Jack the Stripper

by Jennifer Macaire

  Brianna’s mother came next in the album. Born when Brianna’s grandmother had given up all hope for children, Alice, Brianna’s mother, was a chubby, dimpled, curly-haired moppet. She grinned toothlessly as a baby in her father’s arms, then gap toothed as a toddler held proudly on her father’s knees, then posed as a smiling teen in her flared skirt and button-down sweater holding her father’s hand as he stared at her with what looked like awe. Her father vanished from the pictures after that page. Joseph died of the flu that winter.

  All Alice’s wedding pictures were in another album, so this one skipped from Alice as a teen to Alice holding a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket—Brianna. She posed facing the river on the front steps of the building, her smile still brilliant, her red hair still curly, and the early morning sun making her squint.

  That was the last photo of Alice. She had left Brianna with her mother to accompany her husband on a trip to California, where they both died tragically in an accident. Brianna only had pictures of her father at the wedding. He had been a slender man with sandy hair, a thin face, dark blue eyes, and a smile that seemed to reach from ear to ear.

  She picked up her parents slim wedding album and flipped through it. Her father’s smile lit each picture like a beacon. It made her both terribly sad and happy at the same time. How she wished she’d known her parents. With a sigh she set the album down and picked up the last one. It was the fattest one, with the most pages.

  That album was all Brianna. Her grandmother had loved taking photos. Brianna looked a little like her mother with her curly, red hair, a little like her grandmother with long legs and wide shoulders, and even a little like her grandfather Joseph, if you noticed her strong chin.

  She could remember what she’d been doing and where she was for most of the pictures. Her grandmother posed her on the docks, in the park, and on the front steps, where her mother had stood on that sunny, long lost day.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned the page to the last photograph. In that last picture she posed proudly on the front steps. She was wearing her police uniform. It was her first morning on the job, and the last photo her grandmother ever took. A small sigh escaped her and she touched the picture lightly, remembering the crisp feel of the uniform and the almost bursting-with-happiness feeling she’d had. A week later someone had pushed her grandmother down and stolen her purse. When she fell, she’d broken her hip and died not long after from what the doctors called “complications.”

  Brianna knew all about complications. Her whole life was one complication after another and it didn’t seem like things were going to change.

  When Jack got back it was late. Brianna had sandwiches on the coffee table. She’d left the albums out, and Jack took a sandwich and poured over the photos, making her tell everyone’s stories.

  But there was one more album. A folder, more like it, with just some newspaper clippings in it. Brianna had hesitated for a long time before getting this one out. Finally, when Jack had exhausted all the stories about her grandmother and her camera, she slid the folder from beneath the bottom album and pushed it across the coffee table toward him.

  He took it and opened it on his lap. Then he looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

  Brianna crumpled her napkin in her hands. “I know you say you have some holes in your memory. I thought perhaps this would help.”

  He fingered the clippings, then nodded, and held them up to study. “My parents didn’t come to my funeral because they’re dead. But I recognize my aunts and uncles, my grandparents even. That’s my cousin Joey and his twin, Melanie.” He closed his eyes. “It’s like standing in the surf. The waves come at me, and I can’t stop them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s all right.” He ran his finger over the newspaper.

  “Do you want to call anyone? Your cousins?”

  He gave a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. “No. They were at my funeral. They won’t believe me, or they’ll be horrified … like you were.”

  Brianna was going to tell him she hadn’t been horror-struck, but she couldn’t. She’d been so frightened she’d peed her pants. She’d never been as shocked as that moment, when Jack had said his name and turned around. If she’d had a weak heart, she’d be dead right now. As it was, she had somehow accepted that Jack was back, but he wasn’t the same Jack she’d known. She didn’t feel the same way about him. There was a difference. She’d only known him for about a month. What would it be like for his family, who had known and loved him all his life? “They deserve to know though,” she said.

