Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
A few people laughed as more men crowded around us.
“Next, pictures and videos are fine,” Bowler hat continued. “I’m a pretty hot bloke, so feel free to snap a few of me in the process.”
More giggles sounded.
I kept my hand on my knife.
“However,” the tour guide said, “please keep all ringers off. Last, we’ll be crossing major roads. Feel free to hold hands and all that sort, but most important look both ways and follow me. At times it is a downer, when someone dies on the Jack the Ripper tour, but for the few wives in the group that have a big insurance policy on that rather annoying husband, feel free to push him directly into traffic, and share the money with me.”
Maybe I should push Benny’s ass into traffic.
I checked the area, and there was absolutely no other woman in the group but me. That seemed odd. Didn’t couples take this tour? Wouldn’t there be a few female horror enthusiasts excited to tramp around a historic serial killer’s murdering grounds?
Is this a set-up? Are these all Chase’s people? Maybe I shouldn’t even be thinking about Chase. I’ve got to get him out of my mind. Stick with the plan. Somehow ... someway ... kill Benny.
Troy and my biggest problem in taking care of Benny was that we had an inkling of love present in our hearts. We couldn’t just work out a way to hurt him because in the end, he’d been there for us for so many years, even more than our mother. Now, nothing moved within me, but pain. And he’d triggered it.
I can do this.
“This tour is interactive, meaning that I will be asking you questions and expecting you to mumble back smart retorts.” He threaded his fingers and pointed to me. “Hello, woman looking very scary over there.”
I looked behind me and realized that no other female had just walked up. “Uh ... yes?”
“Why did you come here today?” he asked.
“To do the Jack the Ripper tour.”
“Good answer. For this is the tour, but why did you come to learn about him.”
I gestured to Benny. “He has a special love of psychos.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Good job! That’s exactly the type of smart little retorts I’m hoping for.” Bowler guy clapped. “And where are you from?”
I sighed. “The United States.”
“Oh goodness, America?” He cupped his hand around his mouth and mumbled to everyone else. “Everybody watch your wallets and purses, we have an American with us.”
More crowd enjoyment rang out.
Could we just get on with the damn tour, buddy?
“Just playing, Miss USA.” Bowler hat grinned. “Let’s give her a round of applause.”
People cheered and I forced a fake smile.
Bowler hat decided to move on from me. “Jack the Ripper is a huge thing. He’s big news even after all of these years. There’s hundreds of books on him. Tons of movies with different endings of who could have been the true person who did it all. There’s even video games. My favorite? Sherlock Holmes vs. Jack the Ripper.”
A few oohed and aahed.
“There are even Jack the Ripper toys,” he proclaimed. “Can you believe that? There’s a Jack in the box where once you wind it over and over, an angry man comes out with a bloody knife.”
A guy booed in front of us.
Bowler hat raised his hands. “I know. I know. But with all of this, what people forget is that Jack the Ripper was a very scary thing. Something to be taken very seriously.”
The crowd went silent.
“He did horrific things to women,” Bowler hat continued. “And sadly, this tour can’t tell you anything about who he was. This has been unsolved for all of this time, but what I can do is tell you more about what he did, and show you the places where he did it.”
Some sicko cheered.
“We will go into White Chapel. We will learn about his victims and details about this tragic time in history that changed London forever.” The guide clapped his hands. “So are you ready to go back to 1888 where gas street lamps cornered most streets and only provided a small circumference of light?”
“Fuck yes!” some guy yelled.
“Wow. That guy is enthusiastic.” The guide did a big motion of his hands, drawing a circle in the air all around him. “White Chapel was a maze of alleyways and courtyards with darkness, so thick the average person had to struggle to see their own hand in front of their face. The night was perfect for our murderer’s deeds. Follow me.”
We did.
I’d hoped to stay at the back of the group, but Benny guided us forward so that he could hear every word. His man, Scar, remained far behind us.
The whole group crossed a few blocks. Cars zipped by us. The air chilled more than the States would in spring, or maybe it was the moment.