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MARY’S HEAD WAS SPINNING.
In just a week, she and Christena would be leaving for their holiday on Mackinac Island. Now that she had been hired to do her first real investigation, it was imperative that she devise a plan of action for her limited time in Dillmont. Thinking it over, she realized that, despite all her reading and questioning of Detective Sauer, she wasn’t nearly prepared to do what the case required.
She had already walked a block east of the McColley house, heading for home, when she decided that home wasn’t where she needed to go. She turned around and made for downtown. Her first stop was Gustafsson’s Café on Second Street, for a quick lunch of chicken salad and coffee.
At a little table in the far corner of the bustling restaurant, Mary reflected on everything that had happened in the last year. She had solved two cases, including the one that freed Edmond Roy from jail and brought him into her life. Mary was absolutely certain that she had the innate talent, the intuition, the doggedness needed to untangle the gnarly knots of mysteries large and small. But she still lacked skills. She lacked knowledge and experience. In the last six months, she had been trying to rectify that deficit.
She had obtained a Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver for her purse. Joe Morrison, the caretaker at the MacDougalls’ lake cabin up the shore of Lake Superior, had taught her and her brother Jim how to shoot rifles and pistols during summer holidays. So Mary felt quite comfortable with the weapon, though she had never yet shot at a living thing.
She had informally taken up the study of crime detection with Detective Sauer. Many men in his position would have brushed off Mary MacDougall. But he patiently answered her questions and suggested material she ought to read.
Mary had also found another mentor. She had heard about a Chinese woman who owned a laundry down on Michigan Avenue, in the Bowery. Mrs. Chin was known to teach ladies, quite discreetly, how to defend themselves by means of an ancient method of hand fighting called Fujian White Crane. After a number of weekly lessons—and bruises here and there that no one, fortunately, could see—Mary was finally getting an inkling of how it worked. She had gained enough confidence to believe that she might be able to physically discourage any unfriendly advances, should the situation arise.
It had been hard, at first. Getting the postures right. Understanding when to kick and when to snap the fists and when to block. Mrs. Chin, even after months of tutoring, made it very clear that Mary was only a raw beginner, and that mastery of Fujian White Crane would take a lifetime. But Mary thought the technique perfect for herself. After all, the legend of White Crane said that a woman had invented it back in the mists of history.
Still, Mrs. Chin had warned, “Do not try to stand, fight big man. Hurt him, surprise him. Then run.”
Mary had also spent many an hour volunteering in Dr. Burns’s office, where Mrs. McColley had taken her colicky baby. Mary helped at the front desk, and learned a bit about anatomy and medicine on the side—feeling it would be useful knowledge for her career in detection. But she volunteered there as much to be with Dr. Burns’s daughter Lillian as to further her understanding of the human body and all its frailties. Lillian, her best friend, was heading off to college in the fall and Mary already felt sad that their years of constant companionship would soon just be golden memories.
After finishing her lunch, Mary strode downhill to First Street and walked two blocks west to Salter’s Saloon—well loved by working men for its cheap beer and generous sandwiches. Detective Sauer usually took his lunch there.
Who better to help her hone her strategy than the very capable police officer? Surely he would not mind her stopping by to ask a few more questions.
Mary entered Salter’s through a fog of cigar smoke and noisy conversation. She wended her way past a group of men standing near the bar, collecting a few surprised looks. The only other women in the place were three harried waitresses scurrying about with plates of food and glasses of beer. Mary knew she stuck out like a sore thumb.
But she was in luck.
At a table off to the side of the bar sat Detective Sauer, reading a newspaper. He was just about to finish his last bite of pie when she plopped down in the chair across from him. The expression on his face as he held his fork in midair was one of only mild annoyance. Mary took this as a good sign.
He put the fork down. “Miss MacDougall. I suppose you just happened to be passing by.”
She smiled brightly. “Right you are, Detective Sauer. And I wondered if I might trouble you for a few moments. You see,” she continued, not giving him a chance to reply, “I’m leaving for Michigan in a few days and I wanted just a little more idea of what I should do there. By way of investigation, that is.”
“So you’ve reached an arrangement with Mrs. McColley?”
“I have. I agreed to spend a couple of days in Dillmont, where her mother died.”
The detective’s piercing eyes glanced around the room behind Mary, and she realized her appearance had made their table a focus of attention. Detective Sauer might be in for some ribbing later on. She felt sorry putting him on the spot, but it simply could not be helped. She wanted his advice on how to approach the Olcott inquiry, and she wanted it now.
The detective folded up his newspaper and leaned back in his chair. “I suggest, to begin, that before you leave, you find some pretext for meeting Mr. Olcott and letting him know you plan to visit his wife’s grave.”
Mary was surprised. “Why take that risk?”
“Because you want to see how he reacts,” the detective answered. “Make up a story about how you happen to know his stepdaughter.”
“She goes to the doctor’s office where I volunteer,” Mary said. “I could say I know her from there.”
“That’s good, that’ll work. He’ll never suspect a thing. You’re simply doing his stepdaughter a kindness. Meanwhile, watch his face, his movements. Look for nervousness, dissembling, any other signs of dishonesty. Doesn’t prove anything, of course. But if Olcott did play a role in his wife’s death, you might detect some uneasiness in his demeanor. Sizing up potential suspects is part of the job. A good detective must develop that skill.
“Once you get to Dillmont, it should be simple. Mostly, you just need to visit the physician who treated the woman. Was there any chance at all that she was poisoned? Is there an agent that could mimic the symptoms of cholera? If you come up with anything suspicious—anything that can be backed up—you could go to the county sheriff. That’s apt to be a bit tricky, though.”
Mary looked up from the little notebook she was scribbling in. “Why is that?”
“Miss MacDougall, if you were a lawman in his thirties or forties, how would you regard an eighteen-year-old...”
“Nineteen-year-old,” Mary corrected.
“...nineteen-year-old young lady who comes to you with wild claims of dark doings in Dillmont?”
“Ah, I see.” Mary understood perfectly.
“I’ve observed you in action and know you have some talent in this area. But to that fellow out in Michigan, you’re just a pushy, presumptuous girl. Even worse, a pushy, presumptuous rich girl.”
That stung Mary a little, but she took his point.
“My advice is to be as quick about it as you can in Dillmont. It’s not your job to right any wrongs. Uncover the facts as best you’re able, then write up your findings for Mrs. McColley.”
Mary nodded. Detective Sauer was right. She wasn’t a police officer. Her job was to investigate and report.
“I’m still quite sure there’s no crime here,” the detective continued. “So you shouldn’t encounter any difficulty.” Then he leveled that intense gaze at her. “You have told your father that you’re doing this, haven’t you?”
Truth be told, Mary had decided to not tell John MacDougall until the case was concluded. He was in the midst of an important business negotiation, and she didn’t want to bother him. Christena had concurred, since the simplicity and safety of the inquiry seemed beyond doubt. Mary understood, of course, that there would be hell to pay, should she get hurt or become the subject of notoriety. But she was positive that nothing like that would happen.
She managed to meet the policeman’s gaze without flinching.
“Detective Sauer, can you imagine the trouble I would be in if I didn’t tell him?”
