A Piece Of My Heart Is In Heaven
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The next morning, I woke up in a bed that was not mine. The room had the same white walls and dark wood furniture as my bedroom at home but it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold. Empty. And lonely.
I looked around for something to occupy me so I wouldn’t have time to think about what happened last night. Instead of finding anything useful, I found myself staring out the window at the horses grazing on the grass outside.
They were beautiful animals with long necks and soft brown coats. A few times I caught one looking back at me through the glass. Maybe they could see how sad I was inside or maybe they just wanted some food too.
“You’re going to be okay,” I told them aloud. “And you’ll get your chance.”
But if there’s a God, why did he let this happen? Why couldn’t we have been born somewhere else where no one would ever know our secret? Somewhere safe. Where we’d never hurt anyone again.
My heart ached. I knew I shouldn’t blame God because He wasn’t responsible for any of this, but sometimes I wondered whether He even cared. Did He really care about us? Or did He only care about His own people? If that was true, then I guess I was still an outsider. But I hoped that someday I’d find Him and ask him to forgive me. To show me the way to heaven.
After breakfast, I rode back to town with Johnnie. We stopped by his house first. There was a new woman living there now. She was a tall redhead with freckles across her nose. Her hair hung down over her shoulders. She wore a dress that matched mine except hers was green.
Johnnie introduced me to her. “This is my sister, Lizzie.”
She smiled at me and nodded. Then she turned away from us to look out the front door window. She seemed nervous. Not sure what to say.
We left Johnnie’s house and headed toward the train station. Along the way, I noticed that most of the men who worked in town had shaved their beards off. Only a handful remained with full beards.
When we got to the station, I saw a familiar face waiting for me. Mr. Meeks. He stood alone near the ticket counter. When he spotted me, he walked toward me and held out his hand. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”
I shook his hand. “Thank you for letting me stay here while I waited for the train.”
He nodded. “It was the least I could do after you saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mr. Meeks took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “Here are the instructions for getting into the bank vault.”
I unfolded the paper and read the directions. “That should make things easier.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as I finished reading, I hurried out of the station before anyone else could come along and talk to me. I didn’t want to explain why I needed to go to the bank. That might lead to questions I couldn’t answer. So instead, I went straight to the bank.
Inside, I followed the signs to the vault. I opened the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, but it smelled musty and damp. After turning on the light switch, I closed the door behind me and locked it.
“I hope you don’t mind if I take a nap,” I said to myself. “It will be hard work digging through all these boxes.”
There were three rows of metal shelves lining the walls. Each shelf was filled with wooden crates. Some of the crates were stacked high enough that I had to climb up onto the bottom ones to reach the top ones. Others were packed so tightly together that I couldn’t fit between them.
I started at the far end of the room and moved slowly down the aisle. First I sorted through the crates and checked the contents. Most of the boxes contained clothing or shoes. But once I reached the middle of the room, I came across a box that had a stack of papers inside.
I pulled the lid off the crate and peered inside. All I could see were a bunch of old newspapers. I picked up the first one and began to read. It was dated November 1876. I flipped through several more until I found another date. October 20, 1877.
I kept flipping through the pages. They were all newspaper clippings about the massacre. One article mentioned that two women survived. Another one talked about how the sheriff was killed. And yet another article said that five men died.
The last clipping was about the trial. I read the headline: “Trial of Five Men Ends in Acquittal.”
Why would they acquit the men? How could they just let them walk free? What kind of justice was that?
I sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. I wanted to cry. I felt like such a fool. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner? I should have known that someone would cover up the truth.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps outside the vault. I glanced out the small window to see who was coming.
It was Sheriff Tomlinson. He carried a lantern in his hands.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked.
“I’m looking for something.”
“Looking for what?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when I find it.”
Sheriff Tomlinson looked around the vault. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“No, not really.”
He stared at me. “Then why are you still here?”
“I need to get some sleep.”
He laughed. “You’re going to spend the night in here?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, I guess that means I won’t be able to use the office tonight. You can have it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Sheriff Tomlinson walked over to the door and unlocked it. “But there’s only one bed.”
“That’s okay. We’re both used to sleeping on the ground anyway.”
“You know, I’ve never seen a woman in here before.”
“Neither have I.”
“Are you married?”
“No, I’m not.”
Sheriff Tomlinson chuckled. “If you ever decide to settle down, give me a call.”
“I will.”
After the sheriff left, I returned to the newspaper clippings. I read them again. Nothing seemed to match the description of the killer. The man had been described as having a long nose and a large mouth. His hair was brown and curly. He wore a black hat.
And now that I knew the killer was wearing a black hat, I could spot him easily. If I saw a man walking down the street, I’d look for a black hat.
I spent the next hour searching through the boxes, but I couldn’t find any other articles about the massacre. By the time I finished my search, it was almost midnight. I put everything back where I found it and locked the vault. Then I went upstairs and took a bath.
When I got out of the tub, I dressed quickly and headed downstairs. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I smelled coffee brewing.
“Good morning,” I said to Mrs. O’Leary.
She turned and smiled. “Morning, miss. Did you sleep well?”
“Very much so.”
Mrs. O’Leary poured me a cup of coffee. “How did you sleep?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“Would you like some eggs?”
“Yes, please.”
While I ate breakfast, Mrs. O’Leary told me that her husband had gone out to do some business. She then asked me if I needed help packing.
“Not right now. Thank you.”
I thanked Mrs. O’Leary and left the house. After I climbed into my car, I drove toward the bank. It was located in an old brick building. There was a sign hanging above the door that said: “First National Bank.”
As I approached the front entrance, I noticed that the windows were boarded up. A couple of men were standing outside talking. When they saw me, they stopped their conversation.
