“Yes, but he didn’t want Rice or Tench to find out they were lovers.”
“I reckon Winthrop thought a dalliance with Kadinger’s daughter would dint his respectable image or maybe cause the mayor to question his judgment and discretion. He dang sure didn’t want her pa to know. That might’ve queered Kadinger’s willingness to promote the bond hoax.”
Quinn recalled Delphine’s teasing eyes and ambiguous, self-amused smile in the photograph. “She must have enjoyed the intrigue. I can just hear her regaling Josabeth with hints about her secret suitor and mocking Verner by telling him Alderman Henry Tench was another name on her roster of conquests. In some ways she was the ideal girl for Micah. Rich and beautiful, with a respectable veneer and a heart as hard as hickory. He must have been incensed when she chose an ex-sawmill worker like Bayer over him.”
“Could be he just felt relieved,” said Garnick, drawing Leonidas up in front of another boarding house sign.
“I don’t know.” Quinn smoothed the skirt of her new dress and brushed a tendril of loose hair out of her eyes. “He may have really loved her. He took a big chance displaying her picture in his office, especially when Verner came in.”
“Well, you don’t want to take a chance displaying me to a would-be landlady, so I’ll pull around the corner and wait out of sight.”
She tried to ignore his undertone, but the significance hung in the air. She felt her independence slipping away as his expectations grew. “Thank you,” she said and went to inquire at MRS. SOSEBY’S REZIDENSE FOR SINGLE LADYS.
As it developed, seeing Quinn in the company of a man wouldn’t have mattered to Mrs. Soseby. She was a round, squat woman with a mass of wispy white hair that spiraled around her head like a giant cobweb. She had a vacancy and she wasn’t choosy about letters of recommendation. Moreover the room had a private back entrance.
“You want to have a look?”
“No.” Quinn wasn’t choosy either. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Fine’s as may be, but it’s clean. Come and go as you please so long as you’re quiet. Breakfast’s at six and dinner’s at six, come in at the front and turn left to the kitchen. Five dollars for the week. In advance. Laundry’s extra.”
Quinn gave her the money. “I’m afraid I’ll miss dinner this evening. I have to be somewhere.”
“I figured. Looked like that mister you drove up with didn’t cotton to you sending him off.” She dug in her apron pocket. “Here’s the key. Room’s around the side. If the fella ends up winning the argument, be sure you leave it behind when you go.”
***
Quinn and Garnick arrived at the jail just after six o’clock. They entered the gloomy hallway and marched toward the office where they’d first met Chesterton. Quinn hoped he wasn’t the officer on duty. She wasn’t sure how he and Garnick would get along in the aftermath of Chesterton’s duplicity. They were standing in front of the door, Garnick’s fist raised to knock, when Chesterton walked up behind.
“Here to turn yourselves in for another bout of criminal mischief?”
“We’ve come to see Elfie Jackson,” said Quinn. “We brought her a dress to wear to her trial tomorrow.” She held out the box for him to inspect. “I presume you won’t drag the poor woman into court looking like she’s been brutalized in a dungeon.”
He looked daggers and kicked open the door. “Bring it in.”
She set it on the desk. He lifted the lid, pawed about, and shoved it back at her.
“You carrying iron, Garnick?”
“I left it in the city’s care, Chez. It’s for the best. Wouldn’t trust myself with a loaded gun. I’m so disregardful of late I’m apt to mistake a good buddy for a backstabbing snitch.”
“If I was out to do you over, Garnick, I’d have locked you and your mouthy she-partner up for homicide.” His glare conferred a bounty of contempt. “You still got that derringer or you just take it with you to the bath?”
“Cut the claptrap,” said Garnick. “We’re on terms with the mayor now so you don’t have to give us a bad time. Give your gums a rest and chaperone us through your fine clinker to Miss Jackson’s cell.”
Chesterton picked up the key. “The lawyer’s been here already. Prisoners don’t generally get more than one visitor a day. Consider this visit a gift, Garnick. Over and above what’s required or deserved.”
“Any Greek in your blood line?” twitted Garnick, but if Chesterton got the allusion, he ignored it and turned a cold shoulder.
