The Ripper's Daughter

by B Anders

  “I let you fuck me,” came the sharp retort from the bathroom.

  Colby looked up with a smile. She had not expected Jessie to be listening.

  “Don’t you do anything but eat and fuck?”

  There was a pause. Colby could almost hear the windmills turning in Jessie's mind. Her beautiful contralto voice resumed its quiet singing completely ignoring the question. Colby was not going to let a moment of normalcy end so easily.

  “Well, do you?”

  Another pause, before Jessie giggled out a reply. “Let’s make a deal. You shut up for the next ten minutes while I wash this gunk out of my hair and I’ll blow you. Then you can figure out what you're going to feed me next. Answer your question?”

  Colby grinned. She wandered over to the open bathroom door. Leaning against the frame, Colby felt her pulse quicken. Stripped down to a tight, old pair of daisy dukes, Jessie had her back to her. She was head deep in the sink. Colby’s eyes glazed over for a minute remembering how good Jessie’s ass felt under her when she fucked the smaller woman in the back of the car. The act had a passionate urgency she had not experienced before in any of her many casual liaisons. Maybe that’s the addictive quality of love, Colby thought. What she and Jessie had together was far from fairy tale perfect but it was about as close to the big L-word as either of them were ever likely to get.

  Colby waited for a few more minutes before she figured she could sneak off downstairs. Jessie was so occupied with what she was doing, Colby wouldn't be missed. It was too many hours between sips and her hands were shaking.

  Colby’s mouth watered at the thought of an ice cold brew. When they stopped to pick up Jessie's supplies, Colby had snagged a six pack of Bud. The real deal, not the light shit which tasted like cat piss to Colby's burned out buds. Just one she promised herself and then she’ll go back up to see if Jessie was serious about blowing her. Colby was confident the deadbolt on the back door would slow Jessie down enough for her to catch up if the woman tried to rabbit out and make good on her earlier escape threat.

  The pungent stink of burning sulfur followed Colby as she left the room. Grudgingly the stench faded the further away she got. By Colby’s reckoning, Jane's music room would be the only place in the house spared the noxious fumes. It was the furthest point away from the upstairs bathroom within eye shot of the front stairs. Jane taught Colby to play the piano there.

  The room contained only one piece of furniture; a baby grand. It was a beautiful instrument. Jane bought it on the cheap years ago at an auction. Still gleaming after all these years, the black lacquer brightened the room with the reflection of the midmorning sun from the skylight above. It called out to Colby with a promise of rich tones as it sat mute without Jane at the keys. Another lonely presence filling the house with its sad silence.

  Marty made sure no other pair of hands would ever caress music from the keys. The night Jane died he threw the bench out into the middle of the street. He completed his solo performance by unloading a clip from his service revolver into the perfect wood. His horrified neighbors avoided him like the plague after that, going so far as to run across Day Boulevard when they saw him coming. Marty always said he never cared what they thought. He was a full throttle bastard back then.

  Colby stepped fully into the nearly empty room with the lonely piano set in its center. All thoughts of a cold beer forgotten. She approached the instrument like it was sacred. Gently running her finger tips across the side of the hardwood cabinet, she could almost feel the echoes of strings teased to life long ago. Like the rest of the house, the piano had been kept in an immaculate condition. Whoever Jessie’s financial guardian was, he was more than conscientious about property maintenance. From the finely manicured lawn all the way down to the well-polished silver picture frame neatly placed on top of the baby grand, the place was doted over.

  "Could he really be a she?" Colby pondered as she picked the frame up to inspect the photo closer.

  Six familiar but much younger faces smiled back up at her. It was taken the spring before Jane’s younger sister, Christine, committed suicide. Colby was all of twenty two and new in uniform. She had just started working with Marty. He stunned her by asking her over to the house for a barbeque and a couple of cold ones with the family.

  "We'll watch the Sox open big at Fenway," he said. "I'll cook up a couple of steaks."

  The picture was a memento of Colby's first day having dinner with the Walshes. It was to become the first of many dinners over the years, the beginning of their collective personal tragedy.

  Even back then, her attraction to Jessie was obvious for any who cared to look. Jessie was seventeen, fresh faced and cheeky. She was still untouched by the darkness that would see her experiment heavily with alcohol and drugs by the end of the year. It was a beautiful spring and despite the age difference between them, they made fast friends hanging out in the back yard with Edwin and Marty. Marty was a demon with the grill, never tiring of evangelizing his true belief in the old time charcoal faith and the growing threat of destruction at the nozzle of the false prophets with their gas powered monstrosities.

  "So, that's why you never clean the grill? You’re too pious to scrub the hallowed altar of charcoal?" Edwin's dry humor lightened Colby's nerves almost as much as the Guinness that was a fixture at Marty’s barbeques. A self-made man, Edwin was subtle with a casual manner masking his more ribald commentary.

