When the Spider Strikes

A cloudless sky covered the ocean. The full moon floated among the stars, a luminous centerpiece accented by the spots of light. Nolaton City’s skyline cut into that beauty where it curved around the coast, the sharp edges of fifty-story buildings stabbing into the night.

Officer Katherine Dell had lived in the city for a decade, but she was still unnerved by the commotion. Cars honked constantly, even now in the middle of the night. Smog billowed up from the sewers. Newfangled neon signs blinked from the windows of shops and restaurants with hypnotic requests to buy their goods. Eat a hamburger. Drink an old-fashioned. See a picture show. Most nights, the barrage left her dizzy. At least tonight the colorful pleas of downtown flashed from a distance.

She leaned against the brick wall of a seafood processing plant. Streetlamps flickered as gas met flame, offering glowing patches of relief from the dark. The trash can in the alley next to her overflowed with waste, and the odor of rotting clamshells turned her stomach. The workers had gone home yet the docks still teemed with life. After sunset the harbor became a hub for dope peddlers and kidnappers, and anyone lurking around at this time of night likely had ill intentions.

A ship rolled into the harbor and bellied up to the dock. Men in dark clothing crept over it and caught the bow and stern lines. Once secured, they pulled crates off the deck and popped open the lids. Katherine’s eyes narrowed as she watched from her safe distance. She might be able to peek at the contents if she climbed the fire escape, but right now they were none of her concern. Her job tonight was important, and she had to stay focused.

Bodies had been washing up on shore, dead prostitutes, and the police had received a tip about a man with a distinct birthmark seen dumping someone in the water. The precinct had been buzzing with the news, discussing ways to catch the killer. Officer Henry Williams came up with the idea for a sting, and as Katherine was the only female officer on the force, she was volunteered for the role. Though the heavy makeup made her feel like part of a bad circus act, she obliged. It was worth it to save lives.

The wind blew her loose curls into a frenzy. She swept her hair aside, prying a lock free from her lipstick, and draped her jacket over her shoulders helped to keep out the cold, though she had no help from the rest of her skimpy outfit. She had pulled an old red dress from her closet for tonight, one that she hadn’t worn in at least five years. It had been her favorite once, her go-to garment for a night on the town. Beads glittered in a diamond pattern down the front, and the saucy hemline hit just below her knee. It was a dress for wearing out dancing, and for spilling cocktails on after a few too many. It was a size too small now and the unforgiving fabric constricted her, but the tightness helped to further her desired effect. She pushed her chest up and sucked in her stomach.

Her cigarette burned her lungs, and a cough escaped her throat. She took a few deep breaths of fishy ocean air, then another drag. It had to look natural — she had to look natural — or this whole plan would fall apart. She hitched her skirt up higher to reveal rolled-down stockings and dangling garters. Goosebumps spread along her thighs, but that ought to help entice her target.

A man stumbled toward her along the boardwalk. “Miss?” From her vantage point, Katherine took stock of his features. Short. Dark hair. No birthmark. Not her guy.

“Miss?” he said again. He approached, swaying with each step he took. With each “excuse me” and “hey, miss,” his words slurred more. Great, just what she needed, some boozehound pawing at her.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He was right in front of her now, so close she could get sauced from the whiskey fumes pouring off him. He put a hand on each of her shoulders to steady himself. “How much are you charging?” he said. At least that’s what it sounded like, as half the consonants were missing. Over his shoulder, Katherine saw another man step onto the boardwalk. Tall, sandy blond hair, sharp features, an oblong birthmark across his cheek. Bingo.

“You can’t afford me. Beat it.” Katherine blew smoke in the drunk man’s face as she spoke. He pushed himself off her shoulders and stumbled away, cursing her. She tossed her hair and stuck out her chest in the direction of the birthmarked man; hopefully he liked redheads. He noticed her and his eyes drank in her form as he approached.

“Looking for some company?” She angled out her hips to accentuate her curves, beads on her dress shimmering in the light.

“If a pretty gal like you is offering, I can’t turn you down.” He leaned in, his hand on the brick behind her, trapping her against the wall.

“Wanna do this down the alley?” Katherine flicked away her cigarette. The ember glowed on the cobblestone, then faded to ash.

“Wherever you want, dollface.” His lips hovered by her ear, making the hairs on the nape of her neck stand at attention. He moved closer, pressing his body into hers. His closeness disgusted her, but she swallowed her disdain. At least the plan was working.

She pushed him back to arm’s length, then beckoned him toward the recesses of the shadows, away from the harbor lights. He followed a few paces behind her, and she listened for any sign of trouble. Between his footsteps, she heard a click that didn’t belong. She glanced back.

