Page 99 of If Looks Could Kill
His fluttering heart races. The skin on his ankles is taut with swelling. He needs to strike again, and he will, as soon as he can evade the vice grip of this surveillance.
Slowly, he pulls the curtain aside, just enough for a careful glance. The beefy blond detective is back on display on the corner outside the pub.
Escape. Escape is the plan. If he can get past this prison of a boardinghouse,a wide world awaits him, where money and suavity can easily buy him a new name and anonymity. Just as they have for him several times before.
He’ll watch and wait. Detectives don’t linger forever. There’s always a bigger fire somewhere to lure them away. Though someone will have to wake up pretty early in the morning, he thinks with no small complacency, to kindle a bigger fire than Jack the Ripper.
Tabitha—Jealous(Monday, December 3, 1888)
I swung a wide berth around Spring Street and made my way north on Chrystie, crossing the Bowery at East Third and heading for Miss Stella’s. It was the last place I knew Pearl had been, though I dreaded facing Miss Stella, after what Freyda had said.
The day was fine and bright, with a bluer sky than the city usually offers. Dustings of last night’s snow still swirled loosely on windowsills and rooftops. The cold was sharp, the air clear. In such light, it was easy to tell myself that whatever fright Cora and Freyda had suffered at Miss Stella’s last night must have been a great misunderstanding.
At the splintered door to Lafayette Place, I used my key to let myself in.
“Hello?” I called down the corridor. “Miss Stella? Hello?”
Silence. I shut the door and ventured inside. “Miss Stella? It’s me. Tabitha.”
Clicking heels and the thump of a walking stick sounded on the tiled floor above.
“Who’s there?” came Miss Stella’s scratchy voice. “Pearl? Is that you?”
“No, ma’am,” I called. “It’s Tabitha. Pearl’s friend.” Only a small fib.
Miss Stella stood at the top of the stairs, a frail shape backlit by upstairs light.
“Who’s Tabitha?” she demanded. “Oh. You went out? With the gentleman friend?”
Quite the reputation I was acquiring. “That’s right.”
“What’s it been? Twelve hours? Wonder what you and your young man were up to.”
Oh, nothing; I just slept at his house, in his room. Nothing to worry about.
I reached the top of the stairs. Miss Stella leaned her walking stick against the wall and gripped both my upper arms with fingers like iron claws. “Where is she?” she demanded. “What have you done with my Pearl?”
My Pearl?“I haven’t done anything with her,” I told her. “May I come in?”
She stepped aside to let me pass into the main floor foyer. Dark circles rimmed her eyes.
“It’s your fault,” she said. “You left, then she left. If you’d stayed, she would’ve stayed.”
Another voice in the chorus of Fans of Tabitha.
“I’m here to find her,” I told her. “I’m worried about Pearl. I don’t know where she is.”
“You’re lying,” she cried. “You think you can take advantage of an old lady.”
The absurdity of this statement caught me off guard. “What? Why would I do that?”
“Because you’rejealoussss.”
Her thinning, forking tongue lingered over the word “jealous” while her features morphed. Her remaining teeth became fangs. The whites of her eyes turned red with angry veins.
I took a step backward, though she advanced to close the gap. Shereached up and pulled the turban from her head. Her snakes slid to freedom and arched their necks at me.
Was shethreateningme?
