Free Summer of Pearls by Mike Blakely Page B

didn’t explode. Who do you suppose might have loaded the lever down?”
    â€œYou’d have to ask the engineer.”
    â€œI have a Mr. Judd Kelso listed as the engineer.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAny idea where I might find him?”
    â€œRight now,” Billy said, “he’s probably over at old Esau’s saloon.”
    Lagarde’s eyes widened. “He’s still here? He hasn’t left town?”
    â€œNo. I hear he’s got family around here.”
    â€œHave you noticed him spending money freely, making any large purchases?”
    Billy Treat glanced at me. “He’s been flashing a big roll of bills.”
    â€œThat’s right,” I said. “I’ve seen it.”
    Cecil stepped up. “Me, too. That big around.” He made a circle with his fingers.
    Joshua Lagarde mopped his face and smiled. “Where is this saloon?”

    â€œA couple of miles from town,” Billy said. “I’ll walk over there with you, if you’d like.”
    â€œWhy not drive?” Pop said, turning suddenly and stepping up to the men. “I was thinking about taking a buggy over there and having a little drink this afternoon anyway.” He nudged Lagarde.
    The insurance man smiled and licked his lips.
    I don’t know how my pop did it, but he could tell you half a man’s life just by looking at him. That’s what made him such a good newspaper man. He had Joshua Lagarde pegged as a drinker the instant he saw him. Pop wasn’t normally a drinker himself, but he’d swallow a few to get in on a good story.
    â€œBen, you and your friends go hitch the buggy,” he said, even before Lagarde accepted his offer.
    Well, we didn’t own a buggy, but I just sang out “Yessir” and ran to Cecil’s daddy’s livery stable with Cecil and Adam, and we led a horse and buggy back down to the wharf. My pop often used us boys as his special agents to run errands and ferret out good newspaper stories, and we loved it.
    â€œWhat kind of business are you in, Mr. Crowell?” asked Lagarde as he and Pop and Billy Treat got into the buggy.
    â€œI own a print shop,” Pop said, never mentioning the newspaper. It was true. He did a lot of printing on the side.
    Us boys didn’t get to ride to the saloon with the men, but I found out later what happened. I asked Pop about it, and read his report when it came out in the paper. Years later, I came across the notes he had made after the meeting at the saloon. He had amazing recall for details and could repeat a conversation almost to the word after the fact. In his Port Caddo Steam Whistle article, he didn’t use much of the conversation that took place at Esau’s saloon, because it didn’t prove anything conclusively, and Pop didn’t print rumor or speculation. But his notes say the meeting went like this:

    Lagarde: Mr. Kelso, were you the engineer on the Glory of Caddo Lake the morning she blew up?
    Kelso: I damn sure was.

    Lagarde: Were you on the boat when she blew?
    Kelso: Of course.
    Lagarde: Mr. Treat says you were in the yawl.
    Kelso: Well, I was, but I was right beside the boat. I was going to have my apprentice tow me behind the boat so I could listen to a thumping sound I heard in the paddle wheel and try to figure out what was making it. (Kelso very indignant toward Treat.)
    Lagarde: Why wasn’t anyone in the engine room when the captain gave the signal to steam ahead?
    Kelso: I told my apprentice to let the yawl down and get back into the engine room. He was slow, I guess.
    Lagarde: Where is your apprentice now?
    Kelso: I don’t know. He went off looking for work.
    Treat: He rode the Sarah Stevens down to New Orleans to find a job. His name is Reggie Swearengen. (Kelso glowering at Treat. Lagarde writing notes.)
    Lagarde: Mr. Kelso, in your opinion, what caused the boilers to explode on the Glory of Caddo Lake?
    Kelso: They were