He seemed caught off guard by her argument and did not immediately respond. Dare she hope her words had made an impact?
“I understand your point, and I concede that I should conduct my own investigation of dime novels before proclaiming such a decided opinion.” The words indicated victory, but the underlying challenge in his tone declared it a premature assumption. “But how do you explain Dupin?” He pointed to the headline of the poorly folded newspaper. “Is he not proof that dime novels are capable of degrading their readers?”
She should have shoved that paper with its sensationalist bombast in the umbrella stand when she answered the door. “I maintain my position. Just because the killer left behind Billy Poe quotes does not mean Dupin or his stories are responsible. Just read his books. You will see that the only thing they did was reveal the atrocities of the criminals whose stories they were based on.”
“And yet four of those men are dead.”
“Do you really consider him a suspect, or are you parroting someone else’s beliefs again?”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Antagonizing the man would do her no good—they were on the same side, after all. But she needed him to realize that Dupin was not the suspect the police should be chasing.
“Please, Officer Hall. You are an intelligent man. All I am trying to say is, if you want to catch the real murderer, you would do well to study your suspect—Dupin—in any way available to you. Right now, all you have are his books. One can learn a lot about a person by reading their stories. Read Dupin’s. Maybe then you will realize that just because he writes a crime novel doesn’t mean he commits murder.”
“Why are you so adamant in your defense of him?”
A moment of panic sent her mind scrambling for some logical reason. Thankfully she spotted her romance novel still lying on the table.
“Because we are both dime novelists. We are not guilty of misconduct, merely of exposing truths to the world. Dupin reveals corruption, and I reveal the characteristics in a man that a woman should desire.”
“That doesn’t mean his stories didn’t incite someone else to commit murder.”
She shook her head. “A man’s heart is corrupted by—”
“Sin and not literature?” He arched a brow.
“Not literatureortwaddle.”
“So you admit it’s twaddle.” A half smile creased his cheek.
She scrunched her mouth to keep from forming one of her own. Even she had to admit that was a good retort.
“It’s good storytelling, Officer Hall. That is all.”
“I suppose I will have to judge that for myself. If you’ll excuse me, it appears I have somestorytellingto investigate.” He picked upThe Gentleman’s Ward. “If your story is half as challenging as you, then I might be forced to change my opinion—at least on romance.”
“You’ll have to return when you’re finished and inform me if I was successful in such a formidable task.”
“With your permission, I’d like to.”
Had she just fallen into a romance novel? That was entirely too formal and hinted at more than an interest in discussing the morality of dime novels. Her heart raced in a way that was entirely too suspect.
She lifted her chin in an effort to dispel the sudden effect he had on her. “The invitation was genuinely offered. I won’t rescind it just because you accept. I’m not afraid of you.”
“I wonder if you’re afraid of anything.”
“Monkeys. Definitely monkeys.”
He lifted a hand covered in scabs and chuckled. “I concur. Good evening, Miss Pelton. This visit was surprisingly enlightening.”
He let himself out.
Good gracious! Normally she was the one initiating the flirtation. It was surprising to have any man, let alone her Detective Darcy, take the lead. She’d have to work the conversation into a future story, just so she’d have it to treasure long after he’d moved on like the many other potential suitors before him.
“Who was that, dear?” Momma asked at the parlor door.
“Officer Hall. He says Mr. Beadle dropped the charges. Theresa and I are free.” The relief hit her fully then. She need not fear for Papa’s reputation.
