One of the passengers in the front tested the car’s iron supports and apparently found them to his satisfaction; he looked less nervous as he sat back.
“Enjoy the view,” the attendant continued. “And feel free to avail yourself of the concessions.” He pointed at the lunch counter, where its attendant held a bag of Cracker Jacks in one hand and a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon in the other, two new products growing in popularity at the Fair. “We’ll begin rising shortly.”
“Augie loved this,” Neva whispered as the attendant secured the door.
Derek looked about the car again. “I don’t doubt it. It’s comparable to the best Pullman models.” His eyes lingered on one of the many windows, perhaps surmising how it had been designed. Eventually—almost reluctantly—he returned his gaze to Neva. “If anyone else told me that story ...”
“I know.”
“Even so.” He studied the wisps of smoke still rising near the Court of Honor. “That was really Augie—Froggy Augie—on the Cold Storage Building ... and the Pier?”
“It wasn’t his fault. The insects infected his mind.”
The Ferris Wheel glided into motion, causing the nervous man in front to test the iron supports again. Derek’s eyes widened, but more from thrill than fright. “Extraordinary,” he murmured as they rose at a stately pace.
Neva nodded. “First time?”
“First time being at the Fair at all.”
“I thought there was a direct rail connection from Pullman Town.”
“There is. I just haven’t had the leisure.”
The Wheel slowed to a graceful stop, suspending them twenty feet in the air.
“One more carriage to load,” the attendant announced. “And then we’ll begin a full rotation.”
Derek glanced at Neva. “Will you hold a service?”
This jerked a sob out of her, but she waved him off when he put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said, mastering herself. “I just hadn’t thought about it. There’s no body.”
“Oh.” He stared back out over the Midway. “What will you do, then?”
“I suppose I’ll stay through the end of the Fair.”
Derek winced. “Do the Pinkertons think it’s safe?”
“They should: their ‘colored Leather Apron’ is dead. Now it’s just some strange bugs lurking about. And they’ve already bitten me.”
“Even if that’s the case, what if their venom does to you what it did to Augie?”
“I resisted it.” Only with help, true—rough help—but the urge to assault Brin had vanished sometime during last night’s enforced sleep.
“So you’ll continue dancing?”
“Not until the rashes fade. But maybe I can find where the insects are coming from and stop them maddening anyone else.” And if it turned out that someone was directing the insects—that there was, in fact, a Leather Apron of sorts—then ...
Then she’d find out if she could be strong for Augie, as he had once been for her.
Derek looked skeptical, even for him. But all he said was, “Ah.”
They fell silent while the last car finished loading and the Wheel began rotating in full. About a quarter of the way up, a young white man bent his knee and proposed to his beloved. She accepted. The car’s other occupants applauded.
Neva felt sick.
The proposal was a common enough occurrence: the Wheel had been a romantic destination since its second week in operation. But to see people celebrating while the ruins of the Cold Storage Building became more visible with each inch the car rose ... It was enough to make her wish she had one of Brin’s stick babies to light.
“Sir!” the attendant said sharply to the nervous man at the front of the car. “Please! I need you to calm down. I’ve no way to signal the operator—we must continue.”
The warning only further unnerved the nervous man, an enormous balding fellow who stood and rushed to the closest side of the car. With frenzied force, he tried to open a window, but it remained shut.
“Sir!” the attendant shouted again. “You must calm down! That’s iron construction: you’ll just injure yourself.”
“Wherrit!” a woman—the nervous man’s wife?—called. “Stop being a fool!”
He threw her a wild look and rushed to the opposite side of the car, driving other passengers before him like sheep. The big man didn’t try to pull up another window, however: he simply slammed into one, shattering its glass and denting the surrounding iron.
Derek caught him as he was about to leap.
The attendant and a few other men helped wrestle Wherrit to the floor and hold him fast. Yet only for a moment. He was streaming with blood from several cuts, including an ugly gash on his forehead, and the injuries quickly made him too slippery to restrain. After thrashing his way free, he charged the other side of the car and broke a second window. As before, his aim was off, and he hit iron as well as glass. The impact staggered him. But not enough to keep him from dodging Derek’s second attempt to put him in a headlock.
Now a bloody nightmare, the big man lunged at the door and tried to wrench it open. The lock held, even after he smashed both fists against its keyhole. He drew back to assault the door’s glass, but Derek reached him before the blow fell. Except there was no wrestling this time: instead of trying to pin Wherrit, Derek pressed his index fingers against
