Page 51 of Secrets in the Dark
“She doesn’t beat me up and guess what, I don’t beat her up, either. This may be surprising to you, and in a way, I almost understand. Most of us don’t need to beat each other up. And, gee, none of us are threatened by Della—or other women, for that matter. We think it’s fantastic that she’s strong and capable, as are so many others. I think you have a problem with any woman who does anything at all better. Except wash dishes maybe. And guess what? I wash dishes, no problem. And I think it’s cool that we get to be with such a bright, quick agent. But seriously, we wasted enough time on you today. I need something to eat.”
“Now I get it. The little woman is going to cook for you?”
“I may cook for her,” Mason said. “But—”
“Yeah, let’s do this,” Edmund said. “Seriously, running way too late. We’ve got to get out of here! And Hudson isn’t going anywhere, so...”
“No!” Hudson protested. “You dragged me in here. You made me wait. You—”
“Good night, Mr. Hudson,” Mason returned. “Edmund, this is like dealing with a five-year-old. We do need to move on.”
“Right! Let’s go!” Edmund said
He rose and Della and Mason followed him as he headed toward the door to exit the room. Hudson tried to run after them and push his way out.
Edmund politely but firmly pressed him back in. Hudson immediately went berserk, pounding on the one-way mirror to the observation room. But uniformed officers were in the hallway, waiting to take him to a cell.
They happened to be big men, both well over six feet tall, strongly built, and despite his protests and the fact that he let his body drag, they quickly had the man under their control.
Della watched and, frowning, glanced at Mason and turned to Edmund. “Think he needs to be under suicide watch?” she asked.
“This has been like watching Dr. Jekyll become Mr. Hyde,” Mason said. “The mild-mannered, friendly bartender has become a combustible pile of anger and nerves.”
Edmund looked at them, arching a brow. “He could save British taxpayers some pounds were he to end it all himself. Not very Christian of me, but the man is surely a devil—a demon, at least.”
“As much as I may agree—” Della began.
Edmund put a hand on her shoulder. “Della, I’ve given an oath to uphold the law as well, remember? Different countries, very similar values, as in so many nations, the point being, I hope you are coming to know me. I won’t risk—”
“Edmund, right, yes, I know. But it seems that he’s been going about his regular work, a barman at a pub, doing it all right, charming and lucid by all appearances. But I think that he’s beginning to unravel now. It seems that since we caught up with him at the cemetery—or he caught up with me,” she corrected dryly, “he’s lost all semblance of trying to play the innocent and intelligent man watching a crazy world go by around him.”
“I’ve already seen to it,” Edmund said quietly. “With an ego like his, I think it unlikely. Then again, with an ego like his, anything is possible. And, yes, indeed, I’m aware. He might still be useful and I don’t intend to become an animal like those we arrest because we’re sworn to uphold the law, not become part of the problem.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Meeting, back at the house,” Mason said. “We’ll need our full crew to decide how we proceed next. We do have new information. We need to focus on how we’ll use all that we know.”
Della nodded.
It had been an eventful day. It was, she realized, evening.
Darkness was coming.
And a new night when a Ripper just might strike.
Mason knew that he had to let go of the interview with Hudson and the rest of the day, just a bit, just enough to look back at it all with a clear mind.
But there was something teasing at the back of his mind. Something that Hudson had said, and he wasn’t sure what it was. It was most probably true that Gary Hudson didn’t know the names of anyone else who had become a follower of Stephan Dante. Dante would have been protecting himself first, of course, but he had laid the groundwork for his groupies. And while Dante was incarcerated, awaiting trial, he surely heard news.
And he was just as surely delighting in the Ripper murders. He would proudly consider himself responsible since he had trained the killer.
He was quiet as they returned to the house, thoughtful and aware, of course, that Della was watching him, wondering what was wrong and perhaps understanding. They had a remarkable way of communicating even in silence. Maybe, for the first time in either of their lives, they had found the one who not just loved them but truly understood them.
He realized that they had all been quiet when Edmund finally broke the silence by saying, “We need to organize our thoughts from today, but first! Dinner, please, for the love of God!”
“That will work,” Sean agreed, “Seeing as how we missed anything resembling lunch or even a lovely tea break.”
“Can we order in?” Della asked. “It will be easier to converse when we’re here, all in the house without having to worry about being heard by others.”
