Shadows Fall Away (28 page)

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Would you like to walk with me under here? We are going the same way.”

“It’s entirely your call.”

“Come along then.”

“Do you want me to carry it?”

“As long as you keep it squarely in the middle.”

“Scout’s honor.”

With a little shake of her head, she handed me the umbrella. “You say the oddest things.”

I grinned at her and started down the steps. “I’m not from around here, remember?”

“As if I could forget.”

She tried to keep her tone icy, but I saw the corners of her mouth lift a bit. And when she took hold of my upper arm as we neared the corner I almost forgot how tired and sore I was. But I didn’t forget that it was September twenty-eighth and that the Ripper was going to hit, and hit hard with his “double event” tomorrow night.

“You’re exceptionally sullen this morning,” Genie said when we stopped at the next corner to let a hired carriage and cart passed.

“Being questioned as a murder suspect will do that.” I led her around a steaming pile of horse crap. Her grip on my arm tightened and I glanced over. “Apparently someone reported me for singing and the word murder happened to be part of the lyrics.” Her grip loosened.

“It is bordering on hysteria, isn’t it? Though I imagine it’s not unfounded.”

I guided her close to a building as a guy with a pushcart of boxes came down the sidewalk toward us. “Exactly. It won’t be over until the guy is caught. What about you? That doctor friend been seeing you to work? Why didn’t he take you home this morning?”

“Jack has been waiting promptly at half past seven every evening. He wasn’t feeling well this morning, I’m afraid. He had the most awful headache.”

“Headache, huh? That’s too bad.” Sleazy looking guy conveniently named Jack having a migraine the day before a murder. So, it looked like I was shifting from living a Tim Burton movie into an episode of
Law & Order SVU
.

“I’m going to pop into Mrs. O’Connell’s for a spot of tea and something to eat.”

I felt around in my pocket. Not much in there for more than a crumb. Maybe I could have her throw an extra on Gurov’s tab.

“Don’t you two look like something the cat dragged in” was how Mrs. O’Connell greeted us when we entered the shop.

“I feel more like something the cat threw up.” The revolted looks of the guy paying for his stuff and the lady waiting to order made me feel like the bad kid being given an authoritative look of doom by the school principal. “Sorry, been a rough night.” I slinked off to a little table near the kitchen.

“I’ll have Mr. Gurov’s things in a moment, dear.”

“Take your time,” I said without looking back to the counter. I held my head in my hands and studied the weave of the thin cloth covering the table. So freaking tired…

A light thunk of something being set on the table roused me from my half-doze. “That was quick—” I stopped short seeing Genie set down a teapot and two cups. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast. I’m starving. I feel the need to do a few good works so I’ve decided to offer the same to a poor unfortunate soul such as yourself.”

“I can pay for it—”

A dismissive wave of her hand stopped me mid-lie.

“Does it get any easier?” she asked quietly before filling our cups. “Being on one’s own.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know about easier but I suppose you get more used to it. And I’m thinking once you get off that night shift it will help.”

Mrs. O’Connell came over with some sausages and warm buttered bread. I was in heaven. “Marry me.”

She laughed and poked my shoulder. “A scofflaw like you? Never.”

“It was a false arrest.”

Mrs. O’Connell’s smile faded. “Rather a lot of that going ‘round. Crazy days these are. You two watch your steps.”

Genie and I both gave her the same noncommittal nod.

“She’s right, you know. Abut you being careful. That nutcase is still on the loose. Just be careful, especially around guys you don’t know very well.”

“Like yourself?”

“Funny.” I took advantage of the free meal and kept my big mouth shut while the face of Jack Palmer kept coming into my mind. That migraine thing could mean something and if it triggered some whacked part of his brain to kick into gear then he could definitely be the man. Thing was, would Ian’s guys be keeping a close watch on me or was he going to accept the truth?

Why did I have to let that Ripper thing slip? If I was being tailed it would be awfully hard to hang around the places where the next murders were going to happen and not risk having some disruption throw the real killer off his original path. Mrs. O’Connell came over with Gurov’s morning munchies and took that as my cue to finish up and hit the road.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Ge—Miss Trambley. If you want, I can walk you to work later and tomorrow, anytime, really. I don’t mind.”

