Dead Horizon Read Free Page B

shadows undetected would not be a problem.
    Cecil encountered a couple strolling arm in arm in Buck’s Row. He lowered his head as he passed them by, glancing over his shoulder when the couple was behind him, watching as they disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. He didn’t see the woman who stepped into his path until it was too late, and they collided.
    “Look where you’re goin,’” she said sharply, and then her tone lightened considerably. “Fancy a little company, do ya?”
    “I do, indeed,” he answered, giving her a most charming smile.
    “Three pence and I’ll show you a time of it,” she said.
    Cecil agreed, paid the woman up front, then led her through the nearby gateway of a stable yard. He walked slightly ahead of her. She hesitated a little ways into the dark yard.
    “This should do it,” she said.
    “I believe you’re right,” he agreed, turning to face her.
    She began to lift her frock, all business. The frock never made it beyond her knees. Cecil grabbed her by the throat with two hands and squeezed, pressing his thumbs hard against her windpipe. Her eyes bulged from their sockets. She was a tough old bird who tried to fight back, but Cecil squeezed tighter about her neck until she went out.
    He laid her on the ground, then he was on top of her, whipping the dagger from inside his coat, stabbing and slashing. He was clumsy at it, this being his first time, and soon he became ill. His stomach heaved. He raised the dagger again, his hand trembling, but before he could plunge the knife into her again, he ran off, wanting to leave the terrible scene behind him.
    He made it home without detection, but a heavy weight fell upon his shoulders when he realized he had failed his brother and that the killing of the whore had been for naught. He would have to go out again, and very soon, or risk losing his dear brother altogether. The thought of losing Edward made him shudder. It was not an option. Edward was a good man, and if the killing of a whore or two was what it took to keep Edward from going away entirely, then the death of a whore or two was exactly what Cecil would accomplish.
    * * *
    It was near daylight. Cecil again carried the black bag, which, he reasoned, would serve to pass him off as a doctor should someone spot him. His knife, freshly honed earlier in the day, was tucked beneath his coat.
    Cecil saw no one until a destitute and drunken woman approached him with an offer of sex in exchange for enough money to purchase a loaf of bread. Cecil agreed, and off the two of them went, disappearing down a side street and into a backyard on Hanbury.
    The woman quickly lifted her frock and started to turn her backside to Cecil, but before she could turn even partially around, Cecil lashed out with the knife and drew its thin, gleaming blade across her neck, opening a slit in her throat that nearly severed her head.
    Cecil fell to his knees beside her and made quick work of it, slicing through her abdomen and drawing out her intestines. He cut a portion of the entrails away and dropped them into his bag, then he removed her uterus and dropped it beside the corpse. He considered taking some coins and other personal belongings from her in order to make the killing look like a robbery, but changed his mind and placed the items at her feet.
    He was not a thief, nor did he wish to give such an impression. He even left the money with which he had paid the drunken woman for services never rendered. Justified homicide was one thing, but stealing was only for the hooligan types who frequented the East End.
    He would not stoop so low.
    Cecil was in the process of closing his bag when he heard low, muffled voices coming from inside a nearby flophouse. He closed his bag and hurried away, narrowly avoiding discovery as a man dressed for factory work came out of the house.
    Cecil slowed his pace once he was back on the main street so as not to draw undue attention. The streets were still