The silence was the first thing Spencer noticed once he had the door closed behind them. Apart from his own and Mary's heavy breathing there was not another sound to be heard. It seriously reminded Spencer of the last time he was in this house when it was empty. That had been when someone had tricked his staff into leaving and the wolf had been set loose in his huge home. Spencer has thought it was the Devil who had been plaguing him and had set out kill him. How he had survived that night, he would never understand. Even now, though he knew that beast was not here, Spencer felt its presence. Or was it perhaps the lingering evil of whoever it was that set the animal loose? The person who must have contrived all of this to frame Spencer for the killings he would later admit to.
“Let's get this over with as fast as we can,” Mary said, “I'm scared in here.’
No doubt, she was thinking of the time she saw the painting of the Devil in the attic and had fainted at the sight of it. Spencer felt now that he should have seen the evil in that painting then and destroyed it on the spot. Well, at least he had done that in the end, taking the whole of the Hellfire Clubhouse along with it.
“Do you want to wait here? I'll run up and get it and be back in a minute.”
“No, I don't want to be alone in this place at all, even for a moment.”
Spencer led the way through the house once their eyes had adjusted to the new dark of inside. They knew it would be unwise to use candles or any form of light going about the house. That would be bound to raise eyebrows, someone would call for the Alderman or the soldiers, and that would be the end of it for Spencer. It would be the gallows for him if he was caught now, he was sure of that. There would be no spacious and comfortable rooms at Swift's Hospital for him ever again.
They moved silently and swiftly to Spencer's old bedroom and Mary paused a moment at the door before deciding this was not a moment for any kind of decorum that would see her standing on the landing all alone. She came in after him.
“It's here!” Spencer cried triumphantly holding the diary aloft. A huge smile came over his face and somehow he knew his freedom was now closer than ever.
“Great, now let's get out of here. We can look at it when we get back to the apartment,” Mary said, though she was smiling despite her own fear.
At the same moment, Spencer heard his name quietly called, he saw the flutter of the curtains and realized that the window was open. They both looked out and saw a candle moving in the window of the house directly across the street from them. Spencer peered more closely, feeling he should run but also bewitched with curiosity as to who was over there. He felt Mary grip his arm in fear and start to drag on him trying to lead him away.
“Spencer,’ the whispered voice came again. Now the candle rose and showed the shape of the man who held it; rising up slowly to reveal the dreaded red face of Satan that Spencer thought had been a figment of his imagination. His soul was crushed and he felt his knees buckle. How could this be? How could he had been so wrong about it all this time? The grinning face poured into Spencer's eyes and he felt doomed.
The slap was both harder that he would have thought possible and came as a complete surprise.
“It's not what you think!” Mary shouted into his face, “I see him too!” Now her pull did get some traction and pretty soon, they were running down the stairs and out through the back door. Spencer didn't bother locking it and they ran out into the night, no longer caring who might see them. They would run and never look back until they were far away from the house Spencer has once called home.
Chapter 49
Alderman James boiled in his room. Since the previous evening, to his immense shame, he’d not been able to think about anything other than what might have been had he given in to temptation with Lisa. Throughout the day, he’d seen her more often than before, or was he just perhaps looking out or noticing it more? The investigation was slow going and no one else in the household seemed to be much interested in it anymore. They were treating James now as though he were a simple guest here to enjoy their hospitality for a few days. As far as anyone seemed to be concerned, poor Thompson was in the wrong place at the wrong time when an outsider came to steal a horse.
It frustrated James even more that no one at all was acting in any way suspicious. He still wondered about the bust that almost killed him- something that had since been passed off by everyone else here as a freak accident. James wasn’t so sure, but if it was by design, the perpetrator was hiding himself well.
With his new, what should he call it, distraction or complication, James found suddenly that what he wanted was to be away from this place and back in Dublin despite its many flaws. At this moment, he could forgive the city its horrors that led him to flee in the first place. Thinking of this he recalled again how he’d thought earlier it was odd that no letters from Dublin had arrived for him since he was here. He’d written Dunbar about this but no reply had come so far.
Try as James might he could not stay angry with the inept sheriff with Lisa pushing in on his mind. Her face rose up to him, clear as life and her beauty well beyond this. Never had a woman stirred his passions in such a way as this, not even in his adolescent years. What brought about the shame in him was that he was not sure that there was any emotional feeling there at all; that it was all lust and desire that raged through his bloodstream. It was late now and everyone long retired. All he could think about was how she had thrown herself at him and that right now she was down in her room, in her bed all alone.
Rising from his own bed, James began to pace the room, poking at the dying fire, looking out the window, anything to try to distract his mind from her. But all to no avail. When he tried to tell himself that it would be unfair on the girl, that he would be taking advantage, a voice would counter to say that this was what she wanted. Indeed, it was what she had very clearly offered. He could take it no more.
