*
On the outskirts of Washington, Jack and Ezra bid farewell to Lieutenant Jones and his men. Jones had to report to Fort Stevens and tell them of the loss of Harper’s Ferry.
It was near midnight when they finally made their way into the heart of the city. Only a few travelers and soldiers were out at this time of night. Jack felt tired. He wanted more than anything else to sleep in his own bed, get a bath and shave, but he knew that he should instead put an end to this case and return those papers. Perhaps Abbott would provide the final clue to their whereabouts.
They saw at the entrance that Abbott’s apartment building was dark. Tying the mounts at the post outside of the entrance, they found the front door unlocked. Jack pushed it open and found a fat clerk at the front desk, fast asleep. As Ezra shut the door, the fat man’s eyes fluttered open, and he seemed surprised to see these uninvited guests.
He said crankily, “I’m sorry, it’s late gentlemen. Now what can I do for you?”
“We wish to talk to Mister Abbot,” replied Jack. He could smell the odor of whiskey in the air.
“I’m afraid that is not possible.”
“Look, do you want to lose your job?”
“Whatever do you mean?” the clerk asked, his face blanching with fear.
Jack sniffed. “I know the smell of whiskey better than any man. This place reeks of it. Now we’re going up to see Abbott.”
The clerk stuttered, “It’s much too late for you to call on him. Please, it would be better to stop by in the morning.”
“This is too important to wait. Can I talk to his butler?”
“His butler is out for the night. He usually has evenings free so Mister Abbott can entertain his guests in his own, shall we say, privacy.” He smiled slyly at them.
They headed for the stairs.
The desk clerk called after them, “Gentlemen, if you continue, I shall have to have the police come and forcibly remove you.”
“That might be a good idea,” Jack called over his shoulder. “Ask for Henry Garrett to come personally.”
They climbed the stairs and found that the apartment door was closed and locked. Jack pounded on it with his fist and shouted, “Abbott, come and let us in! We know you’re in there.” There was no movement or sound from the apartment. He knocked furiously again. No response came.
Jack looked at his partner and shrugged. “Let’s go in and wake him up.” He stepped back and kicked the door hard with a heavy boot. The door made a cracking noise as it buckled. He leaned back and kicked it even harder. The frame splintered as it swung open, broken at the deadbolt. The inside of the apartment was dimly lit - the low light of two oil lamps in the living room cast dark shadows. Abbott was there - sitting on the sofa with his head slumped on his chest. He was dressed in a dark suit with the front of the jacket unbuttoned. A heavy black stain was spread across the front of his silk shirt. The windows were open and a small breeze lifted the curtains.
Jack went over and felt for a pulse. There was no heartbeat and the flesh had long turned cold with death. He frowned as he looked over the body. “He’s been dead for a while,” he said to Ezra without emotion.
“I’ll take a look around anyways and see if anyone is hiding,” Ezra said. He pulled out his Colt pistol and walked into the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
Jack stayed in the room and walked over to the oil lamps to turn the flame up higher. He then leaned over Abbott and started to examine him closely. Gunpowder burns had damaged the shirt, so it was obvious that someone had fired at point-blank range. Pulling the shirt open, he saw a small bullet entry wound that went right into the heart. The blood had stopped pumping quite a while ago and had congealed in a thick streak, running down the chest. Jack then pulled Abbot’s head back to find a lifeless expression. On the side table near the sofa there was a bottle of wine, half-empty, with a pair of drained tulip wine glasses nearby. The ash tray held a single cigar that had burned out, leaving a trail of ashes. Jack examined the wine glasses and they only had the slight smear of fingers and lip marks on the rim.
Ezra returned, shaking his head. “I didn’t find anyone, but the bed was turned for two for the night.”
“How do you know that?”
“There was some folded lingerie at the end of the bed. I don’t think Abbott would be wearing anything like that for himself unless he is stranger than we imagined.”
Jack gave a short sarcastic laugh. “He had a woman over, that is to be sure. With the lights down and the wine, he thought he had a nice little get-together.”
“How was he killed?” Ezra asked, taking a closer look at the wound for himself.
“By the looks of the wound, he was shot at close quarters with a small caliber bullet. There was a trace of burn marks on the shirt. Whoever killed him was sitting right next to him when they pulled the trigger. There is no sign of struggle, so he must have died right away.”
