quite different and I shall be looking forward to buying you a drink for your hospitality. Are you in agreement on this?”

  Bill shrugged, “Yes I am. When and where?”

  “Tomorrow at seven and right here.”

  They shook hands and Bill said, “I’ll be here.”

  “Good. And perhaps we’ll talk more about A Connect Yankee In King Arthur’s Court.”

  “One of my favorite books. See you here.”

  Before returning to his hotel Bill stopped at Malcom’s Men’s Shop and purchased another outfit and more underwear and socks. Back in his room he tried texting Matt again and once again the screen was blank. He did a check of his battery charge and saw that it was at 78 percent so he opened the window and placed the communicator in the direct sunlight for a recharge. Bill sat on the bed. Wow! There are things like the battery charge that I have to take into account now. Really have to be on the ball until they get the time machine fixed . . . that’s if they get it fixed.

  Bill had a light lunch in the hotel and walked over to the club. He tried the bell but again there was no answer. Peering through the glass section of the double doors he saw a card wedged in the inside door of the vestibule. It looked to have been yellowed by the sunlight. Cupping his eyes against the glass he read, TILLIS RENTALS. He took out his pad and pencil and jotted it down. As he turned to leave he saw the policeman from the other night standing there twirling his nightstick as he watched him.

  “Come on down from there.”

  Bill came down the stairs.

  Without even missing a twirl the policeman asked, “Tell me, what’s ya business here?”

  Bill decided to be business like, “Actually officer, I wish to rent the building and need to find the right person to speak with.”

  “Will ya show me some identification? Just fer my inquisitive mind ya understand.”

  People walking by suddenly decided to cross the street rather than pass by a possible confrontation. Bill went inside his jacket and slowly brought out his billfold and passed it to the officer who looked it over then handed it back. “All seems ta be in order Mister Scott. Do you know where Tillis Rentals is located?”

  “Actually I was just going to ask if you knew where they are located.”

  “Just walk uptown to 14 th Street and they are right in the center next to Morgan Brothers Moving. Ya can’t miss it.” He touched his nightstick to his tall hat and added, “Nice ta have ya on my beat Mister Scott.”

  “Thank you again and good to know that the neighborhood is in good hands.”

  They walked in different directions and soon Bill stood in front of Tillis Rentals. The street-front store was typical of early Manhattan with twin round iron columns topped with iron ivy leaves on either side of the recessed door. The large plate glass window that allowed sunlight to brighten the office had hand painted lettering that said TILLIS RENTALS in a curve not unlike a rising sun. Bill stepped up the two iron steps and depressed the thumb lever of the large brass door handle as he pushed the iron and glass door open. Three desks were centered in the very large office and each had a young man sitting behind it. All three wore white shirts with stiff collars and a droopy black bow tie. All three wore a mustache and looked at Bill with hope in their eyes that he might be the distraction they hoped for in their mundane day. The man closest to Bill stood quickly, removed his glasses and asked, “Good day, sir. Might I be of service to you?”

  “I do hope so. I’d like to speak with someone about 520 9th Street.”

  Bill could see the dejection on the man’s face as he put his glasses back on and said, “Wait one moment and I’ll get the manager.” He walked to a door at the rear of the office and tapped on it. He opened it and in a few seconds a heavy set man dressed in a three-piece black and gray pinstriped suit came out. He also wore a mustache and his thinning hair was obviously dyed jet black.

  “Good day, sir. I’m Terrence Tillis, proprietor of Tillis Rentals.” They shook hands.

  “Bill Scott and as I said to the young man I am interested in 520 9th Street.”

  “Yes, he told me. He’s going through the files right now and I’ll have the papers shortly. Come sit in my office.” He escorted Bill to the room at the rear of the office. Its walls were cluttered with drawings and a few pictures of homes, buildings, lots and garages. “Please sit,” he said as he pointed to a large wood and leather chair facing his desk. Tillis sat behind his desk with his hands clasped. “Tell me, do you wish to rent an apartment?”