  “I’ll be a monster to them,” said Jack. He smoothed the newspaper clipping over his knee and a faint smile tugged his lips. “There was a nice crowd there that day. And there you are, right next to Joey.”

  “I didn’t know it was your cousin.”

  “You look pretty in black.”

  “Oh stop it!” Brianna stood up. “I looked like hell because I felt like hell. I had the worst upset stomach of my life. My throat was so sore from screaming, then giving the deposition, and I couldn’t talk anymore. I don’t remember how I got to the cemetery, or even how I got back home. I can’t believe you can look at pictures of your family and not want to see them. Mine are all dead. Every person in that album except me is dead. Look at that crowd. You have a huge family! Don’t you want to see anyone?”

  “Brianna.” He stood up and took her in his arms. He had to struggle with her for a minute, because she didn’t feel like standing still, she felt like punching someone, for some reason. But maybe it was just sadness, the kind of sadness that makes you feel like your body is a bottomless well. “I’m glad you showed me the newspaper clippings. They make me feel stronger, somehow. They remind me that there are still people who think of me and who loved me. Hopefully they still think about me. But I’m not really ‘me’ anymore, am I?” he asked gently.

  Brianna felt her knees giving away and a whole bunch of stupid tears surging up from that well of sorrow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said.

  “You didn’t.” He helped her sit on the couch and handed her a napkin. “You went to my funeral. You kept the clippings. You thought I might like to see them, but you weren’t sure what my reaction would be. It’s not the same as you looking at your own albums, and that scared you. Because you realized I’m not human anymore. I’m sorry.” He got up and said, “I’ll do the dishes.” And he carried the plates back to the kitchen.

  Brianna wiped her face off and sat, her shoulders hunched, the wet napkin in her hands. There was a strange taste in her mouth, like ashes. Reaching out, she stacked the albums up and put the folder on the top. She put them back in the closet, and then went to find Jack.

  “You’re not a monster,” she told him.

  “How do you know?”

  “Monsters don’t offer to clean up.” She managed a crooked grin, and helped him put the dishes away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nothing but a Heartache

  The next morning was Thursday, the day of the Grand opening at the Purple Dee. Brianna called Jeffrey that morning at Jack’s urging. Not that it took much urging. Jeffrey was one of Brianna’s favorite people, and she knew she could count on him. He agreed to meet Brianna at her apartment in the evening after he got off work to talk about the Heart Taker.

  “Oh, and could you bring me my handcuffs back?” Brianna said. “The ones I left on the purse snatcher the other day.”

  “I have them in my drawer.” Brianna could hear his chair creak as he leaned forward, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening and the clink of hard metal. “I’ve got them. Anything else?”

  “If you have a list of homicides in the past twelve months, I’d appreciate that too.”

  Jeffrey paused. “Are you doing this on your own or for a client?”

  “Both.” Brianna looked at Jack who nodded approvingly.

  “What are you looking for exactly?”

  “Mutant activity.”

 
; “Is this about our conversation last night? About the pattern?”

  “Sort of.” Brianna clutched the phone tightly. Jeffrey was being very cagey about something.

  Now the pause was longer. Then Jeffrey said, “None of this can go public. You understand, right? If your client can’t be trusted, don’t give away any information.”

  “That bad, huh?” Brianna felt a chill up her spine. “I promise, my client can be trusted.” She looked at Jack. He was making signs with his hands. Pointing to paper, ink, his fingertips ... oh, that’s right. “Jeffrey, can you run a scan on some prints I have? Just to see what you come up with?”

  “Can you send them by e-mail? High-resolution tiff. file would be best.”

  “Will do. Thanks. See you this afternoon.”

  She hung up and Jack hugged her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. All right, let’s get you fingerprinted and send those prints off to the lab. We’ll see if you’re still in the system.” She helped Jack put his prints on the paper, scanned them, and sent them to Jeffrey’s e-mail with a note asking him to bring the results with him, if he could.

