by kindels
Chas Murdoch stood up straight and stepped back from the autopsy table. Laid out before him were the mortal remains of Marla Hayes. The large 'Y' incision in her torso had been stitched and sealed, Murdoch's work completed. Mike Holland and Carl Wright stood off to one side about six feet from the table. They had seen autopsies before and although not unduly bothered by the sights and sounds that accompanied the procedure, they never actually encroached any closer than their current distance. It was possible to see too much sometimes!
"Well, Chas?" asked Holland. "Can we be reasonably certain that we're looking for the same killer who butchered Laura Kane?"
"In my opinion, the wounds inflicted on Marla Hayes were done so with the self same knife that killed your previous victim. There's little doubt about it. The knife has a particular ridge on one side and it leaves a fairly obvious track in the flesh as it enters the body. The track is present in the remains of both girls. You have a serial killer on your hands, there's no doubt of it."
"And the actual cause of death was the wound to the throat?"
"Oh yes. Just like the first girl, this one had her throat cut with such severity that the spine was almost severed. Whoever did this has strength, possibly accompanied by great rage, I'd hazard a guess."
"What about the other wounds Doc, the ones he inflicted after cutting her throat? They were inflicted post-mortem, I hope?" Carl Wright inquired.
"Yes, sergeant, they were. The girl was dead before the other wounds were inflicted upon her. I think he killed her and then took his time to carry out his mutilations on the poor girl's body."
"Are the wounds indicative of any specialist anatomical or medical knowledge?" Holland asked.
"You mean, could it have been a doctor? Yes, it could have been, but then again it may not have been. The cuts were certainly inflicted with confidence. There are no hesitation marks where he cut into the body and the incisions are all clean and made with confidence I would say."
"Didn't they ask that question at the beginning of the Jack the Ripper inquiry back in 1888?"
The question came from Carl Wright, who made a habit of studying old cases, particularly unsolved ones, and no unsolved case was as well known as that of the infamous Whitechapel murderer.
"Yes, they did, as I recall," Holland replied. "But that was then and this is now. We need to get some degree of focus on the case. If someone is going around targeting the town's prostitutes he or she, though I'd suspect a man in a case like this, must have a motive, a trigger that's set him off on his course of action. We need to get a team of officers into the red light district with specific orders to try and discover if the prossies have noticed any strangers perpetually hanging around lately, or if they know of anyone who may have developed a grudge against them in general."
"You're working on the assumption that the girls may have known their killer?"
"Correct sergeant. We know that in the majority of murder cases the killer is known to the victim, and there's no reason why that might not be the case here. We just have to find the common denominator that links the girls with the killer. Let's not get bogged down with theories of mad doctors or anything like that for the moment. Like Chas says, the killer is just as likely to be a plumber or a waiter or a stockbroker, eh, Chas?"
"Hmm, yes, I believe I said something like that," said Murdoch, "though not in those exact words."
"But that's what you meant. Just because the killer knows how to wield a knife and target certain areas of the body doesn't make him a medical man, correct?"
"Correct."
"Right then, is there anything else we need to know as a result of your examination?"
"Only that whoever did this terrible thing does know where he's aiming for when it comes to the mutilations. Every incision was made in exactly the right place in order for him to ensure he gained access to the girl's inner organs without having to hack around once he'd got in to the body. In that respect there is care and deliberation present in his 'work' if you wish to call it that, but then he also virtually hacked at her genitalia until they were almost unrecognisable, hardly the work of a calm or skilled person, I'd say."
"Which inner organs in particular did he target?" asked Holland.
"The womb, uterus, bowel and intestines. It appears he removed about six inches of the large intestine and I'm afraid in all probability he carried it away with him. It certainly wasn't present at the scene of the crime and it's nowhere to be found in the body."
"A trophy, d'you think, sir?"
"Maybe, sergeant, maybe."
"What else could he have taken it for?"
"I don't know, but it seems odd doesn't it? Just six inches of intestine? Why not something more high profile?"
"Who's to say how a killer's mind works?" Murdoch returned to the conversation. "Maybe he took it simply to taunt or to add confusion to the police's case, you know, make you think and start guessing as to his motives?"
"Just like we're doing now, eh Doc?" said Wright.
"You should have been a detective, Chas," Holland smiled.
"I often think of myself as a detective of sorts you know," said the doctor. "After all, every time I have to cut one of these poor people open I begin an investigation of my own, searching for clues as to what killed them, and of course, my reports to you boys in blue often lead to the arrest of the killer in cases of murder don't they? You tell me what that is if it's not the art of detection?"
"Well, well, that's quite prosaic of you Chas my old friend. You're right of course. You are a detective, perhaps even more of one than we are. We have to catch the bad guys, sure we do, but you often have even less to go on than we do when you start to search for the clues that the dead provide."
