John Fitzgerald GB 06 Return of Read online

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  Sheriff Baker then walked in front of the cell Hutch was in. “We also know,” he said, “that you killed Simpson. He recognized you from that scar above your right eyebrow which the bandanna mask didn’t cover-And when he called you Hutch you knew he’d recognized you and you killed him.”

  Then the sheriff walked back to his desk and sat down. “We will start with the’bank notes in the money belt Grant was wearing,” he said to Uncle Mark. “The district attorney and Mr, Fitzgerald will witness the serial numbers I cross off as you call them out.”

  Uncle Mark opened Grant’s money belt. He removed the bank notes and made a pile of them. Then he began calling off the serial numbers. Sheriff Baker would locate the serial number on the list and check it off, then nod his head for Uncle Mark to call off the next serial number. Uncle Mark had only called off ten serial numbers when Grant pushed his face between the bars of the cell.

  “That’s enough,” he shouted. “You’ve got us cold. But I wouldn’t have gone in on it if I’d known there was going to be any shooting.”

  Eggerson was the next to crack. “Me neither,” he said. “Sam and Hutch planned the whole thing but promised there would be no shooting.”

  Ludell then grabbed the bars of his cell and pushed his face against two of the bars. “I admit Hutch and I planned it,” he said. “But Hutch promised there would be no shooting. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him kill Simpson in cold blood. The man didn’t reach for a gun or anything. I’ll turn state’s evidence.”

  After Ludell said that, Hutchinson knew the game was up. “I had to kill him,” he said. “I forgot all about that

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  damn scar. I saw Simpson staring at it, and when he called me Hutch I knew he’d recognized me.” Then he backed up and slumped down on the bunk in his cell, “I didn’t want to kill him but I had to.”

  Sheriff Baker looked at Curly Davis. “That leaves just you,” he said.

  Davis stared at the sheriff for a moment and then looked at District Attorney Vickers. “If I plead guilty will I get a lighter sentence?” he asked.

  District Attorney Vickers thought for a moment and then spoke. “To save the state the expense of a trial,” he said, “I am willing to let four of you plead guilty to armed robbery and Hutchinson plead guilty to second degree mur-der. If you stand trial we have enough evidence to convict four of you as accessories to murder and send you to prison for life and enough evidence to see Hutchinson hang.”

  All five of them said they would plead guilty and signed confessions. On Monday morning Judge Potter sentenced Eggerson, Grant. Davis, and Ludell to twenty years in prison and Hutchinson to life.

  I thought Tom would be very disappointed when he found out the Bruford Brothers weren’t going to give any reward. I guess they figured Sheriff Baker and Uncle Mark were just doing their duty. Instead, on the day he found out there would be no reward he was whistling as we did the evening chores.

  “I don’t know how you can be so cheerful,” I said. “If I were in your shoes I’d be so mad I could chew up railroad rails and spit out spikes.”

  “Simmer down, J.D.,” he said. “Before I put my great brain to work on the train robbery and murder I made sure I’d get a reward if I solved the crime.”

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  “Well,” I said, “the Bruford Brothers sure as heck aren’t going to give you a reward according to Sheriff Baker and Uncle Mark.”

  “You are forgetting the railroad,” Tom said grinning. “Remember me telling you after lunch last Tuesday that I was going to the depot to talk to Mr. Larson before going back to school?”

  “You said you wanted to talk to him about the train robbery/’ I said.

  “Right,” Tom said. “Right what?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Frankie, who had been listening. “Right what?”

  “I asked Mr. Larson if the railroad paid any reward money for train robbers,” Tom said, “He told me there was a standing reward of five hundred dollars for the arrest and conviction of train robbers. Sheriff Baker will get the reward because the train robbery took place in the county under his jurisdiction. And Sheriff Baker isn’t the kind of a man who goes back on his word.”

  “So,” I said, “that is why you made him promise you all the reward money if you solved the train robbery and murder.”

