Swindled!: The 1906 Journal of Fitz Morgan Read Online Free

POISON: CYANIDE CHECKLIST
    Is a person showing some or all of the following symptoms?

    Sudden collapse or coma

    Skin, nails, and lips that are unusually pink or cherry red. This color is caused by the way cyanide blocks oxygen from getting into cells, so the oxygen remains in the blood

    Very fast breathing and either very fast or very slow heartbeat

    Breath that smells like bitter almonds
    I keep this list on me just in close!

April 14, 1906
    8:15 AM
    Together, the three of us carried Agent
    Howard into the Pinkerton Pullman and laid him on a plush, green sofa.
    While Justine placed a pillow under his head, William Henry took my arm. He smelled like soap, and his uniform was spotless,
     but I noticed his hands and fingernails were stained with grease. “Poisoned, you say?” he said doubtfully. “And what would
     a little boy know about poison?”
    There was no time to go into my background with a fool.
    “If I’m right, this man has been poisoned by cyanide.”
    William Henry gripped my arm harder and scoffed, “You’re out of your mind!”
    “Listen,” I said. “Time is of the essence. This man has to get an injection of amyl nitrate quickly.”
    “Amyl nitrate? But that’s a very dangerous chemical. It might kill him!”
    I was surprised William Henry knew what amyl nitrate was.
    “All the antidotes to cyanide are poisons. Once someone loses consciousness, he has to receive an antidote within the first
     half hour or he’ll die,” I said shaking my arm free of William Henry’s grasp. “This man needs medical attention. And every
     second counts.”
    William Henry’s bright blue eyes turned to Justine. “He’s right,” she told him. “You must get help now.”
    “Fine then. I’ll go,” William Henry said, heading to the door. “But I want you to wait in the laboratory until I get back–away
     from Agent Howard. With that, William Henry rushed to get help.
    Surprised, I turned to Justine. “You have a laboratory?”
    “Of course,” Justine answered matter-of-factly. Opening an interior door, she gestured for me to follow her.
    We left the living area with its gold fixtures and overstuffed furniture, and entered the sleeping area.
    “There are four separate sleeping compartments here,” Justine told me, pointing to each of the four doors as we walked down
     a small hallway. She didn’t seem to be showing off, just stating a fact.
    Suddenly she stopped, looked at me, and asked, “Do you really think someone poisoned Agent Howard? It’d be wrong to shout,
     ‘How thrilling!’ wouldn’t it? Perhaps we should give him some of that new drug called aspirin. Have you heard about it?”
    Then without waiting for an answer, she turned and opened another door. We entered the laboratory.
    When I saw it, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. It took up about the same amount of space as my coach car, but that’s
     where the similarities ended.
    This laboratory had two electric fans, an electric heater, velvet armchairs, lighters for cigars–all beneath the most beautiful
     stained glass ceiling. But what impressed me most was that the Pullman was jammed with the most advanced criminal detection
     equipment in the world.
    When I finally finished my survey of the room, I noticed that Justine was studying me.
    She said, “I’ve seen that look before. You have detective work in your blood.”
    I felt my face flush–I didn’t want her sharp eyes looking too closely at me. And, to tell the truth, I also felt a little
     jealous. Why should she have access to all this wonderful equipment? She probably didn’t even know what half of it was!

    I blurted out, “What does a little girl like you know about detective work?”
    She just laughed, not seeming to mind my sharp tone. “You sound like William Henry! But to answer your question, I’m a Pinkerton.
     I’ve been surrounded by detectives my whole life. My father’s one of them. In fact, he uses this car to solve crimes across
     the