Elfie was on her feet, peering through the bars. When she saw them, she smiled and the effect transformed her whole being. “You came!”
“As promised,” said Quinn.
Chesterton unlocked the cell and she and Garnick stepped inside. As the gate clanked shut behind them, Quinn felt a lurch in the pit of her stomach. Had they walked into a trap?
“One hour,” said Chesterton.
“You’re too good to us,” answered Garnick with a grin, but he must have worried that his backstabbing buddy could leave them caged for as long he pleased.
Chesterton clomped off, rattling the keys like the warning of a snake.
Elfie reached out for the box. “You brought me a new dress!” Her hair had been combed and the look of despair displaced by euphoria. Her eyes positively shone. She dropped the box on the cot, swept the dress into her arms, and hugged it to her body. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I hope it fits,” said Quinn, bewildered by the change.
“It will. May I keep it after the trial?”
“Yes, of course.”
Garnick said, “You’ve chirked up a lot since I was last here. Somebody must’ve brought good news.”
“Mr. Winthrop says the trial will be over in little more than an hour and by noon tomorrow I’ll be free.”
“He sounds more confident than he led me to believe.” Quinn didn’t know how to break the news that her alibi witness had vamoosed at her lawyer’s instigation.
“He’s found a witness who’ll swear I was with her at the time of the fire. As soon as she testifies, the judge will dismiss the case.”
“What?” Quinn was stunned. “Jemelle left town and you didn’t name anyone else who might vouch for you.”
“I didn’t know there was anyone else. Mr. Winthrop is a miracle worker.” She slipped the green velvet net over her hair and spun around holding the dress. “Burk will love the circlet of leaves. Green is his favorite color.”
Quinn’s thoughts reeled. The woman was insane.
“Tell us who Mr. Winthrop has lined up to give you the alibi.” Garnick spoke calmly and evenly. “Did one of Annie’s girls have a sudden revival of memory?”
“Nobody would believe a prostitute. They wouldn’t have believed Jemelle even if she cut the sass and swore on the Bible. No, it’s the lady who runs that chophouse on Roy. I must have forgotten about her. There were days after Burk left when I walked for miles, not knowing or caring where I was.”
Quinn couldn’t decide if Elfie was remembering or repeating what she’d been told to say. “However did Mr. Winthrop discover this lady?”
“He happened to take his supper there the other night and she told him I’d been in the place for hours on the night of the fire. I was crying and she tried to comfort me. She gave me a bowl of soup and asked me my name. She remembers hearing the fire wagons go by while I was sitting there. I stayed until she closed the kitchen then she put me in a hackney and paid the driver out of her own pocket.”
“That is miraculous,” said Quinn. “And yet this good Samaritan has remained silent for weeks as the newspapers pilloried you.”
Elfie’s euphoria vanished. “I thought you’d be happy that my suffering is about to end.”
“I am happy, Elfie. We both are. It’s only that we’re puzzled by the way Mr. Winthrop happened into that chophouse, how he happened to strike up a conversation about a criminal trial with the cook who happens to remember serving you soup on the night of the fire.”
“You’re not my friends! You’re trying to keep me here!”
“That’s not so,” said Garnick. “We’ve always been on your side.”
“You’re not or you wouldn’t say such things.”
Quinn contended with a constellation of misgivings. About the change in Elfie’s demeanor. About the miracle of the witness. About green being Burk’s favorite color. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Elfie. I’m glad Mr. Winthrop found an alibi witness, but you really shouldn’t try to make contact with Burk. If he attends the trial, which I doubt, any sign from you that you’re still ob…that you still care for him may deepen suspicion in the minds of the jurors.”
“But I love him. He’s my husband. Anyway, it’s all worked out and we’ll be together again the way it used to be.” She must have seen the look in Quinn’s eyes, which did not reflect the same outcome. Her face fell. “Go away!”
Garnick checked his watch. “I reckon you’ll have to bear with us a while longer, Miss Elfie. We’re penned up together till the man with the keys comes back.”
“You can call the guard.” She tried to hide the dress behind her back. “I don’t want you here! Leave me alone! Guard! Guard! Guard!”
