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sound of bloodhounds barking.
    â€œAs the Lord Mayor’s carriage approached Fleet Street from St. Paul’s, Lady Beatrix Twyford, the only victim hailing from the ranks of the peerage, died an excruciatingly torturous . . .”
    Katie had stopped listening.
    She turned and ran.
    And even when spasms of pain traveled up her legs, she didn’t stop sprinting until she crashed through a pair of swinging exit doors into a solarium, lit by sunshine and fluorescent lights, where dozens of people stood milling about in front of a souvenir shop showcasing a glistening array of Jack the Ripper memorabilia: guidebooks, puzzles, tiny wax dolls, china figurines, glittering ornaments, and trinkets of all kinds paying homage to the most famous murderer in the annals of British history.
    Katie gave a silent prayer of thanks that she was out of the ghoulish Chamber of Horrors and in the bright sanity of this outer room where people were murmuring kudos for the “spot-on” Jack the Ripper exhibit.
    In the next twenty-four hours, Katie would vehemently regret her hasty retreat. Had she known what was about to happen, she would have paid infinitely closer attention to even the most minute details involving the murders.

Chapter Four

    Halfpence and Farthings say the Bells of St. Martin’s
    T h e sensation of having risen from the black depths of weirdness into the bright light of sanity rushed over Katie with such relief she felt unsteady on her feet. Nothing in this sunlit solarium could hurt her. No death, no squirting fake blood, nothing macabre or ghoulish.
    A tangy nip of peppermint swept past Katie as a young girl wearing high-heeled combat boots and earrings the size of Hula-Hoops pushed past in a rush to get to the souvenir shop. And as the girl scooted across the threshold, a tinkling of bells rang out.
    The store, with its carved wooden sign, “The Old Curiosity Shop” was right out of Dickens.
    â€œ Katie !” boomed a familiar voice from behind her. “ Where the bleedin ’ hell ’ ave you been? What happened to you?”
    Katie swiveled round just in time to see Toby come charging through the exit doors.
    He strode toward her, his duster coat rippling out behind him like a vampire’s cape. “You gave us a right good scare!” he chided. “One minute you were with us and the next, poof! Gone. Collin’s in there running around like a chicken with its ’ead cut off looking for you.”
    Toby’s eyes weren’t hard or mocking, but quizzical, as they swept over her face. “Dunno how you got past me, Katie. I really don’t. I was ahead of you the whole time.”
    Katie managed a weak smile. “I sort of . . . had enough . . . of all that . . . death.” But when she caught the glint of sympathy in his eyes, she took a deep breath and countered more assertively: “The whole scene was, like, totally getting on my nerves, dude.” But she couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice.
    â€œCan’t say’s I blame you. Bleedin’ harsh in there, ’specially that last bit where the twist ’n’ swirl’s uterus was ripped out and mailed to the police.” He fixed her with another long stare. “ Hold on! Steady !” He put a hand gently on her shoulder.
    Katie glanced down. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel her teeth begin to chatter, though it wasn’t cold. Just the opposite. It felt like a furnace in here. What was it about that last victim that had bothered her . . . other than the fact that the girl had been butchered? Something about — But Katie couldn’t grasp whatever it was.
    â€œLet’s go, luv,” Toby urged. “You could use a hot cuppa. There’s a god-awful tea shop ’round about here somewhere with soupy little biscuits, but it’ll do the trick.”
    Taking her lightly by the elbow, he steered Katie past The Old