The woman nodded. “The same man who I’d been trying all night to be sweet on me. He was handsome. Said he was a producer or an actor at the Gaiety. One of them theater types. Funny sounding, though. A bit like you,” she added uncertainly.
“He had an accent?” I asked, unable to contain my excitement. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I doubted there were many frequenters of the Ten Bells who had a Southern drawl like mine. Maybe Damon had been here. And maybe, just maybe, he knew I was in town. Maybe that was why the message had been written on the wall. It hadn’t been Klaus at all, only one of Damon’s stupid traps to lure me into a cat-and-mouse chase.
“You got me going all hoarse. If we’re going to talk any more, you’ve got to get me a drink,” Eliza said, yanking me from my reverie. “Double gin, please,” she said, her eyes gleaming greedily.
“Of course,” I said. I went to the bar and came back with a gin and a whiskey. I licked my lips as I watched Eliza take a swig. I took a careful sip of my own drink. Although I didn’t want to get drunk, alcohol occasionally tempered my cravings for blood. I hoped it would this time. I needed something to distract me from Eliza’s neck. I took another large gulp of whiskey.
“There, that’s better. Nothing beats a spot of gin in the afternoon, don’t you agree, love?” she asked, already appearing in a much better mood.
“Well, he was talkin’ funny. Not like he bothered to say much to me,” she added darkly. “He talked to her all night. I walked by a couple times. Said he’d bring her to the theater, show her around. Maybe get her an audition. Men say whatever pops in their heads to get a woman to go to bed,” Eliza said in disgust.
“Do you remember his name? Did he have any distinctive features? Was he intimidating her?” I asked, barraging her with questions as dread rippled through my stomach.
“I don’t know! Like I said, he didn’t even want to talk to me!” she said indignantly. “And I s’pose it’s a good thing, especially with them murders going on. Maybe it’s best we stick with the blokes we know, even if they stiff us for our money when they can’t . . .” She broke off and glanced at me, her eyes challenging me to get her salty innuendo.
“But what did he look like?” I asked, barely listening to what she was saying.
Her eyes cut toward me suspiciously. “Oh, you’re still thinking about him? I don’t know. Elegant. Tall. Dirty blond hair. But since Cora’s body didn’t show up in a ditch or nothin’, they’re probably just enjoying each other’s company,” she added darkly.
Dirty blond hair? I frowned. Damon’s hair was dark. It was the first clue that hadn’t been a perfect match. Of course, it wasn’t as if Eliza was necessarily the most reliable eyewitness. I decided to keep focusing on what else she had to say. “Or maybe he really was one of those producers she always talked about. Well, la dee da for her. Then she’d always be thinking she was better than any of us,” Eliza added.
“Were you close with Mary Ann?” I asked, changing the subject to the murder victim.
Eliza sighed and flicked her gaze away from me, toward the motley collection of men who’d filled the bar since we’d begun talking. Since it was clear I wasn’t interested in propositioning her, she was obviously looking for someone who would. Not seeing any targets, she glanced back at me.
“Mary Ann was me friend. At least she was before she went and got herself killed,” Eliza said, a cloud of anger crossing her face. “Although, what do you expect?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, she was me friend, and I’d’a said this to her face if I’d gotten the chance. She was one of them types. Took risks. Caroused with bad men. I don’t even remember who she left with. After they found her, all cut up and killed, the police came in the tavern. Who did she go with, they asked. What did she say as she was leaving? And the answer was, we saw nothing, we heard nothing, and if she’d’a only told us who she was going off with, we might have been able to avoid him in the future!” Eliza shuddered, and I couldn’t help noticing her heaving bosom. I glanced away, but not before she caught me staring.
She smiled lasciviously. “Are you sure you don’t want to continue this conversation in private?” she asked, suggestively licking her lower lip.
“I’m sure!” I said forcefully, standing up so quickly the rickety chair behind me toppled over. “You’re lovely, of course, but I can’t,” I said.
“I can give you a deal. Foreigner’s special!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I have to go,” I said firmly. I reached into my pocket and found a few florins. “These are for you. Please don’t go off with anyone,” I said. I dropped the coins into her hand.
Her eyes gleamed as she took the money. “You sure I can’t give you a little something?”
“That won’t be necessary.” I scraped my chair back and strode out of the tavern.
As soon as I walked out, I stumbled, and immediately realized the whiskey had gone to my head. But I had a clue that would lead me to Cora and Damon.
“You there!”
I whirled around. The drunk man who’d been at the bar when I came in lurched toward me, the scent of stale gin on his breath.
“What?” I asked.
“I know who you are,” he said, swaying closer and closer toward me. “And I have my eye on you!” At this, he laughed maniacally, then staggered backward against a brick wall.
Fear buzzed in my brain. I looked down at him, still laughing in a drunken heap. What did he mean, he knew who I was? Was it just the ramblings of a drunk, or was it another clue that my arrival in London hadn’t been unnoticed?
Chapter 7
I know who you are.