:: The Maiden Tribute ::Chapter Five Dana Scully stood at her bedroom window looking down upon the dead garden below. Her room, at the back of the large house was spacious, very dainty, and very much her mother’s ideal of decorating. Dana never felt at home here, but this morning, as the grey dawn slowly illuminated the still thick fog, she was grateful for its security. Last night she and Mulder had tried to make some sense out of Melissa Ephesian's strange tale. "Mulder, it just sounds so fantastic," Scully admonished as the cab turned off Regency Street, heading toward her home. "Do you really believe that the police would let something like that happen if they knew about it?" Mulder had been silent for a long while and once again Scully noted how his manner softened when he spoke of Melissa. "Scully, do you think she would make this up?" He leaned toward her and grasped her shivering hands in his feverish ones. "I can’t explain it, but I get this feeling when I look at her." He laughed at Scully’s raised eyebrow. "I know. Fox Mulder, cynical reporter. But, I believe her." He suddenly got up and sat next to her, not releasing his hold on her hands. "Now, Dr. Scully, kindly explain the look?" Scully stared at him in surprise. "What look, Mulder?" Gently, he prodded. "The look of understanding when Melissa mentioned the clinic and how ‘surely, you had heard the rumors’." Dana pulled her hands from his grasp and hugged herself tightly. She tried to get her thoughts in order before continuing, but it all came out in a rush. "Well, there is this woman…this prostitute…that started coming into the clinic over a month ago. Only she’s not like most of the women there. Her mannerisms and her speech are not coarse at all. I try not to pry into my patients’ home lives. They don’t appreciate my meddling and there’s nothing I can do about it, so unless the women or children are being beaten so badly that I fear for their lives I just treat them and give them what little advice that I can. Anyway, this woman, her name is Cassandra, is usually very polite and very diffident and she seems so kind. But, sometimes, she gets very agitated and wild-eyed. She says the most bizarre things to people, particularly the young wives and mothers that come in." Scully took a shuddering breath. "I’ve had to calm her quite forcefully sometimes. Tommy, you know that boy from the neighborhood who sort of adopted me, he is scared to death of her and she won’t go near him or any men while she’s at the clinic. In fact, I’ve seen her leave the clinic if a man is waiting to see me." Mulder softly interjected, "Sort of an odd attitude for a lady of the evening, isn’t it." Scully blushed. "There’s a lot that's odd about her, Mulder. One night, when I left rather later than I should have, I was rushing down the street and I saw her in an alley…and…and… well, she was being very…friendly…" her voice trailed off into embarrassed silence. "So what makes you think she wasn’t some maid that fell onto hard times?" "The things she says to the young women in the waiting area. She tells them to watch out or the men will come and get them and do to them what they did to her." Scully put her hands to her face wanting to cover her ears to keep the sound away, but she knew she would still hear the woman’s pleas and she repeated them now. "They stole me on my wedding day. They forced me to do horrible things and then he came and he…he…." She looked over at Mulder. "She never finishes but then I don’t think I want to hear the rest of it." Mulder gently took her hand into his again. "Do you know where to find her?" Scully nodded. "Tommy took her some laudanum once, so I have the address written down at the clinic." The cab came to a stop outside her house. Mulder gallantly jumped from the carriage and helped her down but, when he started to walk her up the steps, she shook her head and ran up to the door. He called out. "I’ll stop by the clinic tomorrow." She had rushed past the stern looking Foster and up to her room. Quickly donning her nightgown, she started to get into bed when hunger finally claimed her attention. Having not eaten since noon, she momentarily considered ringing for the upstairs maid, but that was just a passing thought as she threw on her robe and made her way down the back stairs to the pantry. She made a quick meal of some cheese and bread and finished a large glass of milk before going quietly back to her room. She paused outside Melissa’s door and raised her hand to knock, but shook her head and continued on her way. There was no use in worrying her sister. She and Missy used to talk all the time, but recently they had begun to grow more wary of each other. Missy had taken a decidedly spiritual turn in her life, as Dana had grown more and more pragmatic. Maggie Scully had started shaking her head and muttering about how she would die with no grandchildren at all because who would want to marry such strange girls. Sleep eluded Dana as she tossed and turned most of the night. She couldn’t get the images out of her head and finally, as the dark turned to an eerie gloom she got up and gazed out the window, contemplating what she and Mulder would need to do today. She knew that she would not let this go until she had some answers. Once she made up her mind that she would pursue this strange matter, it was like a burden was lifted from her. She yawned and crept back to her warm feather bed and instantly fell asleep. The soft tap at the door almost didn’t wake her. She felt drugged and woolen headed but managed to get her robe back on as the maid looked in and announced. "I drew the bath miss. Ya best hurry if you want to beat Miss Melissa to it." Scully smiled at the silly rivalry between the two of them. It wasn’t like there wasn’t enough water to go around. The maid kept bringing up hot buckets from the kitchen below, but whoever got to the fresh water first considered it a victory. Melissa had insisted that Dana was always dirtier than she was and sometimes, Melissa was right. But Dana had sponged off last night and this morning she wanted the luxury of soaking in the large claw foot tub before her sister got to it. She hurried down the hall and was just entering the room at the end of the corridor when she heard Melissa’s door open followed by her sister’s expletive, "Blast" when she realized that Dana had beaten her again. Breakfast was a cold stony affair. Maggie was still in a snit over her matchmaking scheme failing last night, and made several rude comments, but Dana ignored them all. She wanted to get to the clinic quickly this morning. She hoped she would see Cassandra there, as the prostitute was due for more laudanum after being absent for several days. Nearly six hours later, she had forgotten all about Cassandra and Mulder and Melissa Ephesian and maiden tributes. It had been a hectic day and she feared an epidemic was on the verge of breaking out. Pestilence in this part of London was an everyday concern. It was not unusual for people to die from being poisoned by filth from their neighbors’ privies. She treated ten cases of scarlet fever and one that she feared might be cholera. She sent Tommy with word to the Free Hospital to expect the cholera case as soon as the family could get the woman there; the small pox cases were sent home. They would either survive or not. She could have wept, but it would do no good, so instead she continued treating everyone that came in and then, finally around three, when there was a lull, she slumped into the small room she had set aside as her office and started writing her notes. The sandwich that appeared under her nose around five o’clock made her look up in wonder. "Mulder?" "Hello. I stopped by earlier but you seemed really