Nine Buck's Row Read Online Free PDF Page A

very important. Tonight, it’s very important—”
    â€œI don’t see why you won’t tell—”
    â€œEnough!” she cried. “Help me into the dress.”
    The dress had come from Paris, as had the cloak that matched it. It was a magnificent creation of honey-colored satin with long sleeves, an extremely low-cut bodice and a full skirt that fell in glossy folds. The bodice and cuffs were edged with black fox fur and a row of fur ran around the hem. Marietta turned this way and that, examining herself in the mirror. She took hold of the bodice and pulled it a bit lower, revealing even more of her rosy-white bosom. She looked regal, rather like a depraved countess on her way to meet a handsome stable boy.
    â€œThis should do it,” she said nervously. “Yes—he won’t be able to resist me.” She glanced at the clock on the mantle. “My God! It’s already twelve! He’ll be waiting—I spoke to Peters during the intermission. He’ll escort you to the cab. Don’t wait up for me, Susannah—”
    She seized the beaded jet reticule and rushed from the room. She had only been gone a few seconds before I realized she had forgotten the cloak. She would be furious with herself for having left it behind, furious with me for not reminding her of it. I took it out of the cardboard box and hurried after her.
    I moved quickly down the hall, passing the dingy red brick walls that led to the stage door. The chorus girls were coming down the stairs again, dressed for the street now, their faces pale without make-up. They looked startled as I rushed past them. I stumbled over a rope, almost losing my balance. One of the girls laughed shrilly.
    Peters was sitting just inside, the unlighted cigar still in the corner of his mouth, the wooden chair tilted against the wall.
    â€œMy aunt—” I began, breathless.
    â€œShe just stepped outside a moment ago. Want me to get that cab for you now?”
    â€œLater,” I cried, throwing open the door.
    The fog was thick, damp, completely obliterating the alley. I stood on the steps, holding onto the rusty iron railing, peering into that moving white thickness. I thought I saw something moving at the end of the alley. I heard footsteps.
    â€œMarietta!” I called. “Wait! You forgot your cloak—”
    I hurried down the steps, clutching the garment in my arms. I ran into the fog. Tendrils of mist stroked my cheeks like soft, wet fingers, and my footsteps echoed against the narrow walls.
    â€œMarietta! Please wait—”
    I stopped. I have no idea what caused it. I suddenly stood very still, my heart pounding. I was trembling without knowing why, and my nerves were tingling. The fog swirled around me, and there was no noise, only a curious faint panting that seemed to underline the silence. It was like someone … like someone breathing heavily. I peered through the fog, and I caught a glimpse of movement, the swish of a black cloak as someone stepped around the corner. No, it was merely a shadow.…
    I took a few steps forward, and then my foot touched something. Marietta was stretched out on the ground, her, dress torn, and she was covered with scarlet ribbons, lovely scarlet ribbons that flowed onto the cobblestones in pretty streams. What was she doing there? Why were those ribbons flowing, flowing.…
    I must have screamed. I don’t remember. Peters came running out of the theater. He didn’t see the thing on the ground. He seized my arms and kept asking me what was wrong, but I couldn’t speak. I could only shake my head, my blood icy cold. Several of the chorus girls rushed out, talking in loud voices, and then they saw the body.
    â€œMy God!” one of them yelled. “Oh, my God! It’s The Ripper! The Ripper! Get the police! The Ripper—’E’s done it again!”

3
    It had been a week filled with horror. Marietta’s body had been