by April White
“Thank you for being such a good friend, Ringo. I’m really lucky I met you.”
“Yeah, well, I did help save your life, didn’t I?”
I grinned. “You did.”
“And you taught me how to read. That makes us about even.”
“Good. Then we can go right on teaching each other and saving each other.”
“You’re not going to stay, are you?” It was a statement, not a question, and all the smile had gone from his voice.
“I don’t think so.”
Ringo nodded solemnly. “Will you come back and visit me sometime then?”
“I’ll try, but I’m not gone yet.” I stood up to clear the dishes. “And we still have a job to do and a woman to see, right?”
He took the dishes from me to clean them at the cistern. “Right.”
The wind had come in off the river and the night was cold when we stepped out for our meeting. I was wrapped in every layer I had with me and Ringo had loaned me his cap to hide my hair, which was braided and tucked down the back of my sweater.
We were headed toward Spitalfields and our meeting was on Dorset Street. I could tell Ringo had an eye behind us the whole way; I just wasn’t sure who he thought would be there.
Spitalfields was definitely on the lower-income end of London, and we passed a couple of women in doorways who seemed to be of the ‘working’ type. Most of them were missing teeth and looked like they were in their 40s or even 50s. It was hard to tell a person’s age when poverty had probably robbed them of good health a long time ago. I thought the same was pretty much true for the homeless people I’d stepped around in Venice. With sunken eyes and sunken mouths the only thing left to show a person’s true age were sometimes the hands.
There was a boy waiting for us when we arrived at the meeting place. Ringo stopped short and looked the boy up and down suspiciously.
“I thought you was coming alone.” The kid accused Ringo.
“How’d you know it would be me?”
“Saw you at the paper office. Who’s this?” The kid threw his head in my direction but barely spared me a glance.
“Question is, who are you?”
“Name’s Charlie. I’m to take ye to Mary if I think ye’re safe enough.”
Ringo stood still, regarding Charlie steadily. “Well? Are ye done looking?” His voice took on the same street quality he’d had when I first met him. He’d been matching Archer’s and my speech patterns for so long I’d forgotten how tough he could sound.
Charlie’s arms were crossed in front of him as he made a show of looking us both up and down. Then he turned without another word and started off down the street. As one, Ringo and I followed behind.
“Charlie ain’t a bloke.” Ringo’s voice was a whisper in my ear. I was startled. It hadn’t occurred to me that it was anything but a boy leading us toward ‘Mary.’
“How do you know?”
Ringo rolled his eyes as if to say ‘seriously?’ “How’d I know you wasn’t?” He had a point.
“Look at the hands. They’re lass’s hands. The eyelashes are too long and the collarbones too fine.” Charlie stopped at the entrance to an alley, looked back at us just long enough to make sure we’d seen, and then turned down it.
Ringo hesitated. “Maybe you’d better wait here for me?”
“And let you go down a dark alley by yourself? No way, Jose. I’ve got your back that that’s final.”
“I don’t know Jose, but I thought you should have an out if you wanted it.”
“Well, I don’t. But thanks anyway.” Ringo looked halfway between kid and man in that moment. The man wanted to protect me and do the chivalrous thing; the kid didn’t mind having me at his back. We turned down the dark alley together.
Charlie wasn’t in sight, but a light was on at number 13 and the door was slightly ajar. Ringo knocked once and a woman’s voice called “Come.”
We stepped into a dimly lit room, smoky from the fire in the wood stove, and smelling of ash and boiled cabbage. It was a smell I’d become familiar with wafting in through the open window in Ringo’s flat.
Someone was sitting on the bed in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. Charlie stepped in from the other room and I could instantly see what Ringo had already noticed. She was definitely female. Probably about Ringo’s age, with high cheekbones and delicate collarbones just visible above her sweater.
“This is my sister, Mary. Mary Kelly.”
