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“No, sir.”
“With the Van Dorn Agency. I’m here about the train robbery.”
The crime had occurred several days after the Grey Ghost was stolen. Three men had been killed, shot by the robbers. A king’s ransom stolen, and, along with it, the machined engine parts that Rolls-Royce hoped to use to put together a working forty-fifty engine in time for the Olympia Motor Show.
It suddenly occurred to me that one of the dead men had also been a private detective hired by Rolls-Royce to find their stolen car. “I’m so sorry. This man was a friend of yours?”
“I didn’t know him, but he was an associate, and I have an allegiance to find out who killed him. I’ve been hired to find out who killed the three men and who robbed the train.”
“Forgive my impertinence, but why am I here?”
“Your employer has offered your services to assist me in my investigation.”
“But why?” I asked, certain there must be some mistake.
“I need someone who knows the area. As such, it’s important that you tell no one that we’re working together. Three men have already been killed. I’d rather not add another to that count.”
I wasn’t sure what frightened me more: that this Mr. Bell expected me to agree to this working arrangement or that when he talked about death the warmth in his eyes turned to steel. “Why me?” was all I could manage.
“I asked for someone trustworthy, but also someone whom no one would suspect would have the nerve to work with a detective.”
I couldn’t help a twinge of embarrassment over that description. Shadows made me jump. No one would suspect me of having the nerve to do anything remotely brave. “Perhaps you misunderstood. I’m certain you’d rather have my cousin, Reggie. He’s the brave one in the family.”
“You care about Rolls-Royce?”
“Of course,” I said, not fully realizing that Bell had drawn me outside and into a waiting carriage.
“Then you’ll do.” Before I knew it, we were halfway down the street, when Bell asked, “What do you know about the train robbery?”
“The engineers were killed. And a private detective.”
“He was hired by Rolls-Royce. There were engine parts on that train.”
A feeling of guilt hit me. “I ordered those parts.”
“Don’t you find it the least bit odd?”
“Surely it was a coincidence.”
“Interesting you’d say that,” Bell replied, “because that’s precisely what I was wondering.”
Several minutes later, the carriage stopped, the driver letting us out on a street corner next to a brick building about four stories high.
Bell pointed toward the railroad tracks. “That’s where it happened.”
I looked in that direction, feeling slightly nauseated at the thought.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Bell continued, ?
?it was just before dawn. The night watchman found a load of lumber spilled at the crossing.”
“A setup to stop the train?” I asked.
Bell glanced at me. “You’re a quick study. You’ll do just fine.” We walked closer to the railroad tracks. “The detective who’d been following one of the robbers was killed right here. In the street. Shot in the back.” Isaac stared at the ground for several seconds, then to his right, where wooden stairs led up to a second-story entrance. “Which doesn’t make sense. By all accounts, he was very experienced. Why?”
“Running for his life?”
Isaac pulled out a gold pocket watch. “What time was the robbery?”
