by Denise Daye
She could barely remember this place, surprised at how dark the staircase was. If not for a little bit of light that came from a small window below, it would have been pitch black.
Esther slowly made her way downstairs toward the light of that window filled with thick dust and riddled with spider webs, almost making the door beside it unnoticeable. She reached out to open the door, and the staircase was instantly flooded by the bright daylight of an alley right behind the Silverton building.
Taking one final breath and one final glimpse of her father's memory, she hastened out of the alley and onto the busy street to fade into the hustle and bustle of the pedestrian crowd of downtown New York, leaving nothing behind but a little surprise for Morris.
The trail of her disappearance would lead straight to him, making him the last person to have had contact with her—supposedly that was.
Chapter 3
T he cold wind hit Esther in the face like an iron whip. She had wandered around for hours, unsure where she could stay without being recognized. The initial warmth she had felt in making Morris a main murder suspect had worn off by now, thanks to the icy cold temperatures. It was the coldest November on record, and folk were saying that 1881 would be the coldest winter in the history of New York. Considering Esther’s luck so far, she thought it was just another little blow life had in store for her.
She had enough money in her purse to last several months—if she lowered her standards drastically, that was, and stayed in some of the shadier parts of town. At the very least, that would buy her time to come up with another plan. Who knew, maybe she would find a nice chap whom she could marry just for the sake of getting her fortune back. In a few months’ time she would be twenty-one, and if Morris didn’t get a hold of her before that, she had a good chance in winning the overall war.
Esther turned into the Italian quarters, a part of New York that was one of its poorest. The streets were caked with mud, filled with vendors on every corner whistling at every passerby that swarmed and swallowed the place. From what she had heard, it was safer here than the Irish quarters.
The sun was fading, leaving a wide, overarching streak of red and orange lights. It was getting late. She had to find a place to stay or she could freeze to death or be robbed. Fighting off another cold breeze by squeezing her fine wool coat tighter around the neck, she spotted a fairly decent-looking pub with enough of a crowd to hopefully let herself slip unnoticed.
Loud laughter and the sounds of cheerful, Italian singing had subconsciously attracted her to it. Esther was about to open the door when a man stumbled through it, blackout drunk. He fell onto the street right in front of her feet, grabbing her coat in a last, desperate attempt to avoid the fall. Shuffling her feet to regain balance and not go down with him, she swatted at the drunk man’s hand to release her.
“Let go of me, and I will help you back up!” she huffed at him, without avail. He was now sitting up, tugging at her coat once more with a grip so tight, it seemed as if his life depended on it.
“Beeeeellllllaaaaa,” he mumbled in a drunk voice with an Italian accent. He was grabbing his melon hat and tried to put it on, but he was so drunk he didn’t place it over his head but several feet next to it instead, so it fell right back onto the pavement again. Esther let out a sharp breath in annoyance as she was at a loss what to do. She wasn’t foolish enough to have left the house without her Derringer, a small pistol with an artfully decorated handle that her father had made for her back when they were still living in Texas. It could hold two bullets at a time; not as much as the latest revolvers, but it was a luxury nonetheless to the widely popular flintlock pistols that could hold only one. And as a former ranch girl, she darn well knew how to use it. But she did not feel that this man was a threat. He was more of a nuisance.
Esther tried another pull of her coat, which triggered an uncontrollable outburst of laughter from the drunk man who obviously thought it funny that she was unable to rid herself of him.
“Could you at least point me in the direction of a reputable boarding house?” she asked in an angry voice, using the fingertips to rub her temples as if to ward off a headache.
Suddenly another man in his thirties came out of the pub. He was dressed in a nice day suit and elegantly put on his top hat. His face had all the charming features of an Italian man of the ladies, which was instantly confirmed by his big grin that exposed his beautiful, white teeth.