busy. So I went out and found you some food and brought it back." He pulled the only other chair in the room up to her desk and sat down next to her. As she ate the cold roast beef, he told her everything that he had done that day. "I went down to Whitechapel today. Something’s going on. I saw lots of plainclothes police talking to people down there. When I asked what happened, the coppers shut up real quick but the plain folks were more than willing to talk. Of course they all told different stories. The best I can make out is that they found a woman dead. There were whispers and rumors that she was some governess but who’s was anybody’s guess, anyone from the Lord High Mayor to Bertie himself." "How did she get down there? And why did you go down there?" Scully asked between bites. "Well I couldn’t very well call on Miss Ephesian early in the day, now could I?" Mulder snipped. Scully’s eyebrow rose a millimeter before she remembered his background. "Since when do you follow the rules of society?" "Oh, Scully, I know the rules, I usually just ignore them." He picked a piece of roast beef that had fallen from the sandwich and plopped it into his mouth. "But, you want to know the most curious thing?" Scully waited, chewing patiently. She knew he wanted her to play Watson to his Holmes, but she really hadn’t liked "The Study in Scarlet" very much when Melissa had snuck it home. If fact she had only read it because she suspected that her mother would be furious with her for having done so. His hangdog expression finally got to her though and she conceded. "All right, Mulder, what was the most curious thing?" "Skinner himself was investigating the case." Mulder watched her expectantly. "Isn’t that the policeman that Miss Ephesian said investigated Georgina Taylor’s disappearance?" "Yes! Isn’t it remarkable?" Mulder’s grin of anticipation was short lived. Scully cleaned up the mess from her sandwich. "Why? Who is this Skinner?" "Sculleeeeeeee!" Mulder was incredulous. "He’s a Chief Superintendent. He only investigates top cases, and then only in a supervisory role. He was there last night. I saw him!" "So?" Mulder leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Don’t you see? Melissa said that Skinner investigated her friend’s death and nothing ever came of it. According to Melissa, by the time Skinner was done investigating, the official story damn near painted her as willing to go down there." Scully considered Mulder’s statement, trying to remember exactly what Miss Ephesian had said last night. From what she remembered the police investigation had turned up nothing. "What else did you learn today, Mulder?" Mulder sat back, pushing the chair until it rested on its two back legs, his head resting against the wall. "I heard lots of rumors and whispers. I talked to the people around the parsonage and folks down by Rev. Taylor’s church. Some are whispering that ‘good’ girls are being stolen right off the streets." Dana took a deep breath before asking. "So where do you want to start?" "I want to talk to Skinner." "Skinner? Why would he talk to you?" She countered. "Oh, we’ve met. I think he’ll talk to me." Mulder shook his head sadly, "Up until yesterday, I always thought he was a pretty straight forward man. But after listening to Melissa and the people today, I suspect that a lot of rich people may be putting pressure on him to keep it quiet." Mulder sat forward with a rattling bang. "Besides, he owes me a favor." "Well then, let me check out front and I’ll come with you. Are you sure he will be at his office? Where will we find him if he isn’t there? Do you think I should tell him about Cassandra?" Mulder held up his hand. "Slow down. I was going to stop by there now. You want to come? Then let’s go." They rode in silence through the early evening crowds, the cab making slow progress because of all the foot traffic. People dashed across the roads causing the horse to rear up or to stop dead in its tracks. Finally, right around 6:00, they stepped out in front of the cold stone edifice housing the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police Force. Mulder greeted several of the Bobbies by name and his greetings were returned enthusiastically. The officer behind the front desk waved Mulder through, mockingly. "’e’s upstairs in a foul mood, yer grace. I’m quite suar ‘e’ll be pleased to see ye, though." Scully asked in awe. "They just let you through, like that." Mulder smirked. "Oh, I know how to make friends when I have to, Scully." Just then another man lumbered down the stairs toward them. "Hello, Sergeant Doggett." John Doggett groaned when he saw Mulder. The two of them had never liked each other, ever since Mulder had written a series two years before, detailing several mysterious deaths that had occurred down by the docks, the bodies showing horrible marks around their necks. While Mulder never came out and insisted that the attackers had been vampires, he had laced his stories with ancient tales and the superstitions of the gypsies of the area. Fortunately, Doggett had found the murderer, not a vampire at all but a crazed ironsmith who used his clawed hammer to do the deeds. "What are you doin’ here, Mr. Mulder?" Mulder eyed his adversary warily. "I'm here to see Skinner. He busy?" Doggett growled. "He’s always busy, Mulder. But tonight, especially. Why don’t you come back later? Say, next year?" Mulder nudged Scully forward. "Oh, I’ve got some information about that little case down in Whitechapel." Doggett started for a moment. "Sure you do. Well don’t say I didn’t warn ya." He tipped his hat to Scully, "Miss," then began his descent again. Scully allowed Mulder to lead her down the long corridor. "Are you sure we should be here, Mulder?" she whispered loudly. Mulder grinned at her as he rapped on the oak door. "Skinner and I go way…" The door suddenly jerked open, Skinner standing there with his coat and hat on grimaced as soon as he saw Mulder. He was about to say something. But when he noticed the petite redhead standing next to Mulder he momentarily froze. Their eyes met for just a moment and Scully felt an unfamiliar jolt go through her. She swallowed, trying to identify the feeling but before she could pursue the thought he snarled. "What do you want, Mulder?" Scully was taken aback by the man’s rudeness and immediately stuck up for her friend. "Sir, we wanted to talk to you about a serious matter. However, I see we have caught you as you were leaving. Come on, Mulder, we’ll return later." She wanted to get as far away from this imposing man as she could. He was huge and overbearing and she didn’t like men like him at all. Mulder glanced quickly at Scully, surprised by her defensive demeanor. Ever since Mulder had buried the story of Skinner’s wife’s death in Paris, Skinner had been very wary around the reporter, always expecting a favor to be asked in return. Mulder had never planned on calling in the favor, but now to help Melissa he was prepared to do anything in his power. Moving forward just enough so that Skinner had to touch him or move back, the large man decided to retreat. "Oh no, miss, please do come in." The sarcasm covered his own strange reaction to the woman, which he immediately chalked up to extreme fatigue. "I haven’t slept in 48 hours, but I am sure that whatever Mr. Mulder has to say will be worth it, won’t it Mr. Mulder." He turned around and threw his hat and coat back on the tree behind the large desk. Scully studied him with a critical eye. Bald, but with a rich fringe of brown hair, his face was chiseled in cold lines. His shoulders were as broad as any she had seen on a fit man and his waist, even hidden by his impeccably tailored suit, appeared narrow, not fat, as was the fashion these days of ostentatious gluttony among the rich. She noticed that even crossing the crowded space between his desk and several filing cabinets, he moved with a grace unusual in men of his size and stature. Skinner sank wearily back into his chair and studied the woman before him as he motioned them to take seats in front of his desk. He had never been attracted to tiny women, knowing how silly they would look standing next to his bulk and height, but this tiny redhead intrigued him. She appeared to have none of the artifice that her class usually showed. Of course, the only real clue to her class was her refined and educated speech. She certainly wasn’t dressed in high fashion. Her grey modest suit fit her perfectly, but its simplicity suggested a churchwoman or a governess. <<<Oh lord, don’t let it be another governess.