Something Strange and Deadly

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Something Strange and Deadly Page 18

by Susan Dennard


  He crossed one leg in front of the other and pivoted around, slinging off his cap on the way. Then he bowed low like a performer basking in applause. “Sure Hands Danny, at your service.”

  “You’re a murderer.” I skittered back several steps. “You blew up the factory.”

  He shot up. “So you’ve heard the whole tale then, have you?”

  “No.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “No. I haven’t heard any of the story. I was hoping you would contradict me. That you’d tell me it was a lie.”

  “I can’t contradict the truth.”

  My throat tightened. “So you’re a murderer? You ruined my father’s company?”

  “Now hold up. I don’t know nothing about your father.” He slapped his cap back on. “But I did kill a man six years ago. I’m an escaped convict, Empress.” He said it so simply, as if he were declaring himself a carpenter or locksmith.

  “Does Mr. Boyer know?” I asked.

  “Joseph knows parts.”

  “A-and is that why Peger wants to find you? Is that why you’re hiding from Clarence Wilcox? Because you killed someone?”

  “Something like that, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a long story, and the end goes like this: I got a lot of making up to do, and one of my duties is to go back into that same damned factory tonight.” He scuffed past me.

  “Wait.” My lips and mouth had gone dry, and despite his confession, I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to. I still had so many unanswered questions. “Can’t you tell me the whole story, Mr. Sheridan? Maybe it was—”

  “A justified murder? Does it matter?”

  “Yes.” I wet my lips. “It does matter. To me.”

  He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was lost. At that instant the Dead alarm went off, a distant bass clang that echoed from some other Exhibition hall.

  Daniel snatched my hand and hauled me to the lab. We barreled in to find Jie and Joseph already dragging the glass-wheel influence machine from beneath the worktable.

  Joseph started when he saw me. Likely he thought I had left by now.

  Daniel bolted to the telegraph. “It’s the alarm in the U.S. Government Building.”

  My knees wobbled and I grabbed at the door frame. “Have you destroyed the grimoire yet?”

  “No,” Joseph said. “It is not easy to destroy a book of magical power. It takes time. I have hidden it.” He knelt to heft the electricity device onto the table.

  Daniel moved to help him, but Joseph shook his head violently. “No. You must go to the factory.”

  Daniel recoiled, his eyes widening. “What? Now? You can’t be serious. We can go another night.”

  “Your job is at the factory.”

  “But you can’t fight the Dead alone.” Daniel flung his hand in the direction of the U.S. Government Building. “What if the necromancer has come for the book? It could be the whole cemetery out there.”

  “Yes, and if you stay, will that improve our chances?” Joseph straightened, his eyes glowing in the dim light. “Without that dynamite, we are lost.”

  “No.” Daniel swung his head. “I can’t abandon you to the Dead.”

  “You won’t be.” Joseph spun to Jie. “You will stay here, Jie. You are our best fighter, and I will need you to lead the guards in defensive maneuvers … if any of the guards are able to help, that is. We will do what we can until Daniel’s return.” He paused, and his eyes flew to me. For several long moments he watched me. Then he nodded once, as if settling a debate in his mind.

  “Miss Fitt,” he said. “You must go to the factory.”

  “What?” Daniel threw himself between Joseph and me. “Are you crazy? She can’t come! She doesn’t stand a chance, and she’s not one of us—”

  Joseph slid Daniel aside with a single, cool hand. He stared at me. “She has proven her worth on more than one occasion. It is our turn to trust her. Will you go, Miss Fitt?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “No.” Daniel’s hands flew to his forehead. “Please, no.”

  “Listen to me.” Joseph’s tone was firm and final. “We will fail without dynamite.”

  “But the risk to her—”

  “Daniel, if you do not succeed in your task, then at least she will be left to alert us. She need not be put in danger, but she must be there in case you fail. She knows the risk, and we must rely on her.” Joseph pivoted to me, his chin raised high. “You were right, Miss Fitt. It is your duty, and you must do everything that you can. We all must. Now hurry.”

