City of Glory (62 page)

His voice echoed in the empty hall. “Delight!” Joyful threw open the door to the gaming salon. It was deserted. Dice and cards lay abandoned on most of the tables; glasses and tankards were everywhere, many containing the dregs of a drink. The spittoons had not been emptied; neither had the large crockery bowls provided for the convenience of smokers. The whole place reeked of last night’s pleasure. He’d never known the gaming salon not to be fresh and spotless and ready by this time of day. “Delight! Where in Hades are you!” He strode across the hall to the Ladies’ Parlor. It was equally slovenly. Delight’s normal practice was to roust all the women from their beds by two and set them to cleaning. She’d sack anyone who didn’t comply. “Delight!” Still no answer. Sweet Christ, what was going on?

Manon had been taken because Blakeman wanted to get at him. But what was the connection with Delight? He heard a sound behind him and turned to see Bearded Agnes coming down the stairs.

They talked in the Ladies’ Parlor, surrounded by the soiled cups and saucers and glasses of the night before, an abandoned hand of cards turned facedown on the little table between them. “Blackbirders,” Joyful said. “You’re sure?”

“Course I’m sure.” Agnes’s eyes were red with weeping. “Terrified of ’em, she was. You must o’ known that, Dr. Turner.”

He nodded. “Yes, I did. But how—You say she was abducted from inside the house. How could that happen? Where were the the chuckers-out? Where were all the rest of you?”

“Asleep, like I told you,” Agnes said. “Only Preservation Shay and me and Miss Higgins was up and about. She was in her private rooms with the mantua maker. She was being fitted and—”

Joyful leaned across the table and gripped Agnes’s wrist. “Are you saying her mantua maker was with her when she was taken?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, Dr. Turner. Only you won’t let me get the story out.”

He let her go. “I’m sorry. In your own words, then. I’m listening.”

“The mantua maker brought a girl with her, an assistant. Least that’s what we thought. Turned out to be a man, one of them pirates with cutlasses and guns the mantua maker was screaming about, and—”

Sweet Christ, the pieces were starting to come together. “Tintin,” Joyful said. “The Baratarian. He put the woman up to it.”

Agnes nodded. “Pirates threatened to kill her babies, she said. Besides, everyone knows pirates are the worst blackbirders there are. And that Tintin, he was always following Miss Higgins about, baiting her, since the first night he walked into the place.”

It was Blakeman who staked Tintin to a substantial wager that same first time the pirate appeared at the club. “Agnes, Gornt Blakeman, the man I played bezique with a few nights past, the one who—”

“I know who he is.”

There was something in the way she said it. Not looking at him, embarrassed. It would take a lot to embarrass Bearded Agnes. “Delight invited him up to the third floor, didn’t she?”

“You weren’t coming around anymore, Dr. Turner. Not the way you used to. She was unhappy. A woman like Miss Higgins…”

“Yes, I understand.” Blakeman and Tintin, Delight a pawn for both of them. “Tell me how the blackbirders got her out of the house.”

“I’ll show you,” she said, and took him up to Delight’s boudoir and led him to the rope ladder still hanging from the window. A ship’s ladder.

Joyful spent less than ten seconds examining it, then started for the stairs. “Don’t open for business tonight, Agnes, but get this place cleaned up. Miss Higgins will have a fit if she comes home and finds it like this.”

“You think she’ll be coming—”

“I guarantee it.” If she was alive. If Manon was…He wouldn’t let himself think about it. “Spotless,” he called over his shoulder as he went out the door, as loudly as he could so they’d all hear him. “Spotless from top to bottom. Otherwise every one of you gets the sack.”

He was again whistling past the graveyard, but as always it made him feel better.

Chapter Twenty-five

New York City,
Maiden Lane, 7
P.M.

“T
INTIN
,”
Joyful said. “A pirate. He showed up at the Dancing Knave a bit over a week ago. Blakeman backed him in a high-stakes wager. He’s in league with them. It’s some part of his scheme for breaking the Union.” Andrew, Vionne, the Widow Tremont, and young Jesse Edwards—they were all still in Vionne’s front room, exactly as he’d left them a bit over an hour ago. Looking at Joyful and trying to understand the utility of the information he’d brought back.

“What has any of this to do with my daughter?” Vionne asked.

“It tells us where Blakeman has taken her. Tintin has a ship—”

Andrew shook his head. “You can’t know that. Perhaps this Tintin came overland.”

“I do know it,” Joyful said. “I saw the rope ladder he used to abduct Delight from her private quarters.” Christ, look at the expression on Vionne’s face. The man who wanted to marry Manon was apparently on close terms with a brothel keeper. “It was a ship’s ladder, covered in barnacles and disgracefully frayed. A pirate ship’s the only kind that wouldn’t have tossed it into the sea ages ago.”