“No no no no, Luigi…” He scolded the drunk man in a thick Italian accent. He aggressively stomped his foot onto drunk Luigi’s arm, forcing him to release Esther’s coat. Luigi let out a scream of pain, which Esther didn’t like at all.
“Thank you. I’ve got it from here,” she said in the hope that the slick beauty would stop hurting the drunk man on the floor. He did a little courtesy bow and removed his foot from Luigi’s arm.
“De lady's wish is-a Luigi's command-a,” the apparently second Luigi she had met in less than five minutes said. Drunk Luigi rubbed his arm where the painful foot had been moments ago. Esther drew her brows together in suspicion.
“Luigi? Your name is Luigi too?”
The man shrugged his shoulders in innocence.
“Si. It's-a, a very, ow can I say, oosooal name arrround ere.” Esther was still not convinced so Luigi added, “You arrre not from arround ere?” A charming smile tried to lure her in.
Esther shook her head. As odd as all of this was, maybe he could point her in the right direction of a reputable but affordable boarding facility.
“No. I’m from out of town. Would you awfully mind directing me toward a reputable boarding house or hotel?”
Luigi clapped his hands together. It was quite admirable that he seemed to say and do everything with a big, energetic smile on his face.
“Of course. Tis is-a Luigi’s town. Joost follow a-me.”
Esther was not convinced to follow a man she had just met like that. But all of a sudden, the other Luigi, still sitting on the floor, launched toward her, trying to grab her coat again.
“E Pericoloso!” he screamed trying to grab her coat again. But Esther was able to step back just in time, so instead of getting a hold of her again, Luigi fell forward onto the street.
“A fanabla,” charming Luigi yelled angrily and stepped on drunk Luigi’s hand, who screamed out in pain. Esther had to put an end to this.
“Well maybe you could just walk me down the street and direct me from there,” she said in the hope of stopping poor drunk Luigi’s abuse. He was a nuisance, but by no means did he frighten her. Too many times had she encountered harmless, drunk cowboys on her ranch and therefore knew the difference between a dangerous man and a mindless drunk.
Charming Luigi immediately smiled again, offering her his arm. Esther took it with hesitation. She did not like this man at all, and something was odd here, but for the poor drunk guy, she thought it better to walk this man away from the situation. A few steps down a street still filled with people and vendors was surely something she could manage.
Luigi walked her down Mulberry Street to some sort of big street curve with tall buildings. He pointed at the curve. “Tis oosed to be Moolboirrry Bend-a, boot now it is-a safe,” he grinned.
Esther had heard of the terrible Mulberry slums that Charles Dickens had so bluntly described as “reeking everywhere with dirt and filth,” but as Luigi said, the city had cleaned up those parts aggressively—at least to her knowledge.
Luigi turned into a smaller street that was packed with shops and carts on both sides of the road, making it almost impossible to walk on the sidewalk. People were pushing for space and shouting in different languages. Esther was truly fascinated by this side of New York which she got to see for the first time in her life. So many faces at once, all with different shades of colors hidden by the dust and mud of the fading day. They glittered like stained marbles, unwashed and squeezed in a tight box, but gleaming, nonetheless. She turned left and right, unable to soak it all in.
“Newspaper, Miss?” A dirty boy jumped in front of her, his whole body visibly shivering from the bitter cold. It was almost impossible to tell his hair color as his head was covered in dust and coal stains. Blonde? He wore nothing but thin brown pants and a wool sweater that had holes all over. In this cold that was nothing short of torture. It took a while for Esther to notice that he was wearing two different sized shoes. One way too large black one, and one Esther guessed to be a way too small brown one. Luigi grabbed the boy by the neck and pushed him out of the way.
“Che cazzo,” he cursed at the boy, which made Esther flinch in dismay as she stepped in between them.
“That is enough,” she growled at Luigi, taking the boy behind her. For a moment, Luigi’s face changed into something disfigured and discomforting before throwing his hands up, mumbling something she couldn’t make out.
