“I’m s-sorry,” Jasper said, arrested. “What did you say?”
“Saturday night is when she was with me. Sunday night—the night Dunbarton was murdered—she claimed to be with the dye salesman.”
“What day was D-Dunbarton’s body found?”
Law squinted in thought. “The morning of April fourth.”
“So April third was the night of the M-Morissey-McDaniel fight?”
Law looked surprised by the question. He paused, as if searching his memory, and then shook his head. “No, the fight was on a Friday—I remember because I went to O’Reilly’s after and—” His cheeks darkened, and he shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“Jemmy Hart claimed he found D-Dunbarton’s body the night of that f-fight.”
“What?” Law appeared dazed. “Was Jemmy sure?”
“He was c-confused about the actual date, b-but he claimed it was the n-night of the fight.”
“Jaysus. That would’ve changed everything.” A myriad emotions flickered across the big man’s face, none of them pleasant. “I want to talk to Jemmy about this.”
“M-Me too,” Jasper said. “But I want to hear the r-rest of your story.”
Law sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So here’s where I did a stupid thing—no, another stupid thing. I told her to do nothin’ while I went to find this dye salesman. I knew it might take some time—but I had no idea. Good God! Every third house or farm seemed to be makin’ dye. I’d been away almost six bloody days—it took three days just to get there—and was startin’ to lose hope when I found the man.” Law shoved his hand through his hair, leaving it in rows like red corn. “’Course he was married and denied it.” He gave Jasper a mulish look. “I ain’t proud, but I beat the bastard, tied him up, and brought him along. I was halfway back when Ryan and two patrolmen showed up to arrest me. The dye salesman said I’d coerced him, so they let him go.”
Law was an excellent liar, but people always gave themselves away, and with Law it was his direct stare—or rather the lack of it when he wasn’t telling the truth. Something in the last part of his story was a lie.
“How did McElhenny l-learn about the dress?” Jasper asked.
“Well—and this is all secondhand, because I wasn’t there—but somebody mentioned seein’ Caitlyn and Dunbarton arguing at O’Reilly’s not long before he died.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Law looked pained. “The thing is, that’s not exactly hard to believe. Caitlyn was—well, she had a temper and could be argumentative. Anyhow, once the first person mentioned the argument, then all these witnesses came out of the woodwork. Some of them said they’d heard her threaten him for money or she’d kill him.”
“D-Do you believe that?”
“I don’t, but once that started goin’ around, they started pokin’ around and learned that I’d asked the laundress about a bloodstained dress, which of course looked bad—for Caitlyn and me. I’d left the dress at my place for safekeeping. I know, I know,” he said at Jasper’s snort of amazement. “After finding it, McElhenny moved fast—detaining Caitlyn on suspicion. I’m sure she tried to tell them about me goin’ to find the dye salesman, but after a few days in jail, she gave them whatever they wanted.” Law gave a bitter laugh. “McElhenny had been lookin’ for a reason to gimme the sack after—” He stopped, chewed his lip, and then shook his head. “Well, that don’t matter. I know it was him who made up those lies about her givin’ me money to keep quiet.” He cut Jasper a rebellious look. “I never took a dime from her. But I couldn’t blame her for sayin’ whatever they wanted her to say. That fuckin’ McElhenny was—” A muscle ticced in his jaw, and he gave another harsh, mirthless laugh. “Anyhow, by the time Ryan brought me back, Caitlyn had already hanged herself. So, that was that.”
The lies and truth were too tangled for Jasper to separate, but one thing stood out. “Their only evidence was a bloody d-dress? I’d imagine b-bloody garments abound in a br-brothel.”
Law sighed. “They also found Dunbarton’s watch when they searched her room.”
Jasper couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?”
“Caitlyn had his watch in her room—Dunbarton’s—with blood all over it.”
Jasper stared.
“Is somethin’ the matter, sir?”
“Jemmy Hart claims he prigged D-Dunbarton’s watch the night he f-found him.”
Law’s jaw sagged.
