Page 81 of The Case of the Murdered Muckraker
“It just has a bunch of papers in it,” Judkins said to Alec. He patted his pocket. “I got his gun. Mrs. Fletcher, ma’am,this is the man you saw kill Otis Carmody?”
Closing her eyes, Daisy took her mind back to the lift lobby and her brief glimpse of a fleeing man’s face. When she opened her eyes, that face was in front of her, blinking back at her unseeingly.
“This is the man I saw running away in the Flatiron Building in New York City just after Carmody was killed,” she said with confident precision.
“And he told me he shot his cousin,” the pilot affirmed.
“Well, that about wraps it up,” Judkins said with a sigh of relief.
At that moment, Pitt focussed on Ernest Haycox, busy with pad and pencil. “You’re a writer?” he croaked, thrusting the suitcase at him. “Here. Take this. My book. You understand, don’cha? You’ll see it gets published?”
“Gosh,” said Daisy as the police led Pitt away, “I think maybe I don’t want to write a novel after all!”
EPILOGUE
Earl C. Simmons swept into the Hotel Osburn’s lobby with Bessie at his side. The day desk clerk opened his mouth—and closed it again. It wasn’t for him to question the actions of so notable a citizen. Daisy was not sure she approved of patronizing the place, but Bessie turned and winked at her.
With Alec, Dipper, and Jeffries, the post office pilot, Daisy followed Simmons and Bessie through to the restaurant. Jeffries was soon tucking into a vast plate of eggs, sausages, fried ham, hashed brown potatoes, and toast, while awaiting his order of hot cakes. The others contented themselves with coffee, except Daisy, who, after her early awakening decided it must be time for elevenses. The Danish pastries looked simply too scrumptious to resist.
Dipper, Bessie, and Simmons still had only the sketchiest notion of what had been going on. Alec told the story, with sticky interpolations from Daisy.
“So you see,” he finished, “I was a latecomer to the whole nasty business. Daisy was in it from the start, and I don’t suppose the murder or the piracy would ever havebeen cleared up if not for her insight and persistence.”
“Gosh, darling, I never thought I’d hear you say that!” Daisy exclaimed, startled. She explained to the others, “Alec generally tells me off for meddling when I get involved in his cases.”
“But this case was yours, honey,” said Bessie, “right from the get-go. A girl’s gotta fight for every scrap of credit she’s earned. Don’t you let anyone do you out of it.”
“She won’t,” said Alec, and everyone laughed.
Jeffries finished his last pancake and his fourth cup of coffee. “Oh boy,” he said, leaning back, “that was swell. Thank you, sir. I feel almost human again, fit to get the mail down to San Francisco.”
“What, today?” said Alec.
“‘Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,’” Daisy quoted.
“I guess they forgot to put piracy in that,” said Jeffries, “but I don’t reckon it excuses me for being any later than I can help. I’m off.” He yawned. “Hey, mebbe I better have another cup of coffee first.”
“Miss Coleman and I have a sort of plan,” said Dipper. “I’m going to fly her to New Mexico to join her friends. Apparently San Francisco is on the way. How would it be, old chap, if one of us flew your kite?”
“Now that’s a scheme!” Simmons applauded. “I’ll drive you over to the airfield.”
Jeffries obviously wasn’t keen on entrusting his precious mail to either a woman or a foreigner, but he was too tired to put up much of a fight.
“What about you, Arrow, Mrs. Fletcher?” Dipper asked. “Are you coming with us?”
Alec looked at Daisy. “Whatever you want, love.”
Daisy weighed the terror of flying through the mountains, the boredom, the noise and cold and constant vibration, against the thrill of her first flight and the stupendous scenery she had seen. What tipped the balance was the thought of climbing back into Jake’s trousers.
“No, thanks,” she said. “I’m glad to have done it, but if it’s all the same to you, darling, I’m going back by train.”