Love and Murder in Savannah

by Harper Lin

  “She’s fine now. She’s up in bed, and she’s smiling. Ought to be her old self again in just a few more days. Doc will probably tell her to rest. You make sure she does.” Becky blinked up at Adam. She waited for him to fling her aside, point at her, call her a con, or something worse. “I’ve been able to know things, see things for quite some time. My whole life, actually. So what do you think of that?”

  “I don’t know what to think of it,” Adam said, his grip loosening.

  Becky’s heart sank to the floor, where she was sure it got smashed under the happy feet of those who jumped in as soon as the music picked up.

  “Is it true you spend a lot of time in a cemetery that is on your property?”

  Before Becky could feel sorry for herself, she felt her blood boil. “So, you have been chatting with Fanny. How long did she wait to tell you what she thinks she knows about me?”

  “Just calm down. I’m asking you a question,” Adam said.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. White, I do believe I need a little air. Thank you for the dance.” Becky ripped away from Adam, spilling some of her drink on the floor. She wanted to go and divulge everything to Martha, but her body felt like it was going to burst into flames. Just a little cool air was all she needed. Without too much trouble, she wiggled out onto the fire escape. The cool city air was invigorating.

  “What did I do?” she muttered. She took a seat on one of the rusty steps, pulled a cigarette from her clutch, and lit it. As much as she didn’t want to, she had to go apologize to Adam. She’d spill the beans and come clean on everything, and either he’d accept it, or he wouldn’t. It was that simple.

  “He won’t.” The words came from behind her on the landing. When Becky turned around, she gasped. “He won’t understand, and he won’t want anything to do with you.”

  “Who are you?” Becky snapped at the familiar dirty face of the bum who had been showing up all over town wherever she was. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Ha! Ha!” He pointed a dirty, crusty finger at her before slithering back into the apartment. “You’ll be with me before long. Just like Lawrence Hoolihan. Just like Diggs. Just like so many of them.”

  Then he was gone. Becky tripped over herself dashing toward the window. She looked inside to see where the little monster had gone. But everyone was dancing and laughing and having a good time as if they hadn’t seen anything. With all ladylike decorum thrown to the wind, Becky hustled back inside the hot apartment. Her eyes widened as she scanned the room.

  “Where did he go?” she mumbled.

  She could have shouted, but she doubted anyone would have heard her over the noise. The party was a real barnburner. She started to walk right through the dancers when she was yanked back. Her bracelet had snagged on the curtain. Part of her wanted to just rip it away. This was a bachelor place. A rip in the curtain would hardly be noticed. But her mama didn’t raise her to abuse people’s hospitality and cause damage to the home she was invited into. She shook her head, and her fingers fumbled, pulled, tugged, and stretched the fabric to get free from it. Finally, the elegant little barbs let go, and she was released.

  When she focused on the crowd of partygoers, she spotted the hobo shuffling through the crowd unnoticed. It was like he was nothing more than a shadow, a bit of smoke from a cigar wafting through air. But then he settled, stopping and stooping to whisper into the ear of someone Becky knew, someone who listened intently as if he were hearing the words of a close confidant. Before she could slip away to the safety of Martha’s or Teddy’s or Adam’s side, she was quickly corralled by the boy she’d been avoiding for weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Hello, Becky,” the Heathcliff boy said. His eyes were rimmed red like someone who had tied one on a couple hours ago but was unwilling to succumb to sleep or a cup of strong black coffee.

  “Hi.” Becky had forgotten his first name again. “Who was that man talking to you? That little man?”

  The Heathcliff boy shook his head. “What little man?”

  “That gent who looks like a bum from skid row. He whispered to you. Just now. Just this very second. Who was he?”

  The Heathcliff boy looked down at Becky. He was so tall and thin that Becky felt she was in the shade of a skinny tree.

  “You always say the strangest things.” He chuckled. “It is not a wonder people talk about you the way they do.”