  Jie dropped to the floor and flung clothes from a trunk. She shoved a pile in my arms. “These are Daniel’s smallest clothes, and here’s a wrapping for your chest, yeah?” She set a piece of white linen on top of the clothes. “You’ll have to wear my boots, though they’ll probably pinch.” She gave me a tight smile and added, “Good luck.” Then she moved to help Joseph with the electricity machine.

  I clutched the clothes to my chest. “Should we ring the fire alarm—would it bring more help?”

  “Perhaps,” Joseph answered. “And the Exhibition guards may be of some use.”

  “And what about the police?”

  “Stop talking,” Daniel snarled. He advanced on me, his face lined with anger. “Get changed.”

  I stumbled back. “Yes.”

  He pushed me toward the door. “And one more thing. You will do exactly as I say, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then stop standin’ here, wasting time. Get dressed. We have work to do.”

  We went north for several miles until the sounds and lights of the city were long gone. The Schuylkill River at our right was barely visible in the clouded moonlight, but I could smell its aroma. A jumble of mud and river water laced with the spice of impending rain.

  The trousers were both strange and liberating, as was the replacement of my corset with a linen wrap. I didn’t feel bare as I’d first feared. Instead I was keenly aware of the strength and flexibility in my legs, the ease with which I could breathe. I could run, jump, kick, fly. The thousands of opportunities that erupted with the unlacing of my corset were now stretched before me. But I stuck with the path that needed me most. One foot in front of the other with Daniel’s back ahead.

  “Listen,” Daniel whispered. He had two empty burlap sacks slung on his back. “When we get there, I’ll need to scout a bit before I head in. There’s a fence around the property, and the factory sits right on the river’s shore. It’s constantly under guard, and if it’s like it used to be, then there’ll also be guards outside the fence. They circle every thirty minutes, so I don’t wanna try to jimmy the lock until I know their locations.”

  “You said, ‘before I head in.’” I patted my chest. “What about me?”

  “You’re going to stay outside.”

  “Why can’t I come?”

  “You’re backup, remember?”

  I clenched my mouth shut.

  “That’s what I thought.” He stopped walking, though he still bounced from foot to foot. Something flashed from his pocket, and he placed a warm piece of metal in my palm.

  I looked down at a knife, glinting in the dim moonlight.

  “Now if anything happens,” Daniel continued, “you run—like if I ain’t back in an hour or you hear a commotion. Find a patrolman or go into a saloon if you have to. Offer money. Just get help for Joseph.” He knelt, rolled up my trouser leg, and slipped the knife in my boot. “And don’t mention he’s a Negro or that you’re a girl.”

  I licked my lips. “Yes.”

  He rose, and we resumed our trek. I was careful with my steps—Jie’s tiny boots were tight and had rubbed blisters along the sides of my toes. Plus, Daniel’s constant fidgeting made me nervous.

  “If it works out right,” Daniel said, “then I’ll be in and out in an hour.” He pressed his palms to his eyes as if he was trying to hold something in. Whatever that something was, he looked miserable.

  “Tarnation,” he swore. “What was Jo
seph thinkin’ by sending you with me? I can’t do this again.”

  “Do what again? Please, Mr. Sheridan. Tell me.”

  “Daniel. You can call me Daniel.” He slipped off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he flopped the cap on my head. “Here, you ought to wear this. It’ll cover all those lovely blond curls.”

  I stuffed my hair beneath the gray wool. The cap smelled like him. “Tell me. Please, Daniel. There are so many mysteries that I can’t solve, and for once I’d like to know the truth about someone.”

  He inhaled a long, hissing breath. Then he blew it out in a single puff. “I’m from Chicago, Empress. I had me a real nice setup over there. I was a darn good safe blower.”

  “A what?”

  “Safes. I’ve got a way with mechanics, and no lock stands a chance against me.” He grinned and wiggled his fingers at me. “I used to say, ‘If there’s a special lock that needs picking, I’m the special picker to unlock it.’ They called me Sure Hands Danny, and since I was still a kid—tiny and thin—I was perfect for jimmying my way into banks and hotels and houses.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Used to. I don’t do that low-life stuff anymore. It ain’t … well, it’s not who I wanted to be. Something I realized pretty quick after a few weeks in Eastern State Penitentiary.”

