The Angel of Darkness

by Caleb Carr

  Wandering back into the kitchen, I found Kat had scared up some eggs and a few herring and was getting ready to fry them in a big skillet. “So,” she said with a smile. “How’s ‘business’?”

  I was too amazed by what she was doing to hear the question. “Kat—you can cook?”

  “Don’t gimme that kinda air,” she answered playfully. “You think me and Papa had servants, Mr. Stuyvesant Park? I cooked for him all the time. Eggs and herring, now that’s a breakfast.” She tried to crack an egg into the pan, but her hand shook badly; and as it did, she lost her smile and took a deep breath. “Say—Stevie,” she said quietly, again without looking at me. “Does your doctor friend have—well, you know, does he see any patients here?”

  “Unh-unh,” I said, shaking my head and knowing full well what she meant by the question. “None of that, Kat.”

  “It’s just—” Her hand shook again, and her eyes filled with those sickly, desperate tears. “I don’t know if I can crack the eggs …”

  My mind seemed to grab hold of a thought, something the Doctor’d said when I’d been at the Institute and he’d dealt with a kid who was in even worse shape than Kat: something about what a cold cutoff of drugs could do to the human body. I knew that in fact he might have some cocaine stashed in the small examination room he maintained toward the front of the house on the ground floor, but I wasn’t going to let Kat have it. When she suddenly let out a little cry, though, then grabbed at her gut and sat down quick on a chair, I figured I’d better do something; so I ran to the examination room and opened a little glass case what held a series of bottles. Looking them over quick, I came across some paregoric tincture. I knew that people gave it to colicky babies, and such being the case I figured it couldn’t do Kat any harm. I ran back out into the hall and then to her, crouching down.

  “Here,” I said, handing her the bottle. “Try some of this.”

  She kept one hand on her stomach and moaned as she took a deep pull off the bottle. Then she held the thing away from her and stuck her tongue out. “Ugh! What the hell is that?”

  “Just something to calm your gut down.”

  “I need burny!” she answered, with a little stamp of her foot.

  “Kat, there ain’t any here. Just try to stay calm. Take another shot of this—” I held the bottle to her head as she shook it, trying to avoid the foul-tasting medicine; but after another swig, her nerves did seem to calm down some. “Better?” I asked.

  She nodded slowly. “Kinda. Whoo …” She finally took her hand away from her stomach, got a deep breath into her lungs, and stood up. “Yeah. That is better.”

  “Maybe some food now, hunh?” I walked her to the stove. “I still ain’t so sure I buy this cooking business outta you …”

  Kat was able to laugh a little at that; and when she picked up another egg, her hands were steady. “You wait, boy,” she said, cracking the little brown shell on the lip of the skillet with practiced skill. “You’re gonna wish you had this breakfast every day.” She winced once, then turned to the table. “Gimme a little more of that stuff, will you? Tastes awful, but it helps.”

  As she labored over the eggs and herring Kat took not one but several more shots of the paregoric, and her mood brightened considerably. The next half an hour or so was one of the happiest times I can remember spending with her, just making breakfast and eating in the kitchen like two ordinary types, chatting, laughing, forgetting, for the time being, what had driven her to the Doctor’s house. She began to talk about the day when she’d have a big, beautiful house of her own, and though I didn’t believe that whoring would ever lead her to such a place, I didn’t say anything to interfere with the daydream, so chipper and healthy did it make her seem.

  In fact, I was a little sorry when the front door bell finally rang at a little past ten o’clock. I had just set to washing our dishes and Kat had lit up a smoke, still romancing away about her future and even joking, at one point, about how she’d hire me to work in her house. I’d never thought of that idea before, me and Kat under one roof as adults, not even in my own moments of dreaming; nor could I conjure it up that morning, so outside the realm of possibility did it seem. Her imagination, I suppose, was a lot better than mine; had to’ve been, when I think about it.

