Chapter 9

Adam had cashed his bank draft at noon so before he returned home, he stopped by the little shop around the corner from his lodging to buy food for his meal.

"And a pound of coffee, please," Adam said. The woman who had arms as large as any man's took a sack down from a high shelf and placed it on the counter.

"Anything else?" She asked, smiling at the young man who usually stopped by with his handsome, dark-haired friend.

Adam looked at his goods—coffee, a loaf of bread, cheese and a tin of milk. He had earlier stopped by the butcher and purchased a few slices of ham and five links of dried sausage.

"No. Mrs. Entwhistle, I think that's it, at least for the time.' She smiled and reached under the counter for a small wooden crate and stacked his purchases inside. Adam looked around the shop and his eye lit on the large class jars of penny candy.

"One more thing." Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out some coins and smiled. "Some butterscotch, please." He handed her a dime.

"Keep your money," she said as she went to the jar and filled a paper cone with butterscotch chunks. "Take these and share with your friend. Where is he this evenin'?"

"He's busy," Adam said, "but I would like to pay." He still held out the dime.

"And I would like you to have them with my best wishes. You're too thin, my boy—too thin. Maybe these will put a bit more skin on those bones of yours." She held out the paper cone that she had folded to close.

Adam slipped the coin back into his pocket and sheepishly accepted the candy. He again felt his emotions rise to the surface over the kindness done him.

"Thank you," Adam said as he paid her for his purchases and smiling one last time, he left the shop to go to his rooms.

Adan pulled his collar up. The wind was blustery and tiny flakes of snow began to fall again. The last snow fall hadn't stayed and he hoped this one would soon disappear as well. Although Boston was beautiful when frosted with snow, Adam hated having cold, damp feet and when the walkways iced over, they were dangerous for walking. He reached his building, opened the outer door and took the stairs to his rooms; he placed the crate on the floor to unlock his door and saw another slip of paper halfway underneath it. Adam picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He unfolded it.

"Meet me at the wharf at 7:30. No police. I have information you need to clear not just your friend but you." Adam noticed that "friend" was misspelled with the transposition of the i and the e.

After putting his crate of groceries on the table and lighting the lamp, Adam looked at the note again; it had the same block lettering. He made up his mind as was his father's advice, to ask for help. It echoed in his ears even after all that time. "Okay, Pa. I'll ask for help." He would take the note to Inspector Martin and Adam put out the lamp and locking the door behind him, the note safely in his inside coat pocket, Adam headed back out.

Since it was about dinner time in most households in Boston and since he and Jarrod lived on a backstreet, there weren't many other people out. As he pulled his collar up, he glanced around. He thought he heard vague footsteps behind him. Adam turned to look and about twenty yards behind him was a man walking in the same direction, his head down and covered by a bowler and his hands shoved into the pockets of a dark overcoat. Adam began to feel a creeping fear. Two women had been killed, two he knew and who was to say that a man, he himself in particular, wasn't to be the next victim?

"Get ahold of yourself, boy," Adam said to himself. "Don't let your imagination run away with you." But Adam had to be sure whether or not he was being followed so he quickly turned down a narrow side street and then stepped into a recessed doorway, pressing himself against it so that someone passing by couldn't see him unless they chose to turn around and look behind them. Even then they might not see due to the dim light, that a man was pressed against the door. Perhaps, he thought, whoever wrote the note was watching to see if he was heading to the police; the note had said no police. Adam decided he would take the backstreets to the police station which was not in the best district of Boston anyway.

Adam breathed shallowly as he waited and then he heard footsteps approaching. He pressed himself as close to the door as he could. The footsteps picked up pace and then he saw the man in the overcoat run past him. The sound of footsteps disappeared and Adam took off the other way out of the street and continued at a faster pace to the police station. As he neared an alley, Adam saw a large, bulky man wearing a short wool jacket and a watch cap walking toward him and Adam nodded as was his habit when he passed a stranger. The man nodded sharply in reply and they passed each other. Adam heard and saw no one else. He smiled to himself; he must have given his pursuer the slip.

Adam's eyes widened in surprise as he felt an arm around his neck from behind. It tightened about him and he felt his eyes lose focus as his breath was shut off. He pulled at the huge arm around his neck but couldn't get any hold on it and he thought, "I'm going to pass out—and then I'll be helpless." And that was his last thought before blackness overcame him.

His shoulders hurt. Adam moved and realized that he was on his stomach and that his arms were pinioned behind him and that was the cause of his pain. He also had a headache; his temples ached. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in a lighted room filled with the smell of fish. Adam knew that he was at the wharf.

"You weren't coming to the wharf, were you, Adam?"

Adam tried to turn his head but couldn't see that far behind him. A hand reached underneath him and grabbed his coat front and jerked him up. He looked into a large grinning face of the man wearing the watch cap, the man on the street. Then Adam heard the voice again and he recognized it: Zedock Taylor.

"Adam, Adam, Adam. Tsk tsk, tsk," Zedock said grinning. Adam had been pulled into a sitting position and Zedock sat on a barrel grinning at him. I guess you aren't as smart as you thought." And Zedock laughed and Adam knew that he had been a fool.