>>> Her red hair was beginning to come loose from her demure grey bonnet. The silk at her throat had become mussed and it appeared there were strange brownish spots on it. He focused on her face and was embarrassed that she was appraising him with the same intensity. Deep brown eyes met searing blue eyes for just a second, before they both quickly glanced at Mulder. The light from the street lamp below his window afforded the only illumination in the office until he switched on the one modern convenience in the building, a small green-glassed lamp. It did little to lighten the office, serving only to cast him further into shadow. He looked over at Mulder, cleared his throat and then leaned back, the light reflecting off the glass in his spectacles. "So Mulder, what brings you and…uhm…Miss…" Mulder turned to Scully, noting her narrowed eyes focused on the large man, "Oh, uhm, sorry, Dr. Scully, allow me to introduce Chief Superintendent Skinner." From the shadows Skinner gasped, "*Doctor* Scully?" Bristling, Scully snapped. "Yes, Doctor! Is there a problem?" Mulder was amused by the tension between the two, but he wanted to get on with the matter at hand. "Yes, Skinner. Doctor Scully runs a clinic down on Red Lion Court." He was surprised to hear a grunt of surprise. "Red Lion Court, Doctor. How well do you know, Miss Philydia Wells?" Skinner’s question was sharp. Scully was taken aback. "I’m sorry. Who?" Skinner leaned forward. "Come now, Doctor. If indeed you are truly a doctor. Surely you know who Miss Wells is. Surely you treated her mother, who lives at the other end of the court?" Scully looked over at Mulder, who interrupted. "What’s this all about Skinner? We came here to find out about Miss Georgina Taylor of Bishop’s Gate." Skinner tore his eyes from Scully and glared at Mulder. "Who?" Scully gasped. "Who? Georgina Taylor, daughter of Reverend Taylor whose disappearance you investigated." Skinner’s laugh was bitter. "I’m sorry, Doctor Scully, but you are confused. I rarely investigate anything personally, certainly not a case of a run away." Mulder looked at Scully and started to interrupt, but Scully jumped to her feet. "Runaway! You decided she was a runaway! How, if you didn’t investigate it?" Skinner sighed and picked up a pile of papers. "Because, madam, I read the reports of my officers and Detective Owens’ report states clearly that Georgina Taylor ran away to be with her boyfriend who turned out to be a rather disreputable man. I am sorry for the family, but Miss Taylor will just have to live with her choice." Scully leaned forward, her fists on the desk supporting her weight. "Miss Taylor hung herself after her family found her in a den of iniquity, screaming for help." Skinner had the grace to blush but kept his eyes locked on the angry woman. "As I said, I am sorry for the family, however, you haven’t answered my question. What do you know about Philydia Wells?" Scully sat back down in a huff. "Nothing. Who is she?" Skinner shrugged. "A governess. The governess of Lord Cavender, she went missing two weeks ago after visiting her mother in Red Lion Court. Do you know her or the mother, Doctor Scully?" Scully thought for a moment. So many people came through her office and didn’t leave a name. "I can look at my records, but I can tell you that I don’t remember her name." "And no one talked to you afterwards?" "No." She responded with some asperity. "I would remember the police asking questions. They are so seldom down there." Skinner spat back, "They are so seldom wanted down there, Doctor." Mulder shook his head. He had no idea why the two of them were going at it like cats and dogs but it wasn’t getting them anywhere. "Uhm, excuse me. Could we at least see the reports that Detective Owens filed?" Skinner stood. "No, Mr. Mulder you may not. Those are police records, not research documents for reporters. Now if you will excuse me, I want to get home to my bed before midnight for once." Scully glared up at him and thought for a moment to stay seated. <<<Insufferable prig!>>> Mulder stood and gently reached out his hand, but the look on her face made him drop it to his side. "Come on Scully, we will check out other sources." Looking over at Skinner as the man donned his coat and hat again he added, "maybe we’ll check out this Miss Wells too." Skinner snapped. "It’s official police business, Mulder. Stay out of it." Mulder quirked his lip in a small half smile. "Well then, Chief Superintendent, that makes it the public’s right to know, doesn’t it." Scully had risen and was already out the door before either man could open it for her. She marched down the hall, huffing in anger. "Hey, Scully, hold up." Mulder grabbed her elbow as he caught up to her. "Are you going to tell him about Cassandra?" Scully glared up at Mulder. "No. I don’t trust him." They were down the steps and out the door before he could talk to her again. "Great Gods, Scully! What just happened up there?" Scully rounded on him. "Look, do what you want, but he’s lying. Why would Melissa make up a story about Skinner investigating the crime? What is he hiding? And did you see the way he was looking at me? He thinks I’m lying about that Wells woman!" Bemused, Mulder watched her stomp down the street, looking for a hansom cab. <<<Oh, I saw the way he was looking at you Scully and it had nothing to do with either woman.>>> He shook his head and raced to catch up with her. "Look, you had a long day today. Can I buy you some dinner and then we can talk this out further?" A cab pulled up and Scully allowed Mulder to open the door for her. "I can’t. I have to get home. Mother will rage if I miss dinner two nights in a row. Would you like to dine with us?" Mulder considered it for a moment. "No, I better not. Your mother hates me." "Mulder, she doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t want me to marry you." Scully absentmindedly admonished before she realized what she had said. "I-I-I mean…" Mulder patted her hand. "I know Scully. Does she have someone picked out for you yet?" Scully blushed. "She brought a gentleman to the house last night. He seemed nice enough, Mr. Barrington. Though I’m sure he thinks I’m too rude after snubbing them both to go to the meeting with you last night." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I haven’t had the heart to tell her I have no intention of ever marrying." Mulder laughed. "Never?" The serious look on her face sobered him. "Never. Why should I?" Equally serious now he responded. "Don’t you want children? I’ve seen you with the children at the clinic and you would be a great mother." Blushing to her red roots now she sat back in the carriage. "It’s too late for all that now Mulder. Besides, I have my work and that’s what’s important." Staring out the window into the cold night, the fog not nearly as heavy tonight as last, she allowed her thoughts to take their own path and was surprised to find she was remembering the deep brown eyes of Chief Superintendent Skinner. Fearful of where such thoughts were taking her she quickly looked over at Mulder and found him looking at her with some concern. "What will you do about Melissa Ephesian?" It was Mulder’s turn to blush before carefully wording his reply. "I shall call upon Miss Ephesian tomorrow. I also want to talk to Mrs. Stanhope. Perhaps she will be able to shed some light on the situation. Across town, Walter Skinner sat back in his own cab and considered the strange conversation he had just had. It made no sense. Doggett had scoured Red Lion Court. He couldn’t believe he had missed Doctor Scully? ‘Doctor’ Scully! How very strange he mused. A woman doctor. Must be some kind of… Of what? He sat and considered the feisty, petite woman and her incredible blue eyes that had managed to capture his imagination. Was she lying or had Doggett just missed her? He sighed and thought to turn the cab toward Camden Town where Doggett lived with his wife and three children, but decided that the man deserved an evening with his family. He would ask tomorrow. And he would re-read Detective Owens’ report on the Taylor girl for good measure. The similarities of the case were suggestive, particularly after what Doggett and he had discovered in their interviews with the women in the house and around the neighborhood. Everyone they had talked to insisted that Philydia Wells had come to the whorehouse willingly. "Lor’ gov’ner. She took to it like she really enjoyed it she did. Like a bleedin’ duck to water," insisted the pretty, blond who said her name was Marita. "Just Marita, luv." She had eyed Skinner hungrily, licking her lips. "H’its my place ya see. I take in the girls, gif’em a nice place, where ta work, sorta speek, an they jus pays me a lil cut, doncha know." Skinner sighed. He could have run her in. But what good would it do him. He was surprised that she admitted owning the place and made a mental note to get Doggett to check the city records to see if they could find the real owner of the building. He trudged up to his cold, empty apartment. Not bothering to eat, he washed off and climbed into bed. He shouldn't have been surprised when his last thoughts before sleep turned to the image of Doctor Scully's red hair and blue eyes.
:: Chapter 6 :: Fox Mulder climbed the steps to the Ephesian mansion on Regency Street and knocked on the large door. The butler stood at the threshold and eyed the man suspiciously. Mulder knew the rules and had dressed in a conservative morning suit that his father would have approved of instead of his usual flashier garb that was expected of a newspaper reporter - wide tie and floppy hat. He held out his card and announced that he had an important appointment with Miss Melissa Ephesian. The butler stared at him coldly, and then reluctantly showed him into the morning room, bright and airy, the furnishings done in soft flowery patterns. The room was chilly as the fire had not yet been made and the heavy damask curtains were tied open. Fresh flowers rested in gorgeous vases on three tables, huge hothouse blooms that obviously came from the greenhouse that Mulder could see out in back. Mulder was watching a large marmalade cat stalk a bird across the snow- covered lawn, when he heard the door open. He turned around with an expectant smile on his face only to find an imposing, very upset looking man standing there, his hand still on the brass doorknob. While his elegant clothes were impeccable and his silver white hair neatly combed, he looked as though he hadn’t slept all night; his eyes red-rimmed, his jaw clenched. His voice was gruff and raspy. "I understand you wish to see my daughter?" Mulder nodded. "Yes, sir." Ephesian didn’t move. "I uhm…I escorted her home two nights ago and I promised I would call upon her." When Ephesian shuddered, Mulder took a step toward him. "Sir, is anything wrong?" Ephesian shook his head. "No. But Melissa is ill in bed and cannot be disturbed." Mulder knew the man was lying, but short of fighting his way past God knew how many male servants he had no choice but to accept the man’s refusal. "I see. Well, if you would give her my regards, I would appreciate it." Ephesian nodded curtly and held the door for him. Mulder took in several details as he walked through the grand foyer, most notably, several of the maids had managed to find themselves dusting or walking through the room and they unabashedly studied him. He noticed that these same maids all looked extremely frightened and one even looked teary eyed. When the door was firmly shut behind him, Mulder ran down the steps and up the street until he came to a narrow passageway between two houses. He made his way down to the back courtyard of a mansion two doors down from Ephesian’s. Ducking through the back gate he found himself on the muddy alleyway behind the houses, and in a vastly different world from Regency Street. Here the business of running the household was conducted. He watched the comings and goings for several minutes until he spotted someone who might be of assistance. The tall boy couldn’t have been more than 12 or 13 but he pulled a large cart containing what little fresh fruits and vegetables his master could get his hands on this time of year. Mulder showed the boy a shilling and walked with him a way, gently prodding him for information. What he heard turned his blood cold. According to the grocer’s boy, the scullery maid had been nearly hysterical. Melissa Ephesian had left the house last night and hadn’t returned. The boy said that several of the male staff were out hunting for her, but no one was quite sure on where to look. Mulder left the boy and returned to Regency Street, desperately trying to figure out what to do. He thought at first to go to Skinner, but after last night’s disastrous meeting he was hesitant to seek out the Chief Superintendent again. Instead he made his way down the road, his head down, pondering his next step. He hailed a cab and as he climbed in shouted up to the driver, "Bishop’s Gate." :: :: ::
Walter Skinner had not slept well at all. His dreams were a mixture of horror and screams and red hair and blue eyes. Fleeting glimpses of odd memories that he couldn’t possess flitted across his subconscious robbing him of any benefit of what little sleep he did get. The result being he was more surly than anyone could remember. Constables took one look at his stony continence and fled in the other direction. Only Doggett had the courage to approach him at all and then only to bring him the preliminary autopsy reports on the governess. Skinner sat in his chair, his back to the desk and the door, staring out the window into the snowy February sky. Doggett placed the report on Skinner’s desk, and turned hastily to leave the room when Skinner’s bark halted his progress. "Get me the report on Georgina Taylor." Doggett turned back to face his boss who had turned his chair to face his desk once more. "Sir?" "Are you having trouble hearing, Sergeant Doggett?" Skinner growled. "Uhm…No, sir. I just wanted to make sure I understood. Georgina Taylor?" "Yes, Mr. Doggett. Detective Owens wrote the initial report." Skinner snapped. "Then perhaps, Detective Owens should continue the investigation," a soft, oily voice from the doorway interjected. Doggett turned in surprise and Skinner’s eyes grew round with amazement. Both men watched in silence as The Assistant to the Home Secretary, Lord Charles Spender stood in the doorway next to a very silent and pale Lord Cavender. Skinner stood quickly and came around his desk. "Lord Spender, Lord Cavender, please come in." He looked over at Doggett and jerked his head towards the door. As Doggett closed the door