  Drying my hands on a kitchen towel, I started running for the front door, Kat joking about my being her butler and telling me to send whoever it was away, as she was not “receiving” that morning. She straightened right up, though, when I came into the kitchen with the two detective sergeants—she still wasn’t completely sure that their visit didn’t have anything to do with her. I introduced them to Kat, and together the four of us went on up to the parlor, where they all sat down. For my part, I ran further on to the Doctor’s study to fetch the picture of Nurse Hunter. When I brought it back down, I found the Isaacsons arguing—in their usual testy, childish way—over the exact ratio of chemicals that was supposed to be used in the test what Lucius had conducted that morning. Kat was sitting on the edge of the same easy chair she’d been in before, glancing over at the two men and wondering, I’m certain, what in the world kind of cops behaved in such a way.

  “Here we go,” I said, taking the picture to Kat as she stood up. “Kat, tell the detective sergeants who this woman is.”

  She just stared around at the three of us for a second, then mumbled to me, “But I already told you.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered back, “but tell them. Don’t worry, it ain’t gonna get you in any trouble.”

  “I heard that before,” Kat answered. Then she spoke aloud: “Her name’s Libby Hatch. She’s—well, her and Goo Goo—”

  “Goo Goo Knox?” Marcus asked. “Chief of the Hudson Dusters?”

  “That’s right,” Kat said. “She’s his girl. Well, she’s one of ’em, anyway. They all got plenty, the sons of—” Kat caught herself and cut her fuming short. “But she’s his favorite right now.”

  “Libby Hatch?” Lucius said, taking the picture. “You’re sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure—I got eyes, ain’t I?”

  Lucius gave Kat a careful squint. “You wouldn’t happen to know where this ‘Libby Hatch’ lives, would you?”

  Kat nodded quickly. “Right around the corner from the Dusters’ headquarters. Bethune Street. She’s married to some old geezer, but he’s half dead, anyway, so she has to look out for herself. Goo Goo’s got their house under the gang’s protection—anybody gets caught even casing the place, they’ll end up in the river. And they won’t be swimmin’, if you take my meaning.”

  Lucius was about to say more, but then Marcus held up a finger. “Miss Devlin? I’m sorry—would you excuse the three of us for a moment?”

  “Sure,” Kat said, looking ever more confused and then turning to me. “Stevie, maybe I could go downstairs, have a little more of that medicine?”

  “Yeah, sure, Kat,” I said. “It’s right where we left it.”

  She tried to smile at the detective sergeants. “Just a little stomach complaint. I’ll be right back.”

  Lucius and Marcus watched her go, Lucius looking very excited about the news we’d received. He was about to express that excitement when Marcus stepped in again. “Stevie, how do we know that this girl can be trusted?”

  The question took me a little off guard. “How—well… because. She’s a friend of mine. I’ve known her for—well, for a long time. Why shouldn’t you be able to trust her?”

  Marcus looked me straight in the eye. “Because she’s a prostitute and a cocaine fiend.”

  My pride got ruffled for just an instant; but it was clear from Marcus’s look that he didn’t mean to cause any injury, he just wanted to be sure that we weren’t, in fact, getting taken. I looked to the floor as I answered, “Neither of them things makes her a liar, Detective Sergeant. I’ll answer for Kat.”

  “The cocaine fiend I understand,” Lucius said to his brother, looking puzzled. “The indications are fairly clear. But why do you assume she’s
a prostitute, Marcus?”

  “A girl that age? Living at the Dusters’? It’s not a mission house, Lucius, for God’s sake.”

  “Hmm,” Lucius said grimly. “True. But she does know where the Hunter woman lives. And what could she possibly gain from telling us all this? I say we believe her—not least because it could make all our lives a lot easier.”

  “How so?” Marcus asked.

  But it was me that Lucius spoke to next: “Stevie, do you think this girl might do us a—favor?”

  I shook my head. “A favor, probably not. We—I got her into a little hot water yesterday. Anyway, Kat’s life hasn’t made her one for favors. But if there was something in it for her—then yeah, I think we might ask her.” I looked at them both earnestly. “But only if it ain’t dangerous.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” Lucius answered eagerly.

  “What are you cooking up, Lucius?” Marcus asked.

  But at that moment Kat came running up the stairs and back into the room. “Stevie, there’s people coming into the house!”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, going to the stairway. “Probably just the housekeeper. I been wondering when she’d turn up.”