“How d-did they know it w-was Dunbarton’s watch?” Jasper asked.
“I wasn’t there, but I think Mrs. Dunbarton identified it.”
“Mrs. D-Dunbarton identified it,” Jasper repeated, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“If that’s true, then how the hell did it end up in Caitlyn’s room?” Law asked.
“Hart said he s-sold the watch.”
Law’s forehead creased. “You think somebody bought it and planted it in Caitlyn’s room?”
“It d-does sound far-fetched, but I g-got the impression Ryan doesn’t like you; do you think—”
“I think he’d frame me in a heartbeat. But Caitlyn? Why? And how would he get the watch to begin with?”
“These are all g-good questions. We n-need to find out where Hart sold the watch and see who they s-sold it to.”
A rap on the window made them both jump.
It was O’Malley; they’d been so intent that neither of them had noticed they’d arrived at the station house.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Leonard Gamble’s body was found this morning, floating near the New Orleans Pier.”
CHAPTER 27
O’Reilly’s saloon was doing a booming business, and it took Jasper several minutes to part the crowd and reach the bar. He recognized the barkeep as the man who’d served him the last time.
“What can I get you?”
“I’m l-looking for Jemmy Hart.”
“Why? Is he in trouble?”
“No, I just want to t-talk to him.”
“I ain’t seen him for a few days.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Sometimes I don’t see him for a week.”
“Any idea wh-where I might find him?”
“He bunks up with a bunch of others over in the Old Brewery.”
“He l-lives in a brewery?”
“Nah, that’s just the old name for it.”
“Wh-where is that?”
He looked Jasper up and down. “Are you thinkin’ to go alone?”
“Be still my heart, it’s His Lordship!”
Jasper had hoped to ask Hart what he needed to ask and then get out. He should have known better. He turned to find Lorena Paxton grinning at him.
“Come to pay your bill, my lord? Or were you hopin’ to slip in and out unnoticed?”
Something about her question made his face heat.
“He’s wantin’ to go look for Jemmy.”
The madam grimaced. “A more pestilence-ridden hole than the Old Brewery you’ve never seen. It’s dangerous even in broad daylight—especially those tunnels. Don’t go alone; wait and take Law with you.” Before Jasper could respond, she turned to the barkeep. “Two Kilbeggans.” She winked at Jasper. “Since you’ve no longer got plans to go muckin’ about in places you don’t belong, you can entertain me.” She elbowed a man off the nearest barstool and took it for herself.
The barkeep put two brimming shot glasses on the sticky bar top. The madam handed Jasper a glass and lifted the other. “Here’s to new friendships, my delicious lord.” She threw back her head, the ivory column of her throat taut as she swallowed, smacking her lips in a way that was raw and suggestive.
When in Rome, Jasper.
Jasper sighed before tossing his own drink back, not his method of choice when it came to spirits. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, pushing the glass to the bartender.
“How about another?”
“Why do I f-feel as if you wish to get me d-drunk, Mrs. Paxton?”
<
br /> She gave him a hard look.
“Lorie,” he amended.
“Pour His Lordship a pint, Jimmy.” She smiled at Jasper. “You can have a little fun.”
“Fun,” Jasper repeated.
“You sound like you’ve never heard the word.”
He hadn’t—at least not the way she’d used it. “T-Tell me how you know Detective L-Law,” he said, although he already knew.
She shook her head. “Always workin’, you. I know Hy from St. Pat’s Ass.” Jasper almost choked on his beer, and the madam grinned. “There, that’s more like it. Saint Patrick’s Asylum for Orphans is over on Duane and Chatham. Hy’s younger than me—not that you’d know it.” She gave him a saucy, suggestive look. “I didn’t know him well until he came here. He was just a babe—fifteen or sixteen. Nothin’ like he is now, just all elbows and knees. I gave him his first ride.”
“I think you are t-trying to p-put me to the b-blush.”
“You bet I am.” The amusement drained from her face. “You want to ask me about Caitlyn but worry I might slap your face like I did Hy.”