Mary leaned forward into the light and stubbed her cigarette on in a dish on the bedside table. She was actually kind of pretty, with thick, reddish hair and the same high cheekbones Charlie had. But where Charlie had a more delicate look in her bones, Mary seemed coarser and tougher, as if she would have had a lot more success pretending to be male than Charlie did.
“Wot’s t’ reward for finding me?” Mary’s voice was rough and sounded like the whisky voice of a country singer.
“A quid.” Ringo spoke with confidence and I could see him sizing everything up in the room.
“Give it here.”
“Not ‘til we know yer who ye say. T’was in the advert.”
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed as if we were testing her last nerve. She couldn’t have been more than about twenty-five, but she already had the mannerisms of an old lady.
“Show us then.”
I pulled a gold sovereign out of my pocket. It was much more battered than its age would suggest since it was one of the coins Archer’s new shilling had bought. I held it up for Mary to see and she squinted at it in the dim light.
“Check it’s real, Charlotte.”
Charlie scowled at her sister and looked quickly at Ringo and me, but we were expressionless. Charlie came closer to me and examined the coin.
“Looks real enough. Can’t tell for sure without feeling it though.” Without a hesitation I dropped the coin in her hand. I could see Ringo about to pounce if she made one move to pocket it, but she weighed it carefully and handed it back.
“Real.” Charlie moved back into the shadows and sat behind the wood stove. Mary coughed a great big, loud, juicy hack that reinforced every anti-smoking ad I’d ever seen, then she settle back into the shadows again. I didn’t like not being able to see her eyes so I moved forward and sat on the chair next to the bed.
I wasn’t close enough, I hoped, for bedbugs to make the leap to my clothes, but at least I could see her eyes properly.
It seemed like Mary could have been a beauty but life had been a bit too harsh for it to stick. I’d always assumed I’d grow old like my mom, with a few laugh lines around her eyes and a couple of gray hairs peeking through whenever she went too long between highlights. Mary had broken capillaries on her cheeks from too much drinking, I supposed, and deep bags under her eyes from not enough sleep. Both were hazards of her occupation.
I was startled to realize Mary was studying me with the same intensity. “Ye’ve the look of someone I know.”
That surprised me. “Who?”
She suddenly shrugged and looked away, and as she did I caught sight of her necklace. Or rather, my mother’s necklace. Around Mary Kelly’s throat.
The room swam before my eyes and I gripped my chair to keep from lunging at her and ripping the clock pendant from her neck. It was the one my father had given her; the one that I thought was stolen from our loft in Venice. Ringo looked at me with concern and even Charlie had noticed my reaction. Only Mary seemed oblivious.
“Yer a fancy brother or a cousin or something,” she muttered, under her breath. Only then did I realize she hadn’t seen through my disguise. Considering how easily Ringo had spotted Charlie through hers, I just assumed I was equally transparent.
I clenched my teeth. “That’s a pretty necklace, Mary. Where’d you get it?”
She looked at me with a sudden narrowing of her eyes. “It was a gift.”
Liar. My mother must have brought it to 1888 with her, but she would have never given it away. I quickly weighed my options and
decided to go with capitalism. “I’ll buy it from you if you tell me the story.”
“How much?” I could see the wheels turning in her head, or maybe it was the jackpot dials and they’d suddenly come up cherries.
“The quid, plus this.” I held out the entire bag of coins Ava had given me and emptied it in my hands. Mary’s eyes widened fractionally. Ringo grimaced as she nodded. “A customer...”
“The truth or no deal.” Whatever sympathy I’d walked into the hovel with was gone. And maybe Mary heard it in my voice, because she flinched and then took a deep breath. “The bastard who lives next door pays me to clean for him sometimes. He’s a pig, so I wait until he’s out to do it. The necklace was on the floor by the bed.”
It took every ounce of my self-control not to leap up and run next door, and Ringo knew it too. He’d moved closer to the exit and was basically waiting for me to give the word. Charlie’s eyes were locked on him, but he didn’t notice. He was watching me.
