“She lost her home,” Bell replied cryptically, the memory still fresh of their first night together ending abruptly when the shock hurled their bed across the room and Marion’s piano had fallen through the front wall into the street.
“Marion stayed on, caring for orphans. Now that most are settled, she has taken a position at a newspaper.”
“Have you set a wedding date?” Hennessy asked.
“Soon,” said Bell.
Lillian Hennessy seemed to take “Soon” as a challenge. “We’re so far from San Francisco.”
“One thousand miles.” said Bell “Much of it slow going on steep grades and endless switchbacks through the Siskiyou Mountains-the reason for your Cascades Cutoff, which will reduce the run by a full day,” he added, deftly changing the subject from marriageable daughters to sabotage. “Which reminds me, it would be helpful to have a railway pass.”
“I’ll do better than that!” said Hennessy, springing to his feet. “You’ll have your railway pass-immediate free passage on any train in the country. You will also have a letter written in my own hand authorizing you to charter a special train anywhere you need one. You’re working for the railroad now.”
“No, sir. I work for Mr. Van Dorn. But I promise to put your specials to good use.”
“Mr. Hennessy has equipped you with wings,” said Mrs. Comden.
“If only you knew where to fly …” The beautiful Lillian smiled. “Or to whom.”
When the telegraph key started clattering again, Bell nodded to Van Dorn, and they stepped quietly off the car onto the platform. A cold north wind whipped through the rail yard, swirling smoke and cinders. “I’ll need a lot of our men.”
“They’re yours for the asking. Who do you want?”
Isaac Bell spoke a long list of names. Van Dorn listened, nodding approval. When he had finished, Bell said, “I’d like to base out of Sacramento.”
“I would have thought you’d recommend San Francisco.”
“For personal reasons, yes. I would prefer the opportunity to be in the same city with my fiancee. But Sacramento has the faster rail connections up the Pacific Coast and inland. Could we assemble at Miss Anne’s?”
Van Dorn did not conceal his surprise. “Why do you want to meet in a brothel?”
“If this so-called Wrecker is taking on an entire continental railroad, he is a criminal with a broad reach. I don’t want our force seen meeting in a public place until I know what he knows and how he knows it.”
“I’m sure Anne Pound will make room for us in her back parlor,” Van Dorn said stiffly. “If you think that’s the best course. But tell me, have you discovered something else beyond what you just reported to Hennessy?”
“No, sir. But I do have a feeling that the Wrecker is exceptionally alert.”
Van Dorn replied with a silent nod. In his experience, when a detective as insightful as Isaac Bell had a “feeling” the feeling took shape from small but telling details that most people wouldn’t notice. Then he said, “I’m awfully sorry about Aloysius.”
“Came as something of a shock. The man saved my life in Chicago.”
“You saved his in New Orleans,” Van Dorn retorted. “And again in Cuba.”
“He was a crackerjack detective.”
“Sober. But he was drinking himself to death. And you couldn’t save him from that. Not that you didn’t try.”
“He was the best,” Bell said, stubbornly.
“How was he killed?”
“His body was crushed under the rocks. Clearly, Wish was right there at the precise spot where the dynamite detonated.”
Van Dorn shook his head, sadly. “That man’s instincts were golden. Even drunk. I hated having to let him go.”
Bell kept his voice neutral. “His sidearm was several feet from his body, indicating he had drawn it from his holster before the explosion.”
“Could have been blown there by the explosion.”