“One small shot from a small pistol in the middle of the night won’t wake most people,” Ezra said. He then looked thoughtful as he continued speaking. “If his advances towards said woman were too aggressive, she may have been protecting herself.”
“I thought of that too. She may have panicked,” Jack said. “But she was still smart enough to take his key and lock the front door.”
“If she did that, then it could have been planned from the start.”
“Or else she was buying herself some time before the body was discovered. She must have known that Abbott’s butler wouldn’t be returning until the morning.”
“How long ago do you think he died?”
“Three or four hours ago” Jack replied. “Whoever did it got out in a hurry but was careful enough not to arouse the suspicions of the night clerk. Speaking of the clerk, why don’t you go on down and have him send for the Watch if he hasn’t already. I’ll take a look through the other rooms for anything we might have missed. Those papers could have been hidden here.”
“If they were, I doubt you’ll find anything now,” Ezra said as he left.
He knew that his partner was right. Whoever killed Abbott had enough time to get whatever they wanted. If the remaining plans really had been here, then they would be long gone by now. He went to the first bedroom in the hallway. It was small and simply decorated, obviously the room used by Abbott’s butler. He skipped this bedroom and went to the last room.
This was a spacious bedroom, richly furnished. The bed was turned for the night, and a short and thin silk woman’s gown was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Jack picked it up and looked at it thoughtfully. He then searched through the drawers of the side tables, finding some trinkets and a few books. He rifled through these and didn’t find anything of interest hidden within the pages. The closet held several well-made suits, but nothing else worth investigating. He made it to the dresser, opened the drawers and examined the undergarments, socks, and shirts neatly folded within. There was simply nothing to be found in the bedroom. He started at the sound of someone entering the apartment.
When he entered the front room, he found Garrett examining the corpse. Ezra stood by the front door with a tired look on his face. Garrett nodded grimly at the detective, his searching eyes then returned to look over the evidence. He went through the same motions as Jack, studying the shirt and examining the wound.
“He’s dead alright,” the captain finally said. “Now what made you come back to see him?”
“It’s a long story,” Jack replied. “A very long story indeed.” He heard that his voice was now ragged with exhaustion.
“I’m not going anywhere right now,” Garrett replied sharply. “Let me hear it now.”
“Very well, if you want.” Jack then proceeded to tell him about Harper’s Ferry and their failure to retrieve all of the papers.
When the detective had finished, Garret said, “What do you mean, you only got some of the plans?”
r /> “When we encountered Stevenson at his house, he was showing off part of the plans to Edmonds. The rest were supposedly being held by Davis.”
Garrett sighed with exasperation. “Do you know where the rest of the papers are now?” he asked.
Jack and Ezra shared a quick look that Garrett did not see. Jack spoke before his partner could say anything. “Either Davis hid them away, or left them behind in someone’s care.”
Ezra said, “We were thinking Abbott here would be able to tell us.”
“What makes you think he would know anything about this?” Garrett asked. “He was being held in my jail when Davis was forced to flee Washington.”
“Ethan Davis was in a hurry to get out of town. He may have feared carrying the papers on him and being found with them. If he could have someone else hold them, he could then safely make the deal with the Secessionists and then have the papers delivered. It would have been safer than carrying the entire set of plans.”
“So Abbott held the papers for him?”
“Oh, I don’t think Abbott had the papers himself – but he knew who did. He knew Davis well enough and was part of his plans. If anyone knew who had them, it had to be him.”
“Well, Abbott is going to keep that secret to himself now,” Garrett said, looking sadly towards the corpse again. He then said, “Jack, I feel like Hell. I almost feel as bad as you look. Why don’t you two go on home for the night? I’ll have my men tear this place apart looking for clues.”
“I’ve already taken the liberty of looking through his bedroom. I didn’t find a thing.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything and we can talk it through in the morning.”
Jack nodded and walked out wearily with Ezra following him. His partner looked suspiciously at him as they made their way past the two City Watchmen that Garrett had brought with him. They went over to the horses. The black man grabbed Jack by the shoulder.
Ezra said angrily, “You know who did this, don’t you?”
“Maybe I do, Ezra. I’ll let you know.” Jack pulled himself away from his friend and then got on the back on his horse.
“Jack, you have to tell me.”
“Later.”
Ezra angrily shook his head as they started back home.