Curtains of Blood by Robert Randisi

Author:Robert Randisi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, history, dracula, jack the ripper, bram stoker, dr jekyll and mr hyde
Publisher: Crossroad Press

Chapter Thirty

Stoker was walking through the theater a few nights later, dousing lights and checking to make sure the building was empty before he locked up. He was startled to find someone sitting in the front row, staring up at the stage. As he walked down the aisle he could see it was a woman. Finally he recognized Ellen Terry.

“Ellen?”

She turned, also startled for a moment before recognizing him.

“Oh, Bram. You gave me a fright.”

“I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

He walked over and sat next to her. He looked at her fine, classic profile as she turned her head to stare at the stage again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said without looking at him. “I think I was waiting for you.”

“For me? Or Henry?”

This time she looked at him as she answered. “For you, but it’s about Henry.”

“What about him, Ellen?”

“I’m concerned about his health.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t seem very concerned about getting ready for Macbeth. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let go of Jekyll and Hyde.”

Or maybe just Mr. Hyde, Stoker thought.

“He’s not himself,” she went on. “He’s… distracted, sloppy, moody… not Henry at all. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“Yes, Ellen,” Stoker said, “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re his friend, Bram. You know him best.”

“Not best,” he said, “but I am his friend.”

“Can you explain it, then?”

He had his theories, of course, but none he wanted to voice to her. Instead he took her hands in his and held them, trying to reassure her.

“Don’t worry, Ellen. Whatever is bothering Henry I’m going to get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

“I don’t really care if we do Jekyll and Hyde or Macbeth,” she said. “I just want Henry to be… well, Henry.”

He rubbed her hands and said, “I’m working on it, Ellen. Now come; I’ll take you outside and put you in a cab to your hotel.”

On the street, as a cab slowed in response to a wave from Stoker, Ellen Terry asked, “How is Florence, Bram? I haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

Florence was still at her mother’s, but he didn’t want to tell her that.

“Florence is fine, Ellen,” he assured her. “She’s keeping herself busy these days.”

“Tell her I said hello, will you?”

“I will.” He helped her into the cab and closed the door. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Bram,” she said, touching his arm for a moment, “and thank you.”

He banged on the door as a signal to the driver to move on. Then he returned to check the backstage area before locking up.

Of late, whenever he approached Henry Irving’s dressing room Stoker did so with caution. He had not seen Collinson leave the room with bloody clothes since the day after the last murder. He had still, however, on more than one occasion discovered Henry Irving seemingly in the grip of some sort of malaise. He did not believe Irving was a killer, but he was convinced that there was something wrong with him. What he didn’t know was whether it was physical or mental.

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