behind him, Skinner turned back to his guests. He was unaware that Cavender knew Spender but he did know that Spender made him extremely nervous. As he returned to his chair, Spender pulled out a silver case and lit a foul smelling cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into the room. He studied the Chief Superintendent for a long time before asking, "Have you solved the case of Miss Wells, Mr. Skinner?" Skinner forced himself to meet Spender’s cold gaze and shook his head. "No. We found the body last night and I just now received the preliminary report from Sergeant Doggett. I haven’t even had a chance to read it yet…sir." Taking another long drag on his cigarette Spender asked smoothly, "then why are you concerning yourself with other files…Mr. Skinner?" Skinner leaned back in his chair. He didn’t like this man, but he was powerful and he could make life difficult. "Why are you here, your Lordship?" Spender reached over and put his cigarette out in the small ashtray that Skinner never used. "I am here with Lord Cavender to make sure that you understand that this case is your priority. Leave everything else, everything, you understand, to your subordinates. Do I need to go to the Commissioner, Mr. Skinner?" Skinner dropped his eyes to the report, fighting to control his anger. He managed to politely ask, "and if Miss Taylor’s case shows similarities to Miss Wells?" Spender stood and after a moment, so did Cavender. "You have your directions, Mr. Skinner, leave everything else to your subordinates. Miss Taylor’s disappearance has nothing to do with Miss Wells." Skinner snapped, "you are aware of Miss Taylor then?" Cavender was already out in the hallway. Spender turned to glare at Skinner for a long moment. "There are many things I am aware of, Mr. Skinner. Find the murderer of Miss Wells. Leave Miss Taylor to Mr. Owens." He closed the door very quietly. Skinner stared glumly at the autopsy report in front of him. He suspected that it would not reveal anything that he didn’t already know. Miss Wells had been strangled at some point between 10 and 20 hours before someone had hoisted her up onto that chandelier. He was still staring at the folder when a timid voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir, do you still want the file on the Taylor woman?" Skinner looked up to find Doggett standing in his doorway. Skinner met Doggett’s look and nodded. "Sit for a moment, Mr. Doggett. Oh, and close the door." Once Doggett was settled, Skinner opened the sparse file and reread the sad tale that Owens spun. Muttering to himself, he quickly scanned the pertinent parts again. "Last seen by her father after telling him about sick parishioner. Family sought help of their MP, Lord Ephesian who called us in. Detective Owens sent to investigate and after a few inquiries turned up a boyfriend." Skinner leafed through the sheets quickly and then carefully scanned the report again. He looked up at Doggett. "The boyfriend’s name is missing." Doggett quirked an eyebrow. Skinner resumed reading the report. "According to Owens, he spent the better part of three weeks checking records at Gretna Green and the registry office. He further states that he had reports from the next door neighbors that the girl was late coming in several nights running and that she and her family had a huge row over it." Doggett shrugged. "Not an unheard of story, sir. Strict family. Young girl gets paid a little attention by the wrong sort and the next thing ya know, she’s run off." Skinner leaned back in his chair. "But why would Owens tell them he was me?" Doggett brow furrowed. "S’cuse me, sir?" Skinner removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "According to Mulder, Miss Ephesian told him that a Mr. Skinner investigated the disappearance." Doggett thought for a moment and weakly suggested, "perhaps Miss Ephesian was confused and misunderstood…" Skinner sat forward and sighed. "Yes, yes…John. I want you to get down to Bishop’s Gate. Talk to the people around the Taylor’s. Then go see Miss Ephesian. But, for God’s sake, man. Keep a low profile." Skinner rubbed his chin and considered his defiance of Spender. <<<Well, I had better concentrate on the Wells woman and leave Miss Taylor to my subordinate.>>> he thought wryly and smirked. :: :: ::
John Doggett trudged down the steps. He had no idea what was wrong with Skinner, but he had picked up on the tension the man was feeling and decided that it wasn’t such a bad thing to be away from the boss for a day. He reached the main street down from Scotland Yard and hopped an omnibus heading toward Bishop’s Gate. An hour later he was thoroughly confused. He talked to the neighbors and several shop owners on the street and the picture of Miss Georgina Taylor was nothing like the one painted in Owens’ report. Not one person he talked to mentioned a boyfriend or indeed any men at all who called at the parsonage or paid the shy retiring young lady any untoward attention at church. He talked to Mrs. Mecham who lived across the lane, "Oh. She were a good girl she were. Orways wif’ the nice word, doncha know. A real lady that’n. When me mum wore struck wif’ def last ‘ear, ‘er’n er ma wore right there fer us. Neh’va a bit’o trouble were ‘er." When asked if she ever saw Miss Taylor with a boyfriend, Mrs. Mecham scoffed. "’er! Yer daft, now. She wer’nefa do that, now would she. Not wif ‘er mum ‘n da. She were right responsible like." Doggett rubbed his hands over his face after he left Mrs. Mecham. He decided that he needed to talk to the parents and steeled himself. He had heard what Mulder claimed Miss Ephesian had said and he hated to intrude on their grief but there was nothing for it. He took a deep steadying breath and started across the street. Just as he reached the small white gate, the door to the cottage opened and he stood in stunned anger as Fox Mulder stepped down from the threshold. He heard the reporter say in a soothing tone, "thank you for your time, Mrs. Taylor. Again, I am sorry for your loss." Mulder turned and ran right into John Doggett. "Well, I’m glad to see that the police are finally taking an interest in this case." Doggett thought the man looked frazzled and very worried. "It’s a police matter, Mr. Mulder. Now if you will excuse me, I need to talk to Mrs. Taylor." Mulder stepped between Doggett and Mrs. Taylor. "Leave her be, Doggett. I’ll tell you everything she said." Doggett looked at the reporter in shock. "You’re kiddin’ me right. Take your word for anything? Go find a vampire to tell it to, Mr. Mulder." Suddenly a thin voice called out. "Who are you?" Doggett nudged past Mulder. "Mrs. Taylor. I’m Detective Sergeant Doggett of Scotland Yard. I’m here…" Mrs. Taylor cut him off. "Oh! Like that nice Mr. Skinner. I was just remarking to Mr. Mulder, how much he looks like Mr. Skinner." Doggett jerked around and saw the smirk on Mulder’s face. Walter Skinner stood perhaps a inch taller than Mulder, was broader in the shoulders by half again and anyone who had seen Skinner’s bald pate in even the dimmest light would never have mistaken the two men. He roughly grabbed Mulder by the upper arm and dragged him back to the doorway. "Mrs. Taylor, I won’t keep you long. I just want to be clear on one thing. A man, calling himself Mr. Skinner, came by and interviewed you regarding your daughter’s disappearance? Mrs. Taylor nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. He was a very helpful young man. Said the yard would do everything they could in finding my daughter. But, of course, it was too late. We had already lost her." Tears rose in her eyes. "The bad men had already stolen her and done evil things to her." Tears spilled down her face. As she started to close the door in his