An “Adonis
Copyright © 2004 All rights
reserved
Adonis and
Flurrie rented the Presidential Suite in the Platte Hotel as soon as they
arrived in Omaha,
Flurrie
slowly dressed in a beige linen suit and white shirt with a dark brown tie, and
then gazed out of their second story suite window. The late Wednesday afternoon street scene was
a complete deluge of men scurrying about on foot, on horse and mule back, or
carefully steering their wagons over the rutted dirt road in the downtown
sector of town.
"Incredible! There is a
veritable sea of men out there! Most
here to work on or supply the Transcontinental Railroad, I assume."
Adonis
spoke from his tub. "And we are
here to obtain our fair share of the venture," he chuckled. "In a manner of speaking."
Flurrie
took up his sketchpad and began drawing the busy street scene. Adonis dressed in a white linen suit, but
unlike Flurrie he left his shirt collar unbuttoned about a third of the way
down his tan chest.
They
repaired to the first floor dining room.
Adonis handed the waiter a five-dollar advance tip and they ordered
steaks, coffee and apple pie. The very
last item on the menu was conversation with the waiter regarding the upper
crust of local society. The waiter,
somewhat rushed, but very appreciative of the tip gave them the name of a local
town carriage driver and guide, Ol' Johnny, usually parked in front of the
hotel.
After
finishing their hearty fare, and glancing around at the local illuminati also
having dinner, they exited the hotel hoping to find the carriage driver, but
curiously enough he found them.
"Gentlemen!" A squat,
deeply tan skinned, aged man of at least sixty years moved towards them. "I'm Ol' Johnny. Freddy the waiter said you need a driver. I have my carriage parked behind the
hotel. It's too dusty out front here at
this time of the day."
Adonis and
Flurrie quickly passed judgment on the elderly man. He was neatly attired in a clean white shirt
and tan trousers, which were partially tucked into a pair of black polished
leather boots. He wore a black derby
with a long prairie chicken feather dancing from its satin hat ribbon, and
all-and-all appeared to be decidedly uncomfortable in the outfit. His eyes were two tired brown orbs appearing
as if they were going to close at any second.
"Ol’
Johnny, we are railroad stock and bond salesmen," Adonis explained. "I am Adonis
The driver
snatched the twenty-dollar bill from Adonis fingers and quickly tucked it into
his shirt pocket. "I know quite a
bit," he grinned. "I've taken
many a drunken big wig home after a night on the town. Many of them from Maize's Rooming House. She has six of her nieces living there."
Adonis and
Flurrie smirked at one another.
"Good man! Tell us every
dirty fact you know," Adonis ordered.
"And I will give you two more of those twenty dollar bills."
Within the
next two hours Adonis and Flurrie knew more about the ins and outs of
Back at
the facade of the Hotel Platte, Adonis and Flurrie alit from the carriage very
satisfied with their newfound driver and informant. Adonis asked, "Ol’ Johnny, can we
arrange to have you work exclusively
for us for as long as we are in
Ol' Johnny
gazed at them in disbelief, not believing his great luck. "Certainly! I own the carriage and Big Jimmy
there." He pointed to his well
groomed, but aging stallion. "I
rent the carriage house behind the hotel.
I also live there. Just come and
get me anytime." He then paused
glancing up at Adonis with a hint of doubt in his tired eyes. "I'll have to charge you one hundred
dollars per week for twenty-four hour service, and that's seven days per
week."
Adonis
agreed with a nod of his head. "We
just might wear you out calling for you day and night."
"Gentlemen," Ol' Johnny replied with a chuckle, gazing down at
his aged squat body. "I'm already
worn out."
They had a
laugh and then Adonis added, "Stop by our suite tomorrow morning at about
ten and I will pay you in advance for one week."
Ol' Johnny
tipped his feathered derby in agreement, obviously delighted with the
arrangement.
