by Andrew Mayne
They began walking down the street when Smith grabbed April’s elbow and pulled her closer to him.
“Mr. Smith?”
“Not now, Miss Malone,” he said in a whispered tone. “I want you to yell at me then storm off in front of us as fast as we can. Then go left at that corner.”
“Well, I never!” shouted April as she slapped him in the face and ran away from him down the street.
Smith stood there, stunned, his face still stinging from her slap. He caught movement in the corner of his eye and then chased after April.
He reached the corner and then ducked around it. April was standing there with a mischievous grin on her face.
He put a finger to his lips and rubbed his cheek. He kneeled down by the edge of the brick wall. Running footsteps grew louder. Smith stuck his umbrella hook side out at ankle height. A man ran past the edge as his foot tripped on the umbrella. He came crashing to the ground.
Smith ran over to him and put a shoe on his back. He shoved the pointed end of the umbrella into his side. “Most sorry. But why are you following me?” His voice was polite but stern.
“I’m not following you, you git. I was following Miss Malone.”
“David?” shouted April, recognizing the voice.
Smith turned to her. “You know this man?”
April nodded. “He’s in my drama class.” She walked over to help him up.
David gave Smith a glare as he brushed the dirt off his trousers and adjusted his coat and vest. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had handsome, yet stern, features.
“My apologies. I’m a bit concerned about my own security. I often have people making inquiries into my affairs,” said Smith in a tone that was less than convincing.
“And why would that be?” asked David.
“Um, well that would be my affair, wouldn’t it? Care to tell us why you were following Miss Malone?” asked Smith with a sharp look.
“We were worried, that’s all. Some of us in the acting class, with the fog and all.”
“This is your first acting class?” asked Smith, his eyebrow arched.
“Yes. Why do you ask?” he replied.
“Oh no reason,” said Smith. “So you saw us walking and you decided to follow? Follow to make sure that she made it to class safely?”
“Yes, that’s right. So who exactly are you?”
April interrupted. “He’s a friend of the family, David.”
David gave Smith a wary look. “I see. Will I be seeing you in class tonight?”
April looked over at Smith. “I don’t think so. We have some family business to attend to.”
“Family business? Well, give your mother my best. I hope to be able to stop by again soon.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” April gave him a polite nod and put her hand through Smith’s elbow. “Have a lovely evening.”
She waited until they’d put two blocks between them before she spoke. “That was peculiar.”
“I’m going to guess that he’s a very poor acting student,” said Smith.
“Dreadful. Some of us assumed he was there just to meet the ladies.”
“I’m sure he was there to meet one in particular,” replied Smith.
“Now Smith ....”
“I don’t mean it like that. But let me ask, did he ask to call on you?”
“I’m not sure if that’s any of your business,” said April.
“Perhaps it is. Did he ask you questions about your job and who you worked for?”
“Yes. But I think he was just making polite conversation in his own boorish way.”
“We’ll see,” replied Smith.
April had thought David’s behavior a bit unusual but so was Smith’s. She still wasn’t sure if she understood either of their intentions, let alone her own.
Chapter 8
They returned to the office as dusk fell. April went around the corner to pick up some sandwiches, while Smith vanished behind his metal door to retrieve some things. When she returned, he’d pinned a large map of Boston to the wall.
“Before we get into that matter,” he said as he pointed to the map, “I need to ask you something. When did you first meet that man, David?”
“Smith, I think you’re a pleasant fellow and I’m obliged to follow you on all sorts of strange misadventures as far as it falls within the somewhat nebulous job description, but my personal affairs are my own.” She’d known the man only a few hours and he’d already taken on a form of familiarity with which she was unaccustomed. Deep down, she liked it but knew it wasn’t proper to encourage it, at least not in an obvious manner.
“No offense is meant. I’m asking in a strictly professional capacity, Miss Malone. There’s a great deal of secrets here, many of which it’s very important they don’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“I hardly think David is the wrong hands. A taxidermist from Rhode Island has very little use of whatever mysteries you think you possess,” she said, recalling in her mind the most boring conversation about the difference between badger toes and raccoon feet.
“It’s not the fool David I’m concerned about. It’s who he’s working for. There are very dangerous people trying to inquire about me and what it is I do. Just give me the date of the first time you met him. That’s all, and I’ll leave the matter alone.”
“Fine,” said April. “Six weeks ago. I met him at the drama class.” She was more frustrated with the idea that David was some kind of spy than actually upset with Smith.
“He signed up after you?”
“Yes. Why?”
Smith reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “I have a number of security measures built into this building. I own the whole block, actually, and some of the nearby buildings. There’s an automatic camera that takes photographs whenever the sidewalk in front of here is walked upon. In the corner, you’ll see a clock with a time and date superimposed on the image.” He handed the photograph to April.
The photograph showed David peering into the window. The time stamp showed it was six months prior. April was confused. She felt her stomach roil.
