Victoria Thompson - Murder on St. Mark’s place

The wheel lurched into motion again. carrying them up another notch. When they stopped, the car swayed, and Dirk made it rock dangerously again.

Sarah saw his expression, and then she understood. He was frightening her on purpose, punishing her for her suspicions. “This is childish, Dirk. I told you I was sorry.”

“You’re going to be even sorrier, Sarah,” he assured her. “You know, you weren’t far wrong when you suspected me of murder.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I am a murderer, Sarah.” He smiled, and the coldness in his eyes chilled her to her bones.

“What do you mean?” She was glad to hear her voice sounded almost normal.

“Just what I said. It happened by accident the first time. I didn’t mean to kill the miserable little wench. She was just another one of those whores. You wouldn’t believe how cheaply they sell themselves. Sarah. A string of glass beads or a pair of gloves, and they’ll lift their skirts practically on a street corner.”

The wheel lurched again, and they rose another notch. At least Dirk had forgotten about rocking the car. He was too engrossed in his story.

“They’re disgusting, Sarah. They whimper and moan and pretend they enjoy it while you’re pressing them against a wall in a filthy alley. Even while I was using them, I hated them. I despised them. Each time the urge to punish them somehow got stronger and stronger, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d just finished with her, and she was simpering, pretending it had been so lovely when it was cheap and dirty and disgusting, so I hit her. I used an open palm the first time. A gentleman would never strike a woman with his fist, you know. You should have seen the look on her face. She was so surprised that I hit her again. She ran away, but I’ll never forget that feeling of triumph.”

Sarah could only stare. She seemed paralyzed with her horror. It was just as she’d imagined when she and Malloy had been trying to figure out what had happened. She felt no satisfaction, though. How could she take pride in having guessed such an awful truth?

“After that, I hit all of them. Each time I hurt them worse. I was trying to experience that surge of power I’d felt the first time, but it became more difficult each time. I had to hit them harder and more often. I had to beat them until they begged for mercy, and finally I hit one of them until she stopped begging at all. I didn’t know she was dead at the time. I just thought she was senseless. Then I saw something about her in one of the newspapers a few days later. They’d found her body.”

“Dirk, if you’re just trying to frighten me-”

“I think I’m doing more than trying, aren’t I?” he asked confidently. “It’s nice to see you at a disadvantage for once, Sarah. I knew I could manage that, given the appropriate opportunity.”

She’d been trying to convince herself he was making it all up just to terrify her. How could anyone speak of these horrors so matter-of-factly? But now she understood. He’d really committed these murders, and for some reason he wanted her to know all about it. “So after that first time,” she guessed, “you killed the next girl on purpose.”

“Of course I did. How could I do less? There was no going back after that, Sarah. And nothing else would appease me. I can’t describe to you the pleasure of feeling their flesh and bones breaking beneath my fists. There’s nothing else like it.”

His eyes shone with a light that she might, under other circumstances, have described as divine. Indeed, he looked transported.

She cringed away from him as far as the confines of the car would allow, which wasn’t far. She tried to reason, tried to find an escape from the truth.

“But you told me about Tim Vandervort and the party!” she remembered. “You couldn’t have killed Gerda.”

“Don’t you understand?” he asked with a sneer. “That’s the irony here. You started out looking for the man who killed this Gerda and then found out about the other girls who’d been killed. I killed the other girls, but I didn’t kill this Gerda. I might have. I was considering it. She would probably have been next, but someone else beat me to it.”

The car lurched again, and they rose higher into the summer sky.

“And what about Lisle? You couldn’t have killed her either.” At least her conscience would be spared this agony.

“Oh, but I could. And I did. I had to, you see. She was one of my failures. That happened sometimes. I could usually judge which ones would put up a fight, but Lisle surprised me. She looked so fragile, I never expected-”

“But why go back and kill her later if you didn’t kill Gerda?” Sarah cried, horror choking her.

“Because she might have remembered what happened between us and made the connection with the other murders. I had an alibi for Gerda’s death, but not for the others. If your detective had suspected me, I would have had to answer some difficult questions. Ordinarily, I’d think a decent-sized bribe would get me out of trouble with the police, but I don’t think I can offer the one thing that might appease this Malloy. His lust for you makes him very dangerous indeed.”

“Dirk, you shouldn’t have told me all this.”

“Why not, Sarah?” he asked, as if he really didn’t know.

“Because I have no choice but to tell Detective Sergeant Malloy. Surely, you must know that. I can’t allow you to kill anyone else.”

He waited until the car had moved again, bringing them to a stop at the very top of the wheel. “Don’t worry, Sarah. You won’t have to tell Mr. Malloy anything, because you’re going to have a terrible accident, and you won’t be able to tell anyone anything ever again.”

SARAH LOOKED DOWN FROM HER PERCH AT the top of the Ferris wheel. The view indeed was breathtaking. She couldn’t seem to breathe at all. Somewhere below, Malloy would be watching, but even if she could signal him somehow, there was nothing he could do to help her. She must save herself.

“Dirk,” she tried, amazed that she could speak at all. “You don’t have to hurt me. Surely you know that wealthy people don’t go to prison. Your father will hire the best attorneys for you. No jury will ever believe a man like you could be capable of committing murder.” The words almost gagged her, but unfortunately, she also knew they could well be true. Justice might be blind, but she wasn’t above accepting a bribe.

“But I’d have to stop killing women, Sarah,” he pointed out, his voice so calm and reasonable, it turned her blood to ice. “And I’d be a social outcast. No one would see me. What kind of life would I have?”

“What kind of life will you have if you kill me in front of thousands of people?” she argued.

“I’m not going to kill you, Sarah,” he said, giving the gate she still clutched a sharp tug that pulled it loose from the latch that held it closed. “I told you, you’re going to have a tragic accident.”

“No!” she cried, fighting him for control of the gate. But before she could stop him, he’d flung it out straight, far beyond her reach, and they sat there, a hundred feet above the park, with nothing but air between them and the ground.

“You’re terribly distraught, Sarah,” he told her, his voice so calm he might have been discussing the weather. “You are desperate to remarry, but I told you that you must stop pursuing me. I have no interest in you, and you’re making a fool of yourself. I have no intention of marrying you, and the news caused you to fling yourself off the Ferris wheel to your death.”

He grabbed her by the arms. He was strong, much stronger than she, but she held on to the sides of the car fiercely as he tried to pry her loose.