With a rush of blood to the head, James pulled on a housecoat and peered out into the hall. Seeing no one, he quickly crept along close to the wall until he came to the stairs. With one more look around he set off down the steps at almost a run, his body telling him to go faster before his mind had a chance to catch up. He came to the stairs to the servant's quarter's (he’d been down there already as part of his investigation and so even knew which room Lisa was in) and rushed in closing the door behind him.
Standing in the darkness, his heart thumping in his head a kind of crazed joy came over him and he tiptoed along to her door. He tapped once and entered without waiting for a reply- it was both too risky to stand out here in the corridor and also it would give him a chance to change his mind.
He was surprised to find candles burning in the room, but no sign of the maid he'd come for. Her bed looked as yet unslept in but she had clearly been here since dark fell. Fear gripped hard on his heart as soon as the confusion allowed it to. James found himself in a very sticky scene and the idea of a scandal electrified his mind. What would Stapleton say if James was caught down here? Worse still, Edwards would never let him live it down and he would either hold it over James or else tell everyone in Dublin the moment he returned there!
Thinking a hasty retreat to his room was the best course of action James rushed to the door. His plan was thwarted at once when he heard voices in the corridor outside- someone was coming! The scandal was coming!
Turning frantically back into the room, he looked for another way out. There was none and now his attention turned to trying to find a possible hiding place. The only one where he could even think of squeezing into was under the bed. With the voices getting closer he scurried on to all fours and crawled under until he was sure he was as hidden as he was going to be able to make himself.
He could hear the voices more clearly now, two women right outside the door. One of them was Lisa but he wasn't sure of the other and also could not quite make out what they were talking about. The door opened and James instinctively moved back farther. In doing this, he whacked his elbow against something hard an
d had to use all his will to not grunt in pain. He could see the bottom of the door but no feet had yet entered the room. The whispered voices were clearer now however and he heard what must have been one of the other servant girls plead with Lisa to come to her room for just one minute to help with something. Lisa relented and the door closed again.
As he had been listening to this exchange James had glanced at the object he’d struck his arm on and saw that it was a small metal square only a few inches around, and another of the same size and shape lay beside it. He nudged one and felt the surprisingly heavy weight of it. He had never seen such a thing before and he wondered at its purpose but he supposed there were many things and devices in a servant’s life he would never have seen or known about.
Once the door closed, he rushed to it and listened, when he heard the second door close- that of the other maid he assumed- he quietly opened Lisa’s and looked outside. The coast was clear and he fled. This skulk back to his own room was the longest and most humiliating walk of his life
Chapter 50
Sheila Ryan didn’t feel the eyes on her, watching every movement she made as she washed the clothes outside the back door of the building where she lived. She didn’t feel the chill of knowing someone meant her harm, the most grievous form of harm. She never saw Steven Olocher as he followed and viewed her over a week in the city of Dublin.
While she did her chores, he watched her. When she walked the streets at night looking to make her money, he watched her. For his part, Steven Olocher couldn’t say for sure why he’d chosen her to be his next victim. Of the previous two, one had been a loud, aggressive and annoying drunk and the other a habitual thief and lowlife. Those had not been difficult choices. Sheila on the other hand had been a very difficult choice. The first thing against her was that he was looking for a female victim this time. Then he’d seen her profession at night was the deciding factor. It wasn’t that he had anything against streetwalkers, but he knew that he could instil some more of the fear he wanted to without causing the mass panic that was not supposed to come until later.
Streetwalkers wound up dead all the time, it was probably the most dangerous work a woman could do in the city, so Sheila's death- when it came- would not be too rare an occurrence. Nothing for the general populace to get up in arms about.
As he watched Sheila washing her family’s clothes in the tin tub, Olocher’s mind drifted to the news sheets he read about his own father’s murders some ten or eleven years ago now. He’d been a man consumed by rage and a lot of his victims were said to be streetwalkers who turned him down or who he didn’t have the money to pay.
Edwards had told some stories about his father’s killing run but as with everything Edwards told him, the younger Olocher took it all with a pinch of salt. He did not know if Edwards was trying to instil some kind of morbid competition whereby Steven would try to outdo his own father in both the ferocity of the kills and the notoriety he would enjoy.
This last part, the notoriety, was what worried Olocher the most about what he was doing. Edwards had told him that at some point it would be necessary for the world to know who was carrying out the murders, and that he was Thomas Olocher’s son, but that Edwards would ensure that he was out of the country and living under an assumed name in a safe place before that would happen. This is where his trust in Edwards was lacking; he’d seen what kind of man Edwards was and would not be surprised to find himself in the gallows all as part of Edwards’ own entertainment. That was why he had come up with his own end to the plan, a way he could get away himself to somewhere safe.
