Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Eighty-Four
Thorny did not object when I
peeped through the half-open door and into the gearhouse. Inside was a maze of
machinery—an electric motor and several long hand-levers.
Thorny Davis listened intently
like an old fox who had picked up the distant baying of the pack.
“That’s her car
a-comin’ now,” he said. “I can tell by the sound of the engine. Well, I reckon
I might as well let ’er down.”
Thorny rose and knocked the ashes
from his corn-cob pipe. He opened the door of the gearhouse and stepped inside.
“May I see how you do it?” I
asked. “I always was interested in machinery.”
“The women will be runnin’
locomotives next,” Thorny complained. “All right, come on in.”
The old watchman pulled a lever
on the starting rheostat of the motor, which responded with a sudden jar and
then a low purr. It increased its speed as he pushed the lever all the way
over.
“Now the power’s on. The next
thing is to drop ’er.”
Thorny grasped one of the long
hand-levers and gently eased it forward. There was a grind of gears engaging,
and the bridge slowly crept down out of the sky.
I did not miss a single move. I
noted just which levers the watchman pulled and in what order. When the
platform of the bridge was on an even keel, I saw him cut off the motor and
throw all the levers back into their original positions.
“Think you could do ’er by
yourself now?” Thorny asked.
“Yes, I believe I could,” I said.
The old watchman smiled as he
stepped to the deck of the bridge.
“It ain’t so easy as it looks,”
he told me. “Well, here comes the Missuz now, and we’re all ready for her. Last
time she came along, I was weedin’ out my corn patch, and was she madder than a
wet hen.”
As the black limousine rolled up
to the drawbridge, I ducked behind the open door of the gearhouse so that Mrs.
Furstenberg would not recognize me. I needn’t have bothered with subterfuge,
for when I peeked around the door, I saw that the lady gazed neither to the
right nor the left. The car crept forward at a snail’s pace, causing the steel
structure to shiver and shake as if from an attack of ague.
“Dear me, I think this bridge is
positively dangerous,” Florence declared. “I shouldn’t like to drive over it
myself.”
As the old watchman again raised
the cantilevers, I studied his every move.
“For a woman, you’re sure mighty
interested in machinery,” he remarked.
“Oh, I may grow up to be a
bridgeman, some day,” I said, “that is if I don’t decide to drive a locomotive.
I notice you keep the gearhouse locked part of the time.”
“I have to lock it, or folks
would tamper with the machinery.”
The old man snapped a padlock on
the door.
“Now I’m goin’ to mosey down to
my garden and do a little hoein’,” he announced. “You ladies better run along.”
Thus dismissed, Florence started
away, but I made no move to leave.
“Thorny, are you any relation to
the Furstenberg’s head gardener?” I asked.
“Am I any relation to that old
walrus?” Thorny was indignant. “Am I any relation to him? Say, you tryin’
to insult me?”
“Not at all, but I saw the man
this morning, and I fancied I noticed a resemblance. Perhaps, you don’t know
the one I mean.”
“Sure, I know him all right.”
Thorny spat contemptuously. “New man. He acts as know-it-all and bossy as if he
owned the whole place.”
“Then you don’t like him?”
“There ain’t no one that has
anything to do with him. He’s so good he can’t live like the rest of the help.
Where do you think I seen him the other night?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.
Where?”
“He was at the Colonial Hotel, eatin’
in the main dining room!”
“The Colonial is quite an
expensive hotel in Sunnydale, isn’t it?”
“Best there is. They soak you two
bucks just to park your feet under one of their tables. Yep, if you ask me,
Mrs. Furstenberg better ask that gardener of hers a few questions!”
Having delivered himself of this
tirade, Thorny became calm again. He shifted his weight and said pointedly:
“Well, I got to tend my garden. You ladies better get along. Mrs. Furstenberg
don’t want nobody hangin’ around the bridge.”
We obligingly took leave of him
and walked away. When we were some distance away, I looked back over my
shoulder. I saw Thorny down on his hands and knees in front of the gearhouse.
He was slipping some object under the wide crack of the door.
“The key to the padlock!” I chuckled. “So that was why he wanted us to leave first. I’ll remember the hiding place, Flo, just in case we ever decide to use the drawbridge.”
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