He had flipped open a knife.

She kept her pace steady, an attempt to demonstrate she had not noticed the weapon. If he believed he had the upper hand, she had a better chance of completing her mission. He quickened his steps and caught up to her, threw his arm around her neck, and pressed the blade against her throat. But he’d underestimated her strength just as she hoped he would. She grabbed his wrist and twisted the knife away. He dropped the blade and cried out in pain as her nails dug into his flesh. She hauled him around, spun his arm behind him, and kicked the back of his knee. He collapsed into the grit of the alleyway.

“Officer Katherine Dell with the Nolaton City Police. You’re under arrest.” She dug into her coat pocket and took out her handcuffs. Officer Henry Williams and Detective Crenshaw ran to her from the shadows.

“Good work, Dell.” Williams let out a laugh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, Williams.” She took the compliment, though his tone rang with surprise. He must have underestimated her strength as well.

“Why don’t you head home, Dell? You need your beauty rest.” Detective Crenshaw, the lead on this investigation, smirked at her.

Katherine scowled at him. There was plenty of work left to be done, and he wanted to send her home? “But don’t you need—”

“We can get your report tomorrow.”

“But I can help—”

“Do you really want to go to the station wearing that, sweetheart?” Crenshaw motioned toward her dress and rolled stockings. He had a point. It would look ridiculous to her fellow officers, even those who were aware of this plan.

Williams gestured to her heavy makeup. “Yeah, some of the guys are scared of clowns.” He grinned at his own joke.

Katherine rolled her eyes. Williams’s vanity was only outdone by his arrogance, and he always had to be the center of attention. Based on his stories, the local floozies fell for his charms, though Katherine could never figure out how they could be so dense. Sure, Williams was a good-looking man — tall, broad-shouldered, well-built, chestnut hair that was always in perfectly in place, big hazel eyes, and flawless olive skin. Looks were the only point in his favor, though. He was loud, rude, and painfully obnoxious.

“You’re just jealous, Williams. Next time you can play the alley cat. I’ll even let you borrow my dress.” She gave him a little wink.

He snorted in return. “Are you kidding me? The whole city would flock down here to get a piece of this.” He tapped his chest as if showcasing the merchandise. “There would be riots in the streets.”

Katherine shook her head, and though she tried to suppress it, a smile crept onto her face. She turned her attention away from Williams and back to Crenshaw. “I’ll go wash off this layer of paint. Try to get some beauty rest yourself; you need it more than I do.” She turned on her heel and sauntered toward the boardwalk.

The police car she had arrived in was parked a few blocks away, and as she made her way toward it, disappointment settled over her. When would the men on the force see her worth? Would she ever be given the chance to run her own cases? She contemplated the unfairness of it all on her way home to the arts district.

Katherine walked up the crumbling concrete stairs to her apartment, grateful that none of the neighbors would be awake to see her provocative appearance.

Her home hadn’t changed much since she had first moved to the city ten years ago. A crystal lamp sat on her bedside table, and sheer curtains covered her windows. Most of the flat surfaces were bare except for a thick layer of dust and a browning house plant. Flies congregated near her kitchen sink, nibbling on the crumbs on her dirty dishes. A pile of laundry had built up in the corner of her bedroom, and she peeled off her dress and threw it carelessly on top. It was a far cry from the orderly home she had grown up in.

As a girl, she had lived in Lavendale, a three-hour drive up the coast from Nolaton. Her parents still lived there, in a lavish house beside the ocean. Lavendale was a lovely town, but not nearly as exciting as Nolaton. Her parents had often brought her to the big city on weekends to enjoy the cuisine, the shopping, and Katherine’s favorite: the theater scene.

Photos hung on the wall of her bedroom. She fixated on the oldest one — her at age seven, cheeks splattered with freckles and missing her front teeth. Standing with her parents outside The Regal Theater, a performance arts center with a focus on classical ballet.

Katherine had studied ballet as a girl; her parents had insisted she become well-versed in arts and culture. She’d learned how to play the piano, and became nearly fluent in French, but as she got older, music and language lessons had fallen by the wayside. Dance inflamed her passion. Her parents wanted her to settle down and marry a man with good prospects, but Katherine couldn’t contain herself to that.

Ten years ago, at the age of eighteen, she had informed her parents that she would be moving to Nolaton to pursue her dreams of becoming a professional dancer. They were aghast, but Katherine reveled in the irony. If they hadn’t pushed her into ballet to begin with, she would not have found her calling. She had packed her things and left the comfort of her hometown, and never looked back. After a few months of waiting tables by day and auditioning at night, she landed a contract with The Regal Theater.

