The Chimney Sweep's Tale

The Chimney Sweep's Tale

A Mimi Delboise Mystery

New Orleans, Louisiana - October 1891

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PART TWO: "Voices in the Walls"

Dr. Tran's clinic occupied the ground floor of a narrow building on Dauphine Street, its modest exterior hiding a remarkably well-equipped medical facility. The main room served as both examination area and minor surgery, while a smaller back room provided space for patients who needed extended care. The walls were lined with medical texts in multiple languages, English, French, and Chinese characters that spoke to Dr. Tran's multilingual education.

Tommy lay on a narrow bed, his broken leg now properly splinted and his other injuries cleaned and bandaged. The fall had left him with numerous cuts and bruises, but Dr. Tran's examination had revealed no signs of internal bleeding or head trauma that might prove life-threatening.

"He's fortunate," Dr. Tran said, washing her hands in a basin of clean water. "The leg will heal cleanly if he stays off it for several weeks, and the other injuries are superficial. But Miss Delboise..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I don't believe this was an accident."

Mimi looked up from the chair where she'd been sitting, having decided to remain at the clinic until Tommy was more coherent. "What makes you say that?"

"The pattern of his injuries. If he had simply lost his footing and fallen, I would expect to see different types of trauma. But look here, " Dr. Tran pointed to scrapes on Tommy's hands and forearms. "These are defensive wounds, the kind you see when someone tries to catch themselves during a fall. But they're on the wrong side of his arms, as if he was reaching for something above him rather than trying to break a fall."

"As if something he was holding onto gave way?"

"Exactly. And there's this." Dr. Tran showed Mimi a small piece of metal she'd extracted from one of the boy's cuts. "Iron, but corroded. Deliberately weakened, I'd say."

Before Mimi could respond, Tommy stirred on the bed, his eyes opening with more focus than they'd shown earlier. He looked around the unfamiliar room with the quick wariness of a child who had learned not to trust adults too readily.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Safe," Dr. Tran said gently, moving to check his pulse. "You fell from the Beaumont roof. Do you remember what happened?"

Tommy's face went pale beneath the soot stains that still marked his features. "The ladder... it broke. But it wasn't supposed to break. Mr. Cork always checks the equipment before we go up."

"Tell me about what you saw up there," Mimi said, keeping her voice calm and non-threatening. "What happened before you fell?"

The boy's eyes darted between the two women, clearly trying to decide whether to trust them with something that sounded impossible even to his own ears. "You won't believe me. Nobody ever believes us kids when we try to tell them things."

"I'm a detective," Mimi said. "My job is to believe people when they tell me the truth, even if it sounds strange. Especially then."

Tommy studied her face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I was cleaning the big chimney on the west side, the one that serves the library and the master bedroom. Had to go inside to get at some of the buildup near the top. That's when I heard voices."

"Voices?"

"Men talking, moving around inside the walls. Not like mice or rats, footsteps, but quiet-like. And one of them was giving directions to the other, making notes about something." Tommy's voice grew stronger as he continued, as if telling the story gave him confidence in its truth. "I could hear them through the chimney brick, moving from room to room."

"What were they saying?"

"Something about measurements, and hiding places, and..." Tommy paused, his brow furrowing with concentration. "One man said something about 'the Bordelon cache' and how 'they never moved it after the old man died.' The other man, he had a rougher voice, kept asking if they were sure about the location."

Dr. Tran and Mimi exchanged glances. The Bordelon family had been prominent New Orleans merchants before the war, their wealth built on sugar and cotton trading. The patriarch had died several years ago, and his mansion had been sold to the Beaumonts when his heirs moved to Paris.

"Did you see these men?" Mimi asked.

"That's when things went bad," Tommy said, his face paling. "I tried to get a better position to hear what they were saying, and I knocked some soot loose. Made a noise. One of them came over to look up through the grate that connects the servants' passages to the chimney."

"Can you describe him?"

Tommy closed his eyes, clearly trying to recall details. "He had a bad scar across his left cheek, like someone had cut him with a knife. When he saw me looking down at him, his eyes went real wide, then real angry."

"What happened then?"

"He said something to the other man, I couldn't hear what. But then I heard them moving fast through the passages, like they were coming toward where my ladder was set up outside." Tommy shuddered. "I tried to get down quick, but when I was halfway down, I felt the ladder shake. Someone was pushing it from below, trying to make me fall."

The image was chilling, a grown man deliberately attempting to injure or kill a child who had accidentally witnessed his crimes. "You're certain someone pushed the ladder?"

"Yes, ma'am. Felt the whole thing tip sideways, like someone gave it a hard shove. I tried to hold on, but..." Tommy gestured to his splinted leg.

"Tommy," Mimi said carefully, "have you seen this man with the scar before? At other houses where you've worked?"

The boy's expression grew troubled. "Yes, ma'am. At the Morley house, about two weeks ago. He was in the garden when we arrived, talking to someone in a carriage. I noticed the scar then because it was so distinctive. When I saw him again today, I remembered thinking it was strange to see the same man at different houses."

Mimi felt the familiar tightening in her chest that came when a case revealed itself to be more than it initially appeared. What had seemed like an industrial accident was beginning to look like attempted murder, and the intended victim was an eleven-year-old child whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Tommy," she said carefully, "has anything like this happened before? At other houses where you've worked?"

The boy's expression grew troubled. "Not falling, no. But... well, there have been things. Small things going missing from houses after we've cleaned the chimneys. Jewelry, mostly, sometimes coins or small valuables. The masters always blame it on the servants, say we kids must have taken them."

"But you didn't?"

"No, ma'am! Mr. Cork would tan our hides if we took so much as a penny. He runs an honest business, says it's the only way to keep good customers." Tommy paused, then added quietly, "But I started to wonder if maybe someone else was using our work as cover. Someone who knew which houses we'd be cleaning and when."

The implications were disturbing. If someone was indeed using the chimney sweeps as unwitting accomplices to theft, it represented a particularly cynical form of exploitation, one that put vulnerable children at risk while using their presence to deflect suspicion from the real criminal.

"But you didn't think much of it at the time?"

"No, ma'am. Lots of people visit these big houses, tradesmen, delivery people, relatives. But seeing him twice, and then having him push my ladder..." Tommy shuddered. "I started to wonder if maybe someone was using our work to plan thefts. Someone who knew which houses we'd be cleaning and when."

"I need to speak with Mr. Cork," Mimi said. "And I think we should have a conversation with the police."

Dr. Tran nodded. "I'll keep Tommy here for observation. Given the circumstances, I think it would be safer if his whereabouts weren't generally known."

As Mimi prepared to leave the clinic, Tommy called out to her. "Miss? You really think someone tried to hurt me on purpose?"

She turned back to meet his eyes, seeing in them the particular vulnerability of a child who was beginning to understand that the adult world contained deliberate cruelties beyond mere indifference. "I think someone made a very serious mistake when they underestimated how much one young chimney sweep could see and remember. And I think they're going to regret that mistake."

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Who is the scar-faced man? What is the "Bordelon cache"?

Stay tuned for Part 3 of The Chimney Sweep's Tale as Mimi Delboise follows the trail of a systematic theft ring that's been using New Orleans' most vulnerable children as unwitting accomplices.

Follow all of Mimi Delboise's adventures over at The Elephant Island Chronicles and on Medium