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“I’m obliged.”
“You won’t get any more out of Jackie than you did from the others, probably less.”
“I have to look on the bright side,” said Bell. “As I said, we have to check out every lead, no matter how trivial. The Van Dorn Detective Agency wants the killer as much as you.”
“You might stop by the general store and pick up some gumdrops,” Sheriff Huey said. “Jackie has a sweet tooth for gumdrops.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
BELL FOUND the Ruggles house just as Huey described. The entire wooden structure was leaning to one side. Another two inches, Bell thought, and it would crash into the street. He started up the rickety stairs just as a young boy dashed out of the front door and ran toward the street.
“Are you Jackie Ruggles?” Bell asked, grabbing the boy by the arm before he dashed off.
The boy wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “Who wants to know?
” he demanded.
“My name is Bell. I’m with the Van Dorn Detective Agency. I’d like to ask you about what you saw the day of the bank robbery.”
“Van Dorn,” Jackie said in awe. “Gosh, you guys are famous. A detective from Van Dorn wants to talk to me?”
“That’s right,” said Bell, swooping in for the kill. “Would you like some gumdrops?” He held out a small sack that he had just purchased at the general store.
“Gee, thanks, mister.” Jackie Ruggles wasted no time in snatching the sack and savoring a green gumdrop. He was dressed in a cotton shirt, pants that were cut off above the knee, and worn-leather shoes that Bell guessed were handed down by an older brother. The clothes were quite clean, as befitting a mother who was a laundress. He was thin as a broomstick, with boyish facial features that were covered with freckles, and topped by a thicket of uncombed curly light brown hair.
“I was told by Sheriff Huey that you saw the bank robber.”
The boy answered while chewing on the gumdrop. “Sure did. The only trouble is, nobody believes me.”
“I do,” Bell assured him. “Tell me what you saw.”
Jackie was about to reach in the sack for another gumdrop, but Bell stopped him. “You can have them after you’ve told me what you know.”
The boy looked peeved but shrugged. “I was playing baseball in the street with my friends when this old guy—”
“How old?”
Jackie studied Bell. “About your age.”
Bell never considered thirty as old, but to a young boy of ten he must have appeared ancient. “Go on.”
“He was dressed like most of the miners who live here, but he wore a big hat like the Mexicans.”
“A sombrero.”
“I think that’s what it’s called.”
“And he was toting a heavy sack over his shoulder. It looked like it was plumb full of something.”
“What else did you notice?”
“One of his hands was missing the little finger.”
Bell stiffened. This was the first clue to identifying the killer. “Are you sure he was missing a little finger?”
“As sure as I’m standing here,” answered Jackie.
“Which hand?” Bell asked, containing his mounting excitement.