“Then why hasn’t this pirate ship been spotted?” Andrew demanded. “The harbor’s chock full of seamen with nowhere to go and nothing to do but keep an eye out. A strange craft, surely—”

“I agree. Which has to mean the pirates aren’t in the harbor and have hidden their ship somewhere else.” He found it hard not to let his discouragement show. “How in God’s name do we find a ship that’s—Yes, Jesse, what is it?” The boy was tugging at his coat.

“I know someone as can find any ship anywhere near here, Dr. Turner. That’s his job o’work. Been doing it every day for three years. I can take you to him if you like.”

Andrew insisted on driving Joyful and Jesse to Devrey’s South Street premises, flogging his horse as if the trap were a stagecoach chased by a gang of thieves, though they raced through semideserted streets. The city had spent itself in the activities of the day; now everything was hush and calm. Both the dock and the warehouse looked deserted. Joyful cursed himself for a fool, so desperate for hope he was willing to snatch at any straw. “Looks like your friend’s left for the day, Jesse.”

“No sir, Dr. Turner. I’m sure he’s not done that. He’s always here until full dark. Look up there.” Jesse pointed to the tall tower. “That’s where Will is. He’s Bastard Devrey’s lookout boy.”

“No he’s not,” Joyful said, confidence flooding back. “He’s mine. Give him a shout, Jesse. Tell him to come down.”

“Workers on this here dock answer to me, gents. You’ll not be shouting any of ’em down or up lest I say so.” The man’s wooden leg made a tapping sound on the boards as he approached them.

“Peggety Jack, isn’t it?” Joyful said.

“Aye. And you’re Dr. Joyful Turner, and”—he turned to face Andrew—“and the senior Dr. Turner. I knows you both by reputation, gents. But this here be Mr. Lansing Devrey’s wharf, and ye won’t be—”

“You work for me, Peggety, not Bastard. I own the controlling interest in Devrey Shipping”—ignoring Andrew’s startled glance.

“No one’s told me nothin’ about that.”

“I think they have, Peggety. I think you know pretty much everything that’s gone on. But in any case, I’ve no time to argue with you. Hail down the lad in the tower. I’ve something I want him to do.”

“I can’t—”

Joyful grabbed the front of the tar’s checked shirt and pulled him close. “Hail him down, old man. Now. Else I’ll cut off the other leg.”

“You can’t—”

“Let poor old Peggety go, Cousin Joyful.” Bastard Devrey came out of the warehouse and walked toward them. “He’s useful, as you’ll discover. Good evening to you, and to you, Cousin Andrew.”

Joyful released his hold on Peggety Jack. “Good evening, Bastard.”

“I’ve been thinking it was time we spoke again,” Bastard said. “I hear you were magnificent today in Paradise Square. I’m proud to be your partner, Cousin Joyful, and I suggest we—”

Pond scum. The sight of him made Joyful’s gorge rise. “Later,” he said, his terseness making it apparent he knew exactly the game Bastard had tried to play. “Jesse, shout Will down from that tower.”

“No need,” Jesse said, pointing to the ladder. “He’s seen us, I reckon. Anyways, he’s on his way down.”

Andrew drove the trap to the end of Front Street. Jesse got down and trotted along on foot, running into each of the taprooms and taverns. “Check closest to the waterfront first,” Joyful had instructed. “Then start on the inland taverns if you must.”

No need, as it turned out. Jesse saw the tall, bald man with the full bushy beard in a grog shop up by Bruce’s Wharf. Playing at cards, he was, just like Dr. Turner said was the probable way of it. “Captain O’Toole?”

“Aye. Who wants ’im?” Continuing to study the cards fanned in his large grip.

“Dr. Joyful Turner. To take the sloop
Lisbetta.
”

“Take her where?”

“I can’t say more here, Cap’n. But it’s urgent. Dr. Joyful’s cousin, Dr. Andrew, he’s waitin’ outside. With a trap as will bring us up to Parker’s where
Lisbetta
is moored.”

The men sitting at the table with O’Toole said something about playing cards and not nattering. He held up a hand to silence them and looked at Jesse. “What’s your name, son? And how did you lose that arm?”

“Jesse Edwards, Cap’n. Lost me arm on the
Lawrence.
Battle o’ Lake Eerie.”

“And I’ll wager a good part o’ what’s here”—O’Toole nodded to the five tall stacks of coins sitting in front of him—“that it’s Joyful Turner what took the arm off, and probably saved your life in the doing of it.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Well, you’re a good and loyal friend to him, that’s obvious. And so am I, lad. Which is why I’m not about to take the
Lisbetta
on any phantom voyage.”

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n. Dr. Joyful said I was to tell you he was asking you to come for his pa’s sake. Said to say this was the time, and he was calling for payment o’ the debt.”

“Bloody poxing hell,” O’Toole muttered. Finally he laid down his cards and began sweeping the piles of money into his hat. Been a lucky leprechaun perched on his shoulder the past four hours. Well, seems like he’d jumped off. “Sorry to quit whilst I’m ahead, boys.” He stood up and cradled the hat in his arms. “But you heard the lad. Must be it’s an emergency.”