Chapter-ette Four: An Unlikely Alliance
I came to propped up against the alley wall between two garbage cans, moonlighting as smelling salt. I must not have been out for long, because I didn’t remember dreaming. As my vision cleared the first thing I saw was a giant of a man sulking over me, arms crossed over his chest.
Shouting over his shoulder, Cadwell said, “He’s awake!”
“Oh, good,” Miss Marple came into blurry view. She looked up at Cadwell and prodded him in the ribs.
“I’m sorry for putting you in a chokehold,” Cadwell said with an eyeroll.
“Before he became a mentalist, Steven here was a professional wrestler, if you can believe it,” Miss Marple said.
“Yes,” I moaned, “I can believe it.”
“He was what they call a ‘heel’ in the wrestling game,” Miss Marple said with more than a hint of awe in her voice.
“I wrestled under the name ‘Evil Steve Cadwell.’ My fans called me ‘Stevil.’”
“Isn’t that simply marvelous, Mr. Spade? I can’t wait to tell the Women’s Institute back in St. Mary Mead. They are going to be so jealous of my American adventure.”
“Before we jump back across the pond,” I said, “can we back track to this San Francisco alley and explain how we all seem to have become chums while I was unconscious?”
“Oh, quite right,” Marple said. “Steven, would you please help Mr. Spade to his feet.”
I put out a hand and Cadwell swung me onto my feet with no effort. He may not have liked that matronly Miss Marple forced him to apologise to me, but he was nice enough to hold onto my hand until I was steady on my feet and my vision cleared.
“By the time I got into the alley here, Steven had you in the chokehold . . .”
“So, you missed the body slam?” I asked sarcastically.
“Oh, no! That was the best part.”
“It was my finishing move. The fans loved it,” Cadwell beamed.
“I’m glad someone enjoyed it,” I muttered under my breath, but more loudly said, “And then what happened?”
“Oh, yes,” Marple stared off into space, as if replaying the events in her mind, “I called for Steven to unhand you and I explained the situation to him. So he stopped. Now we’re going to help him get the dowry back and return to New York to marry Siobhan.”
“What did you explain to him that made him change his mind?”
“I’m afraid that is a family matter and not within the purview of the job I hired you . . .”
“Siobhan’s pregnant and Steven has decided to do the honourable thing,” I guessed.
“I was already doing the honourable thing,” Cadwell snapped. “An old . . . business associate . . . stole the dowry from me and I followed him to San Francisco to get it back. I couldn’t marry Siobhan if I couldn’t provide for her.”
“A more detailed letter,” Miss Marple chastised the man twice her size, “explaining all that would have been helpful, Steven.”
“Yes, Jane,” Cadwell said looking down at his pin-striped spats. “I didn’t want to tell her that I lost the money before I got it back. But I’ll apologize to Siobhan as soon as we get back to New York with the money.”
“So,” I said. “Is that it? Is the case closed? The job done?”
Miss Marple suddenly joined Cadwell in inspecting the alley pavement.
“We could use your help with actually getting the money back,” Cadwell said. “I know who has it and where he is. But . . .”
“But what?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“The treasure is at a dude-ranch, Mr. Spade,” Miss Marple said, clapping her hands together in glee. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“Not really, no,” I said. “Now what aren’t you telling me?”
“My . . . former associate . . . isn’t likely to just give me my . . .”
“Siobhan’s,” Marple interjected.
“ . . . Siobhan’s money back,” Cadwell finished meekly.
“So where do we find him and what kind of resistance are we expecting?”
“’We,’” Miss Marple clapped her hands again.
“He’s an old wrestling friend of mine who goes by ‘The Apache’ and he’s currently working at the OK Corral & Dude Ranch as one of the Indians in their stagecoach robbery act.”
“Don’t tell me,” I muttered, “the fans love it.”
“He’s quite convincing in the feathered headdress,” Cadwell offered.
“Apaches don’t wear feathered headdresses,” Miss Marple informed.
I put a hand on her shoulder to head this conversation off at the pass.
“What makes you think your old pal,” I asked turning to face Cadwell, “the one who robbed you in the first place, still has the money and will hand it over when we see him?”
“Jane,” Cadwell said, looking between the two of us, “can be very convincing. And with your help as . . .”
“Muscle?” I accused.
“. . . back-up, I’m sure he’ll relent and give back whatever he has left of the dowry.”
“Just a moment, big fella,” I said, patting him on the chest to indicate that he should stay put for a moment. I took Miss Marple gently by the elbow and led her down the alley, just out of the giant’s ear shot. “This feels like a set up.”
“If Steven wanted to do us harm,” Marple explained, “he had the chance while you were unconscious and I was essentially alone with him in a dark alley . . . on the wrong side of the tracks.”
“You’ve been waiting to use that phrase since we got here, haven’t you?” Marple didn’t say anything in response to my question, but the twinkle in her eye was confirmation enough.
“Fine,” I relented, “but I’d like a little insurance, in case Cadwell is planning to double cross us.”
“Then we’re in agreement, Mr. Spade. Shall we?” Miss Marple clapped her hands and walked back to Cadwell, leaving me to follow her into the lion’s den.
“First,” I said, “we’re taking that taxi that’s been waiting for us . . . at Miss Marple’s expense . . . back to my apartment, so we can get my car and all drive out to the dude ranch together.”