The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [98]
“For a woman whose original action seems to have been so impulsive,” she said slowly, sipping her wine and playing with a dish of fresh strawberries and hot chocolate sauce that had arrived for dessert, “this one seems to have planned how to elude capture awfully well.” She gently bit into a dripping strawberry. “Another paradox, I suppose, Doctor?”
“Indeed, Sara,” the Doctor answered, rolling a strawberry of his own in the chocolate. “But remember—all of you, remember—these paradoxes must not be considered contradictory. They are part of a single process. As a snake propels itself forward by pushing sideways across the sand, first to the left and then to the right, so does Nurse Hunter pursue her desperate goals. She is impulsive, then calculating. Flattering and promiscuous, then suddenly and mortally threatening. An apparently respectable woman with a bedridden husband, who nonetheless seems to have some important connection to one of the most degenerate, senselessly violent gangs in the city. By comparison, more outwardly excessive criminal behavior seems quite comprehensible. Even so obsessive a murderer as John Beecham moved along a course that almost appears linear and coherent—even though it was fatal—when held up against this woman. We find ourselves, in many ways, in an even stranger land when we face Elspeth Hunter. And with fewer maps …”
The meal soon came to an end, and—it being Sunday and all the places what Dr. Kreizler had mentioned as possible sources of information being closed—everyone agreed to go home, take care of what few details they could, and try to get some rest. As we left the Café Lafayette the Isaacsons hailed a hansom, while the Doctor offered to drop Mr. Moore and Miss Howard off. Then it was back to Seventeenth Street and, for me, into the carriage house, to take care of the calash and put a little balm on the spot on Frederick’s haunch where he’d been struck by Ding Dong.
The blow hadn’t left much of a mark, but I could tell as I applied the balm that it still stung Frederick a bit, and I made some calming noises and fed him a bit of sugar as I rubbed the medicine in. It made me all the madder to think that a man I’d always counted as one of the worst I knew—and, since visiting Kat the night before, had come to hate even more—had caused Frederick such pain and confusion, and as I worked on the animal’s haunch I quietly assured him that I’d see that the wound was taken back out of Ding Dong’s hide, one day. With interest, too …
Caught up in these bitter thoughts, I barely noticed Cyrus slipping into the carriage house. He came over and stroked Frederick’s neck, looking straight into the gelding’s eyes and giving him some words of sympathy. Then he spoke to me:
“He okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, holding up Frederick’s left hind leg and scraping some hard mud out of his shoe. “Not much of a welt. Scared him worse than anything.”
“He’s a tough old boy,” Cyrus said, patting the horse’s snout lightly. Then he came round and stood by me. I got the feeling he had something on his mind.
“Miss Howard didn’t hear. What Ding Dong said about Kat, I mean.”
My heart jumped a little, but I kept on scraping. “No?”
“She was too far away. And she had her hands full.” Cyrus crouched down beside me. In a quick glance I saw some inquisitiveness in his broad face, but more sympathy. “I heard it, though.”
“Oh,” was all I could answer.
“You want to talk about it, Stevie?”
I tried to summon up a light, dismissive kind of a laugh, but came up far short. “Not much to say. She’s gone to be his girl.” I almost choked on the words. “I told her—you know, about the idea of her working here. But you were right. She’s got other plans …”
Cyrus just made a small sound that said he got the picture. Then he put a hand on my shoulder. “You need anything?”
“Nah,” I said, still staring at the horse’s hoof. “I’ll be