"Exactly Mike. You at least have live witnesses to speak to, to interview and give you leads that might help in the solution of the crime. My only witness is the deceased, and they have a completely different way of talking to me. Having said that, the dead can't lie, Mike, and when I find something at autopsy, there can be no denying the truth of it. It may not always fit with the known facts, but the truth is the truth, and that's it. You have to go with what I and my colleagues find and build your case around it because to do otherwise would leave any future prosecution open to question, am I right?"
"Spot on, Chas, as usual. So, anything else you can tell us about Marla before we go in search of the elusive 'Brighton Ripper' as I'm sure Carl here would love to dub our killer?"
"Just that your killer is right handed, as evidenced by the direction of the wounds he inflicted on the girl, and he wore rubber gloves, probably of the surgical variety when he carried out his mutilations."
"Alright Sherlock, the right-handed bit I'll admit was probably easy to establish, but just how did you work the rubber glove bit out?" asked Holland with a quizzical smile on his face.
"A ha, my dear inspector," Murdoch grinned. "That was easy as well. There's no mystery involved. Surgical gloves usually come in sealed packets. You've probably seen me take them out on a hundred occasion or more. They also have a fine dusting of powder on the inside that makes it easy to slip them on to the hand. Some of that powder was present on the girl's body, probably where it fell as he was stretching the gloves in order to put them on. It also explains why there are no fingerprints anywhere on her body or clothing. He was gloved, and that would also prevent her blood staining his hands, making it harder for the police to establish any contact with the dead girl if your boys had picked him up."
"But there'd possibly be traces of the dusting powder on his hands or under his fingernails, right?" asked Carl Wright.
"Maybe," Holland chimed in. "But that in itself wouldn't prove that he'd killed anyone, only that he'd worn a pair of surgical gloves, right Chas?"
"Exactly," replied the doctor. "Many people use that type of glove for all sorts of reasons, maybe while filling their cars, or while gardening, or doing jobs that might cause some staining of the fingers, the list is almost endless."
"So he's a clever bastard as well as a vicious one."
"Correct, Sergeant. Clever, and very careful if you ask me," Murdoch added.
"Well, thanks Chas. You've given us something, not much, but something. I'll wait for your written report which you'll have for me& by?"
"By tomorrow Mike. I know it's urgent and I'll have it typed up this afternoon and on your desk first thing tomorrow. Will that do?"
"Yesterday would be better."
"Tomorrow morning, Inspector Holland. You wouldn't want me to rush and leave something vital out, now would you?"
"Tomorrow morning it is then," said Holland as he and Wright left the autopsy room with sighs of relief. The smell and oppressive atmosphere that always seemed to pervade the room never failed to make Holland and his sergeant a little queasy and to escape from the room into the outer corridor brought a sense of relief that was almost tangible.
They may have had to wait another few hours for the autopsy report, but for now there was much work that had to be done, and Holland and Wright weren't prepared to waste a moment as they returned to police headquarters to continue their investigation. They both knew that they had to move quickly on the case, as it was almost certain that the killer would strike again. When, they didn't know, but the longer it took for them to bring the perpetrator in, the more chance there was that another girl would die horribly at his hands.
Holland soon had a team of uniformed constables heading for the town's red-light district. They had instructions to speak to anyone and everyone in order to find out if anyone had noticed a suspicious character in the area in recent weeks, or if any of the girls had experienced trouble with a new client, perhaps one who wanted them to indulge in something out of the ordinary. Next, he went through the statements provided by Marla's parents. He'd been surprised when they'd told him they knew about their daughter's line of work. They were philosophical about it however, and showed a lot more understanding of their daughter's lifestyle than most parents would have done, in Holland's opinion. He'd asked them to try and recall anything from her life at home, during her first forays into the world of drugs and prostitution that might have led to something like this happening. They couldn't. Apart from trying their best to turn Marla away from the life of degradation she'd apparently fallen into, they knew little about the seedy world into which she'd disappeared. There was nothing in the information they'd provided that would help in locating or identifying her killer.
Carl Wright had meanwhile left Holland's office with the intention of going through the autopsy report on the first victim Laura Kane with a fine tooth comb. Murdoch had not noted any of the dusting powder from the surgical gloves as being present on the first victim's body. Maybe that was an added refinement he'd evolved after getting too bloody during the first murder. Maybe, Wright had thought aloud to his boss, they'd missed something else that might indicate a change in the modus operandi of the killer, something that might be significant.
A full ninety minutes had passed before Wright knocked and entered Holland's office once more, this time with a folder and a number of files under his arm. Mike Holland looked up from the papers he was reading as Wright entered. He couldn't help but notice the worried frown that his sergeant wore as he approached the desk.
"What is it Carl? You look as if you've seen a ghost man. What've you found?"
"Sir, I want you to humour me if you will. I've found something that I think might be highly significant to the case. It was a whim of mine to check the Laura Kane autopsy report against one from an earlier case. Just take a look and don't say anything until you've read both of these, please."