Comfortably ensconced in their hotel suite Adonis and Flurrie studied
the four pages of information Flurrie had copied on his sketch pad from of Ol'
Johnny's expert travelogue.
“Its
rather obvious,” Adonis spoke paging through the lists once again, "that
Ol’ Johnny has quite a bit of in depth knowledge of several of the
mansions. Not the type of thing someone
would glean merely bringing someone to the front door."
"Yes,
I noticed that," Flurrie agreed, rubbing his chin. "Of course his passengers are usually
quite intoxicated when he drives them home at two or three in the morning. Perhaps he helped them into the house and to
their bedroom."
"Sounds reasonable," Adonis agreed. "I wonder if he ever slipped a few items
into his pocket while helping them to bed.
His fare's cash, watch, rings?"
"He
does appear capable of it,” Flurrie agreed as he studied a page from the
sketchpad. “Where do we start?”
Adonis
began reading from the list: "Peter Orwell, owner of River Ferries and
Wagon Transfer Barges; Maxwell Pointier, Cattle Sales and Meat Packing; Hubert
Martingdal, Banker; Frederick Strutland, Mercantile Store and Farm Implements;
Osgood Bentley, Furniture and Wagon factory; Jeremy Peerage, Attorney and Land
Sales. Johnny rated Osgood Bentley as
the most despicable of the bunch."
"Yes,” Flurrie acknowledged.
“Ol’ Johnny did say he was the richest man in town and almost of his
hired help at the furniture and wagon factory hate him for working them double
shifts.”
“Yes, he
definitely deserves a midnight visit from us,” Adonis reassured himself and then began playing with
his silver wolf head walking cane, moving it around in the air as an epee
master readying himself for the match.
"Let's ask Ol’ Johnny for any more information he might have on
this Bentley chap. I'm positive he
didn't tell us all." Adonis then paused in thought. "By the way,
before we left Milwaukee I asked Manfred Downs if he might recommend a source
for our purloined merchandise here in Omaha, and he gave me the name of Perry Drew, a watchmaker. He is part of the Committee’s syndicate and Manfred assured me that Perry will also give us our usual 20%
commission from our heists."
"Excellent!" Flurrie rejoiced.
"It all appears just like hay, cut and dried."
Adonis
chuckled. "Spare me the farm humor,
old friend. I'll have Johnny drive me to
Perry in the morning. While I am
visiting with Perry might I suggest you stroll through the local art gallery,
bookstore, library, teashops, and things of that ilk. After I introduce myself to Perry I'll visit
the local gentlemen's club and introduce my vast knowledge of the manly game of
golf to the local Boys."
Flurrie
chuckled. "As well you should. After all you are the leading expert in the
Boston Golfing Association regarding the proper use of the Bulger club and Guttie
ball."
Adonis
lifted his head erect in pure pride.
"I am quite magnificent!"
"Save
that for the ladies," Flurrie laughed.
"Oh,
by the by I spoke with the hotel owner and he agreed to let us set up our
railroad stock and bond agency in the Presidential Suite. He wants two hundred dollars more per week in
advance. I started to refuse but then
he reminded me that with the Transcontinental Railroad having Omaha as its
Eastern terminal every other space in Omaha even resembling an office has been
rented or purchased."
"Expensive, but we do have one of the best commercial addresses in
town,” Flurrie replied, then suddenly becoming flustered as he glanced around
the sitting room of the suite.
"Perhaps we should rearrange the furniture a little. Make it more like an office. Put a sign on the door."
Adonis
tapped his walking cane on Flurrie’s right shoulder. “Just leave everything as is. I convinced the manager to place a placard in
the lobby describing our business in the Presidential Suite. When a client arrives, we invite them in and
settle them into an easy chair, sit across from them in another easy chair and
treat them as a friend rather than a potential client.”
“Brilliant
concept,” Flurrie agreed. “The down-home
atmosphere of the prairie approach."
Adonis
swung his cane through the air. "I
think I'll take a stroll now."
