Inspector Grant thought for a minute. “Please make a list of your thoughts that we can post for all the detectives to see. Keep working on your profile, but make haste with it. I also fear he is not done, and we need to work swiftly,” Grant told Holmes.
Dr. Watson wrote out the list, since he had impeccable handwriting, and it was posted for the detectives to see. Each patrolman had his own copy as well.
CHAPTER six
Taunting Card
The next day, Holmes and Watson went out into the field to conduct interviews about Annie’s murder. There weren’t as many witnesses as there had been with Mary’s murder, but Holmes still held out hope that they would discover something substantial.
Their first stop was to the Crossingham’s Lodging House on Dorset Street, the place where Annie lived when she could afford it. The cost was eight pence a night for a bed. They had made an appointment to speak to the landlord, Timothy Donovan, about his tenant.
“Mr. Donovan, can you tell us about the night before Annie was found murdered and anything else you remember about her?”
“Yes sir. Annie had a terrible time keeping her rent paid. She drank the money away most times and I could not keep giving her a room for free, so some nights I had to turn her away. This was the case on that night,” the landlord told them.
“What do you mean?” asked Dr. Watson.
“Well, she had not been feeling well and had come to the last of her money. She asked if she could sit in the kitchen with her friends for a while that night. I told her she could. She was a nice woman and did embroidery and sold flowers to supplement her income. I knew she had fallen on some hard times, but I can’t just give away my rooms. I have to make money too,” the man said, feeling a sharp pang of guilt for sending Annie into the night alone.
“Please continue.”
“She had two regular clients—a man named Harry, though I can’t remember his surname, and Ted Stanley. Ted visited here often and would pay me to turn her out if she had any liaisons with another. He will deny this and say he only visited her once or twice, I would bet, but trust me, he was a regular. I can give you his address if you want. He doesn’t live far from here, but I have to tell you he is married. If you do visit him, I’m sure he would appreciate discretion.”
“We will collect the address from you at the end of our talk,” said Holmes. “Do you have any other details you want to discuss with us?”
“Eliza Cooper is another guest here frequently, and she and Annie used to be friends, but they had a bad argument recently. She resides in room number three, and may be able to give you more details about Annie’s life than I can.”
“Thank you again.”
The men finished up their interview and asked to see Eliza, but were told she was out, so they decided to go visit Mr. Stanley and then come back. He said exactly what the landlord had said he would say, and upon conclusion of that interview they returned to Dorset Street to speak with Eliza.
“Ms. Cooper, we understand that you and the murder victim had an argument not long before her death,” Holmes told the woman seated in front of him at the kitchen table of the lodging house.
“Well, she borrowed some soap from me and never returned it. She let one of her men use it, and every time I asked for it back, she gave me some excuse. Money doesn’t grow on trees you know,” the woman said with a sneer. “I can’t be buying soap willy-nilly.”
“Of course—we do understand that. We also understand that you saw Annie in a bar and slapped her, which started an argument. Annie’s body had bruises on it, and they seem to be from you hitting her.”
“She had it coming. She threw a penny at me and told me to go buy a penny’s worth of soap!”
“That does not sound like cause for a fistfight,” Holmes told her.
“Maybe not—but I’ve always had a fierce temper. I am sorry she is dead. We used to be friends,” the woman said, growing pensive. “Are we safe here?”
“We are doing our best to make it so.”
Continuing, she said, “I do remember seeing Annie on Hanbury Street that morning about 5:30. She was talking to a man whose back was to me. The man said ‘Will you?’ and she said, ‘Yes.’ That’s all I heard. He was not dressed very sharply, so he probably did not have money, and those sorts of men do not interest me.”
“We are doing everything we can to catch the killer. If you have any other information you can give us we would appreciate it,” Holmes said as he took out a few business cards and gave them to her. “If you would pass that along to the other tenants, we would appreciate it.”
With that, the two men took their leave and went to see Albert Cadosh, who lived next door to where Annie’s body had been found.