“I imagine Jack will stop ‘round but if he doesn’t I’m perfectly capable of taking myself to the infirmary. If it’s still raining I might take the tram car.” She took a long sip of her tea. “I can’t very well become accustomed to things the way they are now if I rely on others.”

Bitchslap score

Genie-1 Mark-0

“I guess I’ll see you around, then. Thanks.”

***

Genie

I was exhausted, beyond belief if such a thing were possible, and the dismal weather only made it that much worse. Not even the delicious smells and cozy warmth of the tea shop helped. Yet I lingered, not wanting to retreat up to my room to sleep until it was time to do it all over again.

When the bustle in the shop quieted down, Mrs. O’Connell came over with a fresh cup of tea for me and one of her own. Placing the cup before me, she patted my hand. “And where’s that handsome young doctor of yours? He get called away to hospital?”

“No. He wasn’t feeling well so he went home early. And he isn’t my doctor. He’s merely a colleague who seems to be trying to get on Mother’s good side.”

“A girl could make a worse choice, having a lad trying to impress her parents.”

“Oh, do stop!” I banged the table hard enough to slosh hot tea across the crisp, clean cloth. A pang of conscience struck like a slap to the face bringing me back to my senses. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. I’ll take this up and wash it up for you straightaway.”

“It’s fine, dear. You go on up and get some rest.”

While I fell asleep within minutes of undressing and climbing into the narrow hard bed, I didn’t feel very well rested when I woke much later in the afternoon. And I was certain it was that bone-deep weariness that had my thoughts turning to things I’d always abhorred.

“And where’s that handsome young doctor of yours? He get called away to hospital?”

“No. He wasn’t feeling well so he went home early. And he isn’t my doctor. He’s merely a colleague who seems to be trying to get on Mother’s good side.”

“A girl could make a worse choice, having a lad trying to impress her parents.”

Should I be more attentive to Jack Palmer? This was to be his last night of being the on call doctor at the infirmary. Father was certain to be pleased with him, especially if Mother’s glowing recommendation came along. It would appear Jack Palmer’s star was on the rise in the medical profession and it was quite possible that the strength of his ascension might very well pull others along in his wake.

I shifted on the bed and looked about the cold dreary room.

Perhaps it was time I amended my thinking. Helping those less fortunate was still a priority but before one could effectively help others, one had to help themselves, didn’t they?

It was certainly something to think about.

However, all thought vanished from my mind when I left my rooms later that evening to find a carriage out front. It had been one thing to speculate on trying to make the most of Jack Palmer’s interest but quite another when confronted with the opportunity to do so.

But then I realized that the coachman coming down to open the carriage door was none other than our Harry. Father had come to his senses at last and had come to take me home on his way from the hospital.

Harry opened the carriage door and I took a deep breath before lowering my umbrella.

“Oh do hurry, Eugenia. I’m getting wet.”

Phoebe. Well. Of course neither Father nor Mother would admit they were wrong. Of course they would send an intermediary.

“Eugenia!”

I stepped into the carriage, pulled the umbrella in after me not giving a whit that the water spattered the hem of my sister’s new fur-trimmed cloak.

“Please do hurry, Phoebe. I mustn’t be late for work.”

My sister pursed her lips. I tried to study her face in the dim light coming from the lamp nearest the tea shop. She looked even more worn than usual and I hoped her illness hadn’t progressed quicker than we thought it would.

“Did Father send you?”

“No.”

“Mother?”

“What do you think?”

I sunk back against the carriage seat. So I was not to be forgiven after all. “What do you want, Phoebe?”

“I want you to come to your senses. You must stop this nonsense about independence. Why can’t you just tell Mother and Father you were wrong, misguided by those radical newspapers you read? Why can’t you beg their forgiveness and ask them to come home? You know you want to. You can’t like living like this. Look at you. You’re so thin, you look like you’ve aged a dozen years in a few short weeks.”