Esther turned around to the boy and opened her purse. Considering this was all the money she had to survive on for God knows how long, this was probably not a very smart move, but she would rather starve than let this poor soul walk away with nothing. She pulled out a twenty dollar note. The boy shook his head in disbelief while Luigi cussed in the background.
“But…that’s a twenty, Miss…” his little voice trembled. Esther bent over to level herself with the boy. She guessed his age to be twelve or so.
“What’s your name?” Her voice was warm and kind.
“Milton, M—Miss,” he stuttered. Esther reached out to grab his hand, but Milton instinctively stepped back, as if his body was trained to dodge a beating.
“I won’t hurt you,” Esther said, stretching for his hand again. This time he let it happen. She placed the twenty dollar note in there and tightly closed his fist.
“Now you promise me that you will buy clothes for you and your family before you make your way to the chocolate store,” she commanded gently with a smile.
The boy nodded his head, still in disbelief about her kindness. Esther turned to Luigi who was suspiciously staring at her purse.
“Thank you for walking me this far. I shall manage from here on,” she said in a dismissive tone. Luigi put a wide overdrawn smile onto his face which seemed nothing but fake.
“No problemo. Bot de otel is-a rrright at tis corrrna.” He pointed toward the end of the street. Esther’s gaze followed his arm all the way to his fingertip.
“Right over there?” she asked, a bit skeptical.
“Si, si. Right-a dere. Twenty more meters.” Esther tilted her head to the side. The street was still busy, so he surely wasn’t planning anything, she convinced herself cautiously.
“Twenty more meters?” she inquired once more.
“Si,” Luigi nodded confidently. Esther noticed that the sun was already disappearing behind the buildings. At this point she had not much of a choice but to give this incredibly dubious man a shot at his word.
“Ok, let’s go,” she said, holding her purse with her money tight to her body, her pistol even closer. Luigi did a courtesy bow again and led the way. Esther joined him, barely making it a few feet when she felt something cold grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her to a halt. Milton gazed at her with his bulging eyes, his brows squished together in anger and fear. He shook his head wildly from side to side, signaling a terrifying no. Esther didn’t need to ask what was going on, because deep down her gut had told her from the moment she first met Luigi that he was trouble and she wished she would have listened to it. She felt her leg muscles tightening as a cold shiver ran down her spine. But before she could even say a word, Luigi jumped right next to her, grabbing her by her upper arm so tightly it hurt. His cheerful eyes had turned darkly grotesque, sending out a non-verbal threat to her and Milton.
“No sound-a. Inteso?” he whispered in a low, growling voice pulling out a knife for a short moment before making it disappear again. Things went so fast from here on. Out of nowhere, Milton leaped toward them, biting Luigi into his arm so hard he screamed out in a high-pitched roar.
“Ruuuun!” Milton shouted before turning around to escape through the busy crowd, dragging Esther behind him by her hand. Dodging merchants and carriages, she had a bit of a hard time keeping up with Milton’s incredibly swift body movements. She dared to look over her shoulder, scouting Luigi scampering behind them. Her steps were trudging through thick mud pulling her down, but those small, cold hands pulled her back out over and over again. Like a weasel, he seemed to know exactly when to shift, finding holes and routes in a crowd of people like he was parting the sea or commanding the streets.
Finally making it out of the busy street and into an abandoned small alley, Esther stopped to catch her breath. Milton didn’t and ran all the way down to the end of the alley that was blocked off by a tall brick wall. But before she could worry about how to climb that wall with noodle legs that could barely take another step, Milton kneeled next to a box in the left corner and pushed it aside to reveal a small hole in the wall. He turned around to Esther.