  “Right,” Tom-said with a grin so wide I thought it would split his face-

  “What are you going to do with all that money?” I asked-

  “Put it in the bank where it will draw interest,” Tom said as he rubbed the palms of his hands together.

  And, oh, how his money-loving heart must have been

  x singing.

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  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tom the Magician

  IT WAS JUST A FEW DAYS after Tom had received

  the five-hundred dollar reward that the Chautauqua came to town. Once a year people like Mayor Whitlock, Bishop Aden, Reverend Holcomb, Papa, Mamma, and Mrs. Vinson believed the citizens of Adenville needed a little cultural entertain-ment. The money to pay for the Chautauqua was raised by selling tickets before it arrived. It was a way of guaranteeing there would be enough money to pay for the cultural entertainment. I always sort of figured this selling of tickets was almost like blackmail because anybody who refused to buy a ticket would be considered uncultured and an ignoramus. About the only thing I enjoyed about a Chautauqua was

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  watching them put up the tent at the campground. I guess that made me uncultured. But let me tell you what a Chautauqua was like in those days and see if you don’t agree with me. They always had a fellow who played a fiddle but not like anybody in town played one. They called it classical music, but all it ever sounded like to me was a fellow practicing the scales. And there was always a man or woman who recited poetry the likes of which had never been heard in Adenville. I doubt if three people in the audience understood what the poems were about. And they had singers. But did they sing good old songs like “My Old Kentucky Home” or “Sweet Adeline”? Heck, no. Papa said they sang arias from operas, which was enough to convince me that I’d never spend any money going to an opera. The singing was bad enough, but they made it worse by always singing in a foreign language. Then they would have a man or woman who read passages from classical literature-That was the silli-est thing of all. It didn’t make sense” unless you knew the whole story and the only time that happened was when a man read some passages from A Christmas Carol by Dickens. But he spoiled it by reading some passage from a Greek play written hundreds of years ago next. Sometimes they would act out a scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays. And sometimes a fellow would play solos on a cornet. I must admit there was one time they had Swiss bell ringers which I enjoyed. They had a lot of different sounding bells on a table, and by ringing them they could play a tune.

  The Chautauqua we had this year was the worst yet tor my money. But rather than let anybody know they didn’t understand or appreciate the classical stuff, everybody applauded. There was one woman who must have scared every dog in town. I mentioned her to Tom as we sat on the corral

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  fence with Frankie the next morning after doing our chores-

  “My ears are still ringing from that big fat woman screaming at the Chautauqua last night,” I said.

  “She was a soprano,” Tom said. “That is the highest pitch a human voice can have.”

  “Why anybody would pay money to hear a woman like that beats me,” I said. “The next Chautauqua that comes to town I’m going to pretend I’m sick and can’t go.”

  “You know, J.D.,” Tom said, “you are right in a way. I doubt if any kid in town enjoyed the Chautauqua. But you’ve given me an idea. I’m going to put on a magic show because I’m getting a little short of cash.”

  Tom’s saying he was getting short of cash was like a dog all alone in a butcher shop complaining there wasn’t enough meat.

  “What do you mean by a magic show?” I aske
d.

  “Yeah, what?” Frankie said.

  “When I was at the Academy last year Father Rodriguez took all of us students to the Salt Lake Theater twice,” Tom said. “Once was for a vaudeville show. Two of the best acts were the Mental Marvel, a mind-reading act, and Murdock the Magician. My great brain figured out how the Mental Marvel and his assistant faked the mind-reading act. But the magic tricks Murdock the Magician performed stumped me.”

  “He wouldn’t come to a small town like Adenville,” I said.

  “Of course not,” Tom said. “But 1 told Father Rodriguez my great brain had to know everything. He let me buy a book on how to do magic tricks, I studied it and found out how Murdock the Magician did some of his tricks. How much would you pay to see a magic show?”

  “I’ve never seen a magic show,” I said, “so how would

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  I know how much I would pay?”

  “I’ll give you an example,” Tom said as he took a handkerchief from his pocket. “What if I told you this wasn’t a handkerchief but a hen that could lay eggs?”

