Page 8 of Written in Secret (The Art of Love and Danger)
C HAPTER 8
W HEN A brAHAM AND L AWSON ARRIVED at O’Dell Publishing at ten the next morning, nearly a dozen people were picketing outside the entrance. Signs condemning the publisher for printing immoral books were interspersed with signs demanding Dupin be handed over. The group appeared peaceful, but that could change quickly.
As Abraham and Lawson entered the three-story brick building, one of the picketers who lived on Abraham’s beat recognized him as an officer and called him out. The picketer, then the crowd, lobbed insults about the police not doing their job and insisted they arrest Dupin. Lawson appeared unperturbed, but Abraham remained tense until safely inside. Hopefully they’d ascertain Dupin’s identity today and subdue Cincinnati’s bubbling temper.
Just past the vestibule, locked glass cases displayed copies of O’Dell’s printed works with an obvious pride in the material they published. As he approached the secretary’s desk, Abraham noted Mr. Dupin and Miss Pelton each had an entire shelf dedicated solely to their works. Only two other authors shared that privilege. They must be the primary moneymakers for the company or perhaps the most prolific of the company’s contributors. It would explain Mr. O’Dell’s reluctance to expose Dupin. If Dupin were guilty, O’Dell would lose a source of income. His refusal to share Dupin’s identity might speak more of his doubt over Dupin’s innocence than his presumed desire to protect his author.
A dark-haired man, far too broad for the cramped space provided by the desk, rose to greet them on their approach. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Marcus Monroe, managing editor of O’Dell Publishing. How may I help you?”
“I’m Detective Talbot Lawson, and this is Detective Abraham Hall. We’re here to speak with Mr. O’Dell.”
Monroe’s smile faded. “I presume you seek Mr. Dupin’s identity.”
“It is the only way to clear Mr. Dupin of suspicion.” Lawson led the conversation as Abraham watched for any inconsistencies. “As managing editor, you have contact with the authors. Is that correct?”
“Yes, but Dupin is an exception. I’ve only dealt with him through letters. The man has never set foot in the building.”
“Did you know Dupin was a pseudonym?”
“It was agreed upon in his contract, and I’ve never been told his identity.”
It didn’t take observing the man’s defensive stance or his slight avoidance at meeting their eyes to know Monroe would protect Dupin. Maybe O’Dell would be more cooperative.
“Is Mr. O’Dell available to speak with us?”
“He’s in his office.” Monroe gestured behind him. “Down that hall, take a right at the end, and it will be the last door on the left. I’d take you myself, but our secretary had a family emergency, and I’m covering for him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Monroe. Don’t go anywhere; I may have more questions for you afterward.”
The dainty chair groaned as Monroe dropped onto it. “As long as you finish with O’Dell before closing, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
James O’Dell welcomed them into his office with an exuberant handshake and wide smile. Odd, given a crowd protested at his entrance and the police were paying him a personal call. With a magnanimous sweep of his arm, he offered them each a padded seat across from his massive desk. The thinning hair combed over his balding head bounced with each jaunty step to his publishing throne.
“For a man whose author is suspected of murder, you appear quite jovial.” Lawson claimed a chair and Abraham followed his lead, though he’d rather stand and keep the advantage.
“What can I say? Murder is good for business.” O’Dell rested his hands over his plump belly. “I’ve sold every copy of his books I had since this whole scandal started. Second-run prints are in process, and I’ve commissioned special editions to be created with the original news stories at the back.”
“I see greed is alive and well.” Lawson crossed a leg over his knee and leaned back in his chair. The man was an expert at appearing nonchalant and relaxed, even while delivering an insult.
“ Greed nothing. It’s business. The profit margin of the publishing world is not so great as you might think. Each story we print is a risk, and when I have a moneymaker, I’ll run it until there’s no more gain to be had.”
“Even at the cost of lives?”
O’Dell snorted. “Dupin is no murderer. The man is far too protective of his reputation to stoop to something so risky. Why do you think he uses a pseudonym? No, gentlemen. You’re wasting your time. Someone else is responsible for those men’s deaths. Not that their passing is any great shame.”
Abraham bristled. “Every life is valuable.”
O’Dell waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, of course. But you must admit, the world is a safer place having those criminals permanently off the street.”
“They were fairly tried and exonerated.” The justice system might not be perfect, but it was not the public’s place to overturn that decision.
“ Fairly tried? Had it been anyone else, convictions would have abounded.”
“That is a very decided opinion, sir.”
