William M. Lee

“Lee finished his third drink and turned to Allerton. “I figure to go down to South America soon,” he said. “Why don’t you come along? Won’t cost you a cent.” “Perhaps not in money.” “I’m not a difficult man to get along with,” said Lee. “We could reach a satisfactory arrangement. What you got to lose?” “Independence.” “So who’s going to cut in on your independence? You can lay all the women in South America if you want to. All I ask is be nice to Papa, say twice a week.””

“An oil lamp lit a woman's body. Lee could feel desire for the woman through the other's body. 'I'm not queer,' he thought. 'I'm disembodied””

“Jackaby did not speak as we left the building. We were three or four blocks away from the station house when Lydia Lee caught up to us, the coach rattling and clinking and the dappled gray horse stamping its hooves impatiently on the cobblestones. Miss Lee managed to convince the Duke to clop to a halt just ahead of us, and my employer climbed into the carriage wordlessly.Miss Lee gave me an inquisitive look, but Jackaby finally broke his silence before I could explain. “Don’t bother with niceties. Take me home, Miss Lee.” He thought for a moment. “I’m going to need you to go to jail for me afterward.”“That is the second time a man’s said those words to me,” she replied gamely. “Although the last time I got flowers and a dance first, if memory serves.”“Bail,” amended Jackaby as Miss Lee hopped back into the driver’s box.“They usually do, in the end,” she said, sighing.“What? Listen, I have a jar of banknotes in my office earmarked for bail. I’ll bring it out to you as soon as we arrive. I need you to bring it to the processing officer at the Mason Street Station. He’ll sort out the paperwork. Just sign where he tells you to. Ask for Alton.”“Allan,” I corrected.“I’m fairly sure it’s Alton,” said Jackaby.“You want me to post bail for somebody?” Miss Lee called down as the carriage began to rattle on down the street. “I guess I can do that.”“Thank you,” Jackaby called back to her.“Who am I bailing out?”“Everyone.”The carriage bumped along the paving stones for a silent stretch. “By everyone, you mean . . . ?”“It is a rather large jar of banknotes,” said Jackaby.“Right,” came Miss Lee’s voice at length. “You’re the boss.””