  I shivered. He started to walk faster, and I scampered to keep up.

  “So six years ago,” he continued, “a few thugs picked me up outside a bar and brought me to their boss’s slick black carriage. A few turns around the block, and I learned exactly what this Philadelphia boss wanted. He needed an out-of-town kid to do a job for him. Someone the local coppers didn’t know. Someone with the surest hands and a lotta grit. This boss said he needed me in Philadelphia, and that I was the only person to do it. I was flattered. Clay Wilcox wanted me to do a job.”

  “Clay Wilcox?” I gripped Daniel’s sleeve. “Clarence’s father?”

  “Yep.”

  I drew back my hand and pressed it to my lips. “Keep going. Please.”

  “Well, Clay Senior paid for my fare, so I hopped on the first train to Philadelphia and did some snoopin’ about. I wasn’t so cocky as to trust my new employer completely. But all I could discover was that he was some bigwig called a Gas Trustee. The local low-lifes referred to him and the other Trustees as the Gas Ring.

  “Clay and his ring controlled just about everyone in the city, and they were riggin’ the vote for upcoming city council elections. From what I gathered in saloons and on street corners, no one liked the Gas Ring’s power. But the gas company controlled five thousand jobs, which meant the Ring controlled five thousand votes. And once Clay Senior and his fellow Trustees landed those council seats, they’d control almost every job in the city.

  “Well, none of that business mattered to me. If those rich men wanted votes, so be it. They were paying me a small fortune to do this special job for them.”

  “And what was the job?”

  Daniel scratched his jaw. “I broke into this same Nobel Company factory we’re going to now. I went down to the storage warehouse, loaded up my sack, and then on my way out, bang! Two guards jumped me. They’d been waiting the whole time.

  “We fought and I knocked one over—hard.” He pointed to his temple. “He hit a big rock, and well …”

  I cringed and tried to keep my stomach from spinning.

  Daniel looked out over the river and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I realized the guard was dead. Worst moment of my life, Empress. I was stunned and … and numb.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’d seen people die, but never by my hands. I didn’t realize how much … how much weight murder carries. On your soul. And the blood—oh God, the blood …”

  He hung his head. “The other guard brought me back to my senses. He was going crazy and babblin’ about the plan. He kept telling me I had ruined everything, that I was gonna pay for it when Clay found out. That was when I realized they were supposed to blow it up.”

  “Blow it up?”

  “Yeah. Big explosion, and I was supposed to go up with it. Then my charred body would make an easy explanation for the whole nasty situation. Soon as I figured out the plan, I skedaddled, and even though I didn’t die, I was still a good scapegoat for the whole thing. Do you remember it? You’d have been young when it happened.”

  “Yes. I remember the explosion—not you, though. I-I never knew about you.” I swallowed and tugged at my bare ear. Of course I remembered it. I would never forget. “My father had a dynamite shipment of his blown up that night. He was a middleman for Pennsylvania Railroad. He ran Fitt Railroad Supply. Well, the railroad needed a lot of dynamite, and Father had lined it up for them. He spent half of his company’s money to buy it all. But then, poof.”

  I mimicked an explosion with my fingers. “Without the dynamite, the railroad moved on to Father’s competitors. Then no one else would hire him. Worst of all, Father was campaigning. He’d just started gathering support. He was running as a Democrat for the city council.”

  “The Trustees are all Republicans.”

  And that was when it all made sudden, perfect sense. Tears burned behind my eyes, and my voice shook when I spoke. “Now I understand.”

  “What happened?” Daniel’s tone was gentle. He slowed to a stop, and I halted beside him.

  “He died. My father died.” I hugged my arms to my chest. “The stress and the grief. He went crazy with it, Daniel. Always talking about sabotage and his enemies. We all thought he’d lost his mind, but …”

  I turned my gaze on Daniel.

