The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 43: Behind Bars At Last

Holmes stepped forward and joined me in the middle of the compartment. "Perhaps you are beginning to wonder why the man we know as Reagan went to such lengths to discredit myself and Lawler, but never Watson. The answer is a simple one. Like many others, he saw the Doctor as my kind but bumbling chronicler and assistant, nothing more. But he was wrong. And if it were not for the good Doctor, we would not have this opportunity to bring Pat Crowe to justice." His eyes bore into all those sitting on the train. "Will you help us accomplish this?"

There were various shouts of "yes" and "aye" and a "you betcha" or two.

Holmes smiled. "Good. In a moment, I shall need one or more of you to call loudly for Reagan."

Pattison, the post office woman, raised her hand.

"Thank you," said Holmes.

She saluted.

"I shall stand ready to disarm him," Holmes continued, "and Watson will put the cuffs on." He gestured for me to follow and we stood on either side of the doorway leading to the car ahead, backs to the wall. He then nodded, and whispered, "Call for him now!"

Pattison and a handful of others shouted variants of "Reagan!" and "Marshall, help!"

A moment later, Crowe dashed in, pistol in hand. With a swift knock to Reagan's arm, the pistol clattered to the floor and a moment later Holmes pulled his hands behind his back and I slipped the cuffs round his wrists and locked them in place with a little "snick".

Crowe stood in stunned silence, then looked to those surrounding him. "Are you out of your minds? Why have you let them do this to me?"

"Tell me," said Wilcox, raising his voice. "What does the 'T' stand for in your name, Mr. Crowe?"

Pattison reached into his coat pocket and extracted the diamond necklace. It sparkled in the light and many gasped. "What good will Mrs. Blomberg's pretty necklace do you when you're hanging by your neck from a rope?"

Holmes held out his hand and took the necklace while I extracted the rest of the jewellery from Crowe's pocket and handed it to him as well.

"I never killed a soul!" Crowe protested. "Thieving, that's my middle name, but I never did kill a man." He began to shiver and shake.

"That shall be decided in court," Holmes replied.

Just then, the train pulled into the station, and chugged loudly to a stop.

Faster than my eyes could process, the handcuffs clattered to the floor and Crowe was bolting toward the front of the train.

Holmes swore and ran behind him; I snatched up the handcuffs and followed. I'd taken Crowe's gun, but could not be certain he did not have another. We leapt off the train and into the station. Crowe sprinted full speed ahead. I fired a warning shot, but he only ran faster. I slowed involuntarily, too exhausted and pained for any more physical activity, but I had to keep up with them. Just then, a figure sprinted past me: Lawler, I realised, who with surprising speed and ease overtook me, Holmes, and finally Crowe, whom he brought to the ground with a magnificent tackle. I threw the cuffs to Holmes and he secured them firmly.

"You've quite a pair of legs under you," I said to Lawler as he and Holmes dragged Crowe, groaning, to his feet.

He smiled and shrugged, panting lightly.

I continued walking toward them. "I must not have tightened the handcuffs well enough. Sorry, Holmes."

Holmes shook his head. "Don't worry about it, my dear fellow," said he. "We have got him now."

"I suppose I shall only hold the handcuffs metaphorically from now on," I said with a grin.

Holmes laughed. "Ha! Or I could teach you the proper technique."

"Or that," I conceded. I glanced back toward the train and saw that a small crowd had gathered. "We have him now," I informed them. "Thank you all very much for your part in his capture."

There were various nods, cheers, and scattered clapping, and then the people of Sac County slowly dispersed.

I turned to Holmes. "What next?"

"Well," said Holmes. "We are conveniently close to the jail. If you would relieve Crowe of his keys to it, Watson, I believe at long last, we can put him where he belongs."

"Indeed we can and shall!" said Lawler with a grin.

Holmes tightened his grip on Crowe's left arm, Lawler secured his right, and I followed them to the jail, my revolver at the ready in case Crowe had any wild ideas before we reached the place. He did not; he walked slowly and sullenly, his shoulders slumped and head hung low, a perfect picture of dejection. Once inside the jailhouse, Holmes checked him for additional weapons, keys, or lock picks, and finding none, locked him in the second cell. Holmes had occupied it just that morning; it now felt so very long ago.

Crowe grabbed the bars and scowled. "I was so damn close!"

"Only counts in horseshoes, my friend," replied Lawler.

Holmes spoke. "There is one thing I wish to know. How did you learn of the Blombergs in the first place?"

"Luck, mostly," replied Crowe with a sigh. "Back in Chicago, I've got a few acquaintances among the up-and-coming actors, and we were out for drinks. One drunken sot kept going on about how rich his sister in Iowa was, and well, I saw a chance and took it, and let Wright in on it in case there was trouble. I really never killed a man, y'see, and didn't want to start now."

"Too late for any of that now," said Lawler.

"Perhaps," replied Crowe. "But I'm not done. One day, I'll pull something big enough the whole world will ring with my name."

I could not help but think he was hardly in a position to make such a statement, but only time would tell.