The Titanic Secret (Isaac Bell 11)

“That they all died.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re all dead.”

“I guess I was hoping for another answer,” Tony said.

“That’s the other thing about being a detective—never go in looking for an answer you want. It’s enough just to find the truth, without personal bias.” Bell stepped back. “Wonder if I can ask a favor.”

“Of course.”

“May I borrow your truck to get back to Denver? There isn’t a train until late afternoon, and I will likely lose a day getting back to New York. I haven’t seen my wife in quite some time.”

Wickersham gave him a little wolfish smile. “Understand perfectly, Mr. Bell. It’s no trouble at all.”

“I’m meeting Mr. Bloeser at Union Station. He said he’ll bring one of his employees to drive the truck to his brother’s place so it will be there during your convalescence.”

“Not sure how long it’ll be before I can handle driving, but . . .” Tony’s voice trailed off.

Bell wished he could explain to Tony that he hadn’t been shot for nothing and that there was more afoot than he could possibly know. He decided there and then to send Tony a detailed letter when the affair was ended so he would know the crucial part he’d played in its opening gambit.

“You’ll be up and about before you know it. For now—and I’m sure everyone has told you this—the best thing is to get your rest.”

“I know.”

“I’ll look you up next time I’m in Denver.”

“I’d like that, Mr. Bell.”

“And Tony, thank you for all your help.”

Wickersham pointed at his bandaged shoulder. “Can’t say it was a pleasure, but you’re welcome, Mr. Bell.”

Isaac caught Dr. Brinkerhoff and asked if there was any payment due and was told that the Bloesers were paying for Tony’s treatment. He thanked the man again and went on his way.

The track out of the mountains and on to Denver was much better than the trails up to the mines, so all Bell had to do was top off the REO’s fuel tank and make sure the spare can was full too. It was just under forty miles, and mostly downhill, but he didn’t want to take the chance of getting stranded. He also made certain he had spare water in a separate can for engine coolant. Tony had extra lubricating oil in a tin, alongside the toolkit, in a hinged box in the truck’s bed.

Road travel

improved every day, but it was nowhere near reliable.

He asked the barman at the hotel to put together some food for his trip while he repacked his bag and settled the bill. Bell stowed his bag in the back of the truck, took off his hat and wedged it under the seat since at speed it would likely blow off, and left the town of Central City behind him. He had come here to solve one mystery but instead found himself embroiled in international intrigue, facing men who thought nothing of taking another’s life. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in such a situation, but it gave him pause to consider how long it would be before his luck ran out and his opponents had the upper hand.

A little over two hours of driving brought him to Denver. The truck had run flawlessly, but he’d stopped to help another motorist climbing the Front Range Mountains whose radiator had run dry. He parked the truck outside Union Station. He was chilled to the bone but had made it with twenty minutes to spare before Hans Bloeser was scheduled to arrive.

He strode into the tall, echoing main hall and quickly located an idle ticketing agent. Though the man was extraordinarily efficient, it took all of Bell’s time cushion to find trains that would get him to New York as quickly as possible. The route out of Denver was straight to Topeka, Kansas, where he’d catch up to the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe line’s California Limited that had already come through on its way out of Los Angeles. Once he reached Chicago, he could buy a ticket for the eighteen-hour express run to New York on the 20th Century Limited.

* * *

—

Hans Bloeser found him just as he was finishing paying for the tickets. The man with Bloeser was introduced as Stephen, an assistant from the bank who would drive Tony Wickersham’s REO to Ernst Bloeser’s house in Golden.

They found a booth at the station’s lunch counter and ordered coffee from the overworked waiter. They first discussed Tony’s condition and future needs. Bell did offer to help pay some of the expenses because he felt guilty over what had transpired. Bloeser wouldn’t hear of it.

“So finally we come to what you wanted to know,” Bell said. “And, regrettably, I have to tell you that my investigation was inconclusive. A section of the mine shaft had collapsed before I reached the tunnel’s end. In all likelihood, Brewster and the others are sealed off behind the wall of rubble, as had been reported by the eyewitness and press accounts.”

“No other clues?”

“I am sorry to say, no. There was nothing in what little I was able to find that led me to believe anything other than that the men planned to return from work at the end of their shift. I don’t know why Brewster jumped your brother’s claim and tried to find ore in a worthless shaft. Because of the massive outlay of time, resources, and especially money it would take to breach the tunnel to its end, no one ever will.” Bell laid it on a little thick so the Brothers Bloeser would let the matter drop without further inquiry.