808 Broadway | The Alienist [Complete]

Chapter Fifteen | Footwork

Aurora's POV

Weeks went by and it seemed like we weren't any closer to finding the killer. All of us have been looking into all of the families who had been killed, but there wasn't any indication to a connection. None of the families had any relationship or business ties of any kind that we could find at least. Our long monotonous days of searching documents seem almost useless. Actually, I think it was useless. The sound of a fly buzzing in one of the windows at 808 Broadway was the only other sound besides that of a ticking clock. That ticking sound was a gross reminder that there could be another mass murder at any time. Lucius and Marcus were going back and forth with Laszlo on some kind of murder pattern. The downside is that there wasn't a murder pattern.

"Maybe we're on the wrong track." I mumbled, which only caught the attention of Sara Howard. "What was that?" She asked curiously, turning her attention onto me now. "I said, maybe we're on the wrong track. I mean... if there aren't any business transactions or relationships between the deceased families, then maybe the chef didn't know he or she was killing them." I sat up straight, causing my back to crack loudly in several spots. "But the killer would have read the papers and known the families he or she had cooked for had died." Sara said. "Not necessarily. What if the chef doesn't speak English?" I replied. She told John what I had thought of, and he agreed with what I had brought up. He managed to attract the Isaacsons and well as Laszlo's attention long enough to fill them in on my thoughts. "Very good point, Aurora." Laszlo said as he jotted those particulars down on one side of the large chalkboard.

Then it was back to more verbal speculation on the things I had just brought up. "I bet you regret getting involved with this investigation now, don't you? I know I do." John said, and Sara rolled her eyes. "Not really. Detective work always has its ups and downs. Think of the satisfaction it'll bring once we start making progress." I said, and Sara nodded. My words didn't seem to brighten John's spirits thought, and I doubted that anything would at this point. Deep down I wondered if we were ever going to solve these murders, I mean... there wasn't a lot of evidence to go on. We didn't even know if out killer was woman or a man. Since we weren't really making any new discoveries we decided to call it a day at two o'clock in the afternoon. Instead of going back to the doctor's house, I decided to check in on my brother. But I assured Laszlo that I'd be back in time to make dinner. When I entered the apartment, I heard voices. One was my brother's and the other was familiar but I couldn't quite pinpoint who it belonged to.

Once I stepped I to the kitchen I saw Henry sitting there with an old friend of ours. Neither one of us had seen or heard from Jeremy Laymen in a number of years, but he still looked the same. Seeing his dark curly hair and bright green eyes took me back to when we were kids. I remember the time when he and my brother got in trouble for breaking a window when they were playing catch in the alley nearby. "Aurora, it's nice to see you again." Jeremy said with a small smile as he stood up and gave me a hug. When we moved apart I couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looked so tired it made me wanna make him take a nap. A car backfired outside on the street, causing Jeremy to jump slightly. His eyes went wide and Henry chuckled lightly. "It's right, it's only a car. There's nothing to worry about." My brother said as our friend sat back down and sipped a cup of coffee. I joined them and noticed how agitated and fidgety Jeremy had become.

'I didn't think a backfiring car would make him so skittish.' I thought inside of my head as I too drank a cup of coffee. The Jeremy I knew had nerves of steel, always going forward with reckless abandon. But it was obvious that my childhood friend had changed over the years he had spent in Europe and I wondered what had caused such a change in him. We asked each other questions about our lives and what we had been up to. "So, did you ever achieve your dreams of being a chef? Or did you change your mind a peruse another career?" Henry asked him, and a flutter of anxiety filled my insides. 'The killer can't be him, Aurora.' I said inside of my head, but I knew he very well could be. There was no other evidence other than the cause of death, meaning anyone in New York with a culinary background could be the killer. It made nervous and a little awkward. It also made me feel guilty because I was suspecting one of friends is a murderer. Even though all of these thoughts and emotions were running wild inside of me, I managed to keep calm and poised.