  “But what?” he asked.

  “The thing is, Father and Clay Wilcox were friends. They worked together until Wilcox joined the Trustees. My father refused to follow. And since he was running against Wilcox for city council, Wilcox must have turned on him.”

  Daniel whistled softly. “Clay Senior planned the whole thing just to bring down your pop.”

  “I guess.” I lifted a shoulder. “What other reason could there be? Father had to pull out of the election because his company had collapsed as a result of the explosion. And since you would take the fall, there was no obvious link to Clay.”

  “But I didn’t die in the explosion as planned, and I wound up in prison pretty fast.” Daniel ran his tongue over his teeth. “I was gonna be hanged for that whole affair. Luckily, I managed to figure out Eastern State’s locks the day before my necktie sociable.”

  “But then why’d you come back here if it’s so dangerous for you, Daniel? It’s not even your home.”

  “I work for Joseph now. I go where he needs me. Besides, I stupidly thought, with Clay Senior passed on, no one would care about me.”

  “But you’re an escaped convict.”

  He snorted. “It’s been six years, Empress. I’m grown up now, and I figured they weren’t searching for me anymore. I sure didn’t think the same reporter who covered my case back then would be coverin’ the Dead now.”

  I blinked. “Peger?”

  “Exactly. It seems he recognized me from my picture. Of course, I recognized him mighty fast too, so after one encounter, I made sure our paths never crossed again. But he had picked up the scent by then. I reckon he started askin’ around to see if anyone was still interested in finding me.”

  “And Clarence Wilcox was.” I massaged my scalp beneath the cap. “You’re a threat to his election. If people found out the truth, he might not get that council seat.”

  “I doubt too many people would believe my story, Empress.”

  “All the same, he must be scared. Peger told me Clarence is willing to pay a lot of money to find you.” I trudged forward, my feet dragging in the soft earth.

  Just before he died, when Father’s rants had been their worst, he used to shriek to Elijah, “We’ll show them! You and I, son—we’ll show them.” It had scared me, it had scared Elijah, and it had upset Mama too. The shouting, the stomping, the wild eyes.

  “Blazes,” I said in a
rough whisper. “All this time, Daniel, I thought Father meant his railroad competitors had sabotaged him. But no … he meant exactly what he said. His enemies. My father wasn’t crazy. He was justified.”

  Daniel scooted closer to me. “And now Junior wants to court you? That’s real sick.”

  “Junior?” My eyes grew wide. “Clarence is called Junior?”

  “He was six years ago.”

  “Oh my God.” I rolled my head back and stared at the cloudy sky. Junior. Elijah’s bully. It was as if the world flipped. As if I’d been holding a picture upside down, but now I’d figured out which way was up. Junior had been my brother’s main tormentor—the one Elijah cursed the most.

  Oh, why had Elijah never told me? Surely he knew the connection between the Wilcox family and our own. And why had Father never protected his son? Why had Mama and I been shielded from all the secrets?

  I forced my thoughts aside—now was not the time to worry over Clarence’s lies.

  The fence that spanned the factory came into our view. High and long, it stretched off into the night’s darkness and hid the river. The road continued beside it and out of sight. Though this branch of Alfred Nobel & Co. was considered tiny, it still spanned several acres along the gentle riverbank.

  Over the wind and insect chorus, I heard the rhythmic beat of horses.

  “Listen,” I said. “What is that?”

  The ground began to vibrate. Then came the clamor of wild laughter and shouting—not the usual sounds accompanying late-night travelers. I glanced down the road. I could make out the dust rising in the distance.

  “Road agents,” Daniel hissed. “What the devil are bandits like that doing so close to the city?” His head spun about. “There’s not a place to hide anywhere around here. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and heaved me into a sprint.

  We dashed alongside the river, speeding over the soft riverbank until we reached the factory’s fence and raced beside it. By the time Daniel slowed, I had to gasp for breath and muffle the noise in my sleeve. I squinted and saw the faint shape of a door.

 

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