Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(86)

I wanted to argue, to point out that our murderer didn’t care what time of day it was, that he’d still keep up his sinister pursuits, but before I could utter a word, the skies opened up. Hail clattered around us, ensuring that no one would be lurking around outdoors now.

Thomas held his coat over my head, trying to shield me from the worst of it before ushering me quickly into our hansom. We were both quiet as we watched the White City fade behind us. From here, the buildings jutted up from the horizon, like broken fingers reaching toward the sky. It was a morbid thought.

As our wheels clattered over stone and frozen rain tapped at our roof, I hoped it wasn’t an omen of worse things to come.



Typical Victorian Pharmacy, Plough Court

Pharmacy, 1897





THIRTY-SEVEN

A GRID SYSTEM

SOUTH SIDE

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS





14 FEBRUARY 1889


I blew out a breath, glancing from one avenue to the other. Chicago’s streets seemed to devour those who weren’t familiar with them, leaving no morsel behind. “Foolish,” I cursed under my breath. Why I imagined it an easy task, taking a streetcar instead of hiring a carriage, I didn’t know. Thomas left me standing on the corner as he dashed into the nearest store to inquire after our destination. At least I wasn’t alone in my lack of direction.

“Miss, are you lost?” A man in his mid-twenties wearing a sleek coat and matching bowler hat stepped close, but not improperly so.

“This city is impossible.” I tossed a hand up, indicating the whole area. “At least New York is laid out in a grid. There are practically a dozen ‘Washington’

streets alone!”

“Chicago’s actually a grid, too, and it’s fairly easy to navigate once you’ve had some practice.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Townships keep getting swallowed up, which is why there are so many streets with the same names. You’re from England, I presume?”

I nodded. “I’m from London.”

“You’re a bit far from home.” He eyed me in a friendly manner. “Are you here for the fair?”

“My fiancé and I are here for a variety of reasons.” Admitting I was here to hunt the White City Devil seemed a bit much to tell a perfect stranger. “Do you

know where I might find this pharmacy?” I showed him the address Minnie Williams had scribbled down after our introduction at Mephistopheles’s theatrical show. “I thought this was Wallace, but I seem to have gotten turned about.”

He took the letter from me, then shifted. “It’s right over there. See that jewelry store?” I followed where he pointed, barely making out a small sign. The building was still a good distance away. It had to be the same store where Miss Smythe was last seen. “Is your fiancé joining you? Or did you slip away on your own?”

An uncomfortable feeling slithered through me. I discreetly studied the young man—he was perfectly ordinary. Except for the almost cobalt-like hue of his eyes; they were quite mesmerizing. I tried imagining him stealing women off the streets, or ripping them apart, if he were the elusive Ripper. Mr. Cigrande claimed the demons who’d taken his daughter had light eyes, but this man’s were a deep blue.

“Should we not tell your fiancé about this?” he pressed.

“My—”

Thomas rounded the corner that very moment, his attention immediately running over the young man in his usual manner. I knew he was identifying each detail and cataloging it for future use. His expression remained unreadable.

“You must be the fiancé,” the young man said, turning up the wattage on his smile. “I was watching over your lady here.”

“Yes, well, my lady hardly needs watching.” Thomas didn’t return the man’s smile. “I enjoy obedience in my dogs, not my wife. She’s free to do as she pleases.”

I tried not to heave a sigh. I loved that Thomas never shied away from sharing his innermost opinions, but we’d have to work on his delivery a bit more in the future.

“No insult intended.” The young man raised his hands. “If ever there was a city where young women were free to do as they please, it’s Chicago.” He was sincere sounding enough. “I hope you both enjoy your stay. Make sure to visit the fair at night—it’s spectacular.”

With a quick nod to us both, he crossed the street and disappeared around the next block. Thomas watched him go before looping his arm through mine.

“Apparently you and I are stellar at details of murder but abysmal at locating storefronts. The address we’re looking for is—”

“Right over there,” I finished, grinning up at him. “Let’s not tell anyone

about our terrible sense of direction.”

A bell jangled pleasantly above us as we stepped into the pharmacy. Thomas immediately abandoned me in favor of a table stacked with sugar cubes. He held a small box up, breathing in the scent as if it were a fresh bouquet. I all but rolled my eyes. We were here on a hunch regarding the Ripper frequenting this establishment, and here he was, mesmerized by candy.

“Lemon drop.” He picked up another. “Mint.” He clutched them to his chest, glancing toward me. “Imagine what these would taste like in coffee or tea?”