  “I’d say your great brain is as scrambled as scrambled eggs,” I answered and laughed because I thought that was funny and so did Frankie.

  But not Tom- “All I’m asking you,” he said serious as he could be, “is if I could show you a trick like that and a few other magic tricks, how much would you pay to see a magic show?”

  “I’d gladly pay a dime to see a handkerchief lay an egg,” I said and laughed some more because I thought that was even funnier and so did Frankie.

  Tom put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “A dime,” he said.-“If I could get fifty kids’at ten cents each that would amount to five dollars. I’ll put my great brain to work on it right away and start rehearsing for my magic act.”

  For the next two days after school Tom took his book on magic and some things he wouldn’t let me see up to his loft in the barn. He said he had to rehearse his magic act.

  Thursday after school Tom said he needed a large wooden box to use as a table for his magic act. Frankie and I went with him to the Z.C.M.I, store taking along Frankie’s wagon. The full name of the store was Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institution. There were stores like this, which were owned by the Mormon church, in all Utah towns and cities. Tom asked Mr. Harmon if he could have one of the big wooden shipping boxes in back of the store. Mr. Harmon told Tom to help himself-Tom picked out a wooden box large enough to use as a

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  table. I helped him lift it on t6 Frankie’s wagon. Then Tom picked up a cardboard box and tossed it inside the wooden one. When we got to the barn we laid the box upside down after Tom had removed the cardboard carton. Tom sent me to the house to get Frankie’s set of crayons. By the time I returned he had cut two pieces of cardboard from the carton. He used them and a black crayon to make two signs which read:

  SEE ADENVILLE’S FIRST MAGIC SHOW SUNDAY 2:00 P.M. FITZGERALD BARN ADMISSION 10f1 SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR YOUR MONEY BACK.

  Tom got a hammer and some tacks from the tool shed. He tacked one of the signs near the door of our barn. Then we went to the post office where he tacked the other sign to a tree in front of the building.

  “What’s the idea?” I asked. “Every kid in town will know about the magic show without any signs.”

  “I got to thinking,” Tom said. “There are plenty of grownups who have never seen a magic show in Adenville. Maybe some of them will come too.”

  Papa always stopped at the post office to get the mail from our box before coming home for supper. He must have seen the sign because he stared at Tom with a suspicious look when he entered the parlor.

  “I saw the sign for your magic show,” he said. “Don’t tell me that you are backsliding and this is another of your great brain’s schemes to swindle people.”

  Tom looked as if Papa had accused him of robbing the bank. “How can it be a swindle when I guarantee satisfaction

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  or your money back?” he asked. “I know if I’d never seen a magic show that I’d gladly pay a dime to see one.”

  “A magic show, yes,” Papa said. “But magic acts are performed by professional magicians.”

  “I may not be a professional,” Tom said, “but with my great brain I can do some tricks as good as any professional. And if you don’t believe me come and see for yourself.”

  Then Tom told Papa about Murdock the Magician and the book on magic tricks he had bought. Papa was so relieved to find out that Tom wasn’t backsliding that he offered to help.

  “You will need seats for the audience,” he said. “I’ll get Mr, Hoffman at the lumber yard to lend us some planks we can lay on bales of hay.”

  “Thanks, Papa,” Tom said. “But I sure wish I had a high silk hat to use for one of my tricks.”

  “Your mother knows where my plug hat is,” Papa said. “Tell her I said you could use it.”

  Tom should have charged admission to the barn on Saturday morning. Papa and Uncle Mark came into the cor-ral with my uncle’s team and wagon. They had a load of planks loaned to them by Mr. Hoffman. About twenty kids kept getting in their way as they laid the planks on bales of hay, but they finally had six rows of seats for the audience. While they were doing this Tom and I put up a curtain in front of the box table. We used a piece of clothes line and an old sheet Mamma had given my brother.

