Robert Walker - Shadows in the White City

“And how, Dr. Tewes, did you arrive at this conclusion?”

“I interviewed a child who was nearly snatched by a woman.”

“What child? What woman?”

“A rag-and-bottle lady who makes her rounds pretty regularly in the child’s neighborhood.”

He took Jane aside. “How did you come by this information in the first place?”

“I intercepted your man.”

“What man?”

“Bosch.”

“Bosch? He spilled information to you meant for me?”

“Says I pay better.”

“The little weasel.”

“He’s rather cute when you get to know him.”

“All right, tell me what he said.”

“I can do better than that.”

“How so?”

“I have the child at my home. Gabby is with her now.”

“Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

“To this place? It’d only terrify her, and she’s plenty terrified enough as is.”

“I see…but she has no fear of Dr. Tewes?”

“None whatever; I am, after all, a gentle soul and children-”

“Know a gentle soul, yes.”

Ransom found his cane and pressed on his bowler hat, checked his pocket watch, and joined Tewes at the door, telling the other detectives, “I’m off lads to interview this child that Dr. Tewes feels may have some useful information.”

“Meantime, what would you like us to do, boss?” asked Behan.

“I may’ve been put on as lead investigator, Ken, but I’m no one’s boss. Let’s be clear on that.”

“But Ken’s question still remains, boss,” countered Logan. “Whataya expectin’ us to do meanwhile?”

He thought to say, Carry on as you were before I was thrust in on your case. But he saw that this was not going to do. “Go down to the yards tomorrow and speak with a fellow named Jack Houston, and-”

“A butcher?”

“A knacker to be specific.”

“A g’damn horse cutter?” Behan erupted.

“You know my constitution doesn’t permit such odors,” said Logan.

“Meanwhile,” Alastair emphasized the word meanwhile, “you’re to interview three others at the yards.”

“Four? Conduct four interviews at the yards?” Behan sounded stupefied.

Alastair flipped open his notes and rattled off the names. “Hatch…Quinn…and Sharkey. Houston can point you to Hatch, then on and on.”

“Butchers? Our killer’s not likely a butcher, Ransom, and you know it.”

“Still…we have to cover the bases, boys.”

“Cover the what?” asked Behan.

Logan explained, “It’s an expression, comes out of cricket, and now that new game people are betting on, base on balls.”

“Gotta look at the usual suspects and any leads,” Alastair added.

“What lead?”

“Houston says that these other three are queer fellows, even for butchers.”

“And you believe him?”

“Houston’ll tell you all about it when you get out to the knacker stalls.”

Logan gave a last verbal balk. “Look here, we’re interviewing people who live in the areas where the children’ve disappeared.”

“Continue that as well. Don’t let me stop you.” As Alastair was about to turn and exit with Tewes, he and Jane noticed Nathan Kohler atop the stairwell, staring down at them, his features unreadable. Ransom gave him a little wave of the hand and said, “Night, Chief.”

On arriving at the Tewes home on Belmont, Jane quickly explained to Ransom, “I’ve a temporary house guest, now being kept occupied by Gabby, “Someone you must meet. It could be crucial to our case,” she was going on in that practiced whining male voice of Tewes’s that always got on Alastair’s last nerve. Jane also pointed toward Gabby’s room where the door stood partially open. “She’s in there with her now, giving her things. Old clothes, old dolls, whatever the child wants.”

“You say she’s a homeless child?”

“’Fraid so, yes. Her name’s Audra. Sweetest face you ever saw.” Alastair caught snatches of giggling and words between Gabrielle and her guest.

“She won’t talk at all to Dr. Tewes. For some reason, this personae frightens her. I suspect men have used her badly.”

“If she fears men and in particular you as a man, she will likely be terrified of me,” Alastair reasoned.

“Not necessarily. Her father was a large man like yourself, who unfortunately died of yellow fever while nursing her mother through it. Both died, leaving her an orphan six years ago, according to records I dug up at Cook.”

“She’s been on the street since then?”

“Not entirely. In and out of foster homes until she went into hiding.”

“Into hiding?”

“OK…into a gang, I gather. She now considers this street gang family.”

Alastair frowned at this as she closed her bedroom door to go change and remove makeup and mustache, ascot and wig. She was a consummate actress as well as a phrenologist and surgeon. He got only a peek at her large makeup lights and mirror.

He heard the soft laughter of Audra and Gabby as he made his way back toward the front of the house. Unsure what to do with himself until she’d return and introduce him to the would-be witness to Leather Apron, or whoever might be behind the Vanishings, Alastair wandered into the parlor, the room where he had been accidentally shot by Gabby. He stood gazing at the room as if in a dream, the memory of that thunder-and-lightning night coming in flashes. What he recalled most was lying over the top of Waldo Denton-the man he believed the garroter-and bleeding over him where he was pinned below Ransom’s 260 pounds.

He looked down at his girth and wondered just how much he weighed these days. He feared what a scale might say about it.

“I am ready to proceed,” said Jane from behind him. “Are you prepared to meet Audra?”

“Where best to conduct the interview?”

“Anywhere but here. What about the kitchen. We’ve nothing but good memories there.”

She led the way, adding, “I’ve prepared the child to meet you. Have shown her photographs. It’s how I first learned of her father and mother, and besides, she knows of you…says she has seen you on the street, knows you as The Bear, she says.”

“You have photographs of me?”

“From newspaper accounts, yes, and one I purchased from Mr. Keane.”

“Hold on! Are you saying Philo charged you for a photo of me, and you were foolish enough to pay?”

“Well, it was a rather memorable photo. I am in it as well,” she replied, smiling. “Imagine a photo of us together.”

“At the fair? On the Ferris wheel? When?”

“At the train station when you snatched that boy’s head off his garroted neck and pushed it into my hands.”

“Tewes’s hands, you mean.”

“Yes, if you wish to get technical. It’s how we met, all the same, isn’t it.”

“Blasted Philo.”

She called for Gabby to bring Audra into the kitchen to meet Inspector Ransom. In a moment, the college-aged Gabby, maternally guiding and hovering about the little girl, stood smiling before them. Although scruffy-haired, Audra’s eyes were constantly working, suspicious. Gabby had bathed the girl and had dressed her in hand-me-downs.

Audra held firm to her newly acquired doll in one hand and Gabby with the other. Gabby introduced her to Alastair, ending with, “And you know my Aunt Jane.”

Alastair smiled his warmest, wanting to get on the child’s good side.

“Are you a Zoroaster?” asked the small girl.

“A what?”

“I forgot to tell you, Alastair, she asks everyone if they are a Zoroaster, a devil.”

“Hmmmf,” he let out a sound. “Do I look like a devil?”

“ Ahhh …yeah, you do,” came the small reply half swallowed in Audra’s throat. Jane had not exaggerated; she was a cute little blond thing indeed.