The cry was taken up by a male voice farther down the row of cells, but no guard came. Elfie backed into the corner and sat sulking on the end of the cot. Quinn perched on the other end. She said, “There’s no way Chesterton didn’t hear.”
“He’s making a point,” said Garnick. He settled on the cot between the two women and made himself comfortable. “Time will tell how sharp a point.”
Quinn looked behind her at the bars and a chill went through her. “Do you think Chesterton means to keep us locked up all night?”
“Too soon to get in a swivet. It hasn’t been an hour.”
Quinn looked across Garnick at a stone-faced Elfie and brooded. Had Winthrop gone out and recruited a witness to lie for her? A victory in an important case would enhance his legal reputation, but did he have another reason to make sure she went free?
Winthrop was an enigma. He had supported the mayor’s bond scheme, secretly romanced Delphine Kadinger, posed as Handish to worm Stram’s whereabouts out of Jemelle, then scared her out of town before the start of the trial so she wouldn’t learn his true identity. He had visited the Mansion, but even if he’d chanced upon Handish, she could conceive of no motive for Winthrop to kill him. Nor could she think why he would kill the Kadingers. Delphine rejected him, but no one knew about their affair so there was no loss of face and Micah had too high an opinion of himself to pine for long.
Quinn felt as if she’d been pining forever. The shadows lancing across the cell floor from the high barred window above had lengthened as her patience shortened. Things that hadn’t bothered her before began to make her twitchy. The veins of grayish-black mold creeping along the gray walls, the stagnant air tinged with the smell of ammonia, the forced inactivity. She watched a cockroach dawdle across the gray floor as if it had all the time in the world. An awful sense of being shut up in this concrete box overnight made her want to gnash her teeth and scream.
“What time is it, Garnick?”
“Close on eight o’clock. Sun will soon be going down.”
“Two hours,” said Quinn. “I hate Chesterton.”
“I reckon this is a demonstration of the ‘uncongenial’ setting the mayor was suggesting if we set ourselves against him and the city.”
“But we told him, you told him we weren’t going to make trouble about the bonds.”
“Did you believe me?”
“Yes. You looked him dead in the eye and said all we want is the murderer and the man who burned our office. You sounded entirely honest and straightforward.”
“Thank you, detective. Rice didn’t believe me either.”
“Call that shiftless guard again,” said Elfie. “Guard! Guard! Take them away!”
No one came. After a few more bootless cries, she went silent again and Quinn resumed her brooding. There was something out of kilter about the way she’d been thinking. Something about Elfie. Something in the echo of that Medea myth.
The shadows crawled slowly across the floor. She felt as if she’d been buried alive in this sarcophagus of a cell for eternity. A howl was building at the back of her throat. It felt imminent, wild to break free. She pushed it down with all her might. “I’d rather be hanged than locked up like a monkey in a zoo, even if I did commit homicide.”
“Homicide?” Elfie was suddenly curious. “Who did you kill?”
“Jack Stram,” said Quinn. “The man you saw at Annie’s place, the man who offered Jemelle money to lie about you. Did you ever hear his name?”
She didn’t answer. Quinn leaned forward and looked into her face. “You know the name?”
“No.”
“Did Burk know your friend Jemelle’s husband had left her and that she was doing the naughty at Annie Stafford’s place?”
Even in shadow, Quinn saw the dawn of doubt spread across her face. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“Who else would I tell?”
“Elfie, I think Burk sent Stram to bribe Jemelle. He wanted you convicted of the murders.”
“Shut your mouth, you! You don’t know the first thing about love.” She flung the new dress onto the floor and went to huddle in the corner, face against the wall.
“I’m sorry, Elfie.”
In a voice like cracking ice she said, “You and your dead man’s ring to protect you! You deserve to be alone.”
Quinn picked up the dress and folded it back inside the box. She said, “If after the trial you need a place to stay for a few days, you’re welcome to share my room at Mrs. Soseby’s on Pine Street. You may not have to share if I’m still locked up in here.”
