Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan by Bill Doyle Page B

open. “You have thirty seconds, and then I’m going to
     tie you up again.” It was clear that he meant what he said.

    I spoke quickly. “All right. I know it sounds crazy, but here’s what I think. Someone is smuggling counterfeit money to San
     Francisco. The money is in the baggage car.”
    “Balloon juice,” he said. “How do you know that?”
    “Because at least two of the three people who were poisoned had gone into the baggage car.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Both Judge and Asyla were in the baggage car at some point. Don’t you see? The dye used to make phony money contains cyanide.
     The money must have been printed recently, and some bills were still wet. I think Agent Howard was investigating the counterfeit
     money. That’s what the Secret Service does. I’ll bet he touched the wet bills, and his skin absorbed the cyanide dye.”
    “So you’re saying he accidentally poisoned himself?” William Henry nodded, thinking it over. “But what about Asyla Notabe
     and Miss Pinkerton?”
    “Simple,” I replied. “Asyla played in the baggage car and must have snooped in a bag holding the money. Judge must have discovered
     the bills when she was hiding there from the train officials. Everyone who comes in contact with large quantities of the fake
     money is poisoned. We have to hurry. Once we pull into San Francisco, the suspects will leave the train. They’ll be gone–”

    “What suspects?” William Henry interrupted me. “If the poisonings were accidental as you say… then there are no suspects.”
    “Of course there are!” I cried. “You’re forgetting about the counterfeit money. Someone is smuggling it on board this train.
     And if we don’t get to the baggage car before we reach San Francisco, we’ll never catch the criminal. You have to make a decision
     now, William Henry. There’s no time!”
    William Henry gazed down at the watch in his hands. Doubt clouded his features as if he were asking himself, What if this
     timepiece doesn’t have all the answers?

    After a moment, he snapped the watch closed and tucked it into his pocket.
    He nodded at me and said with a lopsided grin, “Well, whoever you are, what are we waiting for? Let’s get to the baggage car!”

April 18, 1906
    5:00 AM
    If someone reads this journal in the future, they’ll discover a guide on what to do if he or she is riding on a train full of poisoned passengers and counterfeit
     money. But as William Henry and I raced toward the baggage car, no such guide existed–and I realized that even with all my
     training, nothing could truly prepare me for this unique and dangerous situation.
    “Wait,” I whispered, and William Henry stopped just as he was about to open the door to the baggage car. “We can’t just barge
     in there. We don’t know who or what we’ll find inside.”
    “So what do we do?” William Henry asked.
    At that instant the train began to shriek in an eardrum-bursting way. It was braking. We were pulling into the station in
     San Francisco. We were almost out of time!
    “What should we do?” I wondered out loud.
    “Either we go in now or we’ll be too late,” a voice said from behind us.
    Startled, I turned around to discover–
    “Judge!” I cried–instantly glad the sound of the brakes covered my shout. I threw my arms around her.

    I had missed my friend more than I realized. We hugged tightly. Then questions flew from my mouth. “Are you all right? What
     are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
    She laughed at my excitement “You’re here, so I guess William Henry gave you my message.”
    “You’re an amazing detective, Judge. That dollar bill you gave him led us here.” I then took a good look at her She was very
     pale, but her lips had lost their frightening bright red color.
    Before I could ask any more questions, she said, “Not to worry, Fitz. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train, but I’ll
     be okay. When I woke up, Dr. Freud was