Victoria Thompson - Murder on St. Mark’s place

“You’ll never get away with it, Dirk! Malloy is down there! He’s watching everything! He’ll know what happened!”

“You’re lying,” he reminded her. “He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“No, it’s true! He’s been following us since we got here! There was a policeman on the trolley, too! Someone’s been watching us the whole time we’ve been together!”

“There’s no one here now, Sarah.”

He’d pulled one of her hands loose and was using her arm to drag her off the seat, but she’d braced her feet, and he couldn’t budge her.

“Don’t do this, Dirk!” she begged as he reached down and slid his arm beneath her knees. He was going to lift her off the seat! If he did that, she’d be helpless. All he’d have to do was toss her over, and she’d be lost.

As he lifted her legs, releasing the hold her feet had on the floor of the car, she kicked up and the toe of her shoe struck him soundly on the side of his head. He cursed her, rearing back and dropping her legs. The look in his eyes was wild, like an animal cornered and ready to fight for its life. Sarah imagined her eyes must look the same as she screamed Malloy’s name in some vain hope he might be able to do something.

Dirk sneered at her. “It’s over now, Sarah,” he said, and drew back his fist.

Everything seemed to move slowly, as if they were underwater. She saw Dirk’s fist coming toward her, and she knew that when he struck her, she would be helpless. Stunned, she couldn’t resist when he threw her out of the car. Some primal instinct responded, and without thinking, she ducked her head, bending nearly double in the last second before his fist would have slammed into her cheek. In that same instant the whole world jolted, nearly unseating her from the car. If she hadn’t been holding on for dear life, she might very well have gone tumbling to the ground.

Dirk’s cry was a shriek of terror as his body kept going, following his swinging arm, carrying him out of the car into oblivion. Sarah’s instinct was to catch him, but her hands clutched only thin air, and she very nearly fell herself as the car reacted to the loss of Dirk’s weight by swinging violently. Only then did she realize the wheel was moving. The lurch of the start, coming just as he was swinging to hit her, was what had unseated Dirk and sent him toppling from the car.

Seconds later she heard the sickening thud as his body struck the ground beneath the wheel, and the crowd’s anguished reaction. Sarah clasped the side and back of the car, hanging on for her life as the wheel came to another precipitous halt that set her car rocking madly. But someone was yelling down below, giving orders. She recognized the voice, even from way up here near the top of the wheel, and in another moment it started again, lurching like a drunk before falling into the smooth rhythm of the usual ride. It didn’t stop until Sarah’s car was on the loading platform.

Malloy was there. She almost didn’t recognize him because of the ridiculous beard he was wearing, but she knew his voice and responded when he told her to let go, she was safe now. Even still, he practically had to pry her hands loose to get her out.

Only when her feet were firmly planted on solid ground was she able to comprehend what had happened. And what had almost happened.

“Are you all right?” Malloy asked. His arm was around her waist, supporting her as he led her away from the wheel.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “I want to see him.”

“He’s dead,” Malloy said.

But another voice called, “He’s still alive! Somebody get a doctor!”

The words rejuvenated her. All weakness and terror evaporated. She broke from Malloy’s grasp and whirled, searching for the voice. “I’m a nurse!” she called.

Picking up her skirts, she ran back the way she’d come, dodging the descending cars that the ride operator was emptying as quickly as he could.

Dirk’s body lay in the barren, rocky area beneath the wheel, which was barely high enough for a man to stand upright. Several men had gathered around him, but no one was doing anything. Probably they were afraid to touch him, and she could guess why. She could tell from the angle at which he lay that his back was broken. He wasn’t moving, and his breathing was shallow. He was probably going into shock, which would be a mercy. The pain from his injuries must be excruciating. If he could feel anything at all, that is.

“Are you Sarah?” one of the men asked as she approached.

“Yes,” she said.

“He’s asking for you.”

The men stood aside for her. Dirk’s face was twisted and gray, his scalp bloody from a gash. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear his words. She knelt beside him, anxious to hear what his last words would be. Would he confess and clear his conscience? She wanted to hear him admit he’d killed Gerda, too, and then this nightmare would be over.

But when she leaned close, he said, “You are another of my mistakes. I can usually tell when they’re going to fight back. I thought I was ready for you.”

“The wheel started moving,” she said. “It unbalanced you.”

“I told them to get you down.” It was Malloy, standing over them. She’d known he wouldn’t be far away. “I saw he was trying to throw you off.”

She cast him a grateful glance. There would be time for proper thanks later. She turned back to Dirk. “Tell me the truth about Gerda, Dirk. At least you’ll die with a clear conscience.”

His lips curved into a grotesque parody of a smile. “I didn’t kill her, Sarah. You’ll have to keep looking.”

She heard Malloy’s reaction, but she didn’t want to waste time filling him in on the whole truth. She had only a few more minutes with Dirk. “Why did you do it, Dirk? Why did you kill the others?”

His smile became a grimace. “Because I could,” he said simply.

“Get back, step back.” The command came from an officious-looking fellow in a bowler hat and a plaid shirt with sleeve garters. He was followed by two men carrying a stretcher. “Out of the way, miss. We’ve got to take him to a doctor.”

“If you move him, he’ll die,” Sarah protested.

“If we don’t move him, he’ll die, too,” the fellow said reasonably. “Better he shouldn’t die in front of all these people.”

“Don’t touch me!” Dirk protested in alarm when the two men laid the stretcher down beside him.

“It’s all right, mister. We’re going to get you some help,” one of them said.

The expression on Dirk’s face was naked terror, the kind Sarah had felt moments before when she had been certain Dirk was going to throw her to her death.

“This is how those women felt, Schyler,” Malloy said to him. “Think about that. The pain and the fear. It isn’t pleasant, is it?”

Dirk didn’t reply because the men were lifting him on the stretcher, and he was screaming in agony. Sarah instinctively moved to help him-although she had no idea how she might have accomplished that-but Malloy held her back as the men carried Dirk away.

“Are you all right, miss?” the short man in the sleeve garters asked. “Did you get hurt at all?”

Sarah hadn’t even considered whether she had or not. “I don’t think so. I was just frightened.”

“How did it happen?” he asked. “I’m the park manager,” he added, in case she thought he was just being nosy.

Sarah thought quickly. She’d have to explain this to many people, Dirk’s family included. She glanced at Malloy. His expression was grave, but he offered no suggestions. “It was a terrible accident,” she said, sickeningly aware that she was quoting Dirk. She didn’t look at Malloy again. If he disapproved, she would never be able to lie convincingly. “Mr. Schyler was acting silly, trying to frighten me, I think. He had an odd sense of humor. The gate came loose and flew open, and just as he tried to reach for it to pull it back, the wheel started to move, and he lost his balance.”