As Evelyn freed the first snail from its shell, I searched for the Lazy Licker on Instagram. It was a run-down pub turned music venue, but it maintained certain historic elements like the original bar top and cushioned booths. At nighttime, the Lazy Licker featured up-and-coming artists who weren’t yet popular enough to sell out a larger venue. The most recent posts advertised the upcoming Ripper party, to which the guests were encouraged to wear their sexiest Victorian outfits—good luck to them—and show up ready for a good time. I scrolled down to read the comments below.
“I can see the cogs turning in your head.” Evelyn slurped up another snail. “What’s going on?”
I turned the phone to show her. “Look at these comments.”
“‘Can’t wait to see the Ripper,’” she read out loud. “‘Ready to meet the killer.’ Are these people sane?”
Archie returned to the table. “How’s the escargot, ladies?”
“It’s great,” I said hurriedly and held my phone for him to see. “Archie, what are all these people talking about?”
He skimmed the comment section. “Oh, right. There’s a rumor going around that the killer is going to show up tonight at the club. People have been talking about it for days.”
“Do you think it’s true?”
He shrugged. “No idea, but I wouldn’t go. Why take the chance? Ready to order?”
Later, as we finished our lunch and paid the bill, Evelyn caught my distracted stare. She snapped her fingers. “Don’t even think about it.”
“About what?”
“I know you want to go to that Ripper party tonight,” she said. “Please don’t do it. It could be dangerous. The panic alone could send people into a tizzy, and panic makes people stupid.”
“I won’t go.”
She didn’t look convinced.
That night, long after Evelyn had fallen asleep, I watched the clock. It was only eleven o’clock, and the “main event” at the Lazy Licker wasn’t due to start until midnight. The pub was right around the corner from Evelyn’s flat. She was a deep sleeper. I had a good chance of making it there and back without ever disturbing her.
I crept out from under the covers and got dressed. If the killer was going to a party, then so was I. After a second thought, I pulled on my new jacket. Maybe Evelyn was right; it did have a certain sense of badassery about it.
I snuck out of the flat and into the streets. It was a busy Saturday night in Whitechapel. The Lazy Licker wasn’t the only pub to take advantage of the Ripper scares. Signs in various windows advertised “two for one Ripper shots” or discounts for wearing a top hat. The pubs were packed with people in various states of drunkenness. Fear manifested in different ways. Some let it keep them from going about their daily lives, hiding safely at home but missing out on life. Others behaved as if this night could be their last. The Ripper could come for anyone at any time, so why not drink the dread away?
The Lazy Licker was overrun. A long line to get in twisted around the corner. I waited at the back of the queue for a good twenty minutes, but when it started to rain, I decided to give it a shot with the bouncer.
“Hi,” I said, flashing my best smile at the large man who blocked the front door. “My friends are already inside. Is it possible for me to slip in?”
He cast a hungry eye up and down my body. “Nice jacket. What do you ride?”
“Oh, uh—” I wracked my memories for a glimpse of the brand splashed across Evelyn’s old bike. “A Triumph.”
The bouncer nodded in appreciation. “Nice. Got a Suzuki myself. Need ID.” I flashed my driver’s license, and he pulled back the velvet rope to let me in. The girls in line behind me cast me dirty looks. “Have fun.”
Inside, I squeezed between the packed bodies and found an empty stool at the bar. I ordered a beer and cast an eye across the pub. The light was low, and the room was full of smelly fog from a machine on stage. Bodies gyrated on the dance floor as nondescript electronic music thumped loudly over the speakers.
Across the way, I spotted Bertha sitting at a high top. When she caught my eyes, she lifted her glass. I waved back. Though I wouldn’t have minded the company, neither one of us was willing to test the thickness of the crowd to join the other.
“You here to see the Ripper?” a loud voice rumbled in my ear. A guy in his early twenties had shoved his way between the next girl at the bar and me. He flashed me a crooked smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but he was far too young for me. Not to mention, I wasn’t there to hook up with anyone.
“Yeah,” I said and turned away.
“I hear it’s gonna be killer,” he went on, his lips so close to my face that I could feel his breath tickling my hair. “Are you here alone?”
“No, my boyfriend’s in the bathroom.”
“Nice try. I saw you walk in. What, you don’t think I’m handsome?” He pronounced his th sound as an f, so think sounded like fink.
“I’d like to be left alone,” I said firmly. From the scent of his breath and the glazed look in his eyes, he’d already downed a few Ripper shots.
He moved closer. “That’s no fun.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and backed up, knocking into the guy behind him.
“Oi, watch it!”
“Sorry, mate.” Rubbing his ribs, he sneered at me and disappeared into the crowd with a nasty insult. I watched as he tried his luck with another girl. She rolled her eyes and pushed him off. It wasn’t his lucky night.
“Good evening, ladies and gents!” A tattooed man with a handlebar mustache and a top hat had taken the stage. He tipped his hats to the Lazy Licker’s patrons. “I see everyone’s turned up in their best
