“I forgot,” I lamented that morning as the TV played the news in the background. It wasn’t like the first time, when the Ripper story got a quick couple of minutes before the show moved on to the weather or traffic. Since six o’clock that morning, the news had featured nothing but coverage of the latest murder. “What with everything that happened last night, I completely forgot today’s date. Of course the Ripper’s been quiet for a week. He was waiting for the times to match up until he murdered someone else.”
Evelyn stood in front of the TV, blocking my view. “Remember what we talked about last night. Focus on your mother’s case. This Ripper stuff isn’t going to do you any good.”
“But this is perfect material for my blog,” I argued. “I haven’t posted anything good in weeks. I’m starting to lose subscribers. That means less people are viewing and clicking the advertisements on my site. That means I’m losing money.”
“I’ll pay you,” Evelyn offered hastily. “You came here to take care of me. I should be paying you anyway.”
“You picked up my plane ticket,” I reminded her. “And I don’t have to stay in a hotel. It would be weird to take your money. This is a favor to a friend.”
“One that’s disrupting your business and your life,” she argued. “Let me cover what you’re losing on your advertising.”
I considered it. On one hand, it would be nice not to worry about making up the funds whenever I returned to San Diego, but I didn’t like the idea of taking money from Evelyn. “Are you even getting paid? You’re not working.”
“I got injured on the job,” she said. “I’m getting a payout because of it.”
“Is that what you talked about the other day at your office? You never told me about it.”
She muted the TV and plopped on the couch. “I know you’re trying to change the subject, but if you must know, I did not get fired.”
“I didn’t think you would,” I said. “You’re their best employee.”
“Don’t butter me up,” she warned. “I can see right through it.”
“I was serious.”
Evelyn adjusted the collar of her brace. Later, she had another appointment with Alba, her physiotherapist, and Evelyn was dying to know if her shoulder was well enough to ditch the bulky plastic and Velcro straps that kept her arm in place. “My boss wants to keep me on, even if I don’t regain full use of my arm.” She pulled a face. “He said I could do desk work.”
“The horror,” I replied dryly. “At least you’ll know you have a job.”
She picked at the Velcro around her elbow. “It’s not what I pictured, you know? I always knew getting hurt was a possibility in this line of work, but I never thought it would happen to me.”
“Hey, it’s only been two weeks since it happened,” I said. “You’re making great progress. Stop acting like you won’t get back to it. Speaking of which, are you ready to go? We’re supposed to meet Alba soon, but I thought I’d treat you to lunch first.”
“Let me go get my shoes.” Glumly, she wandered off.
On TV, Chief Inspector Baker had appeared on the air, wearing his ever-present look of annoyance. I turned the volume back up.
“Inspector Baker!” someone shouted. “What else can you tell us about the recent murder?”
“Settle down, settle down,” the inspector called back. “I can tell you what I know. The victim was Rosie Brigham, a twenty-year-old teacher’s assistant in Lambeth. We have already notified the family, and we ask that you do not seek them out or bombard them with questions. Her family deserves the right to process their loss in peace.”
“Inspector, inspector!” yelled another journalist. “Can you comment on the location and the style of the murder with regards to the similarities to the original Ripper case?”
Baker noisily cleared his throat. “With William Lewis, we were prepared to label the details of his death as coincidence in connection with the Ripper. However, I’m afraid we can no longer take that chance. Rosie Brigham was discovered at 29 Hanbury Street. The cause of death was two slashes to her throat, which almost severed her neck. For those of you familiar with the Ripper, you know this is the same manner in which Annie Chapman was killed in 1888.” He grasped the edges of his podium and braced himself. “This is an official announcement from the London Police: there is a Ripper copycat killer in the streets. Do not go anywhere alone. Do not approach any past or potential crime scenes. Do not let your vigilance fade.”
Evelyn emerged from the bedroom, shoes on her feet but untied. “Can you help me—?”
I shushed her and pointed at the TV.
“It is not 1888,” Inspector Baker announced. “We are not Victorian detectives with no resources to assist in our investigation. We have technology they did not possess back then, and we will catch this killer. We will see to it that he faces the justice he deserves. Thank you.”
“I have good news for you,” Alba said at the end of Evelyn’s therapy appointment. “You can take a break from the brace every once in a while.”
“Yes!” Evelyn curled her fist in triumph.
“Every once in a while,” Alba repeated with exaggerated emphasis. She tested Evelyn’s range of motion. Her shoulder was still stiff, but Evelyn made it through the session with half her amount of usual wincing. “I don’t want you swinging your arm around like a monkey and hurting yourself again. If you can’t keep yourself in check, I’ll make you wear it all day again.”
“Noted,” Evelyn said.
Alba cast a skeptical eye over Evelyn as she turned to me. “Jack, I expect you to keep an eye on her. She’s not to be trusted. Don’t let her get ahead of herself.”
I saluted Alba. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got it under control.”
“Great. Off you go then. See