  “What do you mean? What what little man? He was… hey, who talks about me?” Becky didn’t mean to sound so vain. She knew darn well that people talked about her and not all the words were kind ones. But it slapped her into the real world and away from that ghoulish troll that had been popping up everywhere there was trouble. She could deal with people talking about her. She wasn’t sure what she should do about this bum who only she could see.

  “My mother thinks if we married, it would tame you. She thinks once you start having children you’ll settle down.” The Heathcliff boy inched closer, making Becky back up slightly.

  “Married? Children? I do declare, Mr. Heathcliff, that you are jumping the gun a wee bit early, wouldn’t you agree? Although I am flattered by your offer, I don’t believe I’m ready for settling.” Becky cleared her throat.

  “Come with me for a moment.” He took hold of Becky’s wrist and squeezed it tightly as he pulled her through the crowd of dancing, laughing people.

  “Excuse me?” She tried to pry her fingers underneath his and wrestle out of his grip, but it was useless. He was holding her tightly and had no intention of letting her go until he said what he wanted to say. “Why, Mr. Heathcliff, you see, Martha is half seas over. I think I better tend to her first.” Becky didn’t want to talk alone with the Heathcliff boy. Not now. Couldn’t he tell by her expression that she was upset or at least distracted?

  “If she’s half in the bag, she won’t be going anywhere,” he insisted. “I paid you a visit the other day. I had hoped if you didn’t suspect I was coming calling on you at the Mackenzie Plantation, I might catch you. Seems I was wrong.”

  “I’m so sorry about that. You see, I really don’t have a very solid schedule. I just sort of go whichever way the wind takes me and…” She continued to try to pull out of his grip. The heat of the night and the room made her skin slick, but it was still no use trying to get out of his clutch.

  The crazy thing was that no one seemed to notice her distress. She was sure she’d locked eyes with Sam Lustyk, and he just smiled and went back to his drink. Adam had his back to the crowd, but Fanny, obviously working him over, was directly in Becky’s line of view—and yet she didn’t even acknowledge her. That wasn’t surprising.

  “We need to talk somewhere quiet,” the Heathcliff boy said. Becky only heard his words. A thick, invisible blanket fell over the crowd around her along with the music, the laughter, and the chatter and clinking of bottles and glasses, muffling all the sound. “Tell me, would you have entertained Lawrence Hoolihan when he came calling?”

  Becky shook her head. She didn’t hear him right. She thought he said Lawrence Hoolihan. “What did you say?”

  “He said he was going to go calling on you when I mentioned I’d seen you had arrived at Martha’s party.”

  The Heathcliff boy led Becky out of the apartment and across the crowded landing to the stairs and pulled her up to the next landing. Fewer people were there, but Becky felt she wasn’t entirely alone. She could scream if she had to. Enough people were around. When she scanned the place, she saw that no one was looking her way. They did see her, didn’t they? They noticed the Heathcliff boy had pulled her by her arm down the hallway, didn’t they? She couldn’t be sure. Nothing seemed right, like a dream of a familiar place that suddenly became scary and unfamiliar.

  “I have never spoken to Lawrence Hoolihan… er, eh… Mr. Heathcliff. I must say I don’t know what you mean.” She still couldn’t remember his first name.

  “You’ve danced with him. I’ve seen you. At Willie’s about seven months ago.”
The Heathcliff boy scowled.

  “Seven months ago? Did I? I must say that you have a better memory than me. I’ve danced with plenty of gents. I just can’t keep track,” Becky rambled. She couldn’t figure out what his intention was. Even though his grip around her wrist was tight, she was sure he didn’t want anything more than to talk with her. After all, the man was awkward and uncoordinated and had a mother who was as determined to get him married off as Kitty was to do the same to her.

  “You admit to dancing with a lot of fellows, do you?” he asked as he pulled her up to the next landing.

  There were no apartments on that floor. The landing led to the door that opened to the roof. Someone had propped it open with a brick. The air was cooler with a hint of tar on it from the roof. When Becky looked up into the darkness outside, she saw where that dirty hobo had gone. He was up at the top of the steps, looking down at her with a rotten grin and fiery eyes.

