The Case of the Vanished Lover
a Stealthboxxer Mystery
Chapter 9
I locked the entry door, clicked off the light in the reception area and then went into my office shutting the door behind me. I put the strongbox that Davis McPhetridge had given me a couple hours earlier onto the desk and clicked on the lamp. I took off my coat and laid it over my chair and tossed my hat at the coat rack by the window, missing the rack as usual, the hat landing on the floor next to the radiator.
On my desk top, just as Phyllis had said there were two notices from the power company threatening to cut off the electricity if I didn’t pay by end of the week; a bill from the garbage service; another late notice, this time from my auto insurance company; and an odd assortment of advertisements and solicitations for magazine subscriptions. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and dropped the day's stack onto the large pile that had been accumulating for over 3 weeks already. The bills could wait another few days. Now it was time for the business at hand.
I reached into my front pant pocket and found the leather fob and odd cut key. I inserted it into the lock and gave it a turn. It wouldn’t budge. I had figured as much from such an old lock and already had prepared for such a situation in my mind. I slid open the middle drawer of the desk and reached under the divider for a little black leather pouch. Inside the pouch was a small assortment of picks and files, just what a cat burglar would use to Jimmie a lock. I had lifted the lock pick kit off of a little creep that had been working over guests at the Governor's Hotel a few years back.
The hotel detective had enlisted my help to catch a thief who turned out to be their daytime elevator operator. I posed as a rich businessman from San Francisco and set a trap for the filcher. I made a big show when checking in that I needed to keep my large briefcase in the hotel safe. The desk clerk played along by saying that there simply was not enough room in the safe but that my room was very secure and to not worry about it at all. The elevator operator was in the lobby when I did my act and he took me up to the 4th floor. I asked him if there were any good restaurants in the area and he gave me a couple of suggestions. I tipped him $3 and went to my room. At about 5:15 I left my room, locked the door and left the hotel. There was a different elevator operator this time but I saw the dayshift operator loitering in the lobby on my way out the front door. I circled around back of the hotel and climbed up the fire escape and climbed into the room via the window that I had expressly left open just for that purpose before I had left. It took only 5 minutes before the cribber entered the room and began rummaging around my room with a battery powered light. I snuck up behind him and cocked the hammer on my Colt and announced that the gig was up. Before the police arrived, I searched him and took the lock pick case from him along with the $3 tip I had given him earlier that afternoon. He didn’t dare tell the cops about the tools for fear of adding more evidence against himself. Turned out he didn’t need the kit anyway since he had made an imprint of the hotel master key when the clerk had to run out on an emergency one night while he worked the late shift. A $10 bribe to the clerk at the local hardware store bought him a copy of the master key and he was in business.
Now I had the lock pick kit and was going about the business of loosening the tumblers of the old padlock. This one was tough, McPhetridge must have kept it in a damp closet because the lock and the box were both fairly rusted. But after a few drops of 3 in 1 oil the tumblers began to loosen up and I had the lock open in less than 5 minutes. Funny thing was, when I opened the box the hinges, rusted solid from so many years of non-use, pulled away from the lid making them useless. Could have saved the trouble with the lock had I just pried the lid off.
Inside the box was a dingy yellow envelope hand addressed to Sam McCaw from Davis McPhetridge. The envelope was not sealed but the flap was encrusted with what looked like ancient chewing gum that had since dried out and cracked leaving a little dusty pile of flakes on my desk blotter as I looked it over. Inside the box there was also a large folded piece of parchment paper and a silver encased magnetic compass.
I opened the cover of the compass with a little effort, the hinge being encrusted with green tarnish, and I saw that the needle was still floating and working well. Then I unfolded the parchment. It revealed a hand drawn map that apparently covered the Mud Bay area highlighting the McPhetridge farm, the adjacent log depot, and the McCaw offices. For an old logging railroad engineer, old Davis McPhetridge was not a bad cartographer. Not quite perfect but very close to scale. Next I turned my attention again to the envelope.
At first glance I had missed a hand written scrawl across the back that said, "Sam McCaw must see this". I pulled out the folded letter from inside and began to read.