Mike Holland knew his sergeant well enough to know that the man wasn't given to flights of fantasy or 'whims' as Wright had put it, without having some reason for his actions. Holland held out his hand and Wright passed him the files and folder he'd brought into the office. The top folder contained the autopsy report and forensic reports on the scene of crime in relation to Laura Kane. The second folder that Holland looked at contained a recently photocopied document, obviously taken from a book or some other source, and bore no victim's name. Intrigued by his sergeant's request to examine the two reports and not to speak until he'd read them both, he motioned for Wright to sit in the visitors chair, and Mike Holland did as he'd been asked. He began to read!
"You know I've read this one in detail already, Carl," he said to Wright as he began to read the Laura Kane file.
"I know sir, but please, read it again and then go straight on to the other one."
"Ok, I'll say no more until I've finished, but I hope there's some point in this."
"There is, sir. Now please&"
"Okay, okay, I'm reading."
It took Holland no more than five minutes to read through the report on Laura Kane's autopsy. He'd read it so many times in recent days that he almost knew it by heart. He put the file containing the report on one side and opened the other file, the one that held the un-named photocopied document.
Another five minutes passed as he perused the information contained in the document. As he read his face at first took on a quizzical look, then changed to one of mystification as the implications of what he was reading began to dawn upon him. He began to tap the fingers of his left hand on the desk top, a sure sign that something was beginning to bother him. Carl Wright knew the signs. He'd seen it often enough in the past. He knew that his actions in bringing the document to his boss had been justified. Mike Holland was now seeing exactly what Carl Wright had seen, and though he might not like what he was reading and being asked to come to terms with, Wright knew that Holland couldn't just dismiss his findings out of hand.
Chapter 15
A Few Words from Doctor Ruth
I feel it worth a few words at this point in my narrative to pause and place a few things into perspective. Of course, it would be very easy with hindsight for me to make judgements, to say perhaps "Why didn't so and so do this or that?" or, "Why didn't they know about this or that?"
The point is of course that the benefit of hindsight was not available to those involved in the case at the time the events I'm relating took place. This tale is in itself a composite, drawn together from the various interviews I've conducted with the police officers involved, the family and friends of Jack and those closest to him and the sad facts of the case.
At this stage of Jack's story, and it is Jack's story despite the fact that he appears absent from most of the proceedings so far, it has to be remembered that the events as they unfolded were known to only small sections of the participants at a time. The actions and movements of Tom Reid, his search for Jack for example, would have been unknown to Mike Holland or the police officers investigating the case in Brighton. Equally, the mere existence of Jack Reid was unknown to Holland. If it had been otherwise, would things have been different? Would the police investigation have shifted directly into a search for the missing teenager? I doubt it, for there would have been no evidence to implicate Jack in the crimes that were taking place in the seaside town, or even to place him anywhere within a hundred miles of Brighton, and even less to suppose that he was in any way implicated in the murders of the women in that town.
I suppose the reason for my injecting this short pause for reflection is because it was around this time in the proceedings that I became aware of the Brighton murders. Though not directly involved at that time, as I was still employed in my previous position I, like millions of my fellow citizens was witness to the news stories which began to invade the national television news bulletins. The press and TV media, ever eager and willing to sensationalise a juicy murder story in order to increase sales or viewing figures had jumped on the Brighton murders and, much to Mike Holland's chagrin, had dubbed the killer 'The Brighton Ripper' much as he'd mentioned the name in scorn in his conversation with Murdoch and Wright.
I was probably as horrified as any right-minded citizen when those bulletins first appeared, describing as they did, in some detail
, the terrible mutilations that had been inflicted upon the two victims. I suppose that the police had to release certain details to the media in the hope that sufficient disclosure and adequate coverage in the press, on radio and television might lead to someone with knowledge of the crimes getting in touch with information that might lead them to an arrest.
It never happened of course. There were no witnesses to the crimes, and no friends or relatives waiting to come forward to give the perpetrator up to the police.
At that time in the case, I would never have guessed that the time would come when I would become personally involved with the man convicted of the murders in Brighton, or that my own knowledge of the case, and my relationship with a number of those involved in it would lead us all to a shattering conclusion that even today, some people find hard to believe.
That of course, is something for the future. When I eventually reveal that information, it will be up to you, the informed and perhaps sceptical reader, to decide on the facts as I will present them. For now though, the story will be best served by returning to the events that led Jack to his place in the history of crime, and into the care of me and my fellow medicos here at Ravenswood.
Chapter 16
Good News, and Bad News
Sweeping rain hammered against the window of Holland's office. The sudden thunderstorm had taken everyone by surprise. The black clouds had appeared as if from nowhere, suddenly rolling in from the sea carrying the deluge straight towards the resort town. Thunder boomed from above and forks of orange lightning rent the clouds and zigzagged towards the earth, and in the offices of the town's police headquarters officers and clerks alike switched on lights to illuminate their workplaces as the day turned to darkness. Against the backdrop of the storm, Mike Holland looked across his desk at his sergeant. Having read the two reports Wright had placed in front of him the inspector knew that something out of the ordinary was taking place, though for the life of him, for the moment he had no idea what the significance of what he'd read boded for the future.