I clutched the handle of my umbrella, counting silently in rhythm with the patter of rain upon the carriage roof. “I haven’t done anything wrong. They are the ones to blame. They cast me out without a second thought. It is they who should apologize to me.”

“But they won’t.”

It was strange to hear the unusual softness in Phoebe’s voice, so very odd to have her scoot forward down her seat and place her hand over mine.

“I miss you, and I worry about you terribly. It’s so unsafe here. Jack says you’ve been working so hard—”

“Jack? Jack Palmer?”

Phoebe sat back. “Yes. Father brought him and one of his top students to tea the other day and I haven’t been able to get what he said out of my mind.”

I ground my back teeth together, clutched the handle of the umbrella tighter still until my knuckles ached. “What did he say?”

The usual coldness in Phoebe’s eyes seemed to lessen. “He said what we’ve all been trying to tell you. Your heart is so full of caring but so many of the people here you try to help don’t appreciate it, especially
those
sort of women. You can put your knack for nursing to far better use by aiding a husband in private practice. Think of all the good you could do in society by raising funds and helping the unfortunates who deserve and appreciate it the way Mother does with her soldiers. But you can’t change those who don’t want to change. And you shouldn’t let them bring you down to their level of merely existing.”

“Phoebe—”

“Don’t say anything. Just think about it, really think about it, Eugenia.”

She took hold of my hand again and squeezed and looked so much like the big sister who used to comfort me when I was frightened of the dark.

“I know I won’t have a long life because of this blasted sickness and I don’t want to go to my grave knowing my only sister is unhappy and working herself to the bone.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down my cheeks.

“Let me take you home.”

I shook my head, wiped the tear with my fingertips. “I can’t not show up. The ward is full. They need me tonight.”

Phoebe nodded. “Harry will take you. He needs to retrieve Father from the hospital and take Mother to pay a midwife call on one of her soldiers’ granddaughters near Commercial Road or someplace.”

Jack Palmer was signing in with the night attendant when I arrived at the Infirmary.

“Feeling better?”

“Not as such, but the pounding lessened and I am able to think straight for the time being.” He offered me his arm after I signed the admittance book. “Might I escort you to your ward, Miss Trambley?”

Mark

I felt like total crap.

It was already dark out so I knew I’d slept all day—guessed I’d slept all day. It had been pretty cloudy when I’d gotten in. But my stomach growled and hurt like it had been empty for days.

I froze in the dark little room at Gurov’s. I couldn’t have been out of it long enough to miss the murders, could I? Nah. Gurov would have woken me up or tossed my lifeless body in the gutter if it had been more than a couple hours.

I sat up, wincing and groaning against the stiffness in my muscles. Gotta love old school police interrogation tactics. The cold, dampness of the room sure wasn’t helping matters. I fumbled around to light the little lantern on the small table at the foot of the bed. I glanced to the door. Of course Gurov would slide his latest bit of epic reporting under the door for me to read. It was tomorrow’s edition. September thirtieth. Right. I was still on schedule. I went over to the high little window. There was a faint glow of a street lamp outside the back gate but it was too cloudy to see where the moon was.

It was probably around eight or nine.

Shuffling back to the lamp table, I picked up the pocket watch and flipped it open.

After midnight! Shit! It was almost time for the first murder. Son of a—

I pulled on my shoes, grabbed my jacket, and hauled ass out of there. No way in hell was I going to make it in time to catch the Ripper.

Running on wet streets in high button shoes you hadn’t bothered to button wasn’t the brightest idea but I didn’t dare stop. What choice did I have, even though each step jarred an aching muscle I didn’t remember having?

Even though it was a total crappy night and hardly anyone was around the constables were making their rounds and I had to slow to a walk and do a lot of ducking out of sight to get past them as I closed in on the area around Berner Street. At least walking fast wouldn’t draw too much attention on a rainy night like this.

I ducked out of sight when I heard a clop of hooves behind me. It must be the guy, the one who found the first body. I wiped dripping water out of my face and tried to think. The body was still warm and bleeding when they found her, right? Didn’t people say they thought the Ripper was hiding in the darkness of the yard and slipped out when the cart guy went for help?