“Hurry, Miss!” He frantically waved her over. She obeyed and was about to run over when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Figlio di puttana!” Luigi shouted in rage, pulling out his knife. Milton could have left without Esther, but much to her surprise, he didn’t. Quite the opposite. He stood back up and rushed over to her as if he were willing to fight by her side until his last breath. Esther stepped in front of Milton in a protective gesture, her adrenaline racing through her veins, almost making her feel intoxicated. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Nobody needs to get hurt,” she said holding up her hand to signal Luigi to stop and not come any closer. Milton now clenched his little hands into fists. Esther noticed for the first time that his newspapers were gone. When he must have dropped them, she couldn’t tell. Luigi wrinkled his forehead, looking back and forth at both of them, but then busted out in a loud, condescending laughter.
“A whore and-a her little toy,” he slapped his leg with the hand that wasn’t holding the knife, “I am so a-scarred-a!” he ridiculed them, inching closer.
Esther felt the heat of rage boil in her veins. Her eyes narrowed and locked in on Luigi in an intense, fevered stare.
“Oh.” Luigi shot his hand to his chest in laughter, acting as if her gaze was a gun that just shot him.
Esther reached into her purse. “If that’s what you want, I can help you with that,” she growled.
Luigi now reached out his hand as if he were expecting her to get out the money and place it in it, but he instantly froze to the spot when he saw Esther pull out her pistol instead.
“Getting shot, I mean. I can help you with getting shot,” she said in a voice so ice cold it felt like the air around them had dropped in temperature.
Luigi took a few steps back, his brows tightly pressed together in thought. But then he stopped walking backwards. “A weak womano can’t shoot no gun-a,” he carefully tested his waters, narrowing his eyes, waiting for Esther to respond.
Esther now steadied her arm, pointing the gun right at him. For a moment he seemed to think about what to do, but then must have decided that Esther was just a woman as he started to grin and take a step forward. That’s all she needed, so she fired. A loud shot echoed down the alleyway, causing Milton to startle all over his little body. Luigi’s knife dropped to the floor as he frantically shook his hand in the air as if it were on fire.
“You shot the knife right out of his hand!” Milton hollered in utter disbelief, his voice sounding cheerful as if they were at a fair and Esther had just won him a big teddy bear. Luigi spat on the floor, turned around, and ran for his life.
“Sembra che tu non conosca bene le donne!” Esther shouted after him in perfect Italian.
“What does that mean?” Milton asked.
“Just that he doesn’t know women very well.” She grinned.
“No, he don’t.” Milton smiled back at her, but a loud whistle from around the corner brought back the look of worry onto his face. He ran to the whole in the wall. “We have t
o go; the pigs are coming!”
Esther slowly followed him up to the hole. “Pigs?” she wondered.
“The police,” he said, crawling through the hole, turning around on the other side. “If they catch me, they put me away. It’s worse than death, believe me!”
He reached out a hand to help Esther crawl through. It was quite small and for a moment she thought she’d got stuck, but thanks to Milton pulling her by both of her hands, they managed to get her through. Once she was on the other side, Milton closed the hole again by pulling the box back in front of it. He waited for a few moments, listening carefully to the other side of the wall before letting out a relieved sigh.
“That was close,” he huffed, scratching his head. Esther sat up next to him and scouted the courtyard she found herself in. It was more of a little walled-in space that was formed by several tall brick buildings being built together too closely to allow room for a street or alley, forming a courtyard that was both several feet wide and long.
“I’m truly grateful for your help. I can’t believe this Luigi guy deceived me like this.” She shook her head in disappointment over her own foolishness.
Years of living in New York’s finest comforts seemed to have clouded her sharp senses.
“His name is not Luigi. Luigi is the harmless drunk at Mulberry Bend. This was Snatcher.”
Esther felt even more foolish now. “Snatcher?” she asked. Milton nodded.
“He hurts people to take their things. Sometimes they are gone forever after that.”
“Good God! And I almost became one of those people… I guess I am not as clever as I thought I was.”
Milton put his little hand on hers. “Don’t get mad, but you don’t look like you know street life very well,” Milton said gently, moving his little hand up and down Esther’s gloves in strange fascination over its softness. “You didn’t know,” he added.