  The next day Tom asked Mamma to serve Sunday din-ner an hour early to give him time to get ready for the magic show. We were all finished eating by one o’clock.

  “I’ve got to get my props ready now,” Tom said as he

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  stood up to excuse himself from the table.

  “Just a moment,” Mamma said. “When I got your father’s high silk hat out I noticed his evening cloak. During our honeymoon in Denver we saw a magician perform at a vaudeville show. He wore a full dress suit, a high silk hat, and an evening cloak. You’ll find the cloak and hat in my clothes closet.”

  “Thanks, Mamma,” Tom said.

  Frankie and I went with Tom into Mamma’s bedroom. He got the plug hat and the evening cloak that was black silk on the outside and lined with white silk on the inside. We went to the barn. Tom put the cloak and hat on the box table, Then he and I climbed up the rope ladder to his loft. He handed me a cigar box, an alarm clock, and a steel bar about two feet long and half an inch thick. He picked up a shoe box and then we climbed down the rope ladder.

  Tom opened the shoe box and removed a candleholder with a candle in it, a half-open box of kitchen matches, a steel ring about an inch in diameter, and a red bandanna handkerchief, which he laid out on the box table. He took the shoe box and went back up to his loft. When he returned I asked him what was in the shoe box.

  “You’ll find out during the show,” he said. “Now, J.D., I’m going to hire you to collect admissions, and remember no credit or promises. Keep the money in the cigar box.”

  “What am I supposed to do with the alarm clock?” I asked.

  “You will need it to know what time it is,” he answered. “I’ve got it all set. Don’t open the barn doors until a quarter to two. At one minute to two you close the bam doors and bring the cigar box and alarm clock backstage.”

  “Where is backstage?” I asked.

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  “Behind the curtain,” Tom said. “Then you step around in front of the curtain and say, ‘I am proud to present Adenville’s first magic show with that great conjurer, T.D. Fitzgerald.’ “

  “What’s a conjurer?” I asked.

  “Yeah, what?” Frankie said.

  “A magician,” Tom said as if disgusted.

  “Then why don’t I say magician?” I asked. “None of the kids will know what a conjurer is any more than I did.”

  “I can’t help that/’ Tom said. “Conjurer sounds more mysterious.”

  “What do I get for collecting admissions and introduc-ing you?” I asked because I wanted some guarantee before the show started.

  “I’
ll pay you twenty-five cents,” Tom answered.

  “What if nobody comes?” I asked. “Will I-still get the quarter?”

  “If you are low-down enough to take it,” Tom said. “Now get going.”

  I sure as heck didn’t have to be low-down to take the quarter. By one thirty I was regretting that I hadn’t driven a harder bargain. The show wasn’t due to start until two o’clock but there were already about twenty kids in the corral. And by the time I opened the bam doors and began collecting admissions just about every boy in town was there, along with five girls and six adults. Tom was going to make a fortune.

  Most of the customers had paid and were in the barn when I saw Papa, Mamma, Aunt Bertha, Aunt Cathie, and Uncle Mark come into the corral. Boy, oh, boy, what a spot that put me in. Should I charge our own family to see the show or let them in free? I knew if I let them in free what

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  Tom would say with his money-loving heart. He would say I should have charged them fifty cents. Then he would say that because I let them in free, instead of him owing me twenty-five cents, I owed him a quarter. Papa solved my problem by handing me fifty cents.

  I waited until one minute to two and then entered the barn and shut the door. I went “backstage” as Tom called it. He was peeking through a hole he had cut in the sheet curtain. He turned and looked at me the way a hungry horse would look at a manger full of oats.

  “We are playing to a full house,” he said grinning. “The seats are all filled and there are even some adults standing up. How do I look?”

  He had on Papa’s evening cloak and high silk hat, which was pressing down on his ears.

  “I don’t know if you look like a magician or not,” I said, “because I’ve never seen one.”

  Tom took the cigar box and alarm clock-from me and placed them behind the box table. “All right, J.D.,” he said, “make your announcement and then draw the curtain.”