“I’ve reassigned you to assist Lawson in the Dupin case. You’ll be working the day shift for now.”
Relief washed over him. Officers were often temporarily appointed as assistants. To be delegated partial responsibility for such a public investigation was an honor.
But Carson wasn’t finished. “I’ve been watching your work for several months. You’re observant with a keen mind. We need fresh eyes on this case, and I think you’ll be an asset. If all goes well, you can expect a permanent detective position.”
To become a detective at twenty-six was almost unheard of in the Cincinnati police department. Each detective on the force had well over twenty years of experience. Abraham had a mere three.
Lawson regarded him with fierce appraisal. Abraham must have met his approval, for the man rose and enthusiastically shook Abraham’s hand. “Congratulations. I’m eager to begin your training.”
“Don’t congratulate him yet.” As Lawson returned to his seat, Carson gathered papers on his desk and tapped them into alignment. “The negative publicity has drawn Mayor Jacobs’s attention. He plans to fire the entire department if we don’t bring this case to a swift end. Dupin is our only lead and the driving force behind this madness. Your first priority is to identify the man and bring him in for questioning. Clemens, share what you brought in earlier.”
Clemens retrieved a plain envelope from his coat pocket and extended it toward Abraham. “Dupin left this on my desk while I was away.”
A quick glance at the signature indicated it was Dupin, but anyone could have signed it. However, it was unlikely anyone else would be so adamant and detailed in the defense of his innocence or go so far as to suggest comparing the handwriting to a Dupin manuscript. Abraham frowned as he read the lengthy letter describing the reasons why Dupin couldn’t have committed the murders, including his alibis. Dupin admitted being at home to finish a manuscript was insufficient to persuade anyone of his innocence, but insisted his publisher could verify that he had a deadline the next day. As for the most recent murder, he’d been at the police station when it occurred. A brilliant stroke of luck if they could identify him.
“He was at the station? Which one?”
Lawson shook his head. “He didn’t give enough information. Even if we knew, we don’t know what capacity his presence entailed. Prisoner, officer, clerk, visitor, lawyer. The possibilities are too wide and undocumented for us to identify a specific suspect.”
An unfortunate truth. But it was something to keep in mind. “Did anyone see Dupin when he delivered the letter?”
Clemens shook his head. “I asked around, but no one remembers seeing him. People are always coming and going in our offices.”
Lawson scrubbed his chin. “Unless Dupin is familiar with which desk is yours, he would have had to ask for its location. Did you check with the front clerk to see if they could give a description?”
“Of course I did. You’re not the only one who can conduct an investigation.”
“But why deliver it to you at all?” Abraham asked. “It makes more sense for him to deliver the note to us. We’re the only ones who can dismiss him as a suspect.”
“He’s smart enough to know you’d keep the information to yourselves. He needs me to publish the note and clear him publicly. One hundred dollars is an enticement few men can ignore.”
Abraham frowned. “This sounds like a scheme to sell more papers.”
Clemens stepped away from the wall toward Abraham. “Then why would I come here before publishing it? We might not always see eye to eye, but I believe in justice as much as you. I just go about it in a different way.”
“We have the same aim, gentlemen, and it is in our best interest to work together.” Carson rose from his chair, as if preparing to step in should fists start flying.
He needn’t have worried. Abraham wasn’t given to fighting. Not that he could say the same for Clemens. Rumor had it he was a fierce competitor in the illegal pugilist matches.
“I’ve done nothing but cooperate. I withheld the story about Poe’s connection to Finn’s murder just like you asked, but instead of an arrest, another body turned up. I’m printing Dupin’s letter.”
Carson folded his arms. “At least wait until we have confirmed that this letter is indeed from Dupin. It is too late to go to the publisher today, but we’ll pay them a visit and compare documents tomorrow.” He extended his hand toward Clemens. “Thank you for the information. I appreciate your support.”
Clemens snubbed Carson’s proffered hand. “Just be sure Lawson runs every lead down to the ground. Whether Dupin’s innocent or guilty is yet to be determined, and Lawson’s history doesn’t give me confidence that he’s the right detective for this case. His negligence has allowed a criminal to walk free before.”
He strode from the room without a by-your-leave.
“Don’t let him get to you, Lawson.” Carson relit a half-smoked cigar. “No one has a perfect career. Some people just can’t accept that we’re human and make mistakes.”
“He has good cause to be upset with me over that particular case, but I’ve learned not to allow the man’s bitterness to affect me.”
No specific case stood out in Abraham’s recollection of the detective, but Carson’s words were true enough. Leave it to Clemens to hold being human against someone.
“Good.” Carson sat down. “Familiarize Hall with the details of the case, then put the pressure on O’Dell Publishing to give up Dupin’s identity. They know who he is, and we’re not going to allow them to keep silent any longer.”
Before they examined the files, Lawson provided Abraham a brief tour of the small detectives’ office tucked into the back corner of the City Building’s basement. Like the rest of the station hidden beneath the city’s government offices, small rectangular windows situated at the top edge of the exterior walls provided the only natural light. Of course, that might be for the best. The dimness probably hid the evidence of rodents and grime better, even if it couldn’t disguise the musty air.
“That one is yours.” Lawson pointed to a dilapidated piece of wood that once upon a time might have been considered a desk. Dark mildew spots streaked the bowed and splintered top while one leg appeared rotted through. With it jammed in the corner as it was, Abraham would have to climb over and risk his neck to reach the chair.
