I HAD A NOTION to take Cheeya for a long ride before supper so that the sagebrush-smelling breeze would blow all the confusing words and images from my head.

As I went through the open stable doors, I wondered if the stable boy would recognize me in my Jewish Phonographic Boy Disguise. But he must have been in one of the other stalls, so I entered unnoticed.

I went into Cheeya’s stall and was about to close the door when Cheeya gave a warning whinny & rolled his eyes. I whirled to see someone was right behind me, blocking my escape.

It was a burly man in a yellow plug hat and dark blue coat wearing garish yellow & blue checked trowsers. He was about the ugliest man I had ever seen, with a pockmarked face & eyes that look two different directions & puffy ears like two cauliflowers.

“Hello, Stonewall,” I said. “How are you?”

He said, “P.K., is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. This is my Jewish Phonographic Reporter Disguise.” I took out my false front teeth and removed my glasses and put them in a pocket of my frock coat.

Stonewall is Jace’s friend & bodyguard. The first time I had met him, he threatened to blow my brains out with his Le Mat pistol.

I like Stonewall.

I have since discovered that he is a devout Presbyterian and would probably not have blowed out my brains that first day.

Stonewall stared down at the hay-scattered floor of the stall. “Jace sent me,” he said. “Wants to know why you have not given him a report on yesterday’s session.”

I said. “It is not that easy. Before I write a report I have to understand it. Is he real mad at me?”

“He is a little riled,” said Stonewall. “But then he is riled with me, too.”

“Why?” I asked.

Stonewall shrugged. “Maybe because of that Mrs. Violetta De Baskerville he is spending all his time with. I do not like her.”

“Me neither,” I said. “People call her a Black Widow. There is a rumor she has buried three husbands and is still married to a Desperado. I tried to warn Jace but he would not listen.”

“Yeah.” Stonewall scuffed at the hay with his shoe. “He told me about that.”

“Stonewall,” I said, “what is a Black Widow?”

Stonewall knit his brows. “I think it means a woman who marries men and then kills them for the money they leave in their wills.”

I said. “That is what I thought. Doesn’t Jace know what she is?”

Stonewall said, “He has heard the rumors. But he don’t believe them. We got to bring him to his senses. We got to find evidence of her malfeasance.”

I said, “Beg pardon?”

He said, “We got to get the bulge on her.”

I said, “Beg pardon?”

Stonewall said. “We need proof that she is up to no good. Savvy?”

I nodded. “Now I savvy.”

“So you will keep your ears open and your eyes peeled? And if you find out anything, tell me? I am staying in room number thirty-two on the third floor of the St. Charles Hotel.”

“Yes,” I said. “I will tell you if I get anything bulgy about Violetta De Baskerville.”

“And don’t forget to send Jace some reports on the legislature, or he will get mad.”

I said, “Ask him to give me a few days. I need to learn how to read and write A.J. Marsh’ s Reformed Phonographic Shorthand first.”

And I did. The next day was Sunday so I skipped church to spend the day with Barry. We alternated me teaching him how to remember cards and him teaching me Squiggly Worm Writing.

We started just after dawn, working in a little room upstairs behind the store. It had a cast-iron stove to make it cozy and his mother brought us plates of Jewish food like sour green pickles & chicken liver paste on crackers. It was strange food but I soon got a taste for it.

Learning Marsh’ s Phonographic Worm Writing was like reading signs in the wilderness when you are tracking a critter. Soon those worms and squiggles began to make sense to me and mean things. They stood for sounds and those sounds made words.

By the end of the day I could read Squiggly Worm Writing as easy as English.

I could not write it fluently—that would take practice—but I had Made a Start.

Barry was so impressed with my progress and so pleased with my method of remembering cards that he helped me write a report of Friday’s proceedings for Jace.

I dropped it off around 11:30 at night, handing it to the Night Clerk at the St. Charles Hotel. I was dressed as Danny Ashim, in my Jewish Phonographic Boy Disguise. As I was exiting the hotel lobby, Mrs. Violetta De Baskerville was entering.

She was alone and I do not know if she saw me or not, for she looked straight ahead with her chin up. But as she passed by she swerved a little so that her puffy hoopskirt jostled me & I fell over & banged my elbow on a copper planter with a fern in it.

“Dang you, Mrs. Violetta De Baskerville,” I said to myself. “Just you wait until I get the bulge on you.”