Jasper couldn’t deny that was a concern.
She sighed. “It was the usual story—a randy employer got Caitlyn pregnant, and those old crones over at St. Pat’s wouldn’t help her.”
“So she c-came to work for you?”
“Not right away. She was young enough to pass for a virgin, so she went to Solange’s, where somethin’ bad happened, so then she came here.”
“What h-happened?”
“Caitlyn never said, and I never asked, sugar. We all have stories we don’t wanna tell.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“Whorin’ was never a good job for Caitlyn, and she sure as hell didn’t want it for her sister.”
“S-Sister?”
“Amy, Caitlyn’s little sister. More like a daughter—almost ten years younger than Caitlyn. It was a good thing Amy was gone by the time Caitlyn was arrested.” She shook her head. “She worshiped Caitlyn.”
“Gone?”
“Caitlyn got her onto the Orphan Train—or she got Hy to do it.”
Jasper wasn’t sure where to start. “Orphan T-Train?”
“It ain’t a real train. It’s run by the Children’s Aid Society; they find homes for orphans away from the city.”
“When was this?”
“I’m not sure, exactly, but it couldn’t have been long before Caitlyn got arrested. Just ask Hy.”
Oh, Jasper planned to ask him.
“What d-did you think about Miss Grady and Detective Law?”
Lorie snorted. “First—men are dumb.”
Jasper laughed.
“I ain’t jokin’. I told Caitlyn to leave Law alone, but she wanted to know what was goin’ on with the case.” Lorie shook her head. “I can’t deny Caitlyn had a fierce hatred for Dunbarton, and I do remember her sayin’ that whoever killed him should get a reward.”
“Where d-did this hatred come from?”
“He’d treated her badly back when she worked at Solange’s.” She shook her head. “I was right fond of Caitlyn, but the girl had the brains of a squirrel.”
“And S-Sealy? Did she know him?”
“I never heard her say a thing about him.”
“B-But she confessed to killing him.”
“Her confession mentioned a lot of horseshit that made no sense,” she said darkly.
“Do you b-believe what McElhenney claimed—that Caitlyn gave Detective L-Law money?”
“You need to ask’ him about that, my lord. All I’m sayin’ is that Hy Law was properly named; the man is as law-abidin’ as they come. He loves his job and wouldn’t have put it at risk for a jaunt down cock lane.” Her eyes flickered to Jasper’s ears—now hot—and her grin returned. “You have beautiful skin, my lord, but it likes to give you away, don’t it?”
“You’re a m-menace, Lorie.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said with an exaggerated Irish accent.
Jasper slid a coin across the bar before pulling on his gloves.
“You leavin’ already? Why don’t you come upstairs with me—you’re lookin’ a bit Mondayish.”
He was feeling a bit Mondayish. “I’d not be much sp-sport, I’m afraid.”
“If you’re tired, it just so happens I’ve got a bed.”
“I s-suspect that very little s-sleeping would go on in it.”
She grinned. “A girl’s gotta keep tryin’.”
“Thank you for the d-drinks.”
“If Law comes lookin’ for you, I’m tellin’ him I warned you.”
As Jasper turned to go, she caught his arm. “One more thing, my lord.” Her expression was pensive. “If you repeat this, I’ll say you’re lyin’. Watch out for Terrance Ryan—you humiliated him, and he don’t like you one bit. Caitlyn humiliated him, and look what happened to her.”
“How?”
“She wouldn’t fuck him. Told him he was too mean and ugly—in front of half my bar.”
“When was this?”
“Ages ago—but I don’t think he forgot. Caitlyn made an enemy of Ryan and ended up dead. Be careful, my lord.”
* * *
Park and Baxter connected to Worth Street, which was the fifth spoke of Five Points, one of the most infamous intersections in the English-speaking world. Jasper knew it wasn’t his imagination that hundreds of eyes watched him as he walked down Baxter; he felt like a scrap of fresh meat tossed into a dogfighting pit.
