The Slum Reaper_Murder and corruption in Victorian London

by David Field

  THE SLUM REAPER

  Esther and Jack Enright Mystery

  Book Four

  David Field

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE POSING PLAYWRIGHT

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  Chapter One

  Esther Enright leapt from the platform of the horse bus before it had even come to a halt at the stop outside the London Hospital in Whitechapel Road. If she even realised that she was back in her old haunts, she had more urgent matters on her mind as she ran as fast as her long skirts and heavy outdoor boots would allow, across the cobbled forecourt, through the imposing glass double doors and up to the reception desk. A serious looking middle-aged nurse lowered her spectacles to regard her with disapproval as Esther stood before the desk, panting heavily and with sweat rolling down from the brim of her bonnet; it was a hot afternoon in early May, 1894, and Esther, although fit, was no athlete.

  ‘I’m Mrs Enright, and I believe that my husband was admitted late this morning? Police Constable Jackson Enright?’

  The receptionist looked down at her notes, adjusting her spectacles several times as she traced her finger down the numerous entries in her own deplorable handwriting. As she waited in mounting fear and frustration, Esther looked at the depressing sights all around her — people with various parts of their anatomies heavily bandaged and a woman being assisted towards the exit as she leaned heavily on a walking stick. Someone covered in blood was being carried in on some sort of stretcher and nurses in starched uniforms were running towards it in order to render what initial assistance they could. Esther shuddered and wondered if Jack had entered the hospital this way.

  ‘He’s probably in the operating room by now,’ the receptionist advised her, breaking into her thoughts. ‘It’s on the first floor, up those stairs ahead of you.’

  Esther thanked her hastily as she took off, holding her skirts above her knees with one hand as she took the stairs two at a time. On the first landing a sign directed her to the left and she raced down the hallway, past nurses pushing stretchers on wheels or carrying rolls of bandages and suspicious looking pots covered over with cloths. Almost at the end of the hall was a large sign suspended from the ceiling with an arrow indicating that behind the double heavy rubber doors to the right was the ‘Operating Room’.

  Esther was querying in her own mind whether she was allowed beyond those doors when a dark haired young man with a fashionable drooping moustache came out dressed in white overalls with something draped around his neck that looked like a set of horse brasses. He looked into her face and smiled.

  ‘You look a little lost, Miss.’

  ‘Mrs,’ Esther insisted. ‘Mrs Enright. You have my husband Jackson in there, I’m told. Is he going to be alright?’

  ‘That depends upon whether or not he was thinking of dancing a jig in the immediate future,’ the man replied, smiling reassuringly. ‘I’m Dr Melton, and I just fixed your husband’s broken leg.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Esther demanded as the relief flooded over her.

  ‘Isn’t that enough? I’m advised that Mr Enright is a serving police officer, but he won’t even be fit for points duty for the next few months. He’ll need to walk with the aid of a stick even when the fracture has fully healed, and in cold weather it will ache for the rest of his life. But yes, could have been worse I suppose.’

  ‘Can I go in and see him?’

  ‘Not through there you can’t, unless you want a very sudden and shocking introduction to surgical operations. He’ll be one floor up in “Male Surgical” by now, I imagine, but he’ll probably still be coming out from under the influence of the chloroform and may well be talking gibberish.’

  ‘At least that’ll prove that he’s back to normal,’ Esther chirped as she headed for the stairs at the end of the hallway. A few seconds later she remembered her manners and turned with the intention of thanking the doctor, but he had disappeared.

  Two minutes after that she’d persuaded the sister on duty at the desk in the centre of the ward that police officers injured in the course of duty were entitled to special visiting times and was in the process of carrying a chair to the side of Jack’s bed halfway down the ward when he opened his eyes and smiled groggily.

  ‘I’m afraid my suit trousers have probably had it.’

  ‘What happened?’ Esther asked as she kissed him gently on the forehead and sat down, taking his free hand in hers.

  ‘I fell under a horse,’ he advised her, then closed his eyes and passed out cold. Esther remained where she was, reassuring herself that she could still see the bedclothes moving up and down in a gentle motion that confirmed that he was still breathing, until she heard a familiar voice arguing with the sister at the ward desk.

  ‘Not only am I his senior officer, I’m also his uncle. Unless you want to be arrested for not being in possession of a heart, I insist on seeing him.’

  ‘Over here, Uncle Percy!’ Esther called across to him, and the thin-faced older man gave her a wave of recognition and walked over, armed with a chair that he purloined from alongside an adjoining empty bed.

  ‘He woke up just a moment ago,’ Esther told him with a relieved smile, ‘and he muttered some nonsense about a horse, then passed out again. I think he’s alright, though.’

  ‘It wasn’t nonsense,’ Percy assured her, ‘and your husband’s a hero.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was down in Limehouse, apparently, waiting by a paddy wagon while some chinamen were being loaded in after they’d been arrested for running a pipe house. One of their supporters threw a firecracker in an effort to divert attention and the horse pulling the wagon took fright and bolted. There were some children further down the street, playing hopscotch, and they were right in the path of the horse, so Jack made a grab for its reins, and hung on. The horse pulled up and Jack fell under its hooves, where he came off second best. That’s what they’re saying around the Yard, anyway.’