They looked at each other and shrugged. Neither of them spoke.
I parked the car and walked over to the men. “Excuse me. Are you with the bank?”
One of the men stepped forward. “We are.”
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”
“Sure.”
I followed the men inside the bank. The interior was dark and gloomy. The walls were covered in dust. The air was stale. The only light came from a single lamp on the desk.
“What can we do for you?” asked the first man.
“I need to talk to Mr. Smith.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mr. James Smith. He works here.”
The man stared at me for several seconds. “Do you know how to contact him?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, well, then you’ll just have to wait until he gets here.”
“Wait here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what you’re going to do.”
“For how long?”
“Until you learn your place.”
“My place is in the city. Not here.”
“That’s too bad because that’s exactly where you’re going to stay.”
I glanced around the room. “Where’s the nearest train station?”
“Over there.”
“Thank you.”
I walked out of the bank and across the street. I pulled out my notebook. I wrote down the names of all the banks in town. Then I searched for railroad stations. I found three within walking distance.
I decided to visit the one closest to the bank. I walked over and knocked on the door. An older man answered.
“Hello.”
“Is this the train station?”
“It is.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.”
I stepped inside and sat down. “I’m looking for someone who might be able to tell me something about the bank robbery.”
“Robbery? What happened?”
“A few days ago, a man robbed the First National Bank.”
“Wasn’t that the bank that burned down last week?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Did the robber get away with anything?”
“He didn’t take any money.”
“Then why would anyone rob such a small bank?”
“Someone must’ve wanted to make sure no one else tried to rob it.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“You don’t think the robbers were after the money, do you?”
“No, not really.”
“But maybe they were trying to scare people off from robbing the bank.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s the name of the bank?”
“First National.”
“And the address?”
“Right here.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
I walked back to the car and drove to the second bank. This time I went directly to the manager’s office. I introduced myself and explained that I was doing research on the bank robbery.
“What’s that got to do with us?” asked the manager.
“I was wondering if you could tell me more about the incident. Who was involved? Where did the fire start?”
“I can answer most of those questions,” replied the man.
“I’d appreciate it if you could.”
“All right.”
“Please sit down.”
I took a seat while the man leaned over his desk and picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited. After a short conversation, he hung up. “Come into my office.”
When I entered the room, the manager motioned for me to sit down. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“Could you help me find a man named Jack?”
“Jack?”
“Yes, Jack. That’s what I called him.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what he told me to call him.”
“How do you know this person?”
“I met him when I worked as a detective for the Chicago Police Department.”
“So you’re a private eye now?”
“Not quite. I’m still working for the police department, but I’m also doing some work for myself.”
“Why are you asking about Jack?”
“I’m trying to locate him so I can pay him a debt.”
“Debt?”
“Yes. It’s nothing important. Just a small amount.”
“I see.”
“I thought you might be able to help.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Thank you anyway.”
The manager shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
“Thanks again.”
I left the bank and returned to the car. The third bank wasn’t far away. I parked the car and walked inside.
“Can I help you?” asked a young woman behind the counter.
“I’m looking for someone who might be able to tell me something about the bank robbery.”
“Robbery? What happened?”
“A few days ago, a man robbed the First National Bank.”
“Wasn’t that the bank that burned down last week?”
“That’s right.”
“Wasn’t there another bank robbery a few years ago?”
“There was.”
“Where?”
“In New York.”
“New York? How did the robber get away?”
“By jumping from a bridge.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you have any idea where the robber might be?”
“I doubt it. You’d probably better talk to the bank president.”
“Would you mind telling me how I can reach him?”
“Just walk through that door and turn right.”
“Thank you.”
I walked to the rear of the bank and turned right. A hallway led to a large room. In the center of the room was a long table surrounded by chairs. On the other side of the room was a smaller table with four men sitting at it. They all looked up as I approached.
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for the bank president.”
“Who is it?” one of the men asked.
“It’s Mr. Jones.”
“Mr. Jones? Is that your real name or do you just use it for business purposes?”
“My name is John Jones.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter because I don’t know you.”
“I assure you—”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”
“Then why would you want to speak with me?”
“Because I’m trying to find a man named Jack.”
“What’s that got to do with us?”
“He’s a friend of mine.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“If you’re really his friend, then maybe you should tell him to stop robbing banks.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Good.”
“I hope you find him soon.”
“Me too.”
“You can leave now.”
I walked out of the bank and back to the car. I had no luck finding Jack. But I didn’t give up. I drove around town until I found the next bank. When I walked in, I saw a man talking to the manager. “Excuse me,” I said.
“Did you need something?”
“No. I was just wondering if you knew anything about the bank robbery.”
“We’ve already talked to the police. We were here when it happened.”
“But you weren’t robbed.”
“Of course we were. There was a fire.”
“I see.”
“Do you know this man?”
“Yes, he works for us.”
“And what does he do?”
“He helps us keep our books.”
“Does he look like a criminal?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I guess that’s good enough for me.”
“Wait! Wait!”
“What?”
“I think you misunderstood me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I meant that I don’t know if he looks like a criminal. That’s not the point I was trying to make.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please forgive me.”
“I will.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Have you ever seen the robber?”
“No, sir. He’s never been here before.”
“How long has he worked for you?”
“About two months.”
“Has he done anything strange while working for you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Maybe he’s hiding somewhere nearby.”
“I doubt it. If he was hiding anywhere close to here, we’d have heard about it.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I am.”
“Thanks again.”
As I walked toward my car, I thought about how easy it was to lie to people. It wasn’t hard at all. The only thing that made lying difficult was the fact that most of the time you could tell when someone was lying. Most of the time, anyway.
The End