Caliber Detective Agency - Box Set - Case Files 1-6

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY

BOX SET

CASE FILES 1-6

By

DONALD WELLS

Title Page

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #1

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #2

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #3

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #4

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #5

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – CASE FILE #6

About The Author

CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY - BOX SET – CASE FILES 1-6 | Copyright © Donald Wells, 2012

T
exas 1875

Gunther Heimlich saw the figure coming over the rise and squinted in an effort to identify it as either friend or foe. In the distance, a column of smoke rose up toward the sun.

As the figure grew closer, Gunther’s wife and daughter emerged from the covered wagon behind him.

“Who is that, papa?” Eva Heimlich said. She was eleven-years-old with blond hair and large blue eyes.

“I don’t know, dear,” Gunther said. They were speaking in German.

Gunther’s wife, Kara, pointed. “He has a weapon in his hand, a pistol,”

Gunther leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear.

“Take Eva and get back in the wagon while I go and talk to this man. If... if something happens, just keep following the river, Fort Worth is only a few hours from here.”

Kara touched him on the cheek. “Be careful.”

“Ja, I will be.” Gunther said, as he gripped the gun hanging off his hip.

Gunther walked across the hilly terrain and as he got closer to the shuffling figure, he was surprised to see that it was just a boy.

The boy was twelve, but tall for his age, he wore a pair of blue hickory trousers with calf high boots and his red flannel shirt was ripped in front, and also blackened from smoke. He was a handsome boy, and big for his age, with dark brown hair and ice blue eyes, eyes that looked older than his years.

As Gunther grew closer, he could hear the boy speaking, in English.

“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”

Gunther’s English was not good, but he attempted to communicate.

“Hello, I be Gunther, who be you?”

“Eight, eight, eight, eight, eight...”

Gunther started to speak again, but stopped when he heard the footfalls behind him. It was Kara and Eva coming out to join him.

“I told you to stay with the wagon.”

“I know.” Kara said. “But as he got closer, I could see that he was just a lad.”

“A lad with a weapon,” Gunther said, as the strange boy continued his chant.

“Eight, eight, eight, eight...”

“What is he saying?” Kara said.

“He’s counting.” Eva said. “He keeps repeating the number eight.”

Gunther reached over slowly and placed a hand on the boy’s weapon.

“Can I take a looking at you gun?”

The boy offered no resistance and Gunther slipped the gun free. It was a large weapon and unlike any that Gunther had ever seen. His eyes widened when he realized that the revolver could hold up to a dozen rounds, although only a few of its cylinders were still loaded. On the left side of the gun, near the trigger guard, was an engraved English word that was nearly worn away.

“Cal-lee-ber, is that your family name son, Caliber?” Gunther said, partly in German, however the boy must have taken his meaning, because he stopped his chant of “eight” and answered him.

“Steele,”

Gunther shook his head emphatically as he handed the boy back his gun.

“No, I no steal, just looking,”

The boy took the gun back and shrugged as if a name were of little value.

A horse neighed and a shadow appeared behind them, then, to their left and right, as three Apache warriors closed in. All three had Winchester rifles aimed at the boy. Before Gunther could even place his hand on his gun, the boy began shooting.

The Apache at the rear took the first bullet, followed by the one on the left, and then the one on the right. All three shots were dead center between the eyes and all three took less than a second.

“Gott in himmel!” Gunther cried, while marveling at the boy’s speed, which was only eclipsed by his aim.

As the now riderless horses galloped off, the boy gazed around, and then spoke.

“Nine, ten, eleven, eleven, eleven, eleven...”

A moment later, there came the sound of approaching hooves, as four Calvary officers rode in from the same direction that the boy had traveled.

Their leader was a Captain Higgins, after introductions, Higgins walked around and stared at the dead men.

Higgins spoke to Gunther. “The boy killed them, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he is like... lightning? Very quick,”

Higgins walked over and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“These Injuns, they were part of a group that attacked a wagon train a few miles back. They killed everyone and then set the wagons on fire, all dead; all accept the boy here. It looks like they figured out he escaped and kept sending braves after him. We came across eight of them back along his trail, every one of them died from a bullet between the eyes.”

Kara walked over and took the boy in her arms. “Oh, you poor thing, what an ordeal,”

“What’s your name son?” Higgins said, but the boy didn’t answer, as he seemed to stare off into space.

“Caliber,” Gunther said, finally, “But we no know his given name.”

Eva walked over and took his hand.

“What’s your name?”

