Chapter 58
“Unwelcome truths are not popular.”
-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Valley of Fear
I tried to keep my mind off how tired I was. It was much lighter now with low clouds moving rapidly from west to east across an overcast sky. It was a typical April day in Chicago where no one - including the weatherman - could predict what was going to happen.
We had crossed the state line from Wisconsin into Illinois awhile ago and were almost to Elgin. Traffic was miserable even though it was after 9 am and technically the rush hour was over. I pushed on, thinking about Dodd. Would he come after us? I wondered too what the Chicago cops knew about the whole mess. They were undoubtedly going to want to interview us about Morgan. I felt guiltier by the mile.
I checked my phone. There was only one message. It was from Marcus Goodson. I hadn’t listened to his last one, and I hadn’t shown up this morning to relieve Woodley, so I knew this one didn’t bode well. Woodley had undoubtedly complained again. I played it - we Scots always face the battle.
The first words Marcus yelled were “You’re FIRED DD McGil.” He swore a bit and then, in a quiet but menacing tone, said, “I believed all those recommendations and accolades about you, DD. That’s why I hired you for this job. But obviously you don’t know what you’re doing out in the field. You’re not professional, and I’m going to see to it that you’ll never work in this business again. Woodley’s taken a lot of abuse, and it’s to his credit he’s put up with it all. I’m paying him your last week’s salary, and if you don’t like it, sue me.” He then swore again in a most unprofessional way and hung up.
End of job, short and sweet. I’d been expecting it. I had, after all, deserted my post - whether I meant to or not. I knew I’d have to pay for it. But that last week’s salary would go to Woodley over my dead body. This would have to be settled personally with Goodson. My Scots blood was racing to the tune of the piper, and I was full ready to draw my dagger. The adrenaline rush washed away any tiredness.
I took a few deep breaths. At least Marcus’ rant was keeping me alert and awake. Oh, and another good thing - since I’d been fired, I didn’t have to hurry anymore. The Romani surveillance was now off my plate.
We were nearing Cook County. The wind had picked up, and Tom’s Caravan felt more like a boat than a car. I had to fight the steering wheel for control. When my cell rang, I answered immediately, hoping it hadn’t awakened Tom. It was Glendy and Lucille.
“DD, we’ve got the perp!” they yelled in unison.
“Slow down you two. What’s going on?”
“We’ve got him. Elizabeth is sure!”
“Who?”
“The one who shoved that note under your door.”
“What?”
“We’re making a citizen’s arrest right now. Your Auntie thought you’d like to be in on it via the phone.”
“Who is it?”
“She says to tell you that ‘A crookit stick will throw a crookit shadow.’”
“What?”
“She says she knew this guy was a bad one from the first time she set eyes on him.”
“Listen, where are you guys? Are the cops there?” I asked.
“No. We can’t call the cops. We’re holding him until CrimeStoppers shows up. You’ll see us on TV tonight. We’ll be getting a reward.”
“Call the cops right now,” I ordered.
“Uh oh, the cops are here. Someone else musta called them. We gotta go.”
I tried calling them three times. No answer. What the heck were they doing? Now I really was concerned.
“What was that all about?” Tom asked sleepily.
“Sorry it woke you. Your guess is as good as mine. It was the twins. They claim they’ve made a citizen’s arrest on the guy who put the notes under my door.”
“That’s great. Who is he?”
“I don’t know. Auntie said ‘A crookit stick will throw a crookit shadow.’”
“Well how did they find him - whoever it is?”
“I don’t know that either. They didn’t tell me. God knows what’s going on, because I sure don’t.”
“A crackerjack investigator like you DD ought to be able to get the info out of them, but I admit they’re very lively. You’re lucky they care so much about you.”
“I could do with a little less of that. Like maybe someday they’re gonna let me run my own life. I can only hope that whatever they’ve gotten themselves into is something I can fix. I don’t want a lawsuit from some guy they tried to pull a citizen’s arrest on.”
“I see your point. I guess I’m lucky that all I have to worry about are Wolfie and books.”
“And writing all about the Doyle notes and Dr. Joe Bell and Jack the Ripper and getting well quickly.”
“Yes, all that too. It’s been one hell of an adventure, a lot of it not good.”
“What are you going to do with the find?” I asked. “Will you keep it or donate it to a museum?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tom said softly. “I was dreaming about the Doyle notes and Philip Green and the fire. It’s going to take a long time to come to terms with what happened back there.”
“You have a huge find, Tom. And you get to tell the story. You’re the only one after all who did get to read Grange’s diary. You know more than anyone about the whole story.”