“And one shared by the majority of Cincinnatians. The newspapers may be decrying Dupin as a villain, but I guarantee you, there are many more who gather in their parlors and declare him a hero.”
Lawson shifted and cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, our investigation requires we examine one of Dupin’s manuscripts and for us to speak with Dupin ourselves.” He produced his notepad and pencil and slid them across the desk. “If you’ll provide his most recent manuscript and his contact information, we’ll be on our way.”
“I wish I could help, but you’ll need a warrant for that manuscript.”
So much for Mr. O’Dell’s cooperation.
“As far as Dupin’s identity, I can tell you honestly, I don’t know who Dupin is. Signing him on with that anonymity agreement was the best choice I ever made.”
“Then how do you pay him or contact him when there is a problem?”
“All communication and payments are made through another author.”
“And that would be?” Lawson nodded toward the notepad.
O’Dell ignored it. “Unless you have a warrant, I’m not at liberty to tell you. I must protect those in my employ.”
O’Dell had dozens of authors. Any one of them could be Dupin’s contact. No, not any of them. Dupin started writing for O’Dell three years ago. If he insisted on communicating through another author, that person must have already been established here and likely still wrote. Dupin had eight novels, so his contact likely had more. Based on the number of authors with entire shelves to display their work, that fact narrowed things down significantly.
When avoiding answering questions, people often gave themselves away through unintended signals. It wasn’t perfect but worth an attempt. Otherwise, Abraham and Lawson would be knocking on the doors of authors all week long.
Abraham stood so that he had a better view of O’Dell’s physical responses. “Would Dupin’s friend happen to be Rebecca Maney?”
O’Dell remained silent.
“T. G. DiVincenzo.”
Again, nothing.
The last author who met Abraham’s criteria was one he deeply hoped would result in the same response.
“What about Lydia Pelton?”
O’Dell remained silent, but he visibly tensed while his lips flattened and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Abraham’s stomach sank. One response could mean nothing, but all three at once? So much for discerning Miss Pelton’s character through her writing. She knew the police were searching for Dupin, but instead of revealing her connection to him, she’d suggested Abraham read his books as if that might prove his innocence.
He’d been duped, and he had no one to blame but himself. He should have known a woman who’d steal a goat wasn’t to be trusted. At least he’d discovered her character before he’d allowed his heart to become entangled. This would serve as a reminder that, if he wanted a wife, he’d have to make an effort to meet women outside of his professional interactions.
Lawson jumped on O’Dell’s physical response. “How is Miss Pelton connected to Dupin?”
O’Dell scowled. “I don’t have to answer that.”
“I noticed that she has over a dozen books displayed on your shelves. She must be a very popular author. I’m sure you don’t want the papers discovering her connection to Dupin. If the papers printed that information, Miss Pelton might feel it unsafe to continue writing for you.”
Lawson must be bluffing. He wouldn’t really risk Miss Pelton’s reputation or safety by sharing her Dupin connection with the papers, would he? Even if he didn’t care for Miss Pelton, Lawson must care about his career. Their jobs would not survive to the end of the case if the mayor found out they were responsible for his friend’s daughter being exposed to danger.
Thankfully, O’Dell didn’t test the bluff. He grimaced and dropped his arms. “I suspect they’re romantically involved. Their characters sometimes appear in each other’s novels, especially when they have similar deadlines. They must spend a great deal of time brainstorming and writing together. Other than for romance, I can’t fathom why they would do so.”
“Dupin could be a family member,” Lawson reasoned.
“Miss Pelton has no brothers. Her father is the coroner and, while a decent man, does not have the knack for writing. He once submitted a story that was best used for the lining of my wife’s birdcage. If Dupin’s a family member, then it must be a distant one.” The publisher picked up a pen and examined it thoughtfully. When he spoke again, it was in a firm tone. “I’m telling you, her relationship with the man is a romantic one. I pressed her to reveal his identity when his books began to outsell hers, but she refused. Said it would ruin his reputation. Even after promises of secrecy and a threat to fire her, she refused to betray him. She’s confident enough in his affections that she declared if I fired her, Dupin would go to a competitor.”
Usually, Abraham viewed loyalty with respect, but all he could muster now was dismay. He’d intentionally flirted with her to test for potential interest. She’d flirted back for nothing more than entertainment. Rejection always stung, but at least he’d not given her the opportunity to declare a coward like Dupin a better choice of partner than him. Call him spiteful, but it pleased him that he and Lawson were about to reveal the character of her beau as lacking.