The Pinkerton Files Five-Book Bundle by David Luchuk Page B

over.
    You just wanted to stomp on him. You couldn’t help it.
    â€œWhat’re you doing?” He asked.
    â€œWhat I been paid to do.”
    I leaned him against the wall. The least he could do was stand up.
    The two gangs recognized a common enemy. I would have had trouble getting the jump on any of them. Forget about all of them.
    The wall behind Bucholz shifted away from us. We stepped back with it. A row of panels folded up in the gap, cutting us off. The last board snapped into place and prison guards stepped into the breach, guns pointed at our heads.
    I dropped to my knees. The guard who met me on arrival pushed Bucholz down beside me. I could hear Saul and the others in the walls. They were trying to find us.
    â€œThis ain’t a rescue.” The guard said. “You take care of your own trouble in here. I don’t like wild cards, though, mister. Why’d you step in for this man?”
    Any concern I had for the integrity of Robert’s investigation went out the window the second I laid eyes on Saul. All bets were off.
    â€œI’m a detective.” I said. “The Pinkerton Agency sent me to find out if this fellow is guilty of killing an old man in New York.”
    â€œThey put you in here for that?”
    â€œBelieve me, I’m going to throttle the boy who got me into this.” I said.
    Bucholz eyed me. I didn’t like it so I clutched his collar in one hand and yanked his head down. None of the guards got involved. They moved back, ready to leave.
    â€œYou’re going to give me what I need, Bucholz.” I said. “Or you’ll die before me, I swear.”
    The walls slid away. The guards were gone. Bucholz and I were alone.
    *   *   *
    Robert Pinkerton
    June, 1861
    The investigation was on track. Stark was at Ryker’s Island. Ray and I picked up the clues police left behind at Norwalk.
    I first had the idea during my trial. One of a detective’s great challenges is to convince informants to speak the truth. Why not record them among their peers?
    Norwalk police reported that William Bucholz first met Henry Schulte at Emerald Tap House. By New York City standards it was timid. For a small town, it was a bad place.
    Schulte had been a regular at the Emerald. The only person who ever looked for him there was the farmer Waring. That is, until William Bucholz came along.
    Bucholz was a hoodlum. His life was going nowhere in New York. Who could blame him for seeking out something different at Norwalk?
    After being hired by Schulte, the Emerald became a favorite of his as well. Bucholz was seen there with Sadie Waring. The last dinner he ate before being arrested was at the Emerald.
    I was sure the liars and gamblers at the Emerald knew more about the murder than they told police. It was the perfect place to test the audio equipment I saw reporters use during my trial. Patrons would tell us everything they knew and not even realize they were doing it.
    Ray was skeptical. I tried to calm his nerves by explaining how it would work.
    People are not allowed to chew tobacco in New York taverns. Men can play cards and get drunk but not chew tobacco. It has something to do with public health.
    To get around the law, taverns provide spittoons in the men’s toilet. Health inspectors never catch anyone spitting at their table. Taverns keep the heavy drinkers happy.
    â€œYou want to listen to the toilets?” Ray said.
    â€œPrecisely. I will be at a table. Regulars will notice me. They’ll talk.” I said. “I will ask about Bucholz and Schulte. Someone will mention the murder. When that happens, it will be in the toilet, and you will be listening.”
    The trick to making it work was hiding the equipment. Toilets were social places. That suited our purpose but didn’t give us much time to mount receivers at the spittoon. I was reluctant to suggest the obvious to Ray. In the end, I just came out and said it.
    â€œGiven