I casually bagged all the coins and handed them to Mary. “He there now?” I was trying for conversational instead of desperate. Mary shook her head. “They left last night and I ain’t seen ‘im since.”
“They?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “There’s the ratty-faced, pockmarked one. He’s the one who pays me. He’s mean and sneaky and I don’t trust ‘im as far as I can spit. He’s had the place next door since summertime, and he’s been a nasty piece of work since day one.”
“And?” I was holding my breath for a description of a woman in a green dress.
Mary shuddered. “I never see’s ‘im. Pitch black it always is, and he’s careful, that one. Big man, but not tall. There’s power there. He moves with it. But I ain’t never seen ‘is face.”
A deep dread was beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach. The pockmarked face could be The Ripper. But working with another man? A powerful one that made someone like Mary shudder? Could that possibly be Bishop Wilder? Were they both somehow connected to my mother’s disappearance? Mary had stopped speaking, but I knew there was more. There had to be.
“What about the woman?”
Mary looked at me, clearly startled. “I ain’t said naught about a woman.” Her eyes shifted from Charlie to me, and there was guilt written in them. Something I was beginning to recognize all too well.
I didn’t let up. “She’s wearing a green dress. And she’s posh-looking. What did you call it? Fancy. The necklace belongs to her.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at me. And then she made a choice. I watched her decide to lie. “If your fancy lady was lying with that ratty-faced bastard, I don’t know nothing about it. I told you, I found the necklace on the floor by the bed.”
My fists clenched unconsciously, but I kept it together as Mary unclasped the necklace. She looked at it a long moment, her expression shifting into something unreadable. “Our Ma had a thing for clocks. Charlotte’s too young to remember, but she had ‘em everywhere in our house in Dublin.” Mary hesitated, and then finally handed over the necklace. The minute my hand closed around the woven brass choker I felt instantly better. And totally worse. Even though she was holding something back about my mom, if Archer’s theory was right, Mary and Charlotte Kelly had Clocker blood in them. Which made us related. Sort of.
I stood to go. “Mary?” She was counting out the money from the little cloth bag I’d handed her. She looked up, distracted; as if she was surprised I was still there. “Is there someplace you could go? Someplace outside of London. Just for a few days?”
She stared at me for a moment. “Oh sure. I keep a country house in Surrey. I’ll just pop out there for the weekend.” And then she cracked up like I was the headliner in a comedy show. It was an ugly laugh designed to make me feel stupid. But, better stupid than dead.
“Or maybe you could work the other side of town for a few days?”
Her laughter dried up and she glared at me. “Listen, Fancy. No one tells me what to do or lords over me like I was some girl to do their bidding. I’ve earned my freedom, such as it is, and none can say otherwise. I work here when I choose and while it may not be work you respect, it’s what keeps us alive and together.” She cast a look at Charlie who seemed just as proud of her sister as she was mortified.
Mary’s glare dismissed me. She took the gold shilling out of the pouch and weighed it in her hand just as Charlie had done. Then she tossed it to Charlie, who caught it in mid-air like she had magnets for hands.
“Get me some rye and a loaf of day-old bread. Mind you bring the rest back here. The landlord’s waiting ‘is due and won’t take ‘is payment any other way no more.”
Charlie scowled and slipped out of the room without a backward glance.
I joined Ringo at the door and he led me outside. Just as I was about to close the door behind me Mary called out from the bed, “Who’s the fancy lady to you?”
I turned to face her, my expression carefully schooled to hide how mad I was at her for lying to me. “She’s my mother.” I pulled the door closed so I didn’t have to see her face, and then I took a sudden, great gasping breath, and doubled over from the pain that threatened to overwhelm my body.
“She okay?”
Charlie’s voice was tough, but quiet as she spoke to Ringo. I looked at him quickly. He was glaring at Charlie in a way that recommended no argument.
