by Amy Cross
Chapter Four
Maddie
Today
“This is incredible,” Matt says as he steps across the basement and stops to look at the slab in the middle of the room. “I can't believe what I'm seeing.”
“You're so dead!” Alex whispers into my ear from behind. “If this puts our payday in danger, I swear you're dead! We told you not to invite anyone else into the house!”
“We need to show it to other people,” I reply, keeping my voice down. “We're not -”
Suddenly she nudges my arm hard.
“We'll talk about this later,” she says darkly. “I can't believe you, Maddie. I thought we were all on the same side.”
Ignoring her, I make my way over to the slab, stopping opposite Matt and reaching down to run my hands across the grooves. It's strange to think about what must have happened down here more than a century ago, and for a moment I can't help imagining some poor woman tied to the slab while her guts are torn open. I keep telling myself that I'm being dramatic, that nothing quite so lurid took place in this dank and cold room, but at the same time I can't help noticing the dark stains that run along some of the grooves.
“I think these are part of a drainage system,” I explain, “taking the blood away. If you look closely, you can even see something left over. Blood, maybe. There are scalpels and saws and things over on the bench behind you, and even what look like old pieces of rope.”
He turns and looks over at the counter, and then he starts walking away from the slab. Just as I think he's about to take a look at the knives, however, he heads past them and stops to take a closer look at the far wall. He's been lost in thought for a while now, saying very little, and I desperately want to know what he thinks. Part of me wants him to tell me this whole thing is ridiculous, and the rest of me wants him to say that this really is the house of Jack the Ripper.
“Those symbols are in other parts of the house too,” I tell him, “but I don't think they mean anything.”
I wait, but he doesn't reply.
“Do they?” I ask finally.
“Of course they mean something,” he says, reaching out and running a hand over the roughly-carved shapes. “There are a lot of them, and they're very intricate. Whoever put them here clearly believed that they were going to do something. I've seen things like this before, in books about the occult. Not exactly the same, of course, but not a million miles away either. Whether they actually worked or not is one thing, but they undoubtedly meant something to whoever put them here.”
“So here's the thing,” Alex says suddenly, as she and Nick come over to join me next to the slab. “We've got this whole situation in hand, so we don't need any help from outsiders. Maddie was obviously just seeking a fourth opinion from you, whoever you are, but there's nothing for you to do here. You really just need to high-tail it out of here and keep your mouth shut. You're not getting a penny.”
He turns to her, clearly surprised by her attitude.
“We're not paying you off,” she adds. “Maybe, like, 5%, but no more.”
“This isn't about money,” he says cautiously. “This is a crime scene. It was, anyway, and I still want to get it checked out in case there's any link to what's happening at the moment.”
“You don't get to decide when we tell people about this,” Alex replies. “That's our decision to make, thanks very much.”
He shakes his head. “The police -”
“We'll call the police when we're good and ready,” she adds.
“I'm a police officer,” he replies.
She opens her mouth to dismiss him, but then I see the shock in her eyes. “You're what?” she stammers, before glancing at me with daggers. “He's a what, Maddie? Did you know this?”
“I'm a police officer,” he says again, stepping back toward us, “and as of this moment, this entire house is a potential crime scene. That means I'm going to be calling in reinforcements, and it means you three all have to get out of here and make yourself available for questioning. I'm also going to need to know exactly what you've touched, and what you might have disturbed, and we'll need to get prints and samples from all of you so we can eliminate -”
“Hang on!” Alex says, holding her hands up as she steps toward him. “Let's backtrack a little. You're a cop?”
Reaching into his pocket, Matt pulls out a small black wallet and opens it, revealing his police ID.
“Nice,” Alex says darkly, turning and casting another dagger-filled glare straight at me. “When you screw up, Maddie, you really go all the way, don't you? I mean, you really are a piece of work.”
“I had to call him,” I tell her. “Come on, be serious for a moment. We couldn't just sit on this indefinitely. We had to get help!”
“I'm going to call for back-up,” Matt says, slipping past us and heading to the door that leads back up into the hallway. He checks his phone, but evidently he can't get any signal down here. “I need the three of you to wait here until that back-up arrives, and then we're going to figure out exactly what's going on here.”
“That's not fair!” Nick calls after him. “We're the ones who solved this!”
“And you'll get all the credit you deserve,” Matt adds, before hurrying up the steps.
“We want more than credit!” Nick adds, before turning and scowling at me. “Good job, short-ass. Do you wanna stab us both in the back while you're at it?”
“And what exactly was your plan?” I ask.
“My plan was pretty brilliant, actually,” he snarls, stepping toward me. “My plan was going to make us all goddamn millionaires!”
He reaches for my neck, but Alex pushes him away.
“You can't be on her side!” he sneers at her. “She's put everything in jeopardy!”
“Let's just figure this out,” she says cautiously. “It's not the end of the world, just 'cause one cop has shown up.”
“I did what I had to,” I reply, before turning and hurrying after Matt. “I'm sorry.”
