The Alphabet Fires by Mark T. Shirey, 24-25 Sep 2012
"I see you've been to the pub. How's Mike?" Holmes said as I entered.
Now, it's much more impressive when my friend and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, gives a stranger the "run-down", identifying his occupation or international travel or nefarious dealings from the smallest of clues. Also, I have learned a lot of the "tricks" that Holmes employs, really paying attention to details and what they might imply. But it's still impressive when he can do the run-down on me. In fact, I had stopped at Otto's Pub and filled the growler which I keep in rotation in the car. And I had had a pint or two and talked to Mike Biek about old books and new movies. There are, I should point out, two regulars at Otto's named Mike and two bartenders named Mike. How Holmes knew in an instant where I had gone and which Mike I had talked to eluded me.
"OK, let me have it," I said.
"Really, Watson," Holmes replied, "I don't observe and deduce for the entertainment of others and I don't see why I should explain such things when it is the facts that are important, not how they were ascertained. That most of your stories about our adventures start with a so-called 'run-down' seems rather contrived."
"C'mon, Holmes, humor me," I said.
Holmes replied, "I see that you have your growler bag and your briefcase, so you obviously went into work on your day off and then stopped at Otto's. The book that Mike B. lent you is no longer sticking out of the pocket of the growler bag. Also, I assume that you intend to share the contents of said growler and have eschewed getting your 4% session beer or my 10% favorite and instead got our usual 7% solution."
I had. I poured two and we sat and talked, and the conversation returned once again to the local fires.
From our second floor apartments at 221 E Bishop St, we had seen the glow of all four fires that have plagued our beloved town of Bellefonte since 2004: the Academy, the Bush House, the Cadillac building, and now the Do De Hotel. The empty lots and smoldering ruins are a blight on this once-mighty town which was home to five Pennsylvania Governors and two Governors of other states. The town has a large natural spring, which inspired France’s Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (aka Talleyrand) to name the area "la belle fonte" during a visit in the 1790s. William Lamb sold his mill to John Dunlop and his father James, and his son-in-law James Harris laid out the town. Bellefonte was a frequent stop on the transcontinental airmail route and its former Match Factory is now home to the American Philatelic Society.
Holmes reminded me of this history and proceeded to describe the four buildings which had burned:
The Academy – burned 7/14/2004. The school was attended by future Governors and at least one professional baseball player, John Montgomery “Monte” Ward.
The Bush House - burned 2/8/2006. Known at its demise as the home of Schnitzels restaurant, it was financed by Daniel G. Bush and built in 1868. It was one of the first hotels in the country to have electric lights, and Thomas Edison is known to have stayed there. A man would stand at the train station and call out to the passengers, "Walk ya' to the Bush House."
The Cadillac Building – burned 12/22/2011. Originally a Cadillac dealership in 1916, it was later a mix of commercial and residential units. Christmas tree lights were thought to be the cause of the fire, but there is some doubt.
The Do De Hotel – burned 9/24/2012. Built in 1890 next door to the State Theater, which became the Garman Opera House. It hosted many stars of the day including George Burns and Gracie Allen, Western performer Tom Mix, and Harry Houdini. The Garman’s fate is uncertain.
“Good god, Holmes! The buildings burned in alphabetical order!” I said.
“And that is why I do not buy the official story that the fires were accidental,” Holmes replied. “And, I have a theory.”
Later, at Holmes’ insistence, I found myself walking into a three-story Victorian building in the middle of a downtown block in the middle of the night. We climbed the rickety stairs to the top floor, the tiny squeaks of our steps amplified by the emptiness and the darkness. In the hall were three doors and we quietly entered the middle one. Holmes silently motioned and we sat on the floor on either side of a window in the small room. We sat there for a long time, not moving, not speaking. It seemed that Holmes was listening for something, and I contemplated whether or not we were alone in the building. We sat so long that I began to forget where I was; I could be anywhere in this darkness, with only the faint sounds of cars outside. Quite unexpectedly, Holmes leaned over and sniffed at the dust on the window sill, a powerful inhalation followed by a powerful sneeze. Even more unexpectedly, through the wall came the word "gesundheit", whereupon Holmes leapt up and ran into the hall. Following, I could see a black figure clumsily descending the stairs with Holmes in an oddly slow pursuit. Our footsteps did not squeak on the way down -- they thundered like kettle drums. Once I caught up with Holmes on the street, it was obvious our man had gotten away.
“I didn’t want to detain the chap,” Holmes informed me, “I just wanted to verify his presence in this building, and that he was awake in the middle of the night, and get close enough to determine his age, which I make to be about 93.”
I decided not to ask how he could be so precise, making a deduction of my own – that Holmes knew who the man was.
“Come now, Holmes, tell me everything.” I beseeched.
“Well,” said Holmes, “It is a little-known fact that the FIRST fire at the Academy happened in 1939, and there was a fire at the High School the same year. I researched the names of every teacher and student and found one still living downtown – a Sebastian Moran, a man who has been seen at the Bush House, the Cadillac building, and the Do De Bar, as I learned from Kevin, one of my Bishop Street Irregulars. This Moran was a teacher who had been “fired”, you might say, at age 20 back in 1939 and never forgave the school district. Kevin tells me that Moran is rarely seen outside during the day and you’ll note that all of the fires happened at night.
“This teacher, in his declining years, thought he could relive an early escapade and teach us the alphabet, or give us our grades – A, B, C, D. Now that I know who he is and what his next target is, I’ll inform the County Sheriff straight away.”
"But Holmes,” I said, “what IS the next target of this disgruntled teacher turned alphabetical arsonist?"
Holmes turned to me with a look of mild disdain for my dimness and said, "The Elementary School, my dear Watson. Elementary."