EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder by R. Barri Flowers Page B

a full head of
jet-black hair and thick black sideburns. He wore a dark frock coat
and a gold watch hung from a chain at the waist of his dark
trousers. He was holding what appeared to be a black medical
bag.
    She recognized him from the dance hall. He
had been observing her there, but was careful to keep his
distance.
    "How much?" he asked.
    She painted a smile on her face. "Well now,
why didn't you just say what was on your mind?"
    "I'm saying it now," he said.
    "So you are, love." She didn't question why
he preferred not to get his jollies at the dance hall. It was
better for her this way in not having to split what she brought in
with the management, especially since this one looked like he had
more money than her typical customers did. "Twenty," she said.
    "Twenty it is."
    She showed her teeth. "Follow me. I've got a
place just around the corner."
    Jack had a better idea. "No, in there—" He
pointed to a narrow, dark alley.
    "Are you sure? It'd be more comfy at my
place."
    "I'm sure," he told her.
    "Whatever suits your fancy." She walked down
the alley slowly, sensing him right behind her. "So you're a doctor
then?"
    "Yes."
    "What kind?"
    "A surgeon."
    "What's your name, love?"
    "Most people call me Jack."
    She turned around. "Then so will I,
Jack."
    He noticed a trash bin at the far end of the
alley, between a warehouse and a clothing factory. "This is far
enough."
    "You always carry your bag when you want to
be with a lady?" she asked.
    "Yes."
    A flirtatious grin played on her lips. "I
can only imagine what you've got in there."
    He smiled disingenuously. "Only what's
needed."
    "Suppose we get the money out of the way
first, Jack."
    "Of course."
    Jack pulled a few bills from his wallet and
stuffed them into her cleavage. Setting his bag on the ground, he
opened it to an array of surgical knives.
    He practically salivated at the prospect of
carving this one up.
    No sooner had Jack lifted an eight-inch
blade, fully prepared to make quick work of the whore, when he
found himself looking squarely into the barrel of a revolver held
by a burly police officer.
    "Drop the knife if you know what's good for
you," he bellowed.
    Jack overcame his shock quickly and took a
defensive approach. "What's the meaning of this?"
    He saw two armed officers quickly
approaching, along with another man. One of the officers shined a
bull's-eye lamp on them.
    "You'd best do as he says and put the knife
down," the man ordered. "I'm Detective Creighton of the New York
Police Department. You picked the wrong whore this time, Jack the Ripper !"
    Jack glanced at the prostitute, who looked
stunned and perhaps relieved at same time. He glared at the
policemen surrounding him. He figured that, at best, he might be
able to cut the throat of one of the bastards, but likely at the
cost of his own life.
    It was a chance Jack wasn't willing to take.
He dropped the knife and was quickly tackled to the ground.
    He promised himself there would come another
day when his self-appointed mission could resume.
    * * *
    Geoffrey McLean watched as his client
entered the room in manacles and leg irons. He thought Jack looked
gaunt and weary in drab jail attire. His eyes were cold and black
like soot.
    Geoffrey gulped, taking some comfort in the
guard standing nearby. Nevertheless he wanted to confer with his
client privately while addressing some very serious charges.
    "Leave us," Geoffrey told the guard.
    The guard frowned. "Are you sure? The mad
doctor is a dangerous man. Even to you, counselor—"
    "You heard me!" Geoffrey bravely watched the
guard depart; then turned to his client across the table. "How are
you being treated?"
    Jack flashed him a cynical look. "What do
you think? No one in here is treated like a human being."
    "I can speak to someone about that."
    "Save your breath. When do I get out of
here?"
    Geoffrey used a dirty handkerchief to wipe
his brow. "I'm doing the best I can, Jack. But you've been accused
of murdering five prostitutes. Bail may be hard