“Get back here!” Nick snarls. “We're not done with you!”
I mutter something about going to check something, but I don't look back. Heading up the stairs, I reach the hallway just in time to see Matt walking out through the back door. He already has his phone in his hands and he's holding it out as if he's still trying to get some signal.
“Hey, wait up!” I call out, rushing to catch up to him.
“I don't have time,” he replies. “Maddie, this could really help us.”
“I'm sorry I dragged you into it all,” I tell him. “I'm sure you already had a million things to do.”
“No, I'm glad you called,” he replies, turning to me. He hesitates for a moment, and then his features soften just a little. “You needed to call someone. Besides, I was worried about you.”
“Worried? Why?”
“Maybe not worried, exactly,” he adds. “I mean, I was... I was just thinking about you. A lot. Well, not thinking about you, more...”
His voice trails off, as if he's not quite sure what to say.
“I just noticed that I hadn't heard from you,” he adds finally. “I was wondering if you were okay. Last time we spoke, you seemed really out of it, as if you were hallucinating. You sounded really sick, Maddie.”
“I'm okay now.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
“I've been kicking myself for not doing more to help,” he continues. “The streets are still on lock-down and I know you won't go to one of the centers, but I should have offered to let you stay at my place. I can take the sofa-bed and you can have my room.”
“You don't need to do that,” I tell him.
“Where else are you going to go?”
“I'll be fine.”
“You sure can't stay here,” he replies. “Maddie, we'll talk about this later, but right now I have to make a phone call and get some back-up here. The odds of this place being linked to the current murders is low, but the timing of it all makes me uneasy, o
kay? Just stay put, stay safe, and wait until I get back.” He checks his phone. “There's no signal here. I'll have to try out in the street.”
“I'll get the notebooks together,” I reply, figuring that I can at least be useful. “I already gave some to Jerry next door, but I'm sure he'll be happy to turn them over to you.”
As Matt heads outside to search for cellphone signal, I make my way into the study. Rushing to the desk, I start gathering together all the notebooks and letters. My mind is racing and I can't think straight, but I know that I have to help Matt. Frankly, I can't believe I didn't call him sooner, but at least this mess is going to get sorted out now. Alex and Nick were getting totally carried away, thinking we could handle this ourselves. They'll have to admit that I'm right eventually, once their anger has died down, and I'm sure they'll still be able to make some money out of the whole situation. I'll even donate my share of anything, so they have more to split.
“You've really done it this time, Maddie.”
Startled, I look over at the doorway and see that Alex is watching me with an expression of pure, stony-faced anger.
“Please,” I stammer, “try to understand, I only did what I thought was -”
“You stupid little bitch,” she continues. “Since the day I met you, I've done nothing but try to help you, and this is how you repay me? If it wasn't for me, Maddie, you'd be dead by now.”
“I'm only -”
“You'd be dead!” she yells, stepping toward me. “Do you have any idea how pathetic and vulnerable you looked when you arrived in London? If I hadn't taken you under my wing, you'd have ended up getting snatched and taken somewhere by some really bad people, and do you -”
“Alex, please...”
“And do you know how the cops would have eventually found you? You'd probably have ended up dead in some abandoned warehouse, face-down in the dirt with your pants around your ankles and blood smeared around every orifice. You would've died in fear and agony. People like you do not survive on the streets, Maddie, but I took a liking to you and I kept you safe. And now, after all that, this is how you pay me back? Seriously? You sad, ungrateful little cow!”
“You did so much for me,” I reply, “and I'll never forget that, but I had to do the right thing.”
“You've ruined our big chance!”
“No, I -”
“You're a double-crossing little bitch,” she adds, “and I will never, ever forgive you for trying to destroy our one shot at making it off the streets. I was actually starting to defend you to Nick, but then he made me realize that you've completely betrayed us. He made me realize that we're going to have to start doing things completely his way from now on.”
“I only -”
“And I will make sure,” she sneers, coming even closer until she's right on the other side of the desk, staring at me with pure hatred, “that you get left so far behind, we won't even hear your sad little voice when you're begging us to help you. Because when this is all over, Nick and I are going to be set for the rest of our lives, and you – at best – will go back to starving to death on the streets.”
“Alex -”
“Because guess what? You're still the same sniveling little runt I first met, and you won't last out there. And when one day I hear that you were found naked and tied up and dead, just some bloated corpse that was weighed down in a lake after some gang had their way with you, I swear to God I'll raise a glass of champagne and have a laugh at the thought of your miserable death. And if anyone even bothers to give you a proper grave, I promise I'll come and find it some day and piss all over it!”
“I have to take these,” I mutter, feeling tears in my eyes as I gather the rest of the notebooks up and start making my way around the desk. “I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I have to go and help Matt now.”
“I don't think so,” she says darkly.
“It's too late,” I point out as I head toward the door. “You can't stop me. I couldn't undo the fact that I told him, even if I wanted to. And I don't!”
“Maddie!”
