Governing Passion
for: a single set of giant bootprints. They swerved left
at the end of the alley and went farther east up a second alley. He
tracked them to where it opened onto Jarvis Street. There he bent
down and looked closely at them. The star-shaped pattern was
unmistakable. The same person had killed both young women.
    The trail now went cold. Just before it did,
Cobb noticed that the killer appeared to have been shuffling about
at the end of the alley, as if waiting for the coast to clear on
Jarvis Street before venturing out. Cobb stepped onto Jarvis and
searched amongst the many competing sets of prints for any sign of
the star shape. He found none. It was as if the killer had suddenly
become invisible and vanished, or had somehow taken wing. Cobb was
thankful he didn’t believe in ghosts.
    Just as he was turning back into the alley,
he noticed, on the Jarvis boardwalk, an object he had overlooked
before, half-buried in the snow. It was a white scarf. A
gentleman’s silk scarf. He picked it up. On one end it had a
monogram: a “P.” He put it in his pcoket. Then he went back to the
scene of the crime. The coroner had left, but Wilkie was now
present and keeping the curious at bay.
    Cobb addressed them – a cross-section he
guessed, of the denizens of Devil’s Acre: gamblers, bootleggers,
pimps, whores and worse. “Did anyone here see anythin’ in the
night? Or hear anythin’ unusual?”
    “We wouldn’t pay it no mind if we did,” one
of the men answered. “There’s lots of strange noises in Devil’s
Acre at night.”
    “But we don’t go ‘round killin’ each other!”
a woman shouted. “What’re the police gonna do about it, eh?”
    “Oh, they don’t give a damn about us up
here,” another added. “To them we’re just riff raff.”
    “We are doin’ everythin’ we can to find the
killer,” Cobb said. “But I’ve got to get a witness, don’t I? And I
need yer cooperation.”
    “I’ll wait here fer the undertaker,” Wilkie
said, happy to be just an ordinary constable.
    “In the meantime, I’ll go on down to the
brothel,” Cobb said
    Nell joined him and they walked slowly back
towards Madame LaFrance’s place.
    As they neared it, Cobb said, “Were you and
Sarie friends?”
    “We was. The best. I never ever thought
anythin’ like this could happen, even here. You might get beat up
and yer money stolen, but not yer throat cut – like that.”
    “Do you know where Sarie had been?”
    “I’m not allowed to discuss customers. You’ll
have to ask Madame LaFrance.”
    “I intend to,” Cobb said.
    ***
    Madame LaFrance brushed a single tear from her eye
and offered Cobb a cup of coffee. They were seated in a small den
that Madame obviously reserved for herself. It was comfortably
furnished and sported a modest fireplace, in which a pleasant fire
was now burning. Cobb loosened his collar and accepted the
coffee.
    “Two of my girls murdered in cold blood,”
Madame sighed. “I’ve been here four years and never had one of my
girls assaulted, let alone murdered. What is going on, Mr.
Cobb?”
    “I intend to find out, ma’am,” Cobb said,
sipping his coffee. “But I need yer help.”
    “How can I help?”
    “You can tell me where Sarie Hickson was last
night and explain why she was walkin’ alone through Devil’s
Acre.”
    Madame LaFrance put her coffee down. “I don’t
see how that can help you catch a knife-wielding fiend.”
    “I need to know the time of death. When I
find that, I’m goin’ to have several constables turn this place
upside down lookin’ fer witnesses. Someone saw or heard
somethin’.”
    “Well, if you must know, Sarie was out
visiting a client. I let my girls do private sessions in
gentlemen’s homes, provided I know who they are and how they’ll
behave.”
    “So Sarie was at a gentleman’s house,
carryin’ out her duties?” Cobb felt a blush ease up his neck.
    “She was scheduled for ten to twelve o’clock.
She left here at nine-forty or so. I assume

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