  ‘The bobby who came to our door to tell me Jack was in here said something about a riot,’ Esther said, ‘and I naturally assumed that he was badly injured. Turns out he’s only broken a leg.’

  ‘The riot came after two of the men were thrown out of the paddy wagon and made a run for it, assisted by many sympathisers. Order was fully restored with the aid of billy-clubs, or so I hear.’

  ‘Will Jack suffer any loss of pay while he’s recovering?’ Esther asked nervously. ‘Only now that we have two to feed...’

  Percy shook his head reassuringly.

  ‘No, but once he’s able to walk again he’ll be put on light duties, so there’ll be no more overtime opportunities for a while. The Met looks after its injured men, particularly its heroes.’

  ‘Will they pay for a new suit?’ came a weak voice from the bed.

  Percy grinned down at him.

  ‘Nothing wrong with you, obviously. Inspector Pennington sends his best wishes, by the way.’

  ‘Nice of him, in the circumstances,’ Jack conceded sarcastically, ‘but at least I’ve seen the last of drug dens for a while. It’s
been almost three years and I was hoping to ... oh damn!’

  ‘Jack!’ Esther protested, as she looked round for the source of his outburst. As she followed Jack’s horror-stricken gaze she saw a group of three men smiling and nodding in their direction, while the ward sister who’d been so frosty in her manner towards Esther was now doing all but curtsey.

  Percy stood up sharply and edged as far away from Jack’s bed as he could, whispering ‘The bloody Commissioner!’ as the three men approached it.

  ‘The bloody Commissioner indeed,’ the man in the centre confirmed as he leaned down towards Jack. ‘We’ve never met,’ he smiled, ‘but I’m Colonel Bradford, and these two gentlemen are senior administrators of the hospital. I’m here, first of all, to ensure that you’re getting the best available treatment, secondly to assure you that you’ll be transferred to light duties — probably in Records somewhere — and finally, but most importantly, to advise you that I’m considering recommending you for a medal from the Queen, or perhaps the Home Secretary.’

  ‘I’ll definitely be needing that new suit,’ Jack said, grinning up at Esther.

  ‘Is this delightful lady your wife?’ the Commissioner enquired.

  Jack nodded. ‘Her name’s Esther.’

  The Commissioner smiled.

  ‘I’m sure that Mrs Enright can speak for herself, Constable. So tell me, madam, how does it feel to be married to a real life hero?’

  ‘I’m just glad he wasn’t more badly injured,’ Esther replied. ‘We have two children, you see.’

  ‘Yes, I quite understand,’ the Commissioner assured her. ‘Have no fear that your brave husband will suffer any loss in income. In fact, he may well qualify for a special injuries bonus. How long have you been with the Met, Constable?’

  ‘Coming up to eight years in all, sir, the past six with the Yard.’

  ‘And no promotion since you joined?’

  ‘No, sir, but I’m still only twenty-six.’

  ‘You may be aware that one of my policies since I took up my position four years ago has been to reward loyal service and promote men while they’re still active enough to be of value. I see no reason why we can’t consider elevating you to Sergeant.’

  ‘Thank you, sir!’ Jack spluttered, while to one side Percy grinned approvingly.

  Ten minutes later, after obtaining all the detail he could from Jack regarding the accident that had hospitalised him, the Commissioner took his leave, and it fell silent for a moment around Jack’s bed.

  ‘When do you think they’ll let you out?’ Percy asked. ‘We’ll need to get your mother to organise a celebration party.’

  ‘A pity I had to do battle with a horse to get promoted,’ Jack muttered, but Esther wasn’t letting him get away with that.

  ‘You didn’t — that was only after I told the Commissioner that we needed the money. Starting with a new suit. I think I’d like to see you in dark brown this time.’

  ‘Like the mess he’s always getting himself into,’ Percy chuckled, then straightened his face when he caught the look on Esther’s.

  Chapter Two

  Alice Bridges was waiting with an anxious face as Esther opened the front door to their rooms on the second floor and gave her a reassuring smile.

  ‘Jack’s fine — just a broken leg, but I might need you to help out more regularly while I visit him in hospital. There’s no way of knowing when he’ll be let out and even then he’ll be hobbling round on a walking stick, but at least he’ll be home to look after the children while I do the shopping. Thank you so much for stepping into the breach today — I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, dear,’ Alice assured her with a warm smile. ‘I’m only one floor up whenever I’m needed and I love children, as you know. Lily’s such a sweet child and loves it when I read to her from her new “Fairy Book”, and Bertie’s a real treat to play with now that he’s starting to talk. So, any time — you only have to ask. In fact, when Jack’s home I need to ask his advice about another young person. One who’s not so fortunate to have two remaining parents.’

  ‘Put the pan on for some tea while I go and reassure the children that Mummy’s still around and then you can tell me all about it,’ Esther offered. ‘There are some ginger biscuits left in the tin, I think — unless Jack ate them all while I wasn’t looking.’