  Becky tried to pull free, but the Heathcliff boy was pulling her toward him.

  “Hey! What’s this all about? Turn me loose, Mr. Heathcliff! Turn me loose this instant, or you’ll be sorry!” she threatened without having any idea how to back up her threat.

  Before she could say another word, the Heathcliff boy turned loose her wrist, grabbed her, and pushed her into the wall.

  “Don’t you understand I love you?” he hissed in her face.

  His breath was hot and foul but not like he’d had too much to drink. No. His breath stank like someone who didn’t take their hygiene very seriously. Like a bum. She looked at the open door and saw him laughing. That little monster was hysterical, clapping and bouncing in place as he licked his lips and squinted.

  “This isn’t how you treat someone you love.” Becky hoped to appeal to the Heathcliff boy’s sense of reason. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw there was nothing there to appeal to. He stared at her with that same hysterical grin as the hobo. They were connected somehow, joined together diabolically.

  “I’ve been pursuing you for ages, Becky. How can you not see? But you notice me now, don’t you?”

  “It’s kind of hard not to.” She winced.

  “I tried to court you like a proper lady, but you’re not really a proper lady, are you. No. You spend your days in a cemetery.” He snickered like a boy who’d caught a glimpse of her garter belt.

  “So I see Fanny has been talking to you too. Boy, that girl will stop at nothing to make sure my business is spread like strawberry preserves all over town.” Becky took a deep breath. Her eyes narrowed, and she put her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Mr. Heathcliff, and let’s be done with it.”

  “I was hoping you’d say something like that.” The Heathcliff boy leaned in to kiss her, but Becky quickly snapped her head back and gave him a quick slap. Sure, she wouldn’t win any boxing titles with her mitts, but she got her point across.

  “Look, fella, you’ve given me an earful. I’m not buying whatever you’re selling, and if Fanny Doshoffer is telling you otherwise, you are going to learn the hard way that that ain’t the kind of dame to get information from. Savvy?”

  “Your cousin Fanny never said a word to me. In fact, she wasn’t all that accommodating when I called on you. She didn’t like that I gave her the brush-off.”

  “Well, there’s one smart move,” Becky huffed.

  “You should realize, Becky, that I don’t need anyone telling me anything. I know you. Better than you think. You spend your days in the boneyard, and then you spend your nights leading men on, like me.” The Heathcliff boy began to tremble. “You would have seen Lawrence Hoolihan if he’d come calling. If he’d had a chance to come calling on you, you would have treated him right proper.”

  The sinister tone of the Heathcliff boy’s voice made Becky’s skin ripple with disgust. She didn’t dare ask what he meant. She knew. And she was appalled.

  “Your mama would wash your mouth out with soap if she heard you talking like that. If you keep beating your gums, someone is going to overhear you and clean your clock.” Becky tried to be tough, but when the Heathcliff boy lurched at her and her back hit the wall, she felt all her bravery slip out of her.

  She had nowhere to go. She wasn’t strong enough to push past him. He didn’t appear to be in any hurry to let her go. And the more Becky stared at him, the more she was convinced he wouldn’t let her go. He’d brought her to this landing knowing no one had seen them slip out. The Heathcliff boy was utterly forgettable. No one ever noticed him. He barely spoke, and when he did, it was of no importance. That was how he could stick a knife in poor Lawrence Hoolihan’s back and just slip out of the room completely invisible.

  “She thinks you are a troubled girl. I think that is what I love about you most. Like me, you are different, and you know it. Rather than fight it and try to be like everyone else, you wear it like a badge of honor.” He stared at her, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “I didn’t want Lawrence Hoolihan or any other man getting in my way. I feel now is the time to get married. And I won’t let you say no. You’ll die if you have to. But unlike Lawrence, I’ll make sure you feel no pain.” His eyes watered as he held in his overwhelming emotions.

  “You killed Lawrence. You stabbed him in the back,” Becky stuttered.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Becky? You know my secret.” The Heathcliff boy smiled as tears of joy rolled down his cheeks. “You know all about it, but you won’t whisper a word to anyone. You see how we are joined by this event? It’s brought us a closeness that no husband or wife would ever dream of having.”