face, she whispered. "I’m sorry, you’ll have to come back later." Doggett turned away from the door and studied Mulder for a long moment. "Come with me." Mulder fell into step next to Doggett. "Where are we going?" Doggett ground out, "just do me a favor. Shut up until we get there?" After riding in silence on the omnibus back to headquarters, Doggett pulled Mulder across the street and the two of them stood quietly and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, Mulder grew impatient, unable to stand the silence any longer. He stepped in front of Doggett and demanded, "what are we doing here, Sergeant?" Doggett ignored his companion's question and then suddenly stiffened. "Turn around naturally and look at the man, coming down the stairs, the one with his hat in his hand." Mulder stooped down and pretended to tie his shoe before standing and turning in one fluid motion. He immediately spotted the man. While no one who knew them both would ever mistake one for the other, a general description could easily fit both the reporter and the police detective strolling down the stairs. "Who is he?" Mulder whispered. Doggett grunted. "Well, according to Mrs. Taylor, that’s Walter Skinner." Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I had her describe him too. So who is it really?" Doggett made to walk away from Mulder, but this time it was the reporter who grabbed the cop by the upper arm. "Who…is…it?" Doggett looked first at the hand holding his arm and then into Mulder’s eyes. He saw determination and something else. Making a quick decision that he hoped he wouldn’t regret he sighed and answered. "That, Mr. Mulder, is Detective Thomas Owens." Pulling away from Mulder’s grasp, Doggett headed away from the Yard. "Come on, I don’t want him to see either one of us." They walked quickly back down the street until they reached Picadilly. Mulder kept his silence for a bit and then demanded. "All right. What was that all about? Why didn’t we just go talk to him?" Doggett sighed. "Look Mulder. I want to go talk to this Miss Ephasian. See what our phony Mr. Skinner said to her." The look on Mulder’s face stopped him. "What? What’s happened?" Mulder whispered. "The grocer’s boy said the scullery maid told him Melissa has been missing since last night." Doggett stared at Mulder for a long moment before grinding out through clenched teeth. "Stay here. Don’t move. If you’re not standing here when I get back out, I’ll track you down and make you wish for damn vampires." With that he dashed across the street and up the steps. A few moments later he was back, a look of bewilderment on his face. "Are you sure the grocer’s boy didn’t get it wrong?" Mulder shrugged. "I don’t think so. No. Why?" "Because, no one has reported Miss Ephesian missing." "Well, you know how the rich like to keep things to themselves. You want to talk to the scullery maid?" Doggett thought for a while and then nodded. "Yeah, yeah I do. Let’s go." :: :: ::
Dana Scully saw six more small pox cases, all of them children. She advised the parents to find fresh water and keep the children inside and sent them home. She looked around the waiting room and found that only three more women were left to be seen, all of them with facial bruises and lacerations. <<<So much for keeping the Sabbath holy>>> she thought bitterly, as she cleaned their wounds and kept her tears inside. This task completed, she was able to turn to her records and drink some strong tea that Tommy had brewed for her over the small gas ring in the back. She sat back and studied young Tommy who was busily sweeping up the rough wooden floor just outside her door. At first he had seemed a rough and wild boy, like the rest of the children that grew up so fast down here, but it turned out that Tommy had a soft spot for her. When several of the boys had taunted her those first weeks, she noticed that he stood off and watched. It seemed to her that he was testing her somehow and evidently she had passed, because after the two weeks of walking the gauntlet of sneering boys, one day Tommy had met her at the entry of the passageway and walked with her to the clinic. That was the last time anyone had ever bothered her. Tommy Riley was a rarity on the block. Both his mother and his father were still alive and still living together in the same cramped room along with their four children and the occasional boarder. Mr. Riley was a brick mason who was regularly employed. Mrs. Riley took care of the building they lived in, scrubbing the floor and keeping the place reasonably clean. Tommy, like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood, worked whatever odd jobs he could until his father could get him in the masons’ guild. Scully paid Tommy a shilling a week for sweeping up and running errands. She suspected that he would probably do it for free. Her paperwork finished, she closed up shop as Tommy blew out the candles. She had planned on going straight home but she paused as she locked the door and turned to the teenager who already stood a good 6 inches taller than she did. "Tommy?" "Yes, Doctor Scully." Tommy voice had finally settled down and it seldom cracked anymore, but the boy took pride in his keen ear and yearned to improve his speech. "Do you remember Cassandra? You took laudanum to her once." Scully turned and studied the encroaching fog and decided it would be very light tonight, as clear as it got in London in February. "I remember, Doctor." "Could you take me there now?" "Now!" Tommy was clearly shocked. Scully smiled. "Yes, Tommy. Now. I want to see how she’s doing…and I want to talk to her about something." Visibly agitated, Tommy’s East London roots sprang up and reclaimed their turf. "Wha’ca wanna ask ‘er? Ya ken wha time i’tis?" Scully tucked her arm inside of his. "Oh come now, Mr. Riley. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe with you. Besides, it’s only a little after four." Tommy let his pride get the better of him and gave in. "Very good, Doctor. I’ll walk wif ya. But’cha know I’m stayin wif ya while we’re there." Scully smiled. "Well, of course, kind sir." Tommy led her through a maze of rabbit warren like streets, each one leading to a block of buildings more dilapidated than the last; several leaning precariously, overhanging the streets. After two years, Scully had learned what passed for the rules of etiquette down here and listened carefully for the calls of ‘watch out’ and ‘pot’. They scurried expertly around, thus avoiding being splashed with the foul refuse of the chamber pots being unceremoniously dumped from the second, third and even fourth stories of the decaying buildings, many of which were less than 30 years old. So shoddily constructed, they looked older than many of the more ancient buildings in the neighborhood. Eventually they arrived at a rundown, red brick building, the mortar flaking badly from the cracks, several windows covered by heavy waxed or even newspaper instead of glass. Tommy gingerly helped her step across the over-flowing gutter in front of the steps, and then pushed open the unlocked door. They stood in a dank little vestibule, the inside door hanging open. Scully’s eyes watered from the smell and she pulled out a small lace handkerchief and held it to her nose. Tommy suggested kindly, "you want to wait down here while I see if she’s sober enough to talk to you, Doctor?" Scully shook her head. "No, Tommy, lead the way." They climbed up two stories and Scully was certain the rickety stairs wouldn’t hold even her scant weight. Tommy led her down the dark hallway, paused in front of the second door and then lightly rapped and waited until they heard a faint. "Go away. I’m sick." He called out. "H’its Tommy Riley, Mz. Cassandra. I brung Doctor Scully