"A
stroll?" Flurrie teased.
"Where did Ol' Johnny say this Maize's Rooming House with her six
nieces is located?"
At nine
the next morning Flurrie left a still sleeping Adonis alone in their new
office-living quarter’s accommodation and headed out, his sketch pad under his
left arm, to acquaint the local shop owners with the Adonis Surrey, Esq.,
Railroad Stock and Bond Agency, and also to introduce himself to the local artist
community. While speaking to the shop
owners he decided to sketch their profiles free of charge.
Flurrie
was then absolutely delighted to find himself in front of The Dab Hand Art Gallery on fashionable Farnam Street. He shaded the sun from his eyes with his
right hand as he anxiously gazed in the front window at about twenty large
easels containing paintings and sketches cleverly maneuvered about a very large
room. The front door then suddenly swung
open and a bald middle-aged man wearing a monocle over his left eye and a huge
black handlebar mustache over his upper lip smiled exposing a perfect set of
pure white teeth.
"Please do enter, sir," he said, waiving his right arm in a
welcoming gesture. He approvingly
glanced at Flurrie's fashionable beige linen suit and straw hat. "I am Paul Parnassus, gallery
owner. I see you carry a sketchpad. Are you a visiting artist, connoisseur? How may I serve you?"
"My
name is Flurrie Peoples. I recently had
my first showing in Milwaukee at the Manfred Downs Gallery."
The man's
eyes lit with delight. "Manny
Downs! Yes, indeed. Very tough critic! We had competing galleries in Chicago some
years back. How is the old...
scoundrel?"
"Doing just fine," Flurrie chuckled. "May I view the easels?"
"Certainly," Paul responded, leading Flurrie to the first oil
painting. "Please make yourself at home." He then pointed to Flurrie's sketchpad. "Do you sketch as you stroll?"
"Just
about," Flurrie nodded, with a smile.
"I am also Chief Financial Officer for the Adonis Surrey, Esq.,
Railroad Stock & Bond Agency. We
have set up an office at the Platte Hotel."
Paul
knowingly shook his head.
"Railroading! That's where
the money is now. Especially with the
starting point of the Transcontinental Railroad here in Omaha." He paused, "I just might be interested
in purchasing a share or two. My office
is in the rear. Please do stop in when
you are finished enjoying our current local artist and consignment
offerings."
"Excellent," Flurried responded beginning his stroll from
easel to easel. He found about half of
the oil paintings depicted quite pleasant river scenery of boating, fishing and
rafting, with the remainder a collection of Omaha street scenes. All very sedate motionless pieces, and all
too posed and lacking depth and atmosphere.
When he finished he made his way to the owner's office at the rear of
the gallery. The office door was open
and Paul was mumbling something in Greek as he frantically paged through a stack
of bills. He glanced up and his monocle
popped from his left eye and swung on a silver chain across his chest in a
pendulum motion.
"Bills! You are a Chief
Financial Officer. Do you sometimes hire
out to do bookkeeping?"
"No,
thank you," Flurrie chuckled, quickly taking up his sketchpad and swiftly
sketching Paul's frantic expression.
"There must be some trade secret to this," Paul mused, gazing
up at Flurrie. "It's a creation of
the Devil!" He then arose and moved
next to Flurrie curiously wondering what was happening on the sketchpad. He then burst into laughter viewing a
caricature of his face twisted in humorous frustration. "Marvelous! Wonderful likeness! I'll place it on an easel in the
gallery. Right at the front door, I
think." He then paused and released
a deep sigh. "My current offerings
are really quite boring. If you have an
inventory of your paintings, or sketches, I'll be pleased to arrange a showing
for you. If Manfred Downs in Milwaukee
featured you I certainly am not going to let you walk out of my gallery without
offering the same opportunity." He
paused. "We can set up an opening
night showing perhaps next weekend. I'll
invite only the crème de la crème of Omaha society." Paul reached out to shake Flurrie's hand,
flashing his pearl white teeth with a broad smile. "A deal?"