The boy blinked as he took in her beauty.

“I’m Jacob,”

Eva smiled. “I’m Eva, Jacob,”

Higgins pointed back up the hill.

“If you folks get back in your wagon, we’ll escort you to the fort,”

“Ja,” Gunther said. “We go now. The boy will ride with us.”

As Gunther and his family walked back to the wagon with the boy, Higgins spoke to one of his men.

“All them Injuns back there and three more here, damn but that boy can shoot.”

“Yes sir, Captain,”

“What did the German fella say the kid’s name was?”

“Uh, Caliber, Jake Caliber,”

***

N
ew York City, Present Day

Gail Caliber stood inside the lobby of Caliber Investigations and frowned at the sign hanging above the reception desk. The sign read,
Caliber Investigations, A Subsidiary of the Caliber Detective Agency.

Gail was a trim woman in her mid-fifties who looked younger than her years. She wore her brown hair shoulder length and her blue eyes glowed with intelligence.

On the wall to the right of the sign was a grainy photo of Caliber’s founder, Jake Caliber. He was dressed in a leather coat that fell to his ankles and atop his head was a cowboy hat. Spurs adorned his boots and hanging off his right hip was a large revolver, a revolver legend has it, that he used to kill the Apaches that had murdered his family. Jake Caliber’s skill with a gun was unmatched, and Texas legend remembers him as, “The Man Who Never Missed.”

Farther to the right was a photo of Jake Jr., Jake Caliber Jr. returned home from the First World War and followed in his father’s footsteps by becoming a private detective.

Jake Jr. had two claims to fame. One, was the fact that he was responsible for moving the floundering business east, to New York City, where there was no shortage of clients to be had, and two, he had fathered Jake Caliber the third, a man who became an icon for private detectives, and who is still a living legend.

While Jake Jr. had inherited his father’s good looks, his legendary aim was not one of the gifts he possessed. His son however, was a born marksman. A skill he first put to use at the age of sixteen, while serving as a Marine in World War 2.

To the right of Jake Jr. is a photo of his son. It was taken while Jake Caliber the third was wading onto Omaha Beach on D-Day. To the right of that is a parade of photos taken over the years. Jake Caliber the third possessed three things in every photo, a trench coat, a fedora and a cigar. A fourth constant was the accompaniment of a beautiful woman, although it was rarely the same woman in more than one photo. The last photo of Jake was surrounded by front page headlines from newspapers around the world. It was a photo of Jake Caliber the third being shot, as he bravely leaped in front of the President of the United States and foiled an assassination plot. It was that act of heroism that made the name Caliber synonymous with bravery and insured that it became known the world over.

One final photo graced the wall. It was a picture of Jake Caliber the Fourth, a man who died far too young.

Kelli Ross spotted Gail glaring at the sign and rushed over.

“Mrs. Caliber, it’s so good to see you again, is anything wrong?”

Gail looked at Kelli and forced a smile.

“No, it just always irks me that the old man insists on keeping the antiquated words, ‘Detective Agency’ on the sign; it makes one think of ‘gumshoes’ for God’s sake.”

Kelli suppressed a smile. Gail Caliber’s feud with her father-in-law was legend within the company.

Kelli was a twenty-seven-year-old redhead with dazzling green eyes and a curvaceous figure. She had been employed at Caliber Investigations since she was an eighteen-year-old B-Girl.

The B stood for bait. One of the courtesies provided by
Caliber
was a service called, Fidelity Check, wherein a suspicious wife or girlfriend could send a B-Girl out to tempt their husband or boyfriend.

The B-Girl feigned interest in the suspected cheater and offered to exchange phone numbers or to meet at a later time. If the man took the bait, the wife then had her suspicions verified. If the man declined, the wife could be assured that her mate was most likely faithful. It was a rare man who wasn’t tempted by a B-Girl.

Their success rate at unearthing cheaters was over eighty percent; what that percentage didn’t reveal however, was that nearly half of those men had never cheated on their partners before.

Sometimes, opportunity breeds vice.

Before leaving the reception area, Gail put two fingers to her lips and then placed them upon her late husband’s photo. A nod and a smile to the woman seated at the reception desk, and Gail then entered an elevator, with Kelli following. As the elevator doors closed, Gail asked a question.

“Is my son in?”

“Yes ma’am, he’s upstairs in the agency with the old—with Mr. Caliber.”

“And are you two still seeing each other?”

Kelli looked down at the floor.

“No ma’am; that ended some time ago.”

“Did you choose to end it, or did he?”