wif me." They waited for a moment and then they could hear the faint shuffle through the flimsy door. They heard a lock being thrown and Scully thought that it was probably completely useless. She was prepared for the sight of the prostitute but it took all her self-control to keep from gasping none the less. Cassandra’s eyes were red rimmed and rhummy. Her hair hadn’t been brushed in days and the thin shawl did nothing to hide or warm her thin shoulders. Dana pushed past Tommy and entered the freezing room. While smaller than her little office back at the clinic, the fact that Cassandra lived here alone spoke volumes concerning the prostitute’s financial wealth. In this neighborhood, such a room would normally house whole families and sometimes a border or two. She shuddered and looked at the small cold stove standing in the corner. She pulled out her pocketbook and extracted several shillings and handed them to Tommy. "Go buy some coal." Tommy balked. "Now, Doctor, I said I wouldn’t leave you here." Scully’s determined look stopped him and he sighed. "Very good, Doctor. Just promise me, you won’t do nuffink stoopid." Scully hustled him out the door and threw the bolt, know full well a child of ten could still kick it open. She turned back to Cassandra and pulled a worn quilt from the bed and wrapped it around the shivering woman’s shoulders. "Sit Cassandra, let me take a look at you." A spasm of coughing shook the woman as she allowed Scully to lead her to the only chair in the room. A surprisingly comfortable overstuffed chair, probably the spoils from a really generous customer or an unlucky one. Tommy returned in shortly, the coal hod in one hand and a steamy can of soup in the other. "I found the soup man a block away and though it were a good idea." Scully’s smile warmed his heart, and they boy blushed in pride. "Excellent, Tommy, I should have thought of it myself." Looking around she spotted a small bowl and spoon in the corner and poured a bit into it before holding it out to the woman who had settled back into the chair and was watching the doctor warily. After Cassandra took the bowl and began lifting the spoon unsteadily to her lips, Scully looked up at Tommy. "Go keep watch outside. If any…uhm…gentlemen come to the door, tell them Miss Cassandra is not feeling well." Tommy nodding and took a position outside the door. Scully turned back to the prostitute and poured more of the broth into the bowl. After Cassandra had finished the last drop, Scully brought out the bottle of laudanum to show her. Cassandra’s eyes lit up but fell when Scully put it out of reach on the table. "In a moment Cassandra, but first I need to talk to you." Cassandra’s face closed and her eyes started to dart around the room. Scully crouched down next to her and grabbed her cold, bony hands. "Cassandra, please. Look at me. I need you to tell me about the bad men." Cassandra tried to jerk her hands away but Scully hung on tightly. "Cassandra, please. Tell me your story." For a long time Cassandra’s eyes flitted around the room but suddenly she collapsed back into the chair and met Scully’s kind gaze. "Bring me another blanket off the bed." Scully eyed her but reached back and managed to snag the small knitted lap throw and tucked it in around the thin woman’s legs. Cassandra closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Why do you want to know? There’s nothing you can do." Scully shifted and sat back on her heels. "Why do you say that? The police…" Cassandra croaked. "The police! Lord, you think they don’t know about it. He’s been here, you know." Scully wanted to run away, but forced herself to ask. "Who’s been here? Mr. Skinner?" Cassandra started to nod Scully could have screamed but this wasn’t anything new down here. She felt oddly relieved that Skinner wasn’t part of it. But then she realized he could still have a hand in this, perhaps even, collecting his cut from Spender. She shivered at the idea, but pulled her thoughts back to the task at hand. "Cassandra, tell me about how you came to be down here." Cassandra looked at her warily. "I pay my rent. I…" Scully took Cassandra’s hand again. "No. I know you pay your rent. And I know how you pay your rent and it’s all right. But you don’t belong down here." Trying another track, she asked gently. "Tell me about when you were a little girl." Cassandra closed her eyes and smiled. The story came quietly but firmly. It could have been Scully’s mother’s story. A well-to-do family, summers in Bath, even a trip to Paris when she turned 18. Scully knew immediately when the story started to turn ugly, she felt the prostitute’s body stiffen, the voice roughen. "Daddy brought him home. He was such a nice man. A little older than me, but he was so handsome, thick black hair, smooth voice. Very good family, titled you know. He was only the second son, but he had prospects. We were engaged and the wedding was set. I was so happy. Getting fitted for my wedding gown. We were going back to Paris for our honeymoon. All my friends were so jealous." Cassandra fell silent, her eyes closed, her ragged breathing the only sound in the now warming room. Dana thought back on all the times that Cassandra had railed at the young women in the clinic and reached out her other hand to smooth the messy hair form Cassandra’s brow. "Tell me about your wedding day," she gently prompted. Cassandra sat up, seized by the memory, she grabbed both of Scully’s hands painfully. "They came up to me on the street. Two of them. I was walking back from the stalls on Picadilly and they shoved me into a carriage. No one was around. I-I-I was out later than I should have been, but it was still light out. I don’t remember what they did to me but I smelled this awful sweet smell and the next thing I know I was waking up in a horrid, wretched room. They had me tied to the bed and and and and, I was naked. I was so scared and cold. And thirsty and hungry and scared and cold and and and." Scully freed one of her hands and brushed the tears from Cassandra’s face. She made to get up, but Cassandra grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her close. "No, I want to tell you. No one believes me but I want to tell you. They did awful things to me. They touched me and poked me and then they sent in these two girls who laid down next to me and they kissed me and petted me and made me feel…" Her voice trailed off and suddenly she couldn’t meet Scully’s eyes anymore. She pushed Scully away and stood up. Kicking the blankets aside, Cassandra walked to the window and looked down on the alley below. When she continued, Scully had to stand beside her to hear the whisper. "They kept me there for three weeks, I think. Every morning, they would bring me a little food and water and then they would send in the women who would wash me and touch me and invade me with their lips and their tongues and their fingers and they made me feel awful things, wonderful things. You can’t image the feel of it. I began to crave their touch, even though every time they came in I knew men were watching. Then one day they took the chains off me and only one woman came in and said if I touched her the way that they had touched me, then I could go home." Scully wanted to take the woman into her arms and hold her but something kept her still. "What did you do?" She could see the tears streaming down Cassandra’s face. "I did what she told me to. It was wicked and I knew I was doomed and I did it. After she left they left me alone. They even gave me a robe, but the door was still locked. The next morning no one came but a maid who brought a hip bath and told me to wash myself. I ate alone and I didn’t see anybody all day except for the maid again who brought in lunch. She