“I have hundreds more of him. Some are more clear than others. It wasn’t a chance occurrence. He seems unreasonably interested in my affairs. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
April sat down at her desk and looked at the photograph again. “He was a horrible actor. Handsome, yet that was about it.”
Smith sat on the edge of her desk. “Miss Malone, I’m sure your qualities weren’t lost on him. Certainly not on me.”
April waved a hand at the office. “For two years I’ve been coming in here and staring at an empty room. I finally decide to do something a little adventurous and take a drama class.” She tossed the photograph onto the desk. “And the first man I meet who seems to fancy girls ends up being paid to spy on me.”
“I’m sorry for any harm this job has caused to your personal life.”
April looked up at Smith. “Who are you? All day long while we’ve been chasing after whatever happened to those people, I keep wondering about you.”
Smith tapped the photograph. “You can understand why I’m hesitant to offer up much about myself. The less you know, the less reason anyone will have to seek you out.”
“Lot good that’s done.”
“True. I guess I can tell you a little. My amnesia is a little less severe. I have a better picture in my head of who I am and what this all means.” Smith walked over to a row of books and pulled one out. “How old would you say I was?” He laid it open to a photograph.
“Late twenties, early thirties, I’d guess.”
Smith pointed at the image. “That’s Abraham Lincoln almost 30 years ago. Notice the man off to his left? How old would you say he is?”
April leaned in to look at the photograph. It was Smith. “That’s you.” She looked up. “You look the same.” She squinted her eyes to look more closely at Smith’s face for any wrinkles. “Very similar.”
&nb
sp; Smith checked the watches on his wrist. “According to my chronograph, it’s only been a few weeks for me since that photograph was taken.”
She examined the binding to see if it had been pasted in as a joke. “Like the Wells story, ‘The Chronic Argonauts,’ a time traveler,” she said with a grin, not sure what to believe. She made light because she didn’t know what else to say.
“Of course not. Don’t be absurd. Time travel is impossible. At least backwards is impossible.” Smith rolled his eyes as if this were a question he was asked all the time. “I have other means.”
“You’re not a vampire, are you?” She looked over at the metal door he’d emerged from that morning. A day ago she would have thought that was a crazy idea. Now she wasn’t sure of anything.
“No. I don’t believe so. You’d tell right away by the smell,” Smith said seriously.
April arched an eyebrow. “Pardon me?” She’d meant the question as a jest.
“What I am, who I am, isn’t as important as what I’m trying to do. And that’s stopping more people from going missing. And to do that we need to be vigilant. I fear it’s part of something far more sinister.” He picked up the photograph of David and tossed it into the wastebasket. “I’ll deal with the Rhode Island taxidermist in due time.” He walked over to the map on the wall and started pushing pins into locations. “In the meantime, let’s focus our attention on the current matter. I fear the attack we almost witnessed is evidence that things are about to get worse.” He paused. “Miss Malone, if you’d prefer, maybe it would be better if I had someone escort you home? I seem to have gotten caught up in things.” He checked his chronograph. “I’ve already asked too much of you.”
April got up from her chair and walked over to Smith. She took a handful of pushpins from him and began putting them into the missing persons locations from memory. “I think you’re going to need my help.” She removed one of Smith’s pins and put it in the correct position.
“Why thank you, Miss Malone.” He examined the pushpins. He stole a glance at her and smiled. “Do you see a pattern forming?”
April took a step back. The pins appeared to be clustering in one area. “Hold on.” She pulled them all back out. “Let’s color code them by date.”
April pushed the pins back in using her own schema. A pattern began to form.
Smith walked over and sat down on his desk to take in the whole map. “I say, Miss Malone, you are a clever girl.”
Her cheeks blushed. She’d been told a thousand times how pretty she was. She couldn’t remember since she was a little girl when a man called her clever as a compliment. The colored pushpins were arranged with one color representing a three-day period. They began at the eastern side of South Boston and radiated to the west.
April looked at the map more closely. She pointed to a street near the wharfs. “It seems odd that there’s none on the other side.”
Smith shook his head. “Not at all. On the ocean side of that street they’d be reported to the harbor authority. I’m sure they have their own collection of missing persons reports. Only they care even less than the South Boston department does because a missing sailor is an hourly event there. It’s what I feared.”
“How so?”
Smith waved a hand over the radiating pattern. “That’s not a random arrangement.” He looked at April. “That’s a hunting pattern.”
“A hunting pattern? Like an animal?”
“Indeed. I don’t think we’re looking for a black carriage being driven by ghost horses. We’re looking for some kind of creature.”
“A creature? What kind of creature?”
“I’d rather not guess right now,” said Smith.
“We need to tell the police.”
Smith shook his head. “Tell them what? That their phantom maniac is an indescribable animal? We need more proof.”
“So now what?” asked April.
“Now we need to talk to Miss O’Mallory.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small vials. “We need to find out which of these two smells is the most familiar to her.”
“Why not ask Miss Shelly?”
