Read Online Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan by Bill Doyle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bill Doyle
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“It’s time we make ‘cents’ of this mystery.”
We opened the door to the first-class car and started down the aisle. According to William Henry, Mr. Spike had moved the
Notabes to this car after Asyla was stricken.
Our investigation had been stalled since yesterday morning. For Operation Coin Grab to work, the first-class hallway had to
be free of other passengers and porters–and that meant we had to wait for the right moment.
As we passed the Notabes’ compartment, I saw that the door was open a crack. I took a quick look inside. Mrs. Notabe sat in
her seat, reading a book. Asyla was curled up asleep on the bench next to her.
As planned, I said loudly, “Aren’t you carrying the jeweled purse with the hole in the bottom?”
“Why, no!” Judge responded, playing the part of Henrietta Gotgobs perfectly. “This jeweled purse was repaired by one of the
maids.”
Then I tossed a five-cent coin attached to a piece of fishing line to the floor, making sure that the coin banged loudly off
the door of the Notabes’ compartment. It clattered to the hallway floor.
Leaving the coin in place, Judge and I continued down the hall. At the end of the car, we crouched against a wall to see if
Mrs. Notable took the bait.
For a long moment nothing happened. I was afraid our mission had failed. But then a hand wearing a black glove appeared through
the doorway of the Notabes’ compartment. The gloved fingers found the coin, but the tiny bit of glue we had used on it made
the coin hard to move. The fingers tried sliding the coin back toward the compartment, but it would not budge. Finally, the
hand disappeared back through the doorway. Seconds later it was back, but this time it was not wearing the glove.
I heard Judge take in a quiet breath of anticipation. Wait… wait… I told myself, thinking of my father who told me patience
is as important as a hook when it comes to fishing. “Want to end up with air for dinner?” he’d say. “Then just forget to pack
your patience when you go fishing.”
As Judge and I watched, the bare hand tried to pick up the coin, but the fingers only brushed along the coin’s surface.
Come on! I wanted to shout.
Finally, the index finger of the hand shot out–and we had what we had come for. The finger had pressed down firmly onto the
coin, giving it a solid fingerprint.
Yes! I imagined the fish closing its mouth around the hook. I yanked on the fishing line that was attached to the coin. The
coin jerked–and the hand suddenly smacked down on it, trying to keep it in place.
I pulled again, but still the coin was held by the weight of the hand.
This was not part of the plan! Judge and I should have been long gone by now with the fingerprint sample safely in our grasp.
Framed by long black hair, Rabella Notabe’s perfectly made-up face suddenly appeared around the corner of the compartment
door. Keeping her hand firmly on the coin, she leaned toward it.
As she moved her finger so that she could pick up the coin, I pulled the fishing line with all my might. The coin flew from
under her hand and shot toward us. I reached up and caught it in midair in my own gloved hand.
There was no time to celebrate. Mrs. Notabe raised her head and made eye contact with me. For one instant, she gave me a creepy
smile like a panther spotting its prey–and then she let out a shrill scream.
Instantly, doors opened and faces popped out of compartments. Judge and I were turning to flee when Mrs. Notabe screamed to
a porter, “Those two thieves stole from me!”
No! I wanted to shout. That’s not true!
But Judge and I panicked, and we didn’t stay to hear any more.
We had to get away as fast as we could. I could hear Judge’s feet pounding after me as we raced out of the car, with people
shouting at us to stop. If we could just find a hiding place and remove our disguises, we’d be safe.
Through the coach car, the dining car–where startled
We opened the door to the first-class car and started down the aisle. According to William Henry, Mr. Spike had moved the
Notabes to this car after Asyla was stricken.
Our investigation had been stalled since yesterday morning. For Operation Coin Grab to work, the first-class hallway had to
be free of other passengers and porters–and that meant we had to wait for the right moment.
As we passed the Notabes’ compartment, I saw that the door was open a crack. I took a quick look inside. Mrs. Notabe sat in
her seat, reading a book. Asyla was curled up asleep on the bench next to her.
As planned, I said loudly, “Aren’t you carrying the jeweled purse with the hole in the bottom?”
“Why, no!” Judge responded, playing the part of Henrietta Gotgobs perfectly. “This jeweled purse was repaired by one of the
maids.”
Then I tossed a five-cent coin attached to a piece of fishing line to the floor, making sure that the coin banged loudly off
the door of the Notabes’ compartment. It clattered to the hallway floor.
Leaving the coin in place, Judge and I continued down the hall. At the end of the car, we crouched against a wall to see if
Mrs. Notable took the bait.
For a long moment nothing happened. I was afraid our mission had failed. But then a hand wearing a black glove appeared through
the doorway of the Notabes’ compartment. The gloved fingers found the coin, but the tiny bit of glue we had used on it made
the coin hard to move. The fingers tried sliding the coin back toward the compartment, but it would not budge. Finally, the
hand disappeared back through the doorway. Seconds later it was back, but this time it was not wearing the glove.
I heard Judge take in a quiet breath of anticipation. Wait… wait… I told myself, thinking of my father who told me patience
is as important as a hook when it comes to fishing. “Want to end up with air for dinner?” he’d say. “Then just forget to pack
your patience when you go fishing.”
As Judge and I watched, the bare hand tried to pick up the coin, but the fingers only brushed along the coin’s surface.
Come on! I wanted to shout.
Finally, the index finger of the hand shot out–and we had what we had come for. The finger had pressed down firmly onto the
coin, giving it a solid fingerprint.
Yes! I imagined the fish closing its mouth around the hook. I yanked on the fishing line that was attached to the coin. The
coin jerked–and the hand suddenly smacked down on it, trying to keep it in place.
I pulled again, but still the coin was held by the weight of the hand.
This was not part of the plan! Judge and I should have been long gone by now with the fingerprint sample safely in our grasp.
Framed by long black hair, Rabella Notabe’s perfectly made-up face suddenly appeared around the corner of the compartment
door. Keeping her hand firmly on the coin, she leaned toward it.
As she moved her finger so that she could pick up the coin, I pulled the fishing line with all my might. The coin flew from
under her hand and shot toward us. I reached up and caught it in midair in my own gloved hand.
There was no time to celebrate. Mrs. Notabe raised her head and made eye contact with me. For one instant, she gave me a creepy
smile like a panther spotting its prey–and then she let out a shrill scream.
Instantly, doors opened and faces popped out of compartments. Judge and I were turning to flee when Mrs. Notabe screamed to
a porter, “Those two thieves stole from me!”
No! I wanted to shout. That’s not true!
But Judge and I panicked, and we didn’t stay to hear any more.
We had to get away as fast as we could. I could hear Judge’s feet pounding after me as we raced out of the car, with people
shouting at us to stop. If we could just find a hiding place and remove our disguises, we’d be safe.
Through the coach car, the dining car–where startled
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