returned around suppertime and she brought in a pile of clothes and told me to get dressed. Only they weren’t proper clothes at all. There was a red corset and black stockings and garter belt and a loose fitting robe. But I put them on and waited. I thought the women would come back and we would do something new and they did, only they led me from the room and down stairs. They took me past these tables full of men and then onto a raised stage. There was a spot light there and they sat me on this bed and began kissing me, and touching me and I could hear the men breathing and glasses tinkling and I just closed my eyes and let it happen. It was funny, because I didn’t seem to mind. I felt all pleasant and tingling inside. I didn’t find out for a long time that they had put something in the food. Something to relax me. I opened my eyes when I realized that I was naked and alone on the stage. I started to get up when this man walked onto the stage and I saw that he was naked too. I had never seen a naked man before and I know I should have been scared but I guess the drug just made me feel numb but tingly all over you know?" Scully gulped and tried to say something but she couldn’t. She wanted to run from the room, run down the stairs and all the way back home. She wanted to hide in her room for the rest of her life, but she nodded and whispered. "You-you don’t have to tell me anymore." Cassandra continued as if Scully hadn’t spoken. "He pushed me down on the bed and began to kiss me like the women had done. It felt different and I didn’t like it and I tried to struggle and he laughed at me. He kissed my breasts and pinched them hard and it hurt but it felt so good too then he kissed me further down and licked me and jammed his tongue deep in me until I almost lost consciousness from the sensations. Then, just as I was coming back down he raised up and plunged into me with his shaft, it was so long and it hurt so bad that I cried out and do you know what happened then?" Scully wasn’t sure she answered, "No." All the men in the room applauded and shouted and yelled. They threw money at the stage and clapped as the man kept plunging into me, hurting me but making me feel all tingling again and then I did pass out." Cassandra turned from the window and studied the red head. "When I woke up I was back in my room, and I saw my fiancé standing there. I thought for a moment it was all a dream, but he began to take off his clothes and he told me what a good job I had done and how proud of me he was. He told me he had made more money off of me than any other woman he had brought to the club. Then he got into bed with me and made me roll over and he he he…." Her voice finally ran out. Scully sat on the bed in shock. "Your fiancé did that to you? How could any one do such a thing." Cassandra smiled a little smile. "It’s easy when you are evil." Tears streamed down Scully’s face. "What did you do? Did you go back to your home?" Cassandra snapped. "Don’t be ridiculous. Would you have? What choice did I have? They used me. For two years they did unspeakable things to me and paid me money and kept me in a nice set of rooms and you know what? I grew to like it." At the shocked look on Scully’s face the prostitute threw back her head and roared. "Liked it! Do you hear me? It wasn’t like it is now, with every bloody Tom, Dick and Harry thrusting his puny little pecker into me, pumping until they get off! I was beautiful then and young! Oh! The things we did. The things we did. The things…" Her voice trailed off and she hung her head and sat back on the chair and sobbed. Scully rose and unsteadily reached for her bag. She took out the bottle of laudanum and put it on the table. Scully studied Cassandra for a long time and then pulled a five-pound note from her purse and put it on the table. When the whore went to reach for it she grabbed it back. "Where is this club?" Cassandra sneered at her. "Why? You’re going to go down there? Do you know who goes there? You will never get in. Only men get in. Only powerful men get in. Ones that know the password." Scully held up the note. "Where is the club and what is the password?" Cassandra began to laugh. "Fine, Doctor Scully. See what you want. You might find you like it too. The Hellfire Club is on Green Street down by the docks. When the door man opens the door you need to say the password." Scully held out the note, but didn’t let go. Cassandra met her stern gaze and whispered. "Brimstone." Scully left the weeping woman. She stormed down the stairs, Tommy close on her heels. Her fury was palatable. Tommy took the lead to guide her back through the maze of passageways. She had been right about one thing. The fog was sparse tonight. Thin gray fingers floated about her clattering feet. The street lamps of Grove Street finally illuminated their passage. Two men, already drunk at this early hour approached her, but whether it was Tommy’s presence or her furious visage, they changed their minds and stumbled off in the opposite direction. When they reached the clinic, Scully’s plan was already firm in her mind. She smiled up at Tommy, keeping her voice as normal as she could. "Thank you Tommy." She pulled a half crown from her pocket. "I’ve got some paperwork I want to collect. You don’t have to wait." Tommy shuffled his feet. "Oh, its no problem, Doctor." Gently, she reached up and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Go home, Tommy. Your mother will worry and I’ve gone home alone later than this." She could see that Tommy wasn’t happy, but she pushed him gently toward home. When he turned the corner, she entered the clinic, lighting first the candle by the door, then the gas jets, making her way to the back room, where she knelt before a large wooden box from under a window. Missy and Father McCue had dropped the used clothes off for Dana to distribute to the poor. When she found what she needed she rose and went to search the surgery until she found a roll of heavy bandages and quickly stripped.
:: :: ::Walter Skinner had finally been able to leave headquarters after attending several impromptu meetings, none of which had anything to do with finding the killer of Philydia Wells. If he didn’t know better he would swear that the gods had conspired against him this day. Owens had dozens of annoying questions, and in exasperation Skinner had ordered the smarmy detective out of his sight. He wasn’t sure what it was about Owens but he felt very uncomfortable around the man. He was too pretty, too smooth and always ready with a quick answer or an excuse as to why he didn’t do what was needed. It was nearly 9:30 by the time he reached Red Lion Court. He wanted to talk to Mrs. Wells and her neighbors and, while it was late, he felt he had a good chance of catching most of them at home. He noticed the small sign across the way, the staff with the intertwined snakes proclaiming the purpose of the business. He was surprised to see the lights still on and he decided to try and mend the bridges he managed to burn this morning with Doctor Scully. As he started to cross the street, he saw the lights darken and the door swing open. He was surprised to see a boy of medium height leave the building and lock the door. He watched as something niggled at the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out what. Instinct forced him to turn and watch as the boy made his way down the street. It wasn’t until the lad paused under a streetlight and adjusted his cap and a long strand of hair fell out, the deep red glowing like fire in the gaslight, that Skinner realized that the boy walked like a girl! His eyes grew wide as he tried to figure out why Doctor Scully was dressed in men’s clothing. Home :: X-Files Index :: e-mail |