  Christine and Jane stayed in the house for most of the afternoon. It was all Edwin could do to get them to come out into the backyard to take the picture. Both women sported forced smiles. Perhaps, Christine confided her unhappiness to Jane or Jane was trying to wrench the truth out of the other woman. Whatever the truth was, Colby was damned if she could figure out why a beautiful woman like Christine, who seemed to have everything, would take her own life within the year. Christine didn't seem distraught to Colby. She was just unhappy and worn out with the compromises inherent to married life.

  A visual reminder of better days gone by was more than Colby could bear. She carefully put the photo back, face down, where it had always been on top of Jane’s piano. It was too late for distance. Melancholy filled her heart with longing for a life no longer possible. A life she could barely remember herself. If she was truthful, she'd admit the night of Marty's murder was only one of many she could not fully recall. Whether the cause of her memory lapses was trauma or alcohol induced, didn't matter anymore to Colby. Jessie was right; she was running out of time and excuses would not save her.

  "What I can't remember can actually kill me, kill us," Colby muttered as her fingers traced their way across the smooth white piano keys to the sound of a half forgotten tune.

  Ting.

  "D#."

  Ting.

  "F."

  Ting.

  "C#."

  "Colby?" Jessie called out from the living room.

  Ting.

  "F#."

  "What are you doing in this room? You playing with Jane’s piano?" Jessie's voice held no accusation.

  Tunk.

  "Shit," Colby frowned when the key refused to play. "You broke the spell."

  Colby glanced up at Jessie to explain, but her voice froze in her throat at the vision before her. A blonde stranger, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt, stood waiting for an answer. The stranger standing looking back at her with the easy smile had not suffered and lost all Jessie endured.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Jessie was befuddled by the comment.

  "The music stopped when you came into the room. Jane's piano won't play again. She's gone, Jessie. Like Marty's gone and Christine’s gone and they’re not coming back. We can't ever get them back again."

  Colby was close to tears. Jessie crossed the room. All reservations dismissed. She wrapped her arms around Colby's neck and pulled her into a bittersweet kiss.

  "What's wrong? They've been gone for so long. Why are you so sad all of a sudden?"

  "I miss them. I miss us. I
missed you so much, Jessie. I’m so sorry," Colby whispered.

  She took both of Jessie's hands in her own and tenderly kissed them. The touch of Jessie’s warm skin against her lips comforted the ache deep inside of her.

  "Why do you care so much?" Jessie's question was innocent holding no criticism.

  "Because you were all the family I never had," Colby defended her fragile emotions. "Marty, Jane, you, Edwin, even Christine. You all became my family. For once in my life, I had someplace to go where I was wanted, welcomed. A nice place where on Sundays the game would be on the TV and there would be food cooking in the kitchen and you and I would sit out on the back porch and talk. It was more than my mother ever did for me. All I ever got from her was being smacked around and a never ending string of boyfriends from hell. She'd let them crash at the projects with us. Each one was more of a bastard than the guy before. She didn't care what they did to me. Marty and Jane cared more about me than my own mother ever did."

  Jessie caressed Colby's tearstained face leaving Colby weak in the knees. After leaning in to kiss Jessie slowly on the lips Colby finally found the strength to meet Jessie's intent gaze.

  "Jessie, why don't you care at all?"

  "Marty did more for you than he ever did for me my entire life and Jane allowed that. It was you with her those afternoons at the piano, not me. She taught you how to play her precious baby grand I wasn’t even allowed to touch. I never belonged, Colby. He never really wanted me, but Jane was a good Catholic girl and he was playing the part of a good Catholic boy. An abortion was out of the question. I was the accident that ruined his fun. He resented having to settle down and he took it out on Jane and me. Jane could have walked out on him. She could have taken me with her and saved us both. She didn’t. She just made excuses for him. Do you remember the bruises, Colby? The ones Jane said was me being clumsy and walking into the door again."

  "I'm sorry," Colby stammered. "I never thought. I didn’t think. Oh, God, how did I miss that?"

  "You fell in love with the idea of family, with the image of a big, strong Dad and a stay at home Mom and all the trimmings," Jessie explained with a bitter smile. "But, a real family never lived under our roof, Colby. It was all an illusion. Monsters dwelled here. They’re all gone now but one. We should leave soon. Get out of this house and leave all the goddamned lies behind. We still have much to do."

  Colby nodded and turned away, but she was not ready to abandon the house and its memories. Even with the revelation of abuse, for her the memories were still real and true. Marty and Jane meant something for all their faults. They were two of the good things from her past. Their ghosts tugged at her as if demanding she remember what she could not face just yet.

  “You have any money left on you?” Jessie prodded.

  “A five and some change. Why?”

  “Here, help yourself, its Marty’s slush fund. He hid it in the floorboards of my bathroom. He figured I wouldn't find it or I’ll be too scared to touch it. Stupid bastard, may he rot in hell.”

  Colby blinked twice as Jessie tossed her a tight wad of balled up bills. She peeled off a couple of Andrew Jacksons and the drunken civil war general hiding beneath. Colby handed the cash back to Jessie without a word. She knew where the money came from. She saw no need to ask stupid questions anymore.

