The man holding the club was the one who’d chased Eddie from the scene on that day. The same man who had tried to rob him outside McSorley’s. A man who might have used this same bully stick to pull himself out of the mud after he’d rid himself of a young girl’s body, who might have been convinced an old hermit knew of his terrible deeds.
Eddie took his watch from his jacket and placed it on the table, running a thumb down the crack in the glass. He thought of the look on Block’s face when he’d revealed the watch that had once belonged to him.
Eddie went to gather the prints from the library gala once more. A chill went through him when he came to the last photograph of the night. He studied the man who had attempted to rob him, the same individual who rode upon the carriage on the day of the fire, the one who was posted in the shadows of the front hall of the Blocks’ town house, avoiding the gold-toned light the Tiffany chandelier threw onto the richly decorated walls. When Eddie leaned closer, he saw what he hadn’t noticed before. Two black buttons were missing from his coat.
He should have gone back to Brooklyn, to address the matters of his own life and interests, returning for Coralie. Instead he took up his old post on the corner of Sixty-second Street. Something had taken hold of him, the urge to make things right. He barely knew himself or his desires. He had no obligations, and yet he was weighted down with a sense of responsibility. He felt naked without his camera, but he had come to this address for one reason alone. If he waited long enough, he was certain the fellow in the photographs who worked for Block would appear. It was morning, and the streets were busy, therefore Eddie didn’t notice when a young woman came up behind him, having been out walking with her dogs, two large black poodles. The dogs alerted Eddie to the woman’s presence, for they ambled up to him with a sort of haughty familiarity. The larger of the two nudged him.
“Go on now, big boy,” Eddie said to the dog, giving it a pat and doing his best to send it on its way. He grinned to think of what Beck’s wolf would make of such well-fed urban pets.
“He seems to know you,” a woman’s measured voice said.
Eddie turned to the young woman who had come to collect her dogs. She was dressed in an indigo silk and wool dress and wore a large fashionable felt hat, decorated with an assortment of blue feathers in a range from aqua to navy. She had dark blue eyes and a clear, pale face with fine features. “I know you as well,” she said. “You were at the library gala.”
Eddie realized he was in the presence of Harry Block’s sister. He wished he hadn’t the complication of being recognized.
“Perhaps you’re thinking of someone else,” he said politely, keeping his attention on the town house steps, so as not to lose sight of Block’s thug if he appeared.
“No,” Block’s sister said with assurance. “I’m not. You were there.”
“Only as a hired hand,” Eddie granted.
“Except that no one hired you, I checked into it. And now it seems”—she paused to observe his splint—“you no longer have a free hand to hire. We’ve never been introduced. I’m Juliet Block, and you’re the man who has my brother’s watch.”
Eddie searched her face and saw the intelligence there. She gazed back at him critically, but not without interest.
“Were you never taught not to speak to strange men on the street?” he asked.
Miss Block laughed. “I was taught all manner of things concerning what a woman should and should not do, and how the world should be run. Unlike the members of my family, I believe that all people have the right to speak, including women and workers.” The poodles were standing beside Eddie, nosing around. Miss Block clipped on their leashes. “They seem to fancy you. I, however, don’t know how I feel about you.” She had quite a serious expression as she recalled their initial meeting as children. “I was terrified you’d steal my coat on the day you found us playing in the office. My father had just given it to me.”
Eddie smiled. Pretense wouldn’t work with this outspoken young woman. “I thought of it. But I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“Well, I cried all the same as soon as you left. I cried because my coat cost more than most children my age had to live on for a month. I was embarrassed even before you shamed us. I took a pair of scissors to the horrid coat myself. Made quite a mess. Still, I managed to cut it to shreds.”
Eddie found he was at a loss for words. They stared at each other, each surprised at who the other had become. When Miss Block began to speak of her activities, it became clear she was an ardent feminist, involved in securing rights for workers and demonstrating for the women’s vote. Her family, she revealed, was not pleased with what they referred to as her “antics,” and had taken away her yearly stipend of twenty thousand dollars as punishment when she had protested at the Opera House and outside City Hall and had briefly been interned in the workhouse on Blackwell’s Island. That was when her funds were cut off. Her brother was set to inherit everything from their father, since Miss Block was not deemed responsible by her father and his attorneys. Harry was the one who insisted that she take the dogs for protection when she went out walking. He’d chosen them for her, and had them trained by an expert. Perhaps the dogs knew Juliet would have preferred to have left them at home. Indeed, she thought of them as an extension of her brother, more or less employees meant to keep her in check.