  “Not sure. Are you the owner?”

  “Ahh, well not exactly.” The young man tapped on the door then entered the office. He handed Tillis a thin folder. The man opened the manila folder and Bill saw the single sheet of paper in it. “It’s a funny situation, the owner won’t rent it even though I told him that it could prove to be a handsome income.” He rubbed his hairless chin, “He wishes only to sell it and I doubt that you wish to purchase it although it would be a steal.”

  “At what price?”

  The man’s eyes lit up and he chewed on his lip in thought. “Listen, the property has been in my charge for seven years now and I will give you the best price possible to take it off my hands.”

  “Give me a price.”

  “$50,000.”

  “Make it $45,000 and I’ll pay in cash. Good?”

  Tillis whispered, “Yes! Yes, cash would be good. When?”

  “Hopefully tomorrow.”

  “Do you wish to go over and see it?”

  “No.”

  The man squinted at Bill, “No? No you do not wish to go and see it?”

  “Correct. I hope to be back here at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.” Bill smiled, shook hands and left the man sitting with his mouth open. As he opened the front door to leave he distinctly heard a shout of joy come from the back office.

  The stranded time traveler went back to the hotel and washed up before enjoying a meat loaf and roasted potatoes dinner. After dinner he took a carriage to 47th Street and walked up the block that would become the biggest jewelry center in the world. Although it was after business hours and they were all closed he chose one that was located on 47th Street and Sixth Avenue. Bill read the hand printed lettering on the thick glass door that told him they would open at nine in the morning. He went back to his hotel and had a nightcap in the lobby bar.

  The next morning Bill entered Gassman’s Jewelers. A young man asked, “Sir? May I help you?”

  “Yes. I’d like to have something appraised.”

  “Sure. Let me see it,” he said as he turned to pick up a loupe. Bill opened a small leather pouch and placed one diamond on the ten-inch square black velvet mat on the counter.

  The young man turned and saw the diamond gleaming as the sunlight reflected off of it. His eyes opened wide and he said as he looked at it through the loupe, “Sir, can you tell me where you got this?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never seen such a perfect cut! The diamond itself is the purest I’ve ever seen.” He put the loupe down and said, “May I bring this back to show my boss?”

  “Uhhh, why not just bring your boss over here?”

  “Oh, yes, yes of course. I’ll be right back. “Jayson,” he called out to another young man, “watch my section I’m going to see the boss.”

  Bill waited five minutes befor
e the young man returned with an elderly man who walked with a limp. He smiled and said to Bill, “Hello, I’m Mort.” He quickly took a loupe out of his pocket and looked at the diamond. Unlike the young man he showed no expression when he asked, “So, how much do you want for this?”

  “I’d like it appraised.”

  “Have you ever had it appraised before?”

  “No, and I’d also like to sell it. However, do I get it appraised here and sell it elsewhere?”

  Now the man’s face showed emotion, “No, no. If you truly wish to sell it, I pray that you allow me first shot.”

  “Well let’s have the appraisement first.”

  The man looked at the diamond again and said without looking up, “Where did you say you got this?”

  “From my uncle.”

  “Is he a jeweler?”

  “This is becoming silly. It makes no difference where I got it.”

  Now he looked up. “Sir, I only wish to know where you or your uncle got it so that I might purchase some from them myself. This is the best cut and purest diamond I have ever seen and I’ve been around a bit.” He almost whispered, “Do you have more to sell?”

  “That depends on our transaction.”

  The man weighed it and looked at it through a more powerful loupe and said, “I can give you $50,000 for it.”

  Bill bit his lip as he pondered the deal. He knew that most of the money would be spent buying the building. He also knew that he had much more in his suspenders. That kind of money goes real far back in these times, he thought. “Deal! But I want cash.”

  The man smiled and said, “It will take me a few hours to get cash.”

  “I’ll go get some lunch.” He picked up the diamond and put it in the small leather pouch, which he then put in his pocket.