Steven wondered how far away the end of this would be. He’d followed Spencer and Mary Sommers to the former Colonel’s former home and he smiled at the fright he’d given them. He had been spending time keeping tabs on all the people who would have to die as part of the larger plan while he looked for unknowns to practice on and grow his reputation. Lord Muc, Mullins, Kate, Sarah, Mary, Spencer, the Alderman; they would all have to be dispatched to tie things in with the Dolocher murders and bring it all full circle back to his family name.
It seemed like a long road ahead, but then again the last year had gone by very fast and time didn’t feel like it was slowing down. He wondered where Edwards had in mind for him spending the rest of his life (if indeed, he did have a plan for that). Steven did not imagine it would be anywhere in Britain or even France for that matter. They would be too close and there was too much chance someone from Dublin might see him there. Steven Olocher had ideas of America in his own mind. From what he’d read of the place it sounded wonderful and there was so much to be explored he doubted he could ever be bored over there. This is what he thought of in his moments when the plan wasn’t foremost in his mind. It was getting closer, this dream, closer every single day. Looking once more at Sheila he felt it best not to dwell on what dreams she may have that were never going to be allowed to come to fruition.
Chapter 51
The light taps came on the door and Spencer knew that Mary had come. He tiptoed to the door, as had been his habit in not wanting to let people below know that someone was staying in the apartment, and opened it. Mary came in without a word and Spencer closed it behind her. He was excited about this visit. With all the fear and panic in his old house the night previous, Mary had only wanted to go home once they felt they were safe. Spencer walked her there and then made his own meandering way back to this place and it was only then that he was able to look at his diary to try match off against the dates of the murders he’d been sentenced for.
All the while he walked alone that night he was scared he’d be arrested or worse still attacked, though he couldn’t help but smile now that he knew he really had been haunted by the Devil. Not the Devil himself, but someone who’d been following Spencer and pretending to be. It had to be someone who had seen the painting which to his mind meant it was someone who had been in the Hellfire Club. It also meant to Spencer that this man was the real person who had carried out those murders and he was still in Dublin and most likely responsible for the murders of late that were being attributed to the escaped Spencer.
“Well, did you find anything?” Mary asked him, she was out of breath from rushing here and he could see that she was also already very anxious to leave and get back to her vegetable selling.
“The other ladies at the stall are expecting you back?” he asked.
“I don’t want them to miss me or there will be questions I can’t answer,” she said, “Did you find something?”
“I did,” he said with a large grin covering his face, “It’s not much but I think I can exclude myself from at least two of the murders based on what’s in my diary.”
“Two, is that all?” she asked looking somewhat disappointed.
“Two is good,” he said, “I bet you can’t account for your whereabouts on the nights of any of the murders.”
“Me?” she was clearly alarmed at what she must have seen as some kind of accusation. Spencer laughed at her innocence,
“I don’t mean you had anything to do with it, I’m just saying being able to prove I didn’t do two casts doubt on all the others.”
“What will you do?” she asked, “Will you go to the Alderman?” Spencer had thought about this already and had decided against it for now.
“I will, soon, but I don’t think I have enough yet not to get thrown straight back in behind bars.”
“What then?” she asked, a look of concern in her knitted forehead.
“I’m going to try find out some more, perhaps try talking to some of my old friends.”
“They’ll turn you in!” she cried, “And how will that look then. You have some proof that you didn’t do two of the murders, go to the Alderman, he is a good man. If he thinks you are innocent he will do his best to find out the truth.”
“I don’t know,” Spencer said, “I think he might be too close to Edwards.”
“Edwards, what has he to do with this?”
“I don’t k
now,” Spencer said but he did know what had been running through his mind of late.
“You think he is the man painted red?” she asked.
“He could be,” Spencer agreed, “his being the killer might fit together, but he is a very clever man and as you can see by the fact he was at the house when we were, if it was him, he is already ahead of us now. He knows what I am about.” Mary looked deep in thought a moment and then said,
“So where do we go from here?”
“I’m afraid we don’t go anywhere from here,” Spencer replied, “You’ve already been more help to me than I could have ever asked for but even that has been asking too much of you.”
“We need to clear your name,” she protested but he put a hand up to stay her,
“You need to go back to your normal life, work with your friends and stay at home after dark,” he said, “I promise that if I manage to clear my name I will look after you but for now, while I hide in the shadows I can do no more for you. I need you to be safe or none of this will be worth a thing.” He was surprised to see tears falling from Mary’s eyes but the larger surprise was the squeeze at the back of his own throat at saying what amounted to a possible final farewell.
“I don’t want to leave you alone in this,” Mary said.
“I know you don’t, but you must see it is for the best. Your safety is more important than all else here.”
“No, it isn’t....”
“Yes,” Spencer said taking her face in his hands and looking into her eyes, “It is.”
“You can’t do this alone,” she said softly.
“I won’t be doing it alone,” he said, “You believed me, and I know you’ll be supporting me all the way, and that is worth more than you can ever understand.”
“You’ll be free again soon,” she smiled, finally giving in. “Perhaps you might even get back to painting again.”
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