  “No, it’s a couple of men,” Kat answered quickly, following me. “Stevie, it’s your doctor! I shouldn’t be here, he’ll take it outta your hide!”

  Looking down the stairs, I saw that the new arrivals were, in fact, the Doctor and Cyrus. Putting a quick hand on Kat’s arm, I squeezed it gently. “Don’t worry,” I said, half amused by her fear. “I told you, it’ll be fine, he ain’t that way.”

  “But we been eatin’ his food, and the medicine—”

  “Calm down,” I said, as the Doctor started up the stairs at a jaunt. “Go inside. It’ll be fine, I’m telling you.”

  Kat nodded reluctant agreement but didn’t move; and as the Doctor reached the top of the stairs she drew back behind my shoulder, her eyes going big as she took in his long, dark hair, his black eyes, and the clothes that matched those eyes, even in summer. I smiled; I’d flat-out forgotten how imposing—even scary—he could look when you first met him.

  “Stevie!” the Doctor said, seeming satisfied. “We have returned, though rather more quickly than I’d hoped. Apparently this area of anthropology is just developing—it took half of Boas’s staff, in addition to several students from Columbia, to analyze the arrow, and their explanation was only partial. The weapon does, indeed, originate in the islands of the southwestern Pacific, though there remains some confusion over—” He stopped suddenly when he made out Kat’s little form hiding behind me. “Well.” The Doctor smiled genuinely, but slowed his approach. “I didn’t know you had company, Stevie. My apologies for bursting in so rudely.”

  Cyrus came lumbering up the stairs, calling out to me, “Stevie? You feeling all right? There’s a half-empty bottle of paregoric on the kitchen—” Then he, too, caught sight of Kat. “Oh,” he said, scrutinizing her. He smiled just a bit and bowed his head. “Hello, Kat,” he said, courteously but not exactly warmly.

  “Mr. Montrose,” Kat noised from behind me, without moving.

  The detective sergeants came out of the parlor, and the Doctor looked past me and Kat to them. “Ah! The detective sergeants as well—good. This will save some time.” He turned the careful smile my way again. “Stevie? Am I not to be introduced?”

  “Oh,” I said. “No. I mean, yes. I mean—”

  Kat jumped out from behind me ever so briefly and extended a hand, looking like she thought the Doctor might bite it off. “Katharine Devlin, sir,” she said. The Doctor had just touched the hand when Kat snatched it back and got behind me again. “Stevie didn’t invite me, sir. I just come of my own.”

  “Friends of Stevie’s are always welcome,” the Doctor answered simply. “Though I think we’ll all be much more comfortable in the parlor, don’t you?”

  I could feel Kat’s small breasts rising and falling quickly as she pressed herself against my back. “I think I should go,” she said anxiously.

  But I held her back. “Kat, it’s okay” I insisted again. “Come on, I want you to tell the Doctor what you told the rest of us. And the detective sergeant’s got something he wants to ask you.”

  Very reluctantly, Kat moved with our group back into the parlor, though she never came out from behind me as we went. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on the Doctor: she’d convinced herself a long time ago that he wasn’t on the level, and his kind attitude was only making her more edgy and suspicious. The Doctor went to the mantel and got himself a smoke, offering one to Marcus, then lit up and sat in his chair.

  “Please,” he said, indicating an old (or, I should say, antique) French settee what was near me and Kat. “Won’t you sit down?” He seemed almost as amused by her attitude as I was, but he very decently kept that amusement to himself.

  She just nodded once, then sat and fairly broke my arm and neck as she yanked my shirt hard and forced me onto the settee beside her. Shoving up against my side, she let her panicky stare leave the Doctor only long enough to see what the detective sergeants were up to.

  “Miss Devlin has brought us some very useful information,” Lucius said, handing the photograph to the Doctor. “It seems that she has some acquaintance with Elspeth Hunter.”

  The Doctor’s politeness suddenly grew mixed with excitement, in a way what made his eyes glow hot—which only caused Kat to grow even more nervous when he looked back at her. “Really, Miss Devlin? You know the woman?”