“I think Miss O’Mallory got the bigger whiff. We can ask Miss Shelly, too, if O’Mallory can’t help us.”
April nodded her head. “I’m fairly sure they won’t let us in to see her at the woman’s hospital, especially at this hour.”
“That’s why I have a plan, Miss Malone. One that uses your extensive knowledge of theatrical techniques.”
He explained his plan to her.
April was dumbfounded. “I think that’s the amnesia talking Smith. That’s the daftest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You don’t think I could pull it off?” he asked.
“Trust me. I’d like to see you dressed up like a tart and marched into the woman’s hospital. But it’s a silly notion. Once they see you have the wrong tackle, they’ll send you to the men’s prison. I’m sure they’d love your fancy face paint getup there.”
“Do you have a better idea?” asked a dejected Smith.
“When you mentioned my theater skills, I thought you meant my acting.”
He touched his hand to his cheek where she had struck him. “Yes, there’s that. But I couldn’t send you in there. It’s too much to ask.”
“No, it’s not. I live in this town. It could have been me screaming for help today. Besides, you have an escape plan, right? One that doesn’t involve me spending the entire night in the sanitarium?”
Smith nodded. “Yes. Of course. Maybe?”
Chapter 9
The orderly and the night nurse guided the catatonic woman to a room on the fourth floor. Her dark hair was in a mess and pretty face was stricken with shock. Her companion had explained that she had arrived late afternoon to console her cousin who just suffered the loss of her fiance under mysterious circumstance. He said that shortly after exiting the carriage and into the thickening fog, she’d seen something that made her scream.
“She’s quite inconsolable. A rather delicate composition,” Smith had told them. “We were on our way to visit her cousin in this very hospital, during proper hours in the morning, of course.”
The stern-faced night nurse sitting at the desk at the entrance to the woman’s hospital looked down at the ledger before her. “What was the cousin’s name?”
“Miss Mary O’Mallory. Mary, to us.”
The nurse tapped a withered finger on a name and then read the note next to it. “I’m sorry dear, but it would be of no use. Miss O’Mallory isn’t allowed any visitors. She’s under clinical observation.”
“I see,” said Smith. He looked over at April as she sat on a bench quietly singing to herself as she stared off into space. “I don’t think a visitation is what we require now. I’d like to return her home to Annapolis as soon as possible, but there’s no way we can depart until the morning.” He leaned in to the nurse and whispered. “And there’s another matter. I can only arrange lodgings for one. Being that Miss Patrick is an unmarried woman, I’d hate to create a sense of impropriety. She comes from a proper family.”
“We’re not a hotel, Mr. Smith.”
“Of course not. However, I think Miss Patrick has more in common with your patients than a hotel guest.” He patted his vest pocket. “I’d be happy to make a donation to the hospital to make any recompense for her stay.”
The nurse looked over at April as she pulled at a strand of her hair while singing a lullaby. She did look rather pathetic. An attractive girl, for sure. She looked back at Mr. Smith. “Well ....”
Smith pulled out his billfold and laid a ten dollar bill on the desk. “I assure you she comes from a family of means and this isn’t an attempt to abandon her. I’d have some serious explaining to do if I returned home and had to explain to her father, the senator, why his daughter was missing.”
“Senator?” said the nurse as she looked back toward April.
Smith put a finger to his lips. “I didn’t say that.” He p
laced another ten dollar bill on the desk. “Our secret.”
“I think we can spare some room for the night,” said the nurse as she gathered up the bills and dropped them into her drawer. She rang a bell on her desk and an orderly emerged from behind a door. She walked over and gently picked up April by the elbow. “This way, dear.”
Smith looked at the orderly and then back at the nurse. “It would make sense if you placed her with her cousin, wouldn’t it?”
“As I said, Miss O’Mallory’s not allowed visitors.”
“Of course not.” He touched April on the cheek. She stared off into space. “But Miss Patrick isn’t a visitor, is she?”
“I’ll see what I can arrange,” said the nurse as she helped escort April through the doorway.
Smith watched them retreat down the hallway, feeling like he’d made a terrible mistake.
Butterflies flew around her stomach. Back in the office, it had sounded like a prank. Inside the depressing mental hospital, April began to feel claustrophobic. She let the nurse and the orderly guide her. As the reality of the situation she’d talked herself into began to settle in, it became easier to play the part of a frightened woman with a nervous condition.
The look in Smith’s eyes as they carried her away had done more to unsettle her than any of the moans or screams she heard from behind the locked doors of the hospital. For the first time that day, she saw something that looked like fear — fear for what he’d just put her into.
The orderly unlocked the door, and the nurse escorted April into the darkened room.
“Over here, dear,” said the nurse as she guided April to an empty cot. “Miss O’Mallory has been by herself in here on doctor’s orders. I think some company might be nice.”
April heard the door lock behind her. For the first time, she looked at the other side of the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. There was a simple cot and someone under a blanket. The room was otherwise unfurnished. The only light came through a hole in the door she’d just entered through — the locked door.