  She poked her head round the door to the children’s bedroom, where three year old Lily sat, organising a tea party for her dolls, while Bertie looked up with his entrancing smile that was an heirloom from his father and verbally acknowledged the entrance of ‘Momma’.

  ‘I hope you were good for Auntie Alice?’ Esther demanded and they both beamed up at her. ‘You two carry on being good for a little while longer, then it’s fish for dinner,’ Esther advised them.

  Bertie responded with ‘fidge’ without breaking the smile.

  Back in the kitchen Esther helped herself to a ginger biscuit and sat down at the table before adding milk to the tea that Alice had taken the liberty of pouring her.

  ‘So, what did you want Jack’s advice on?’ she asked.

  Alice’s face fell.

  ‘It’s probably nothing, dear, but I’m very worried about my niece Emily, my late sister’s daughter. She works as a governess in this big old house in Hampstead and she and I used to exchange letters regularly. She’s got no other family left, you see. My sister died only late last year, and shortly after that her father was — well, not to put too fine a point on it, he was murdered. So, she had to go out into the world on her own, and since she’d had a half decent education in one of those new Board Schools, she was able to get this governess’s position to the family of a very successful solicitor and his wife. She seemed reasonably content there, to judge by her letters and what she used to tell me when we met up for little picnics by the lake on the local heath. She missed her old boyfriend, I know, and she’d get a little teary whenever we talked about him, but that’s no good reason why she should take herself off like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ Esther asked as she bit into another ginger biscuit, then closed the tin when Alice indicated with a shake of the head that she didn’t want one.

  ‘Well, like I said, we’d exchange letters every week, regular as clockwork. When I hadn’t received one for a couple of weeks I just put it down to her being laid up with the ’flu or something, but when it reached three weeks I went up in person to the house she worked at. They all knew me, of course, from when I used to call in and collect Emily for our little picnics on her days off, but this time when I appeared at the front door there was no answer, although I think I saw one the lace curtains moving at one of the front windows. Anyway, I went round to the scullery door at the back and spoke with the cook, who told me that Emily had taken off with her latest boyfriend and that if she dared to show her face at the house again she’d find she’d been sacked. Then the cook closed the door in my face.’

  Esther reached out a reassuring hand towards Alice, whose own hand had begun to tremble slightly.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, Alice, honestly. How old’s your niece?’

  ‘She turned twenty-three only a few weeks ago. March, it was. We went walking around the ponds as usual, then I took her for tea at that lovely cafe on the main road.’

  ‘You know what young women are like these days. Very independently minded. In fact, it’s only a few years since I was her age and I was obliged to earn my own living. I was also an orphan like her and when Jack came into my life I just clung to the hope that somehow we’d always be together. Now look at us — married for four years and with two children. You may have to resign yourself to the fact that she’s expecting a child of her own by this boyfriend she’s run off with and is probably too ashamed and embarrassed to contact you. But at least, if that’s the case, she’ll be safe and well.’

  Alice looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know if that’ll be the case, dear, but thank you for trying to lift my spirits anyway. I know Emily
, you see, and she’s not the sort to fall for a man’s charms that easily and be coaxed into running away.’

  ‘But you said she’d had to leave a boyfriend behind from her old life?’

  ‘Yes, a boy called Tommy, who lived back in Shoreditch and grew up in the next street from Emily and her parents. A fine strong boy who works as a roof tiler — at least he used to — and the two of them had known each other all their lives.’

  ‘So, do you want Jack to have your niece listed as a missing person? I believe that the Met do that sort of work, or he may be able to recommend one of those private enquiry agents.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll agree to help?’

  ‘We can only ask him, can’t we? But once he gets home, I imagine that he’ll have to rest for a while before he’s allowed to go back to work.’

  Two weeks later, Jack limped like a toy soldier up two flights of stairs, then stopped for breath and a few quiet curses while Esther used her key to unlock the front door. Alice smiled, welcomed him home, assured them that Lily and Bertie had been the epitome of good behaviour and took herself back upstairs to her rooms on the top floor. Jack knelt down gingerly on the hall carpet in order to receive the full force of Lily’s charge towards him with a joyful shout of ‘Daddy’ and a flying embrace that nearly knocked him backwards. Then it was into the children’s bedroom, where Bertie had once again escaped from his playpen and was making a determined bid for freedom on tottering legs towards the bedroom door.

  ‘He’s learned to walk all too quickly,’ Esther complained.

  ‘At least he can use both legs,’ Jack complained grumpily as he lurched towards the kitchen with the aid of the strange device with which he’d been issued on his discharge from the hospital, a padded armrest with a leg that went all the way down to the floor. He was under strict instructions to return it to the London Hospital as soon as he could walk with only the aid of the walking stick to which he hoped to be able to convert with the minimum of delay. He dreaded going back to duty at the Yard looking like the well-described Long John Silver. If he hobbled back to work in his current condition he could expect enquiries regarding the health of his missing parrot.