Shooting For Justice G. Tilman (short books to read .txt) 📖

As you have always maintained, he does not appear to use a horse or mule. There would have been some sign of dung, chewed grass or tracks. But there was nothing indicating a horse. When I was riding out, I watched both the road and the surrounding land for some sign of one man walking or hiding. Nothing. Not a thing at all. I believe he walked towards woods.

“He will probably lay low for a few days. I sure would like to know how hard he was hit and where,” Sarah said.

“I would also. Changing back to the handkerchief, those tags are more indicative of a San Francisco Chinese laundry. Ones in Sausalito, Oakland, or other towns or cities on either side of the Bay are different, though I don’t understand why. Your evidence, Sarah, will solve this seven-year case. I know it will,” Harry Morse said.

Though they were late getting back to the office, Hume insisted they lay out a search grid on a San Francisco city map in his office. The grid would be for ten searchers. Morse offered additional of his men to add to Hume’s. Hume would stay in the office and coordinate and Morse would be the senior person in the field for the search. Sarah would accompany Morse.

By ten o’clock, they had concluded their plan and Hume had the night manager flag a hansom cab to take Sarah to a hotel. She checked in for several days, suspecting she would have to extend her stay beyond her reservation.

She slid a small wooden wedge under the door to keep someone with a passkey from entering. Sarah placed her short shotgun beside the bed and stripped. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

In Marin County, Pope proudly received her message from Millie as the two men sat down for dinner.

“Sounds like Missy did everything right,” Israel commented. Pope nodded, wondering if he should take a day and go to San Francisco.

“I wouldn’t, it’s her play,” Israel preempted Pope’s question. “She was a Pinkerton detective going undercover and arresting people before you met her. She will be with Harry and with Hume. Don’t worry. She’s a big girl.”

“She wasn’t a wife then, Grandpa.”

“Being a wife didn’t make her lose her edge, honey,” Millie quickly said.

Pope nodded and his thoughts drifted. He wondered how quickly he would solve whatever was going on over on the beach. He would go over there first thing in the morning.

“Another great meal, Millie! Scout and I are going to check the horses. Y’all have a good night,” he said to Israel and Millie.

The sheriff and his dog walked outside. The night was cool. He checked on his grandfather’s four horses and mule as well as Caesar and Kate.

He built a small fire in his cabin fireplace, let it burn a while as he stared into it.

Eventually, Pope banked the fire for the night and climbed into a cold bed. He still watched the glowing embers until he drifted off to sleep. The place was really starting to feel like home. The only thing missing was a raven-haired beauty.

The next day, he checked in at the office and rode out towards the beach to see what may be going on. As he approached, he saw a bald eagle. His spirit animal. It soared high. He heard its call. Pope took it as a good omen.

He arrived at the beach and saw it was deserted. Knowing no pick up team would approach with him there, he and his horse and dog slipped into the woods and waited.

After an hour, he rode out and went back to the office. He checked the reports for yesterday and last night. The deputy on day patrol checked the beach and did not have any sightings either. Pope wondered how frequently drugs would be delivered by ship. He assumed the largest market and probable end point would be San Francisco.

“Why not bring them directly into port?” he wondered. The port security was not extremely tight. Or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he was with the San Francisco Police Department.

He telegraphed his old boss, now Detective Lieutenant Howell.

“Ships dropping off contraband on Marin coast. Using small boats to bring in to deserted beach. Heroin? Ideas? Sheriff John Pope, Marin County.”

Howell did not reply until late in the day.

“Sheriff? When did you leave WF? Supplies of heroin and hashish are way up here.”

Pope grinned. Howell was a good man. He fully believed he taught Pope everything he knew about being a detective. More was about how to wrap up cases solved or not and how to make money off the job. The latter, at least, did not involve being on the take.

Not conclusive, but supportive, Pope thought.

Sarah completed her first day of interviewing laundries. Mostly Chinese. Many did not speak English, or at least not very well.

Hume had a photograph made of evidence laundry tag FXO7 Sarah had found. He had copies printed of it and distributed to his detectives on the case and those of Harry Morse.

Even in situations where the laundry owners Morse and Sarah were interviewing did not speak English, they communicated effectively by shaking their heads when shown the facsimile of the tag.

Hume maintained a master sheet on the laundries interviewed.

On the fourth day, Morse and Sarah hit pay dirt. It was the total teams’ three hundred fifty-seventh laundry interviewed.

They got a nod instead of a shake of the head.

While Sarah waited, Morse found the only Chinese detective he employed. A man he considered his best detective.

Morse hoped the laundry owner spoke Mandarin like Detective Lee.

They quickly found out the two were able to communicate, though not easily. Their dialects were different.

Lee turned to Morse and said, “This tag is one for a Charles Bolton. He lives at a hotel where Mr. Wong delivers his laundry. He does not know the name but will take you there.”

“Tell him it will be worth his time.”

Lee told the