The Ripper (Page 18)

"Wel , he was talkin’ funny. Not like he bothered to say much to me," she added darkly. "He talked to her al night. I walked by a couple times.

Said he’d bring her to the theater, show her around. Maybe get her an audition. Men say whatever pops in their heads to get a woman to go to bed," Eliza said in disgust.

"Do you remember his name? Did he have any distinctive features? Was he intimidating her?" I asked, barraging her with questions as dread rippled through my stomach.

"I don’t know! Like I said, he didn’t even want to talk to me!" she said indignantly. "And I s’pose it’s a good thing, especial y with them murders going on. Maybe it’s best we stick with the blokes we know, even if they stiff us for our money when they can’t . . ." She broke off and glanced at me, her eyes chal enging me to get her salty innuendo.

"But what did he look like?" I asked, barely listening to what she was saying.

Her eyes cut toward me suspiciously. "Oh, you’re stil thinking about him? I don’t know. Elegant. Tal . Dirty blond hair. But since Cora’s body didn’t show up in a ditch or nothin’, they’re probably just enjoying each other’s company," she added darkly.

Dirty blond hair? I frowned. Damon’s hair was dark. It was the first clue that hadn’t been a perfect match. Of course, it wasn’t as if Eliza was necessarily the most reliable eyewitness. I decided to keep focusing on what else she had to say. "Or maybe he real y was one of those producers she always talked about. Wel , la dee da for her. Then she’d always be thinking she was better than any of us," Eliza added.

"Were you close with Mary Ann?" I asked, changing the subject to the murder victim.

Eliza sighed and flicked her gaze away from me, toward the motley col ection of men who’d fil ed the bar since we’d begun talking. Since it was clear I wasn’t interested in propositioning her, she was obviously looking for someone who would. Not seeing any targets, she glanced back at me.

"Mary Ann was me friend. At least she was before she went and got herself kil ed," Eliza said, a cloud of anger crossing her face. "Although, what do you expect?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Wel , she was me friend, and I’d’a said this to her face if I’d gotten the chance. She was one of them types. Took risks. Caroused with bad men. I don’t even remember who she left with. After they found her, al cut up and kil ed, the police came in the tavern. Who did she go with, they asked. What did she say as she was leaving? And the answer was, we saw nothing, we heard nothing, and if she’d’a only told us who she was going off with, we might have been able to avoid him in the future!" Eliza shuddered, and I couldn’t help noticing her heaving bosom. I glanced away, but not before she caught me staring.

She smiled lasciviously. "Are you sure you don’t want to continue this conversation in private?" she asked, suggestively licking her lower lip.

"I’m sure!" I said forceful y, standing up so quickly the rickety chair behind me toppled over. "You’re lovely, of course, but I can’t," I said.

"I can give you a deal. Foreigner’s special!" she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I have to go," I said firmly. I reached into my pocket and found a few florins. "These are for you. Please don’t go off with anyone," I said. I dropped the coins into her hand.

Her eyes gleamed as she took the money. "You sure I can’t give you a little something?"

"That won’t be necessary." I scraped my chair back and strode out of the tavern.

As soon as I walked out, I stumbled, and immediately realized the whiskey had gone to my head. But I had a clue that would lead me to Cora and Damon.

"You there!"

I whirled around. The drunk man who’d been at the bar when I came in lurched toward me, the scent of stale gin on his breath.

"What?" I asked.

"I know who you are," he said, swaying closer and closer toward me. "And I have my eye on you!" At this, he laughed maniacal y, then staggered backward against a brick wal .

Fear buzzed in my brain. I looked down at him, stil laughing in a drunken heap. What did he mean, he knew who I was? Was it just the ramblings of a drunk, or was it another clue that my arrival in London hadn’t been unnoticed?

Chapter Seven

I know who you are.

The words thudded in my consciousness. Who was I? I was Stefan Salvatore once. Damon knew that. So did whoever wrote the message on the wal . But who else?

He was a drunk. Let it go, I commanded myself as I hastily picked my way out of the park and toward the hotel, stopping along the way to purchase tickets for a musical burlesque at the Gaiety Theatre. I’d gotten two box tickets, each one costing more than a week’s pay. But I’d compel ed them from the bewildered man at the box office, justifying it by reminding myself it would al be worth it if the play led to us finding Cora.

With the tickets in my breast pocket, I whistled to myself as I headed back into the hotel.

Violet jumped up as soon as I opened the door.

"How was your day?" she asked, sounding anxious and tired. "Did you find Cora?"

"I spoke to Alfred, and you don’t have to worry about your job. And I think I know where we can find Cora," I said slowly, belying my own excitement. The last thing I wanted to do was give Violet false hope.

"Real y? Where? How?" Violet clapped her hands together. "Oh, Stefan, you’re wonderful!"

"I’m not," I said gruffly. "And I don’t know for a fact, but I think she might have met a producer from the Gaiety Theatre." I briefly explained my conversation with Eliza, although I left out the part about the man with the accent. But in Violet’s mind, Cora was as good as found.