To: R.J. Geraldson
Mr. Geraldson,
Your plans are proceeding as ordered. The equipment bound for the Alaska operation has all arrived and has been transferred to our rented warehouse in Olympia. The Escalate is due in to port on May 3. We will load the equipment as planned and the ship will leave Olympia at midnight on the 7th. The harbormaster has accepted his bribe as usual so I am certain that we will not have any more problems with his assistant. Besides, I am sure that the pain of his healing knee will remind him not to make any trouble in the future.
I have made the arrangements with our contact at DuPont and the load will be at their dock ready to transfer that night. I verified with him that the payment was received in Zurich on the 12th by telegraph.
Like I said, all is going according to your plans except for one minor thing. McCaw has been nosing around. I caught him looking at papers in my office the other day and I know that he has been talking to my secretary when I am out. In fact, yesterday he told me that he is going to ride along on the Escalate to make sure that the equipment is handled correctly in Alaska. He still believes its only a mining operation. I will try to persuade him to stay behind and to leave the project to me. I am sure I can handle him.
I will send a telegram on the 7th when I can verify that the freight has been transferred from DuPont to the Escalate.
Stanford Corbin
Then below the typewritten letter, written in pencil:
I found this letter in the parking lot next to the main office. I'm not sure what this is all about but I think that you and I had better have a talk about Mr. Corbin. Something is not right. Besides the business that this letter talks about, I saw Corbin doing something up at the entrance to mine #2 last month that I need to tell you about. See me as soon as you can but please be discreet. I am certain that Corbin is up to something bad and I don’t want him to catch wind that I know about it.
Davis McPhetridge
More mystery. Seems like it just keeps getting deeper and deeper. It will be easy enough to check the harbormaster records to verify if the Escalate made port in May of 1914. But what of this business with DuPont? DuPont operates a company town 15 miles north of Olympia near the Army post at Fort Lewis. They have a rail line that runs down to a wharf on Puget Sound. But what does a munitions manufacturer have to do with Geraldson and McCaw? My research had already shown that Geraldson owned munitions operations but I cant remember when they began those operations. And what could McPhetridge have seen at the entrance to Mine #2? Not enough information here to really do anything with. And what is the map for?
I decided to start with verifying the Escalate visit and put the letter down to get the phone number for Laurel at the library from my wallet. It was only when I had brushed the envelope aside that I noticed the small note that had fallen out when I had removed the letter. It was handwritten in the same script as the note that McPhetridge had written for Sam McCaw.
To Whom It May Concern
If you are reading this letter then you must be either one of Geraldson's men or somebody who might be able to stop them. The letter in this envelope is only the first notch in the stump, so to speak. Sam McCaw is dead, they tell me and Stanford Corbin has left Olympia and gone to Alaska, dirty business I say, all of it. I have lost my left leg but I am OK otherwise. Thanks to the good doctors and the nuns at St. Peter's in Lacey, I will get on just fine.
I have proof that Corbin and Geraldson are doing something terrible that must be stopped. I cannot do anything myself since I have a family to take care of. So I am counting on you, whoever you are, to help me out.
I have hidden some items in a box near the McCaw depot. Everything you need to make a case against Gerardson is there. You can find the box by following these directions.
Go to the log depot at low tide. There is a trail nearby that they say William Cannon took when he visited Puget Sound with the Hudson’s Bay survey expedition back in 1812. Along that trail you will find the skiff landing along the west side of the peninsula just east of the pier next to a fir tree leaning over the water. You will need a compass to take a bearing from the landing. Stand on the roots of the fir tree above the skiff landing and sight end of the log dump pier. Take note of that bearing because you will need it later. Now follow the trail to the point. The pier will still be on your left. From the wild rose bush growing around the fir tree in the clearing above the tide line, subtract 215 from the bearing you took. Now use the compass to sight a maple sapling leaning over the water at this new bearing. There is a small rock at the base on the dry side of the tree. The box is buried under the rock.
These people must be stopped. The freedom of millions could depend on it.
Davis McPhetridge
Finally I am getting somewhere. But still more mysteries. Gotta get out there and find this box McPhetridge is talking about.
To be continued . . .
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posted by Mark and Sue | 4:49 PM
