Anatomy of Evil Read Online Free PDF Page A

student who desperately wants to find a body to vivisect. In that case, he goes for such women because they are easily accessible most of the time, and for no other reason.”
    “But then he’d have to be sane.”
    My employer smiled again. “My good sir, make no mistake. The last I heard, only insane people run about slicing women from the very bottom of society’s underbelly. I don’t believe you can sustain a logical and cogent reason why a normal person would kill two women in this manner.”
    “But there still may be one,” I said.
    “Yes. Unfortunately, the only way to test a new rope is still to swing from it. That’s where the Metropolitan Police come in.”
    “They do?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
    Barker lifted his hand, palm up, in my direction. “There are a thousand theories and we are only two agents. I could enlist and organize every private detective in London and still not match the number of constables and inspectors of the Met. They are men seasoned by working with murderers, confidence tricksters, thieves, and harlots. They can generally tell when someone is lying.”
    “You’ve got an excellent perspective, Mr. Barker. What if we gave you a column in the Chronicle: ‘Thoughts of a Private Enquiry Agent,’” Israel said. “We could do all we can to gather clues for you and open doors. All the information we find will come by you first. I’m sure we could pay you pretty well.”
    That was when I knew Israel had lost the fish off his line, if it were ever on. He forgot Barker is a rich man by East End standards. By West End standards, as well, I supposed. He’s got an office in the center of London and a home which, while Newington might not be Park Lane, is half an acre of some of the most beautiful land in England. When Kew Gardens comes to your door asking for cuttings, you know you’re doing something right.
    “Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Zangwill, but I’m afraid I must refuse. There may come a time when I sit back and deduce from the safety of an armchair, but I have no wish to start that career prematurely.”
    “Ah,” said Israel, realizing his mistake. “I hope I have not offended you.”
    “Not at all.”
    “We Jews have much to thank you for. You saved us from a pogrom in London.”
    He was referring to my first case with Barker, in which we were hired by the Jewish Board of Deputies, led by Sir Moses Montefiore himself. A Jew had been crucified in Petticoat Lane and it was hoped we would stop a pogrom from occurring there. Barker did, by finding the killer who fanned the flames of hatred, and by organizing a golem squad of able-bodied men to combat a possible mob.
    “You are not out of the woods, yet, laddie. There are many that still want to see your people gone, but with the help of the Lord we both worship, we won’t let that happen.”
    My friend nodded solemnly. I realized for the first time how much he had at stake. Though an Ashkenazi Jew, he was no import from a Warsaw ghetto. His people had been here for generations. If London became unsafe, and I could not imagine what London would be like then, he could find no haven in Europe. He would have to start again somewhere in the colonies.
    I don’t make friends easily. Who would I drink coffee with at the Barbados if he were gone? Could I ever go there again if his people were driven out of a place they had inhabited for two centuries? I couldn’t name the number of times he’d made me laugh so hard I almost fell out of the booth, laughed until the tears streamed down my face. Israel was not only my jester, but my father confessor, as well. He knew all my secrets, mundane as they were, and I knew helping him through Amy Levy’s death may have been the best thing I had ever done.
    “I hope I haven’t alarmed you,” Barker said, and for a moment, I thought he was speaking to me.
    “No, sir,” Israel answered. “I understand what difficulties a Jew faces here. I’ve known it all my life. Thank