The Cutthroat

“In one of these companies is a vigorous killer in his early forties who came from England in the heyday of touring theater. He’s had twenty years to make a career in America.”

“He’s an actor?”

“He could be any man in the theater. Actor. Director. Stagehand. Manager. Angel. Scenic designer. Rigger. Electrician. Carpenter.”

“Mr. Vietor — our Jimmy Valentine — is English.”

“So I hear.”

“But he is very nice…” Her voice trailed off. “Of course he would be if he was tricking girls—”

Helen Mills interrupted urgently. “I am not saying it’s him. Please don’t jump to that conclusion.” Just like Isaac Bell had warned. Do not condemn an innocent to a lynch mob.

Lucy Balant pondered what she had heard. The soda jerker, who was sweet on her, asked if she wanted another ginger ale. She shook her head and he went away.

Helen Mills said, “Please look at me, Lucy.”

Lucy turned to her.

The detective said, “I will do anything to stop this Cutthroat. But I need to operate in disguise and I can’t do that if you suddenly blurt out, ‘I know Helen. She broke into my room in Philadelphia. She’s a private detective.’”

“You’d be trusting your life with me.”

“You knew Anna Waterbury. She was not just a story in the newspaper, was she?”

“She was a nice girl.”

“There you have it.”

“Does your boss know you’re talking to me?”

“No,” Helen lied. Isaac Bell had been reluctant to let her operate in Cincinnati but had concluded he had no choice if he was going to plant a woman inside one or both of the touring companies. They had come up with a story to deal with the fact that Lucy Balant knew she was a Van Dorn detective.

“I’m working this case on my own. No one knows I’m here. I took time off— Actually, I quit.”

“What do you live on?”

“I’ve saved my money since I was an apprentice.”

“Helen, you’re taking all kinds of chances.”

“Worth it if I catch him.”

“Do you mind me asking what your disguise will be?”

“Not at all,” said Helen, relieved that she had put over the story. “I don’t want to shock you if we bump into each other. I will masquerade as an actress reading for “general businesswoman” jobs in Jekyll and Hyde and Jimmy Valentine.”

Lucy said, “Ours is getting antsy to go back to New York.”

“I heard.”

“I wanted it,” said Lucy. “The stage manager keeps saying I’m too short. But you’re really tall. Have you ever been on the stage?”

“In school.”

“Good luck with Jimmy Valentine. You’ll need it, because you sure won’t get Jekyll and Hyde.”

“Why not?”

“I hear that the boyfriend of the girl who has it is a Jekyll and Hyde angel.”

“Mine’s a bigger angel.”

Lucy’s big eyes grew enormous. “You have a boyfriend who invests in the theater?” An up-from-under glance unspoken asked, is that how you can afford to quit your job?

Helen stuck to her story that she was working alone. “He’s not my boyfriend. I just met him on this investigation. He’s married. But he’s actually very nice. And when people assume he’s helping me for the wrong reasons, he sets them straight.”

Lucy nodded. “You have to be careful on the road. That’s for sure.” She gave a rueful laugh. “The awful joke is, the nicer they are, the more careful they are, too. So you end up with both of you being careful and no one making the first move. Which reminds me, Helen, speaking of moves: When you read for Jimmy Valentine? Look out for Mr. Lockwood.”

“A grabber?”

“He thinks he’s irresistible.”

“Thanks for the warning. What do you hear about grabbers at Jekyll and Hyde?”

Lucy Balant grinned. “Girls hope Mr. Buchanan will grab them. But he refuses to have anything to do with actresses. Nice as can be, but strictly business. They say he goes with rich ladies because they don’t need anything from him.”

“And Mr. Barrett?”

“Oh, Mr. Barrett! I was introduced to him at a cast party in Chicago. He did that older gentleman thing where he bows over your hand. Then he looks in your eyes. He had me blushing like I was fourteen.” Lucy fanned her cheek with her napkin. “But, not a chance. Everybody says he’s all business, too.”

“What about your Jimmy Valentine?”

“Mr. Vietor is a gentleman. He’s been coaching me, actually. There’s a part that might come open if the girl takes a job in New York. I might be able to get it. Or at least read for the stage manager when Mr. Vietor thinks I’m ready.”

“Now you warned me, Lucy. And I must warn you. Be very, very careful who you ever go with alone. Particularly a man in his forties. Anna was not the only petite blonde this Cutthroat killed.”

“Mr. Vietor’s only in his thirties.”

“But don’t actors sometimes ‘adjust’ their age?”

“Mr. Vietor wouldn’t bother. He’s so handsome, who cares how old he is?”

34

“When did you first join forces, Mr. Barrett and Mr. Buchanan?”

The New York Sun assistant theater critic — a natty gent with gin on his breath and a flawlessly knotted bow tie — had caught up with the Jekyll and Hyde company in Cincinnati.