  “You’re not hitting on all sixes,” Becky muttered. “If you think I’m gonna be holding the bag for what you did to poor Lawrence, you’ve got more than a few screws loose.”

  She swallowed, but there was barely any spit there. Her mouth was dry, and the shadow of trouble she was in grew darker and darker. Someone had turned up the party’s music, and everyone was cutting the rug. No one knew she was missing.

  “Oh, I think you might reconsider that. That is, if you want that big palooka Adam White to make it through the night,” the Heathcliff boy hissed. “I know you’re sweet on him. But he’ll be wearing a Chicago overcoat if he has to. And I’ll tell you all about it, too. And you’ll keep my secrets because that is what a good wife does. You might fight me at first, but you’ll learn. There is Kitty and Judge and Fanny and even Martha and Teddy for me to use to help you learn your lesson. But you’ll learn it.”

  Becky began to tremble. How had this happened? How did she get in a place where a killer had her pressed against the wall in a dirty stairwell and started ticking off the people he’d kill if she didn’t marry him? And more importantly, how was she going to get away?

  She looked around, but the Heathcliff boy’s aura seemed to fill up her whole field of vision. Still at the door to the roof was the dirty little hobo, who was gnashing his teeth as he watched with sadistic pleasure while the Heathcliff boy terrified Becky.

  The only way out had to be through. She took a deep breath and attempted to bolt past the Heathcliff boy. Faking a dash to the right, she suddenly went left and took two long strides across the landing. But not only was his tall, lanky body too long for her to escape, but his grasp was too strong. Just as she thought she dodged him, Becky felt his arm slip violently around her waist and hook her backward, knocking her off her feet. Her head hit the wall, and she saw stars seconds before the Heathcliff boy was on top of her.

  Then she thought quickly. Her hands shot up, and the pretty bracelet from Ophelia that had snagged on everything from the second she slipped it on her wrist until now suddenly proved to be very useful.

  “Argh!” the Heathcliff boy screamed as he covered his face. Becky realized that as she swung her hands up, the small barbs caught the skin of his face and gave it a hard, stinging tug from the right of his nose all the way to his ear.

  He leaned back in pain, his left hand over his cheek as blood started to drip between his fingers. Bec
ky thought she might have bought herself a few precious seconds to get away, but the thought was dashed as the Heathcliff boy clamped his left hand down around her throat.

  “Oh, Becky. Why?” he muttered.

  As he began to squeeze, Becky thrashed her legs. She scratched at his hand and kicked as hard as she could on the wooden floor. She clawed at his arm, but he was in a trance. He must have decided this was it and he was going to kill her.

  “It didn’t have to be this way. We could have held each other’s secrets, and no one else would have had to get hurt.”

  Becky tried to scream but couldn’t. Nor could she gasp for air. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart began to pound in her ears. Her eyes burned as she stared at the Heathcliff boy. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water and felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

  When she looked toward the open rooftop door, she no longer saw the hobo there. She saw the dark sky and was sure she would become swept up in it any second. Her soul, on its way to heaven, would swim weightlessly past the buildings and mingle in the night sky with the stars and planets before she arrived at the pearly gates to get her final judgment. This was the end. Her mother would be so heartbroken.

  This last thought forced tears from the corners of her eyes. But just before slipping off into oblivion, she saw two big hands land on the Heathcliff boy’s shoulders and yank him backward. Free from his grasp, Becky kicked her feet and scrambled up the steps to the open door, gulping up as much of the cool nighttime air as she could. The coughs hurt her throat, but within seconds she could see clearly again and was breathing fast.

  She turned to see Count Ernesto, his turban and tall feather remaining securely on his head as his fist flew into the Heathcliff boy’s face, rendering him completely unconscious within seconds.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Becky.

  “Yes. I’ll be okay. I could use a stiff drink, though,” she said as she cried. “How did you know I was up here?”