The Kingdom of Bones

FORTY-ONE

Calvin Quinn was not hard to find. His law offices in the Chamber of Commerce building were listed in the city directory, and a three-figure telephone number along with them. Sebastian used a coin-operated telephone in the back of a drugstore. Quinn took his call, but when he realized what it was about, he cut off the conversation. So Sebastian waited outside his office until the end of the day, and followed his carriage back to his Church Hill home.

When Sebastian rang the bell by the door and stepped back, he saw movement at one of the windows, but no one came. So then he rang the bell again, and kept on ringing it until one of Quinn’s black servants opened the door.

“Mister Quinn says that if you don’t leave, he’ll call in the police,” the man said.

Sebastian said, “Tell Mister Quinn that if he won’t speak to me, I’ll fetch them myself.”

A couple of minutes later, he was in Quinn’s study. The lawyer left the study door slightly ajar. Sebastian was aware of at least one of the servants hovering outside in the hallway, presumably to eject him if called upon.

Quinn was already aware of Sayers’ arrest. It was the reason for his nervousness. He’d no wish for it to be known that he’d led them to the old vaudeville house, or to make any public explanation of his own familiarity with its use as a venue for le vice anglais.

Sebastian told him of the scene in the courtroom, and the events that followed.

“I hurried to his lodgings,” Sebastian said. “But I had missed him by minutes.”

“And what of your thousand dollars?”

“I’ve lost it,” Sebastian said simply. “The man’s jumped bail and the money is forfeit. He’s robbed me twice over. My family’s savings, my son’s hope of a cure, and a young girl’s trousseau. All for his pursuit of that mad flogging whore.”

“Steady on,” Quinn said, and he got up and closed the study door.

Then he turned back to face Sebastian. “Why are you here?” he said. “Are you after replacing your money? I won’t be blackmailed.”

“Don’t insult me,” Sebastian said. “I won’t take a penny. But you will help me.”

He went on to explain his belief that the death of Jules Patenotre was related to at least two others of a similar character that had gone before: one in San Francisco, and another in Philadelphia. The woman now calling herself Mary D’Alroy was linked to each of them.

At the mention of Jules Patenotre’s name, Sebastian had seen something change in Quinn’s expression.

“You knew him,” he said.

“I knew of him,” Quinn said. “Patenotre was in the process of raising a loan against some property in Louisiana. He’s been breaking up the old family estate and living off the proceeds. He’s borrowed money before. Buyers don’t always come along at the exact time when you need them, so he was using the plantation house for security whenever his funds dipped low. He’d pay off the loans whenever he sold more land. He always said that the house was the last thing he’d part with.”

“His deposit box at Murphy’s Hotel had been emptied,” Sebastian said. “I believe by our so-called Mary D’Alroy after his death. The police don’t know of her yet, and I want to keep it that way.”

“You want to protect her? Why?”

“Not protect her,” Sebastian said. “I need you to act for me. Contact each set of authorities and negotiate a reward. If I can’t take my money back from Sayers, I’ll get equal value from her. I can’t do that if the police reach her first.”

“How will you know where to look?”

“I reckon we can make a start by locating the Patenotre estate,” Sebastian said.