Flurrie
beamed with delight, shaking Paul's hand.
"My extreme pleasure. I do
have eight paintings and at least twenty pencil portrait sketches of woman I
have seen...."
Paul growled like a mad dog. "Ah, twenty women. What a man!" He then paused in thought. "Can you bring your art first thing in
the morning?"
Flurrie
was awash in merriment.
"Certainly. Ten
o'clock?"
"Perfect. I'll take my
current showing in the back alley tonight and set it ablaze!"
"I do
like them, but they are so motionless.
Two dimensional," Flurrie commented.
"Yes,
and executed by sons and daughters of the wealthy." Paul shrugged his shoulders. "I have to feature them or go out of
business." Paul then led Flurrie to
the front door of the gallery with his left arm around Flurrie's waist. "I'll send invitations to my special
clientele. I'll repaint the gallery...
puce. It will be marvelous!"
Flurrie
almost danced back to the Platte Hotel.
He immediately collected his inventory of paintings and sketches and
spread them around his bedroom. The
collection was comprised of the four views of Portia Plankowski, his ex-model
and love of his life at the time who abruptly ran off with a traveling
theatrical group. He depicted her as the
Nymph of Spring, the Siren of Summer, The Temptress of Fall, and the End of
Love in Winter with her beauty fading from existence and into a veiled mist. The remainder paintings were atmospheric renderings of the moods of
Lake Michigan. The sketches were mainly
quick portraits of local scenery, women, and animals. He had labored for several months to find a
name for his painting technique and finally decided upon Atmospheric Expressionism.
Adonis
burst into their hotel suite brimming with news. And wildly waiving his walking
cane in the air. "I've called on
Osgood Bentley, the furniture and wagon manufacturer, and more importantly our
proposed heist victim. He has excitedly
consented to have a golf outing this Saturday morning at his cabbage and
pumpkin farm property about three miles up river. He said the local men's private club The Omaha Viking Society has actually
been discussing golf but none of them know how to play the game properly.”
"The
Omaha Viking Society?" Flurrie asked.
"The
society includes just about everyone on our wealthiest men list provided by Ol'
Johnny." He once again waived his
walking cane in the air and then swirled it about as if dueling an opponent. "The boredom is over, my friend. Perry, thrust, and contact!"
“I also
have a splendid tidbit. I am to have a
showing at the Dab Hand Art Gallery. I'm
to bring my paintings in tomorrow morning at ten. My debut will be in about one week. The gallery owner, a Paul Parnassas, said he
would invite the elite of local society."
"Eureka! We can also meet
the landed gentry there." He then
paused and stared intently into Flurrie's excited eyes. "We are instinctively utilizing the very
same modus operands we created in Milwaukee.
I wage a sales campaign on the business interests of the local gentlemen
and you in turn entertain their cultured interests. Actually, you know, we can use this very same
scheme in every city of worth following the Transcontinental Railroad route all
the way to Sacramento, California. Once
there, we can purchase beach front property abutting the Pacific Ocean and
retire as gentlemen land owners."
Flurrie
nodded, imagining himself reclining on a sun-drenched beach. "The sun, the sand, the ocean. No more winter storms." He paused.
"I would continue my painting."
Adonis
nodded his head in agreement. "Yes
and I'm sure I would continue my scheming, but we would at the very least have
homes of our own. A place to return
to."
Flurrie
glanced in surprise at Adonis. "I
thought you wished to retire married to an extremely wealthy aged widow."
Adonis
glanced at Flurrie. "Always have a
contingency plan, old chap. We all need
a place to hang our cap and California would be excellent."
"Hmmm, quite so," Flurrie responded. "California. There is also the gold rush."
"Forget the gold rush, Flurrie.