“He’s fine, Charlie.” I loved Ringo. In three words he told Charlie, ‘mind your own business and we’ll mind ours.”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded curtly. She was about to run off down the street when I called to her.
“Charlie?”
She came back to face me. “Charlotte Kelly, Sir, but Charlie’s fine.”
I guessed she’d accepted the rules of the game. “Which place does Mary clean?”
She squinted at me and pointed at the row house door next to theirs. She was about to run off again but then turned to face me. “I seen that fancy lady. She’s been there a few times, but always sick or something.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Sick?”
“Them two always come in holding her between ‘em. Supporting her.”
“Is she there now?”
Charlie shook her head. “I ain’t seen her in a couple days. But I ain’t seen him neither, and he’s usually in and out.”
I itched to get into his row house and I could tell Ringo felt the same. But I felt somehow responsible for Mary and Charlie because of what I knew. “Would Mary listen to you about going away from here?”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Why should she?”
I sighed, and then took a page from Ava. “I know things sometimes.” I looked Charlie straight in the eyes to make my point. To her credit, she met my gaze. “And Mary’s in danger here. She will die in her bed tomorrow night if you stay.”
Charlie looked from Ringo to me, and back to Ringo.
“We’ve no place to go.”
I could have kissed Ringo when he said to Charlie, “Come to my place. If ye don’t steal nothing ye can stay the night.” My jaw dropped open and after a quick glance at me, Ringo told her how to find his loft. “And mind ye come tell us if the fancy lady comes back.” One raised eyebrow and a nod later, the deal was done and Charlie had scampered off.
I stared at Ringo for a long moment. “That was awesome.”
He snapped at me. “I’m not happy about it.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
He shook his head at me. “You’re here, right?”
I studied his face for a moment, and then nodded. “Right.” I looked at the windowless room. “Think we could get in?”
Ringo smiled suddenly and it transformed his face. He held up his fingers and waggled them. “Give me thirty seconds.”
I gaped at him and he laughed. First he tried the door. Locked, of course. Then he used the doorknob to lift himself up to the transom window above it. He pushed the top and it creaked backward, opening a gap that barely looked big enough to fit
an arm through, much less a teenaged thief. But somehow, impossibly, Ringo slithered through the transom and in less than a minute had opened the front door for me to slip inside.
“Spectacular.” I whispered. Ringo flashed me a grin, and then we got busy prowling the room.
If I thought Mary Kelly’s room was gross, this one was like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. There were plates of half-moldy food stacked on the table and a layer of scum covering the bottoms of the three glasses. The bare mattress was in one corner with a blanket wadded up at the foot of it. I shuddered to think of the petri dish that mattress probably was.
“So this is what you thought my place would be like?” There was an edge of irony to the disgust in Ringo’s voice.
“Animals don’t live like this.”
“So apparently the Ripper isn’t a Shifter?” I think laughter was the only antidote to the revulsion the room inspired, and we cracked up.
“Guess I’m not hiring Mary as my housekeeper.” We dissolved into new fits of laughter, but there was an edge to it and when it faded away the silence in the room was deafening.
“I want anything that could tell me us where my mom is.”
“Right.”
I found a small stick at the wood stove and used it to poke around in piles of filthy rags. I pushed aside a ratty curtain and got a sudden chill. My backpack, grabbed by the Ripper so long ago in Whitechapel Station, sat on the floor in a tired heap. I quickly slung it over my shoulders and turned to tell Ringo. But he beat me to the words.
“Saira. I think I found something.”
I went over to the shelf that sat above a rusted enamel sink. On it were old-fashioned glass bottles with handwritten labels. Ringo held one out to me to read. The cursive was tight and proper and I could just make out the word ‘Hyoscine.’ I looked at Ringo. “What’s Hyoscine?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know.” He suddenly noticed the pack on my back. “Where’d you get the kit?”
“Long story.”
