“My dear,” Malcolm sighed, “I wish it weren’t so distressing when you’re right.”
To that, Margo said nothing at all. She simply guided her weary fiancé up to bed and did what she could to help them both forget the night’s horrors.
Chapter Eleven
Kit Carson was in the back room of the Down Time Bar & Grill, doing his best to beat Goldie Morran at pool—and losing his shirt, as usual—when Robert Li appeared, dark eyes dancing with an unholy glee.
“What’s up?” Kit asked warily as Goldie sank another ball in the corner pocket with a rattle like doom.
The antiquarian grinned. “Oh, goodie! You haven’t heard yet!”
“Heard what?” Goldie glanced up before pocketing another fifty bucks of Kit’s money. “We didn’t get a riot when Primary opened, did we?”
“No,” Robert allowed, eyes twinkling. “But you’re not gonna believe the news from up time!”
Kit scowled. “Oh? Don’t tell me. Some up-time group of nuts sent an official protest delegation to the station?”
Li’s eyes glinted briefly. “As a matter of fact, they did, but not about Jack the Ripper or his victims.”
Kit grunted. A vocal group calling themselves S.O.S.—Save Our Sisters—had been lobbying for the right to intervene and save the London prostitutes the Ripper would kill, despite the fact that it wasn’t possible to alter important historical events. Their argument went that since these women were nobodies, the effort ought to at least be made, but Kit didn’t see how, since Jack the Ripper was one of the most important murder cases in the past couple of centuries.