“You won’t be,” said Chesterton as he approached from down the corridor, keys rattling noisily. “Not this time.” He discharged a loud, malevolent laugh.
Quinn held her breath as the key clicked in the lock and the gate screaked open. She had to contain herself to keep from running. Only when she and Garnick were well clear of the jail did she breathe again. “Do you suppose that chophouse is open? I could eat a steak, and a glass of wine is absolutely vital.”
Chapter 31
The chophouse was closed and shuttered and the detectives settled for sausages and beer in the German saloon where they’d eaten before. Elfie’s bizarre behavior had stirred doubts and Quinn would’ve liked to see this alibi witness she didn’t remember. It seemed more likely that Winthrop had bribed the woman to remember Elfie. If that was so, it meant that Mayor Rice and Alderman Tench had instructed him to make Elfie’s case go away, which by their calculation, meant Paschal and Garnick would go away.
Garnick was philosophical about Chesterton. “He’s got his job to think about. As between going along with the mayor’s chicanery and being a pal, he’s had to walk a narrow line. He went out on a limb when he didn’t pat me down. I could’ve been lying about not having a gun. In fact, I was. I’m still carrying your derringer.”
Quinn pushed the sausage around on her plate and sipped her beer without enthusiasm. “Have I been a fool to set so much store on Elfie’s innocence? She said she’d do anything Burk asked her to do. What if he asked her to set the fire while he was off in Rock Island dickering over lumber with Mr. Jigamaree. What was his name?”
“Harrell Paulson, Second Street. I wired a fella I know lives down there. He’s a right good judge of character. He talked to Paulson and Paulson corroborated Bayer’s alibi.”
“I figured Bayer would be too smart to make up something that couldn’t be verified.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “You don’t assume things the way I do. I’m glad you followed up with Paulson. You acted like a real detective.”
“Just filling in a hole.”
“Just keeping us professional, you mean, while I run around making Elfie the personification of trampled womanhood.”
“She’s taken more than her share of abuse.
It’s natural she’d play on your heartstrings.”
“I don’t know. Winthrop fooled me. It would really sour my mood if she’s fooled me, too. That Medea myth keeps nibbling away at my confidence.”
“Like you told Megarian, you can’t mix up a real person with a myth.”
“Yes, but I’ve been defending Elfie because I don’t believe she would have killed Delphine out of jealousy or to punish Burk for leaving her. But what if she killed her because that’s what Burk wanted her to do? Or because she thought it’s what he wanted her to do? Medea killed her own brother to help Jason and threw his parts in the sea.”
“It’ll be interesting to see how the trial plays out,” said Garnick. “I expect Burk will be in the gallery along with Verner and Megarian and half the city council. Could be some of Chicago’s most bodacious madams show up for the entertainment. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s fireworks.”
***
Quinn spent a fraught night in her room at Mrs. Soseby’s thinking about the fireworks to come and rehearsing in her imagination the ways, short of shooting Winthrop dead, she might contribute to the spectacle. He was so underhanded, so intent on keeping his precious respectability. She would tell him in no uncertain terms what she thought of his deception and his ethics and his witness intimidation and if he gave her any grief about stealing his files, she’d tell him to go to Halifax. She half-wished she’d burned the Sinclair v. Sinclair file, wished she could chuck the ashes down his bespoke trousers.
What had she said in that note to Winthrop? Rhetta gave me a distinctive ring given to Delphine by her lover. I’m sure it can be traced. I’m hiding it in my office. In our undetectable secret safe. Had that little professional exaggeration made burglary seem futile and arson the expedient remedy?
She pictured Winthrop arriving early to pick her up for dinner. She pictured him sneaking into the alley and casually dropping a bag of oily rags into the trash barrel. Perhaps he loitered for a few minutes, pretending to smoke a cigar. When he was sure no one was looking, he tossed the smoldering butt into the barrel and came around to the front door, a smile on his face and a boutonniere in his lapel. All the while he plied her with wine and threw cold water on her investigation, he was reveling in the secret knowledge that fire was consuming the evidence that could link him to Delphine Kadinger. Her fingers fairly ached to feel that derringer in her hands again.
Devil by the Tail Page 23