Chapter Eleven
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 13
THE CARRIAGE LURCHED and Alice almost fell forward into the lap of the man seated opposite her.
“Oops. What’d we do, run over a dead dog?”
“Just a lump of ice.”
He pushed her back into her own seat. The sailor had brought her to this man but she didn’t fancy him at all. He was as twitchy as a schoolboy, refused to tell her his name, and had barely said a word the entire ride.
She straightened up and sat back, fanning herself. “It’s bloody roasting in here.”
She started to unbutton her jacket.
“No sense being uncomfortable, is there?” She giggled wildly, then hiccoughed. “What’d you put in that drink? I can’t feel my nose.”
The man sipped at the silver flask he was holding. “It’s just first-quality scotch. Perhaps you’re not used to it.”
Even well on her way to total drunkenness as she was, Alice picked up the contempt in his voice. She scowled.
“I’ve had good grog before. Lots of times. Just as good as your Turkey muck.”
She was sweating in earnest now.
“Can we open the bleeding window? I’m going to melt, else.”
She went to pull up the blind on the window closest to her but the man caught her arm.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I value my privacy.”
“Nobody’s going to see you out here except the ducks.”
She had lifted the blind enough to see that they were close to the lake, trotting slowly along a narrow spit.
The man leaned over and lowered the wick on the porcelain lamp that hung from a bracket above the door. The carriage darkened, the shadows so deep she could hardly see his face.
“That’s much cozier, wouldn’t you say?”
She shrugged. “I suppose so.”
She’d had all sorts; some liked daylight, some didn’t. She could tell he was one of the play-acting kind. They always wanted you to make out you was enjoying yourself. Ooh and aah and wriggle. When all you could think about was the chops you’d cook for your tea and how long was he going to take to finish the jig. That kind of cully always left red-faced with a couple of dollars on the pillow. “Buy yourself a little present.” Sod the fools. She giggled to herself.
Good thing they weren’t mind readers.
“Can you share the joke, Alice?”
She yawned. She suddenly felt so tired she thought she could fall asleep right there.
“Wasn’t anything. But I’m bloody whacked. Can we go back now?”
“I thought you were enjoying the ride.”
Alice sighed. “’S bloody marvellous.”
He leaned forward. He was sweating and there was an unpleasant smell coming from him. Maybe she was his first wagtail. The Johnny Raws were always scared out of their nobby drawers.
“I understand you have information about that girl who froze to death …”
“Did Jack tell you that? It was supposed to be a secret.”
“He tells me everything. Are you going to go to the police and claim your reward?”
“I might, ’cept Ettie’s all miffy. She doesn’t want me to say anything because she thinks it’ll get us into trouble.”
“I don’t see how giving information to the police could get you into trouble. You’re doing your civic duty.”
“Don’t I always.”
“What was it you saw? Perhaps I can tell you if it is worth bothering the police about.”
Alice struggled to make sense of what he was saying. He seemed to be going a long way off.
“Stop mumbling,” she said. “Course it is. They’d love to know. She got into a carriage, didn’t she?”
“Who did?”
“The mort, the girl, who’d you think?”
“Is that so? Where?”
“Yes, it is so, and I saw her on Queen Street. Just past the hotel.”
“When was this?”
“’Bout ten o’clock on Saturday night.”
“Are you sure it was the same person? Could have been anybody.”
“Of course I’m sure. There aren’t two women in the whole town with a hat like that. I saw her get into a carriage right at the corner.”
“That is very strange. On the other hand there are so many carriages in Toronto I’m not sure if your information will be that helpful.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Mr. Know-It-All. This one belonged to a swell. I’d know it anywhere …” Groggily she shook her head. “Shouldn’t be talking … Ettie said not to tell anyone …”
“Course I did. She’s my best mate. I love Ettie.”
She was having great difficulty sitting upright.
“You seem so tired, Alice. Why don’t you put your feet up? Here, let me help you with your boots … My, they’re tight, aren’t they?”
He tugged and the boots came off with a plop, the rancid odour of Alice’s dirty stockings filling the carriage.
“It’s sodding hot in here. Look at you, you’re sweating like a pig.” She giggled again. “Do pigs sweat? Can’t say I’ve noticed … Wish you’d speak up. It’s too dark. Are we in the Other Place? You’re not the Devil, are you?”
“Far from it. I’m your Good Angel. In fact, I’m going to send you to Paradise.”
He turned and tugged at a short leather thong attached to the upholstery of the seat behind him. A section came away. Behind it was a built-in cabinet.
Alice lifted her head. “Oi. What you got in there, the family jewels?”
“As good as.”
He took out a glass vial and a burgundy leather case. Then he rapped hard on the roof of the carriage. Alice heard the coachman call to the horse and they stopped suddenly, the well-sprung vehicle bouncing gently. She watched as her companion flicked the catch on the leather case and opened it. Nestled in a pink satin lining was what looked like a steel tube. He lifted it out, removed a long needle lying beside it and fastened them together. He placed the instrument on the seat and pulled the cork out of the vial.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s call it the Milk of Paradise.”
He plunged the syringe into the vial and drew up the brownish-coloured liquid. “Roll up your sleeve, Alice, and I will make you happier than you’ve ever been.”
She shook her head. “Sod off. I’ve heard of that stuff. Sends you batchy.”
“No, it doesn’t, not if used wisely. It’s the nectar of the gods.”
“That so? Let me see you do it, then.”
“I will. But ladies first. Here, hold out your arm.”
He caught her by the wrist with his free hand but she knocked him away. “No. I don’t want to.”
The syringe fell to the floor. The needle broke in half and the brown fluid spread on the beige matting. The man yelped.
“Damn you! You shouldn’t have done that. Heaven is costly.”
Alice saw his rage, saw the intent. Fear surged through her body, every nerve sensing the danger.
Before he could stop her, she pushed down the handle and thrust open the door and half fell, half rolled to the ground. Desperately, she scrambled to her feet, oblivious to the sharp ice beneath her unshod feet. They were on a desolate strip of shore. She could see the outline of the distillery to the west but it was too far away. Even if she screamed, she knew nobody would hear her. She began to run, not realizing she was heading out on the frozen lake.
The man leaned out of the carriage. “Stop her!” he shouted to the coachman. The order was unnecessary. Jack understood the situation immediately and leaped down from his seat and plunged after the fleeing woman. Even in his heavy cape, he caught up with her easily.
“Hey, wait. Where’re you going?”
She turned, gasping, “He’s a sodding lunatic …”
“Don’t be silly, course he’s not. Come on, you’ll catch your death.”
Alice looked over his shoulder and for the first time she could see the carriage completely. The moon was full and gleaming on the snow. It was easy to make out a burgundy chassis. The grey horse shook his bridle and pawed at the ground.
“My God, it’s the same bloody carriage. It was you … you’re the ones who picked up the girl …”
She saw the expression on the man’s face but before she could move, he caught her shoulder with one hand, twisted her around and slipped a rope noose around her throat. Alice toppled backwards as he pulled tighter.