  Colby realized the past would eventually catch up with Jessie and her. The clock was ticking. Colby wasn't entirely sure what would happen to the both of them when it did. She was certain of only one thing. She didn't want her last memory of Jane's music room to be just another lie.

  "I think we have a little time to waste. Half an hour or so won't make any difference." Colby leaned forward to kiss Jessie again. This time more insistent, more demanding, than the last. "I want to make a better memory in this room than a missing note. I want to make you come screaming in my mouth."

  Jessie snorted in reply as Colby reach downwards. Her hands busy unsnapping the button fly of Jessie's jeans. If Jessie was going to make any objection, the moment was lost when Colby slipped her cold fingers between Jessie’s soft folds. Hungrily capturing Jessie’s moan with her lips, their kiss took on a new intensity.

  Colby eased the jeans down Jessie's ass with a gentle tug. Once they cleared her hips, Colby released the kiss and withdrew her fingers from Jessie's warmth. Jessie whimpered softly in protest but Colby would not be deterred. Lifting the smaller woman up on the piano, she pulled the jeans off completely. They were discarded in a careless heap on the floor.

  Pushing Jessie’s legs upwards Colby's lips found their way to the sweetness between the other woman’s thighs. Her tongue rapidly stroked Jessie's fire, flooding her mouth with her lover's desire. Jessie's fingers wrapped themselves in Colby's thick dark hair pulling her closer and deeper to their common thrill.

  *****

  Chapter 14

  The Charger took the left onto St. Botolph Street an eye blink after the light on Mass Avenue turned green. A chorus of furious horns and screamed obscenities from irate drivers followed. Neither Colby nor Jessie noticed. Jessie was deep in thought and Colby was too busy trying to navigate the narrow street with on street parking on both sides while avoiding the college students darting out like lemmings between the cars.

  "Okay, you got me stumped," Jessie smirked. "I got no idea where you are going but I have a feeling it isn’t Mexico."

  Colby hit the horn hard at a tuba carrying Conservatory student trying to hurry across the street, "We are going to the scene of Jacob Eagan's murder."

  "He wasn't next," Jessie shook her head. Colby’s statement perplexed her. "You’re supposed to go in the order of the kills, right? They teach you that in police school. It’s procedure, or did you miss class that day? Too busy trying to make the grade by sucking off the instructor? I never pictured you as a cock sucker."

  "We normally do follow the chain of events on a linear timeline when we don't know what we are looking for. But, thanks to you, I have a connection between the JFK victim and Eagan. So, I want to look at Eagan's site next." Colby explained patiently as she pulled the car up to the gate of the parking garage, “And you know what? You have a foul mouth. Don’t make me wash it out for you.”

  Jessie snorted in derision before eyeing Colby suspiciously as the taller woman took a ticket.

  "What are you doing? Just 'cuz I hand you a fistful of dollars doesn't mean I want you squandering it. Schroeder Plaza is only a couple of blocks over. You must have a free parking spot over there by now, right? What? You afraid Marty’s dumb ass buddies might strike it lucky and figure out who I am? Not a chance. Those dimwits won’t know how to ID the broad side of a house that hit them."

  "Let's just say, I don't want to take any chances when I'm so close," Colby replied before driving inside. "Besides, free parking ain't worth risking your skin."

  Killing the engine, once she eased the Charger into a spot between the faded yellow lines, Colby finally looked Jessie in the eye, "I just want to say, what I really mean to say is I …" She swallowed hard. "I love you, and I don’t want to take any chances with you. I want to be with you. Do you love me, Jessie? Do you want to be with me?"

  "Really too bad, Colby. A long time ago I was in love with you, but that was another Jessie, another time, another place," Jessie shook her head in defeat. "Now sometimes I hate you and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I even think I care. Why? I don’t know.”

  "I understand."

  “So you still love me?”

  “I’ve always loved you and I always will. I’m sorry it took me such a long time to come out and tell you.”

  “Me too, Colby.”

  “So what’s next, Jessie?”

  Jessie frowned. “To or not to be is such a great question, isn't it? I’ll give you a hint, just to speed things along. I don't think it will push you into another seizure. Do you trust me?"

  “Yes.”

  "We need to see Cy."

  Colby raised an eyebrow before the name struck a chord. "A
t Northeastern? The murder at the statue off Forsyth? We need to start there?"

  Jessie answered, "No, we already started, Colby. Follow the yellow brick road, this is all about finishing. We need to go to the murder scene at Cy Young's statue outside the Cabot Physical Education Centre at the former Huntington Grounds site. You know Home of the first World Series. Do you remember the murder details? It was the first killing committed after Marty's death. Do you have the file or do we need to hit the library and access it from the system?

  "No, my files are in the trunk. I took them. All the files are in my trunk," Colby stated flatly and opened her door. It only took her a minute of rummaging to find the tattered, coffee stained manila folder detailing the grim murder of a young coed.