  “I don’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” she answered, giving Lucius a quick jerk of her head. “But if you mean Libby Hatch, then yeah, I know her.”

  “Kat spends some of her time at the Dusters’ place,” I added, not wanting her to have to explain it. “She says they know Nurse Hunter as ‘Libby Hatch’ and that she’s one of Goo Goo Knox’s girls.”

  “Goo Goo—?” the Doctor said, confused. “Ah, yes! Knox, the strongman of the Dusters. I must say, one can only speculate as to the amount of cocaine that the members of that gang must abuse in order to invent these absurd names.”

  Kat gave out with a sudden sound that I thought might be alarm, but when I turned to her I found that she was smiling and that the noise had been something like a laugh. For the first time, she looked as though she might be buying that the Doctor was okay.

  The Doctor laughed along with her, very encouragingly. “So, Miss Devlin,” he said (and I could see that Kat liked being referred to that way), “you say that the woman in this picture is on romantic terms with Knox?”

  “She’s his special moll just at the moment,” Kat answered.

  “Indeed?” the Doctor replied.

  “And,” Lucius added pointedly, “Knox has her home under his personal protection.”

  “Does he really?” The Doctor looked to Kat again. “For any particular reason that you can think of, Miss Devlin?”

  Kat shrugged, and loosened her grip on my arm a bit. “He’s a wild one, is that Goo Goo—and from what I seen, so’s Libby. They spend a lot of time upstairs in his room. I hear it gets a little crazy sometimes. I also hear that she—well, she—dances for him.”

  “‘Dances’?” the Doctor echoed, a bit confused.

  Glancing out the window in some embarrassment, Kat nodded. “You know, sir—dances. He’ll have the band come up, and play outside his door. And she—dances.”

  It finally dawned on the Doctor that Kat was talking about something what was known in those days by a number of different terms, but which we now refer to by what it is: the striptease. “I see,” the Doctor said quietly. “Do excuse my ignorance, Miss Devlin. I don’t mean to be thickheaded.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” she answered, very respectfully. “Ain’t no reason why you should know. Anyway, like I say, at the moment she’s the one of his girls that can really keep up with him—even more than the younger ones. She works at it, does that Libby.”

  “Libby,” the Doctor repeated softly, bouncing the knuckle of his forefinger ag
ainst his, mouth as he weighed it. “Libby …” He turned to the detective sergeants. “An alias?”

  Marcus considered it with a little shrug. “‘Libby’ could be a diminutive version of ‘Elspeth’—it’s likely she had or has one, as ‘Elspeth’ is fairly archaic.”

  “Hatch could be her maiden name,” Lucius added. “She’s using it in situations where she doesn’t want to be identified. You’re not going to get many nursing jobs if it gets around that you’re—dancing for Goo Goo Knox. But there’s a more important consideration here, Doctor.” Lucius approached him, glancing briefly at Kat. “There are two things we need to do at this juncture, forensically. We need to prove that the child is in Nurse Hunter’s home, and we need to demonstrate that Nurse Hunter was in fact responsible for the attack in Central Park.” He gave Kat another look and a very friendly smile. “I believe that Miss Devlin can help us with both things.”

  Kat turned to me, speaking quietly. “Stevie … you said there wasn’t gonna be no trouble …”

  “There ain’t, Kat,” I answered quickly. “Not for you.”

  “Then what’s all this about a kid, and an ‘attack’?”

  “‘All this’ is nothing in which you need fear you will be implicated, Miss Devlin,” the Doctor tossed in from his chair. “The detective sergeants are investigating a case. We are providing them with some help. Our motives are that simple.”

  Grunting a little as she turned back to the Doctor, Kat took on a defiant look. “I don’t want to get mixed up in any police investigation,” she said. “Especially not if it’s got to do with Goo Goo. He’d as soon beat somebody half to death as look at ’em, even when he ain’t blowin’ the burny.”

  “There might,” Marcus said, what you could call delicately, “be a rather substantial consideration involved, Miss Devlin.”

  Kat squinted at him. “You mean—like money?” Marcus nodded. “Money don’t do you much good in the hospital. And not when you’re at the bottom of the river, neither.”