The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 27: The Post Office Again

Dark clouds were gathering overhead, and I was glad to reach the cover provided by the post office.

"Ah! Nice to see you again, Doc," said Mrs. Pattison as I entered.

"And you as well," I replied, though I did not quite mean it.

"Well, are you looking to know something or mail something?" she asked, resting her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands.

"To know something," I replied. "Though it is of the utmost importance that you do not breathe a word about what I ask. Holmes and I have reason to believe an intelligent man with ways of getting information is still in this region and we must not let him suspect we are on his trail."

Mrs. Pattison smiled. "Fair enough," she said. "I suppose I can keep a secret if the stakes are high enough."

"There may be lives on the line," I replied. "They're high enough."

The smile left the woman's face, and she nodded. "Right."

"Do you know of anyone in this region involved with metalwork or jewellery with the initials 'B.B.'?"

She frowned and for a long moment the post office was silent except for the drumming of her fingers upon the counter.

I was on the point of telling her not to worry about it when she spoke.

"I'm afraid I can't think of anyone right off," she said, "but I'll check the mailbag in case that jogs my memory." She opened a cupboard and removed a burlap sack, carefully flipping through the envelopes inside it. "Now, I can only think of a few surnames of folks in the county starting with 'B': Blombergs, Boerners, the Brunses...Mrs. Beeberger south of town, Barnts north of Fletcher...oh, and the Brogdens. I probably forgot a few, but there's the main ones."

I hastened to scrawl this information down.

"There's only two among them I can think of that might fit your description. Johnathan Boerner is a blacksmith and Robert Brogden owns a little shop that sells a variety of things, including a little jewellery in Sac City. But somebody with a Christian name starting with 'B'..." At length, she shook her head. "Sorry, Doc."

"No matter," I replied. "Those may not even be the man's real initials. Thank you for your trouble, anyhow. Good day, madam."

I had taken perhaps fifteen paces when I heard the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Pattison from behind me.

"Doc Watson! Doc Watson!"

I turned to see the postmistress dashing down the street behind me without a coat, hat, or muffler.

"You're going to catch cold!" I exclaimed.

"I'll be fine," she replied. "But we're both idiots!"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Come, let us go back inside."

We quickly covered the distance back to the post office and ducked through the doorway.

"Robert Brogden," she said, still breathless from running and the cold. "The name 'Robert' can be shortened to Rob, Bob, or Bert. I'm not on a first-name basis with the fella, but somebody might know him as Bert Brogden or Bob Brogden."

"Wonderful!" I replied. "I shall not forget this. But do not say a word to a soul if you value the lives of your friends and neighbours."

"Of course not," she replied. "Now, I believe you owe me a little news. Something I can share without endangering anybody."

I paused to think for a moment. The truth about Miss Hallstrom and Miss Meyer was too delicate a topic to mention, even in sparse detail. What of Wright?

"I suppose you heard of the arrest of Jesse Cleveland Wright?"

"Oh, yes," she replied with a smile. Then her brows knit together with concern. "How is the Sheriff?"

"He will recover," said I. "It will be a slow process, but he'll come through."

"Ah, good," she replied. "Tell me how you figured out where to find Wright."

I told her about how multiple witnesses (I was careful not to disclose any names) saw two men speaking to Hieman on the train the night he died, and that these two men departed the train at Sac City, and that one of the witnesses knew what house they entered. "It was a bit of a shot in the dark, it seemed to me, but Holmes' instincts were all pointed to it, and Reagan and the Sheriff trusted his judgment enough to help make the arrest." Perhaps that was not exactly how it transpired, but that was the version I thought would make for the best common knowledge.

The entire time I spoke, Mrs. Pattison listened in rapture, and when I finished, she grinned and shook her head. "Must be an interesting life for you and Mr. Holmes, isn't it?"

I laughed. "When Holmes is on a case, I am never bored. Thank you very much again. I ought to be going so I can share this news with Holmes!"

"Best of luck, Doc!" she replied with a wave.

I was in the best of moods when I left the post office in search of Holmes. I hurried down the street toward city hall, but my ribs forced me to slow a bit halfway there. I slipped inside. It was a small, wooden structure and Holmes was flipping through a pile of documents when I entered.

"I believe I've found something," I said.

Holmes set down his papers and motioned for me to draw nearer. "Quietly, Watson, tell me."

In a low voice, I told him about Robert Brogden and how his name might be shortened and his possession of a store from which he sold jewellery. With every word I said, Holmes' eyes grew brighter.

"Wonderful!" he replied, replacing the papers into the box. "At this rate, I shall be surprised if we do not wrap up this case by evening." He rose and handed the box to a young man behind a counter and we took our leave.

"Shall we go to Sac City right away?" I asked.

Holmes checked his watch. "The next train there is not for another hour. Let us return to the inn and begin to consolidate notes into something we might provide the prosecution lawyers before we leave the country."

That seemed a fine plan, but as is the case with any plans, they are as likely as not to go wrong.