Page 90 of If Looks Could Kill

Pearl wakes in a bed, a clean hospital bed. Outside the room are nurses talking over the sounds and smells of breakfast being served on metal trays.

Fierce pain throbs in her belly, both an ache and a burn.

Thin morning light paints everything gray. She can’t see much. There isn’t much to see.

A shadow stirs near the foot of her bed. Pearl’s body clenches itself in fear, and it sends a stitch of pain rattling up and down the left side of her abdomen.

In a chair at the foot of her bed sits a woman. A girl. She leans into the window’s light.

“Tabitha?”

Tabitha rises and sits on the bed right next to Pearl. She looks battered about the face and like she’s been crying.

“Where am I?” Pearl asks her. “What happened to you?”

“Here.” Tabitha holds a cup to her lips. “Drink this.”

Pearl resists, but the drink, brown and salty, tastes good.

“You’re at St. Vincent’s Hospital,” Tabitha says. “That’s bone broth. Drink it up.”

Pearl swallows a few sips and pauses to rest. She closes her eyes against the weak light.

She doesn’t remember falling back asleep, but when she wakes, it’s still only Tabitha with her in the room. The light feels different; the sinking, setting light of late afternoon. Doctors’ voices echo in the corridor outside. A plate of food sits on her bedside table.

Tabitha comes to Pearl’s side. “How about a nice bite of potato?”

“Tabitha,” Pearl says, “I’m not an infant.”

Tabitha looks down, crestfallen. “I know.”

They sit there awhile. Tabitha helps Pearl get up and walk on shaky legs to the lavatory, then wash up and return to bed.

“You lost an awful lot of blood,” Tabitha tells her.

“I’ll try to be more careful next time,” Pearl says, “about where I leave it lying around.”

Once she’s back in bed, Tabitha hands her the plate, and Pearl takes a first bite.

“Have you had dinner?” Pearl asks.

Tabitha nods. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Tabitha grasps Pearl’s hand. Her lips tremble, but she will not speak. The suffering must be acute if even Tabitha won’t talk.

“I’m grateful,” Tabitha says at length. “So grateful. You’re here. And I’m here.” She hesitates, but she can’t for long. “It was the Ripper, wasn’t it? You went after him, didn’t you?”

Pearl smiles faintly. “How did you figure that out?” she asks. “I saw you watching for me, outside the house.”

Tabitha snorts. “And you didn’t come say hello?” When no answer follows, she adds, “What could you possibly have been thinking?”

“Humph,” Pearl says. “That’s why I didn’t come say hello. Because I didn’t want to have that conversation.”

“Well, you’re going to have it now,” Tabitha declares.

“I look forward to it,” Pearl tells her. “But can we do it when I’m a bit stronger?”

It’s Tabitha’s turn to humph. “Fine.”

“We both made it out alive,” Pearl says. “Thank God.”

“Thank God,” echoes Tabitha. “You know, I try to pray.” Her voice falters. “I try to give thanks. But the fear—I know it’s all over, and oh, thank God, but the fear, still, is more than I can bear.”

“It won’t always feel that way,” Pearl says gently. “Time will help.”

Half of the food is all Pearl can manage, but Tabitha seems satisfied. She sets the plate aside and plumps up Pearl’s pillow.

“You missed your calling in the Salvation Army,” notes Pearl. “You should be a nurse.”

“I don’t know about that,” says Tabitha, “but you’re right about me and the Army.”

“No,” Pearl says. “That was just a joke. You were wonderful at it.”

Tabitha studies her expression in bewilderment. “You were the golden girl. The golden singer. The faithful one. You sold more War Cry s than the rest of the corps combined.”

Pearl waves this away. “Who cares about the silly War Cry ?” She smiles at Tabitha’s shock. “You were good with the people. You saw them and talked to them and tried to help them.”

Tabitha looks down. “I wanted to,” she says, “but it never felt like we did much good.”

The next time Pearl wakes, evening is fully dark, and a shaded lamp gives dim light to the room.

“Tabitha,” she says, “what can you tell me about what happened last night?”

Her roommate stares at her.

“I mean,” she says, “after I, er, passed out.”

“Oh,” Tabitha says. “Paddy carried you here to St. Vincent’s in his arms.”

Pearl feels herself shrink. “He did? Captain Paddy ?”

Tabitha nods.

“Did he see me with my…”

“Yes, he saw them,” Tabitha tells her. “Didn’t bat an eye.”

“That’s not possible,” Pearl protests. “How could he not?”

Tabitha shrugs. “Ask him yourself. He’s down in the lobby, waiting for news of you.”

“But how did he come to be there at all?” she says. “And how were you even there, last night? How did Mother Rosie find you?”

Tabitha closes her eyes.

“Never mind,” Pearl says. “Another time.”