Sighing, I turn to her. “Alex -”
Suddenly she punches me, hitting me hard in the jaw and sending me thudding back against the wall. All the notebooks fall from my hands, clattering down onto the floorboards. Letting out a gasp of pain, I barely have time to even realize what's happening before she comes at me again. This time she hits me on the side of the temple, striking me so hard that I instantly lose consciousness and slump to the floor.
Chapter Five
Doctor Charles Grazier
Thursday October 4th, 1888
Blood dribbles between my fingers.
***
“This is her,” Sanderson says as he pulls a sheet away, revealing the bloodless, naked body of a young woman. “As I told you, this one's not quite as old as the others. I know that shouldn't make it any worse, but...”
He hesitates for a moment.
“By all accounts she was a good, quiet girl,” he adds finally. “Not like the street-walkers who usually end up in here. This one was barely a woman at all.”
“Indeed not,” I reply, adjusting my glasses a little as I look down at the corpse. “I can tell you right away, however, that this is not one of the Ripper's victims.”
“Are you sure?”
“How could anyone mistake this for his work?” I ask, stepping around the table and taking a closer look at the belly area. The girl's stomach has been torn open and some cretin has gouged her insides away, but the work is sloppy and aimless. “This person clearly had no understanding of basic human anatomy,” I explain, reaching down and pointing at what remains of the liver. “Look how this section has been hacked repeatedly. Why would anybody do that? There's nothing here but sheer, psychopathic barbarity.”
“Why would anybody do any of this?” he asks. “Jack the Ripper must be mad anyway, so why -”
“Of course he's not mad!” I snap, turning to him. “Do you seriously persist with this foolish notion? The man is clearly a genius! Whoever killed this girl, perhaps he is afflicted by some form of insanity, but the real Jack the Ripper is quite clearly a man of calm brilliance!”
I wait for a reply, but now Sanderson is simply staring at me, as if he's in some way surprised by what I have told him. I honestly fail to understand how anybody could rise to such a high position within the police service, without gaining at least a sliver of common sense.
“A girl disappeared near your home recently,” he says after a moment.
“I beg your pardon?”
“A girl disappeared. Vanished from an alley while she was working.”
“How would I know anything about that?” I ask.
“I saw you at your window,” he continues. “I was sent to speak to some potential witnesses, and I saw you watching from your house. You must have seen me too.”
“I do not believe so.”
“You looked straight at me.”
“I imagine,” I say with a sigh, “that I simply wondered what was causing the commotion. I live in a very genteel part of the city, you know, and it's quite unfortunate when large crowds gather in the vicinity. Most likely, I felt the whole thing to be rather common and I -”
“Are your eyes alright, Doctor Grazier?”
“My eyes?”
“Those spectacles,” he mutters, keeping his gaze fixed on me, “are rather dark.”
“They're designed to reduce the instance of headaches,” I tell him.
“I didn't know that such things existed.”
“Well, you have learned something, have you not?” I reply, starting to feel more than a little restless. “Now is there anything else that you wanted to ask me, or might I be allowed to go on my way? I have a great deal to get done today, and my time is too valuable to be wasted on trivial matters. Why your own doctors cannot tell you these things, I cannot possibly understand.”
“There's one more thing,” he says, turning and heading to a door in the far corner. “Please, I k
now you're a very busy man, but I'd like your expert opinion on one more case. Just one.”
Sighing, I realize that I should probably indulge the moron a little longer. Making my way toward the door, I cannot help thinking that this entire visit is a waste of time, and it's hard to believe that this Sanderson fellow has the temerity to ask for my help on such a regular basis. Indeed, it seems to me that Scotland Yard is run in a rather haphazard manner, and I'm minded to raise the matter next time I chance upon the commissioner at a social gathering.
“Do you go out a lot at night?” Sanderson asks, holding the door open for me as I step through into the next room.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just wondered. A man of your status and wealth must be invited to many places. And even if you don't like crowds, perhaps you simply enjoy walking the streets of the city?”
He leads me through another set of doors.
“Lately my wife has been ill,” I snap, “and -”
Stopping suddenly, I see Delilah Culpepper's dead body laid out naked on a table. There is no reason why this should disturb me, of course, yet I feel some unaccountable sense of concern as I take a step closer and see the woman's glassy eyes staring straight up toward the ceiling. Her skin is greatly discolored compared to how she appeared the other day, when I deposited her body in an alley far from my home, but it is most certainly her nonetheless.
“Delilah Culpepper,” Sanderson says, standing behind me. “Did you know her, Doctor Grazier?”
“No,” I reply, “of course not.”
“Are you sure? You were close to her husband, Doctor Thomas Culpepper.”
I turn to the man. “None of which means that I paid any attention to his wife. Besides, Culpepper and I were acquaintances, at best. We merely drank at the same club for a period.”
“Thomas Culpepper has not been seen for some time now,” he replies. “We were asked by members of his family to seek out any information concerning him, and just a few hours later his wife's body was found in an alley called Gregson Way. As you can see, she's in a pretty bad state.”