  Then they went out to get some groceries, but before that, Jack wanted to stop in and see Mamie Hoya. It was across town, but the train was direct, so it didn’t take long. When they got to the building, they were shocked to see a demolition sign out front.

  Brianna followed Jack up the rickety wooden stairs. Mamie Hoya’s door was open and when they knocked, she called, “Come in!”

  The apartment was full of cardboard boxes. Her bookcase was empty, the kitchen was bare, and Mamie Hoya looked frazzled with her glasses perched on the top of her head, her kinky gray hair pulled in a tight bun, and an apron tied askew around her waist.

  “What happened?” Brianna asked.

  “I got evicted.” She shrugged. “Been squatting here for ten years, and now it seems it’s time to go.”

  “Where?” Jack asked, looking around.

  “I suppose I’ll go back to the trailer park. That’s where I was before. I have friends I can call who will take me in. But Sally didn’t like it. Said it made her head ache. Too much aluminum all around her. Trailer was made of aluminum, it seems. Spirits need wood and natural stone or brick around them. Otherwise they get sort of frazzled, like a string that unwinds.”

  “Oh. And I always thought those people with the foil wrapped around their heads were nuts,” said Brianna. She shook her head. This wasn’t right. Poor Mamie Hoya, and poor Sally. She tried to imagine being a frazzled spirit, and made a decision.

  “You can’t go to the trailer park if it will hurt Sally. I have a big apartment. You can stay in the office. I did a favor for a guy with a moving van. Let me call him and ask him if he can take your furniture over for you. My office only has a desk and a chair in it, so there’s room for your bed, table, and bookcase, if you want.”

  Mamie Hoya beamed at her. “Thank you dear. I promise it won’t be for long. The cards have been very clear. Disaster, rescue, and then terrible danger, and another move shortly after. Of course, they don’t give me any details so I can’t say if the terrible danger means I’ll be moving into the trailer park after all.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of lemon drops. “Have one?”

  “I’ll do my best to see you don’t have to,” said Brianna, taking a lemon drop. “Are you eligible for any kind of federal help?”

  “Child, I came from Haiti hiding on a banana boat with my family. I’ve been clandestine ever since. I don’t have a driver’s license, insurance, or a passport. I’ve been offered at least ten credit cards though.” She shook her head at a spot next to Brianna. “Nothing in this world makes any sense, Sally. What? Oh, I’ll ask her.” She turned to Brianna. “Sally wants to give you a hug.”

  “Uh, sure.” Brianna wasn’t sure what would happen. She closed her eyes and felt a sort of cold, electric feeling around her waist, and something like a breath of icy air brushed her cheek. Then the feeling vanished.

  She’d been hugged by a ghost. And the Heart Taker had written her a poem.

  “There’s just one thing about staying in my apartment.” She cleared her throat. “The Heart Taker has decided he wants to kill me and he knows where I live.”

  Mamie Hoya opened her eyes wide. “So that’s the terrible danger the cards spoke of.” Her expression turned pensive. “The cards never lie. They’re just obscure. I do hope that the last move they’re speaking of isn’t to a cemetery though. Sally hates those places more than anything.”

  ****

  Brianna spent the rest of the early afternoon on the phone trying to get Mamie Hoya’s furniture delivered to her place. It wasn’t easy. The person who owed her a favor didn’t have his truck anymore, but he knew someone who owed him a favor and so on down the line, until finally she cornered someone with a truck. The person with the truck agreed, but only if he could come right away, because he had a job that evening.

  There was a blur then, as everything got packed and carried down to the sidewalk. Sally showed Jack where to get boxes from behind the maxi-market down the street. In no time Mamie’s clothes, books, kitchen, and knickknacks were crammed in cardboard boxes and ready to go. There really wasn’t much.