Tabitha swallows and begins to speak. “Mike and I were walking home to his uncle’s pub,” she says. “After looking for you.”

Pearl nods.

“A pair of policemen arrested Mike on a charge of possessing a gun stolen from Mother Rosie,” Tabitha continues. “A copper took him away. Mike told me to notify his uncle, and I promised I would. But not ten seconds after he left with the cop, the other cop handed me over to Rose and her men.”

Pearl gasps.

“It was fixed from the start.” Tabitha wraps her arms tightly around her chest. “The minute they said the charge was for stealing Rose’s gun, I should’ve run.”

“Much good that would’ve done you,” Pearl tells her. “They would’ve caught you.”

Tabitha hangs her head. “I suppose so.” She takes a deep breath.

“Someone who knew Mike saw him being dragged away by the cop and went and told his uncle. His uncle bailed him out. When Mike learned that I’d never made it to the pub, he knew something was wrong.

He went first to the base to see if perhaps I’d gone there. ”

“Ah,” said Pearl. “That’s how Captain Paddy enters the picture.”

Tabitha nods. “He was there late, playing checkers with a bunch of men with nowhere else to go. Paddy was letting them sleep at the base to stay out of the cold.”

Pearl shook her head. “Captain Jessop would have fits if she knew.”

Tabitha shrugs. “I think he’s been doing it ever since the weather turned cold.”

“But how did Mike and Paddy know where to find you?” inquires Pearl.

“They went to the Lion’s Den,” Tabitha tells her, “and asked Johnny Leone.”

Pearl gapes at this. “And he told them ?”

Tabitha nods, wide-eyed. “I know.”

Pearl decides to use the washroom again. Slowly, she rises to her feet. Tabitha steers her. Walking hurts, but she completes the journey and tends to her business there.

“Did you meet Nicolette?” Pearl asks on her way back to bed.

“I did,” Tabitha tells her. “She’s a bit of a puzzle. She has some connection to your Whitechapel killer. Something about meeting him on a boat.”

Pearl drops the blanket she’s been tucking around her shoulders.

“She what?”

“Something about meeting that man on a boat over from France,” Tabitha says more slowly, “made Nicolette a—a…”

Pearl nods. “Right.”

“Apparently, she came ashore while his ship was in port here,” Tabitha says. “Though why he came from France is a mystery to me.”

Pearl sinks back into her pillow. “Now it fits.”

Tabitha shakes her head. “I’m glad you think so.” As a postscript, she adds, “She says she has a friend here in the city to stay with.” She pauses. “Or to meet. I wasn’t sure. A new friend, I think she said. Anyway, the point is, she’s not going back.”

Pearl takes this in. “Good luck to her. I hope she’s safe.”

“You should hope her new friend is,” Tabitha mutters darkly. Pearl smiles.

Tabitha notices Pearl shivering and tracks down a nurse to request another blanket. After she’s tucked Pearl in more snugly, she lies down on the bed beside her. This leaves Pearl fairly pinned under a straitjacket of blankets, but the effect is warm and cozy.

“Oscar told me, last night,” Tabitha says in a low voice, “what you did, once you saw me. Even though you were bleeding so badly.” Her voice chokes with emotion. “You should’ve gone to the hospital. You could’ve died. Why did you do that to yourself?”

Pearl shakes her head slowly. “That was easy,” she says. “I was dead already.”

“No, you weren’t,” Tabitha protests. “Your life wasn’t worth—”

“It was to me.”

Tabitha hunts for a handkerchief and wipes her eyes.

Pearl’s unfocused gaze peers through the wall to some distant point beyond.

They lie there for a while, heads tucked close together.

“Did we get her, Tabitha?” Pearl asks the silence. “Did we get Mother Rosie?”

Tabitha sighs. “She was arrested by cops who don’t know her like they do in the Bowery. But her money and connections will probably spring her out soon.”

Pearl frowns. “How did we manage to get her arrested?” She presses a hand to her temple. “I don’t remember much after—”

“Oscar went for the police, and Mike stayed behind, with Rosie’s gun, until they came.” Tabitha smiles. “To pop anyone in the nose who woke up.”

“Rosie too?” Pearl asks.

“We can only hope.” Tabitha laughs.

Pearl feels sleepiness steal over her. It feels as though sleep might be all she’ll ever do. The room settles into a peaceful quiet, which, naturally, presents Tabitha with an almost-unbearable temptation.

“Pearl,” she whispers, “what about Jack?”

Pearl squints away the interruption. “Hmm? Who?”

“Jack,” repeats Tabitha. “The Ripper. Dr. Francis Whatever-His-Name.”

Pearl takes a long, slow breath, then another.

The clock ticks.

“Pearl?” Tabitha breathes.

Pearl burrows down deeper under her covers and murmurs her reply.

“He got away.”