He’d thought there was no reek worse than Mr. Gamble’s rooms; he’d been wrong. A choking, unmoving funk hovered over Five Points, blocking out the sun. It was as if the cobbles themselves exuded a mephitic stench the earth could no longer contain.
While his eyes and nose watered, some reptilian part of his brain triggered the small hairs on his body: Danger!
His left hand acted on its own volition, his fingers closing around the delicate wrist just leaving his overcoat pocket.
“Ow!”
He looked down at what he’d caught: human, dressed like a male, anywhere from nine to fifteen, depending on nutrition.
“Lemme go—I wasn’t d-doon nothin’!” He fluttered in Jasper’s grasp like a moth battering itself against a window. All around them, people went about their business.
“I’m l-looking for somebody,” Jasper said, deciding the boy might as well be of use, now that he had him.
Yank, yank, yank.
“His name is J-J-Jemmy Hart.”
The boy stopped jerking, light-gray eyes blinking up out of a face that hadn’t seen a washcloth in weeks, if ever. “You’ve g-got a stammer.”
At first Jasper thought the boy was mocking him, but then he saw he wasn’t laughing.
“What’s your n-name?”
The lad’s jaw dropped lower, but then something—hope?—flashed in his eyes. Jasper released his wrist; the boy didn’t bolt.
“J-J-J-J—” He scowled and spun on his heel. Before he could get away, Jasper caught his upper arm and turned him back.
“N-Never let it win; never let it t-take your words from you,” he said with more force than he’d intended.
His captive’s nostrils flared dangerously, and he wrenched his arm away. “John!”
“It’s b-better when you shout?”
John gave an abrupt nod.
Jasper had noticed that too. It served its purpose in the military, but one could hardly go about yelling in drawing rooms, at dinner tables, and in widows’ bedchambers.
He reached into his pocket and took out his card case. Paisley had put his cards in his most modest holder today. Even so, the unembellished gold drew every eye around them—or so it felt—when he took out a card and handed it to the boy, who snatched it.
“C-Can you read?”
“Aye,” John said scornfully, giving the card a cursory look before tucking it into his rags. “Ain’t s-s-s-s-styoopid.”
“I’m looking for Jemmy Hart. “
“R
ag-and-bone man,” John said, his lips curving in a self-congratulatory smile when he got the words out clean and quick. Jasper knew the feeling.
John rubbed his fingers together in the international symbol for money.
“When you’ve t-taken me t-to him.”
John set off down the street and Jasper followed, aware he was likely following the boy into a trap.
They walked less than a block before John stopped in front a grayish clapboard monstrosity with pale splotches of yellow paint here and there, like a building afflicted with jaundice. Down both sides ran narrow alleys, one surely no wider than three feet.
The boy jabbed a finger to the southside corridor. “M-M-M-Murderer’s Alley.” He shot said alley a murderous look and then pointed to the other side. “Den of Th-Th-Th-Th—” He threw his hands up and stomped toward an old woman sitting on a stump at the corner of the house.
She was selling torches, among other things, so Jasper bought two, and the woman shook out a phosphorus match—what they called lucifers in England—and lit both torches.
John headed for the front doorway, which had no door in it.
Inside, the crush of bodies and odor of unwashed skin was oppressive. But worse than the smell was the heat generated by so many people.
John headed for a black hole that seemed to have opened up in the floor.
You’re a fool, Jasper.
But his feet followed the boy down the stairs.
John didn’t stop on the first level but continued down and down. It was cooler, but the air was fetid and humid.
There was yet another set of stairs, but John turned right, leading Jasper down a corridor so narrow he had to turn sideways. The rooms off to the side were more like slots in a file cabinet; faint light glimmered in a few. Jasper glanced at his flickering torch; if a fire started in this building, none of them would escape.
John stopped midway down the corridor and pointed into a dark slot.
“Mr. Hart?” Jasper asked, holding up his already guttering torch. Inside he saw three human forms. “M-Mr. Hart?”
Absence of Mercy Page 25