The odds are lopsided against you and in our trade we make a steady and
very lucrative living." Adonis then paused. "By the by, to change the subject
somewhat, I've been hearing stories of a local house thief. They call him the Pumpkin Man."
Flurrie
burst into laughter. "What?"
Adonis
raised his right hand. "I
swear. They have only seen his shadow on
occasion in the dark of night and his silhouette is squat and he wears a top
hat giving him the outline of a running pumpkin."
Flurrie
continued laughing. "Almost fits
the description of our carriage driver Ol' Johnny."
Adonis pointed
with his right index finger to accentuate the point. “Yes, and he was a prime suspect excepting
this Pumpkin Man moved very swiftly and of course Ol' Johnny has all he can do
to just climb up on the driver's seat of his carriage."
"Fascinating. Will this
person be our competition?"
Adonis
shook his finger back and forth.
"No, no. He only deals in
petty theft as far as we would classify his heists. Grab and run type items as silverware,
candelabra, goblets, wallets, purses, occasional jewelry left about, that type
of item. Things you can toss in a cloth
bag and swing over your shoulder. He has
never opened a safe or taken any paintings."
"Unskilled labor," Flurrie quipped. "Yet, intriguing."
"I
assume you will be spending most of your time at the gallery tomorrow. I think I'll also make the rounds of the
local shops to become acquainted on my own.
One can never sell too many shares of railroad stock."
"Or
meet too many of the local damsels."
"All
in a day's work, old chum. Remember
Saturday morning at ten; our appointment at wagon manufacturer Osgood Bentley's
cabbage and pumpkin farm property. Ol'
Johnny will drive us out."
The
carriage ride to Bentley’s farm on Saturday morning was an excellent chance for
Adonis and Flurrie to become caught up with their separate choice bits of news
of the happenings of Friday. Flurrie
excitedly explained, almost with too much detail, just how he delivered his art
work to Paul Parnassas at The Dab Art Gallery and how Paul lavished him with
praise for his renderings and assured him his showing would be the following
Saturday evening with a guest list of only the elite of Omaha. Adonis then calmly explained how he visited
many of the local shops, discovering in several of them that Flurrrie had been
there and had brilliantly left a sketch of each of the owners along with their
railroad stock and bond agency calling card.
Adonis further explained he invited the owners to a proposed gathering in the dining room of the Platte Hotel in which
he would explain the railroad stock and bond market and why it would be
monetarily reckless on their part not to
invest their earnings into the quick profits to be had and especially now with the building of the
Transcontinental Railroad starting from their beloved Omaha.
Ol' Johnny
steered the carriage off the main road and onto a twisting side road, past a
stand of majestic elms, and then into view of a curious appearing two story
eight-sided house.
"What
in the world!" Flurrie exclaimed.
Adonis
laughed. "I'll be...an Octagon house! We actually have three of these architectural
gems back in Milwaukee. The architect is
Orson Squire Fowler. I met him in
Milwaukee when he gave a lecture regarding phrenology."
"Phrenology?" Flurrie queried.
"It
is the study of the bumps on one's head to determine one's longevity, chance
for fame, romance...."
"A
fortune teller?"
"A scientific fortune
teller," Adonis accentuated, breaking into laughter. "I understand the gentleman is making a
fortune running his hands over people's pates."
Ol' Johnny
moved the carriage to the rear of the octagon house and the raucous voices of
several men arguing about something of great importance filled the air. They stood at the edge of about a one-acre
plot of grassland surrounded by several hundred acres of cabbage and pumpkin
plants. One of the gentlemen had a
four-foot long wood shaft from a shovel and was attempting to show the other men
how to properly swing the impromptu golf club.
"Welcome!" their host Osgood Bentley shouted in a hoarse-toned
voice and threw his arms up into the air in delight. "We are practicing our golf swing." He then spun around facing his fellow
cronies. "Gentlemen Vikings allow
me to introduce Adonis Surrey an official from the Boston Golfing
Association." He then stared
inquisitively at Flurrie. "And this
gentleman is... "
"I'm
his traveling caddy," Flurrie quipped staring back at their short thin
almost sickly appearing host.