Though she loved dancing, she’d had to give it up. After the tragedy she suffered, police work took precedence. The stage still called, but justice screamed louder. The people of Nolaton deserved a safe city, and Katherine had decided that she would rather spend her life making sure they had it.

Headlights shined through her window as cars passed by, and people shouted at each other on the street below. She was often woken up by drunken shouting from the theatergoers frequenting the nearby bars after a show. Annoying as it was, she couldn’t be too upset; she and her girlfriends used to go out drinking and dancing at all hours, at the speakeasies before Prohibition had been repealed. These folks were just having a little fun.

She slipped on her softest pajamas. The cotton graced her skin, soothing the places where her too-tight dress had dug in. She stepped over to her bathroom sink. Rust crept from the faucet, the stain growing larger with each passing month. It would be simple enough to scrub it away, but Katherine’s energy was running low. She washed off her makeup and rubbed cream into her pale skin; the sea air had left it dry. It felt good to be herself again. She rolled her hair and clipped each curl at the base of her neck.

A murderer slept behind bars tonight thanks to her efforts. Why, then, did her heart sit empty in her chest? Crenshaw would get the credit since he was the detective on the case. Williams would get a pat on the back for his help with the sting. Katherine’s efforts, as always, would be dismissed. That didn’t matter, though. She hadn’t become a police officer for the recognition. She’d done it to accomplish exactly what she had done tonight — to get murderers off the street. To make sure no one else had to carry the pain of losing a loved one.

She sat down on her bed, staring at the ring in the dish on her nightstand — a massive oval ruby, Katherine’s favorite gemstone, with a smattering of diamonds on either side set in gold. She’d had to take it off tonight; it could have scared away their target. For a moment, she considered leaving it off altogether, but that didn’t feel right. When she accepted the ring, she promised to wear it forever, a symbol of her devotion to the man she loved. She placed it on the ring finger of her left hand. The ruby gleamed up at her.

She twisted the ring so the ruby faced her palm. Katherine preferred to wear it backward so it looked like a simple gold band — not nearly as eye-catching that way. Wearing expensive jewelry in the city meant getting robbed. Some women wanted flashy engagement rings to show off to their friends, and Katherine understood the temptation, but the display wasn’t worth the risk. She cared more about the man who had given it to her than the gem itself. Her heart fell as she thought of Joey. He should be here, keeping her warm. Instead, he lay buried in the cemetery.

She turned off the light and pulled her quilt over her shoulders. Her eyes floated shut, but sleep escaped her. She caressed the pillow on the cold side of the bed. The weight of Joey’s absence sank into her chest like an empty vase, hollow and heavy.

Shrieking laughter floated up to her window from the sidewalk below. Light flooded the room again as she pulled the chain on her lamp. The noise outside died down, yet Katherine still could not relax. She threw her blankets off and knelt at the side of her bed. Her scrapbook was just within reach under the mattress; she pulled it out and flipped through a few pages. Newspaper articles were haphazardly pasted to each page, highlighting the crimes of Nolaton’s most prolific murderer.

She sat cross-legged with the book on her lap, the hardwood floor cooling her bare calves. She had devoted each page to a different victim, and the book was jammed full. Forty or fifty victims that she knew of, starting fifteen years ago. That meant that the Spider was killing three people per year, on average — some years only one or two, some years five or six. It was enough for a pattern to emerge, but too sporadic to know with any certainty when the Spider’s next strike would come. Katherine opened to a page in the middle.

Alice Agatha Thurgood. Gambling addict. Found dead near the casino she frequented. Stabbed through the abdomen. An opal necklace she had worn every day was missing, as was her pocketbook. Katherine flipped the page again.

Gabriel Lawrence Perkins. Bartender who claimed he won the lottery. Shot through the head, found inside the car he had purchased with his winnings. His gold watch was absent from his wrist and no wallet was found on him. Next page.

Arthur Reginald Fitzgerald. Stockbroker who lost everything in the Black Tuesday crash of ’29 suddenly had enough money for a nice vacation. Found in the park with his throat slit. His new Italian leather shoes were gone as well as his billfold.

Her colleagues thought Katherine was crazy for believing the rumors. The higher-ups on the force saw these murders as unconnected random events in a crime-riddled city. They were so similar — bodies found out in the open, an expensive trinket missing from each victim — but that alone wasn’t much of a tell. Lots of murders happened in the city, and surely some of the killers would rob the bodies and then skip town.

Katherine understood their doubts, but she held on to her hunch, and with good reason. Of all the murderers Katherine wanted to put away, this perpetrator was top of the list.