  The truck rumbled into view, and Brianna was relieved to see that the driver was big and strong. He helped Jack carry the furniture while Brianna and Mamie Hoya got the lighter boxes. By the time lunchtime came around, Mamie Hoya had moved into Brianna’s office. It was a tight squeeze. The bed was bigger than Brianna thought, and her office was smaller than she’d imagined. It had looked large with just the desk in it, but with a bed, bookcase, and boxes, it overflowed.

  “There’s a toilet and sink here for the office, but you’ll have to share my bath and shower,” said Brianna.

  The office was not actually part of the apartment. It was connected by a hallway and must have been the maid’s quarters at one time. Mamie Hoya looked around, her hands on her hips. “This building must be old,” she said. “Older even than the one I lived in.”

  “It was built in the early nineteen hundreds, and originally it was a hotel. They made it into apartment buildings after the depression. I inherited this apartment from my grandmother. She told me it used to just sparkle here.”

  “It’s very nice,” said Mamie Hoya. She went to the bow window and looked out. “And such a beautiful view over the river. Do you get many clients? Where will you meet them while I’m here?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I usually meet my clients in shady bars,” said Brianna. “And the bodyguard agency hires me out from their end, so I don’t use the office anyway. I just have it because of taxes. Professional square feet is cheaper than residential square feet.”

  She looked at the little room, crammed full of boxes, and thought of how it had been while she lived with her grandmother. She’d covered the rose-bud wallpaper with stark white paint and made her childhood bedroom into an office after her grandmother had passed away. But how many hours had she spent sitting in the window seat, watching the river?

  The sun was setting already, and her stomach growled. She realized she’d missed lunch. Mamie Hoya was still perched on the window seat. A warm feeling flooded Brianna. It was like having her grandmother back again. She shook her head a little sharply. Was that why she’d invited Mamie Hoya here? That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Mamie Hoya wasn’t her grandmother and never would be. So why was she so happy she was there?

  Brianna dug her fingernails into her hands. She was starting to sound just like her shrink, looking for a reason for everything. Maybe things just happened. Maybe you met someone who needed help and you could help them. Maybe your boyfriend got killed but then came back to life.

  And speaking of her boyfriend, Jack stood by the door looking a little shell-shocked. As she watched him, a shiver ran over his body. Home is where the heart is, she thought. And Jack has no heart. Where would he ever feel at home? Sharp pity assailed her, but she knew he woul
d not want it.

  “Are you all right?” she asked him.

  He turned to her, his blue eyes almost electric in the gathering dusk. “Just hungry. I’m always hungry with this new body.”

  “It’s a different metabolism,” agreed Mamie Hoya, standing up and stretching. “I’d like to invite you to lunch. Is there a good restaurant around here, Brianna? Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I’m paying rent here. Don’t argue,” she went on.

  Brianna, who had just opened her mouth to argue, shut it and nodded. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go to Alfredo’s. They have good food, and they serve all day.”

  The three of them trooped out the door and Brianna thought to check all the locks before they left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Spirits

  Jack saw a few ghosts as they walked down the street. He’d been able to see Sally clearly all day. The poor spirit had been crying most of the time, huddled on Mamie Hoya’s bed. A couple times Jack had tried to speak to her, but she didn’t seem to be able to hear him or she was too upset to pay attention. But he saw other spirits too. They were far more shadowy than Sally, and sometimes he wasn’t even sure if what he saw was a shadow or a spirit. Other times the specter was clear, like the old hobo on the corner, or the couple dressed in clothes from the eighteen-hundreds. The woman wore a long dress with a fur collar, and the man had on a coat and tails, and carried a top hat under his arm. They looked like they were going to the opera.

  And then, just as they arrived outside Alfredo’s, time went strange again and everything stopped. Everything, that is, except a smiling man walking just on the other side of the street. As Jack caught sight of him, the man picked up his pace, breaking into a run. Everyone else was frozen in place. And Jack, who had no heart¸ felt a jolt in his chest.