Adonis
reached up onto the carriage and swung down a long narrow cloth bag with four
wooden bulbs peeking over the top opening.
"Professional Bulger
clubs!" he stated, and then reached into his side pocket on the bag and
removed a small leather sphere neatly stitched to hold its shape. "A genuine Scottish Guttie ball."
The
assemblage moaned in awe as Adonis tossed the Guttie to Osgood who in turn held it up as if it were an offering
to Odin. "Let the game begin!"
Osgood declared in his hoarse-toned voice.
As Adonis
broke into his long-winded lecture as to how to officially set up a golf course, how to hold and swing the Bulger
club, and how to approach the Guttie ball, Flurrie backed away from the
gathering with his sketchpad held at the ready.
He studied the fascinating architecture of the two-story Octagon house,
and began to outline its eight equal sides, and the windowed cupola at the
center of the pointed roof.
All of a
sudden a screaming young man on horseback came thundering up the driveway. He was whipping his steed's backside with a
leather whip, and he and the horse appeared frantic.
"Mister Bentely! Mister
Bentley, sir! Your factory is on
fire! It's terrible!" He pulled his breathless horse to a quick
stop.
Osgood Bentely
stood stupefied. "The entire
factory?"
"Yes,
sir! Its real bad, sir!"
"Osgood, take our carriage!" Adonis shouted. "We'll remain here!"
"Good
lads!" Osgood shouted as Ol' Johnny pulled his carriage up. "My wife and servant are out of
town! Please look after things!"
The entire
gathering headed for their horses and then galloped down the driveway with Ol'
Johnny following with his carriage in close pursuit.
Adonis and
Flurrie stood staring at one another in total confusion and then down the road
as a bellow of dust filled the air from the galloping horses. Flurrie then pointed into the distance.
"Look there!
Smoke from the edge of town.
That's about three miles away. It
must be quite a blaze."
"Yes," Adonis nodded.
He then changed his gaze to the octagon house and tapped Flurrie on the
shoulder. "The house is ours to
investigate."
"Investigate?" Flurrie asked.
"Why?"
"Excuse me," Adonis said.
"We are thieves. We heist
gems, paintings, other high value items."
Flurrie paused in thought. "Somehow it doesn't seem to be the
decent thing to do. I mean right now. The man’s factory is ablaze and besides that
we are the only two people here. If
something of value is missing we would be the prime suspects and the last thing
we want is notoriety.”
"I
could place pumpkin seeds inside the house, “Adonis teased "and it would
be blamed on the Pumpkin Man. What
say?"
"But
this is his country property. Perhaps
there is nothing of consequence inside," Flurried added.
"I
can smell valuables from here.
Sequestered gems, cash in a wall safe." Adonis commented, raising
his nose in the air as an English Pointer scenting his bird in the bush.
"I'm
going to be the voice of reason in this case," Flurrie ordered. "Lower your nose and sniff this
reasoning. If his wife and servant are
out of town that would indicate their mansion in the city is also unattended,
other than Osgood himself living there.
He is probably at work most of the time.
We knock on the front door of his
mansion. No one to home? We enter through the back door, or window, or
French doors."
Adonis
lowered his head, somewhat embarrassed.
“You have found my one and only character fault. Once I lock into the scent of treasure
belonging to a scoundrel it is near impossible to dissuade me. It has almost been my downfall on a few
senseless close encounters I involved myself in." Adonis grasped Flurrie's right shoulder in a
tight grip. "We will patiently wait
for our carriage to return and then rob his city mansion tonight. He may not even be there, with the fire and
all. In the meanwhile there should be no
harm in nosing about the Octagon house a bit.
Have a drink. Catalog things for
future reference."
“No harm
whatsoever,” Flurrie agreed.
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