“Yes, and let us hope they have the condensed version—The Personal Memoirs of the First Great Detective. Edwin Gile Rich edited and translated a copy of Vidocq’s memoirs from the French back in 1935. A good thing too. The original was four volumes and more than three hundred fifty thousand words. At least Rich gave us a manageable size to work with.”

Before I could even suggest that we talk with Rebekah, Calvin was already on his feet and on his way to inquiring of the young barista if they had a copy of Rich’s translation.

“Not many people ask about Vidocq,” she said.

“I would suspect not.”

“Which might work out well for you.”

She typed the name into her computer to search the inventory, and then her eyes lit up. “Follow me, sir. I think I might be able to help you out.”

It took her less than a minute to locate the well-worn volume on a shelf near the small cluttered office beside the hallway that led to the rear exit.

Calvin thanked her and purchased it before returning to the table. “We must frequent local bookstores to keep them in business,” he said diplomatically.

“And we appreciate that,” Rebekah replied.

Once the two of us were seated again, I asked Calvin to tell me about Vidocq.

“Eugène François Vidocq. Born in 1775. Worked as a pioneering detective in Paris. After spending a good deal of his early life as a bit of a ruffian who was repeatedly in and out of prison, he offered to work for the police as a spy—what we might today call an undercover officer. Eventually, he became a detective in Paris. Overall, Vidocq spent more than twenty-five years working with the police. Some criminologists claim that he was the father of many modern investigative techniques and also the father of the detective novel itself.”

“You’d think I would’ve heard more about him.”

“He’s not as well-known here in the States as he is in Europe,” Calvin said offhandedly. He paged to the end of the foreword and tapped the book. “As Rich points out, the memoirs of Vidocq inspired Les Misérables and Balzac’s Vautrin character, as well as Charles Dickens when he wrote Great Expectations. Even the classic detective stories of Doyle and Poe owe credit to Vidocq. Though no one would ever accuse Vidocq of being too modest—and that has caused him to be disregarded in some circles—he was certainly clever, a master of disguise, and, as a former convict himself, he could think like the criminals he was tracking.”

Calvin’s passion for his work came through loud and clear.

“You know a lot about him,” I said.

An earnest nod. “It was while I was reading him that I came up with the Investigative Triumvirate.”