“What can you tell us, sir, about this morning?” Holmes asked the man who answered their knock at the door and identified himself as Mr. Cadosh.
“It was about 5:30 A.M. when I went into the backyard of my house. I heard a woman’s voice say ‘no.’ That’s all. I was too busy relieving my bladder to snoop. But when my neighbor, John Davis, went into his back yard at number twenty-nine about 6:00 A.M. and discovered the body, I knew it had to be the woman I had heard.”
“Did you wait for the police and ambulance to come and get the body?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Have you been interrogated by any other police about this?”
The man told them he had, so Holmes and Dr. Watson knew they probably would not have much to add to this man’s file.
They found Amelia Palmer, their next witness, at the corner bar. When they announced who they were and asked for anyone to step forward if they had seen Annie that morning, Ms. Palmer walked over to them.
“Annie was my friend. I saw her just a few days before on the street. She had bruising on her right temple and looked very upset. She also opened up her dress and showed me bruising on her chest. She told me she had gotten into a fight with a woman at the tavern. I was real worried about her, because she had not been feeling well lately.” The woman fingered the buttons running down the front of her dress. “I also saw her a couple of days later. She looked no better, and I asked if she had eaten. She told me she had not, and that she had been feeling poorly, so I gave her a little money and told her not to spend it on drink. I don't know if she did or not.”
“Do you have reason to believe she was in danger?”
“I do not know, but I did pass her just yesterday, standing on the street corner with a man. She made some remark that she ‘couldn’t give it away, she had to make some money or she wouldn’t have a place to stay.’ Those were the last words I heard from her.”
“Do you recall what the fellow looked like?” asked Holmes.
Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the scene. “I think he was dark complected—I wasn’t paying much attention to his face, to be honest—but I do know he was wearing a leather apron. I thought that was very odd—of course, butchers and even surgeons wear them—but they usually don’t wander the streets in them.”
Holmes got a gleam in his eye at this time—one of his suspicions had been confirmed—but he said nothing further other than to thank Amelia for her time.
Dr. Watson had to return home, and Holmes walked to the station to rewrite his notes and compare them with any others taken from these witnesses. Inspector Grant, seeing the detective had returned, hurried over to his desk.
“Holmes, I need to speak with you.”
“Yes sir.”
With that, Grant tossed one of Holmes’ business cards on the desk before him.
“Where did you get my card?” questioned Holmes.
“It was found part-ways under the body of our latest murder victim,” Grant answered.
There was a stunned silence.
“I do not understand,” Holmes said.
“Could you have dropped your card during the examination of Annie’s body?” asked Grant.
“I suppose it’s possible.” But Holmes wa
s thinking that he did not have any business cards with him that morning. He had taken a fresh suit and only put his cards into the pocket when he and Dr. Watson returned home. He did not reveal this little fact—his instincts told him to keep it as quiet as he had the message he received in the mail. He would discuss it with Dr. Watson later that evening. He was sure now that the killer was taunting him.
“Well, I thought that’s probably what happened. I just wanted to let you know. Keep up the good work, Holmes.”
With that, Inspector Grant was on his way.
More witnesses came in and out during the rest of the day, but Holmes was not involved in all of the interviews. His mind was only half-heartedly operating at that time. The question that kept running through his thoughts was, Why is this killer targeting me?
CHAPTER seven
In So Many Words
Mrs. Parker prepared a fine supper that night. She had roasted a pig and sautéed new potatoes in garlic and butter with asparagus and cheese sauce. The bread was crusty and fresh, and the ale was chilled. The men’s mouths were watering just walking to the table. They were both famished, and they felt at that moment an immense appreciation for Mrs. Parker.
Holmes told his friend about the day’s events and asked for his advice.
“It does seem that our culprit is bringing you into this, Holmes. You have to be very careful, or else you will be accused of these murders before you know it,” Dr. Watson told him. “Especially if the police find another of your cards at a murder scene.”
“How well I know this—though I would like to believe that Scotland Yard would be clever enough to realize a murderer would not leave his own name at the scene of every crime. Do you think I did the right thing by holding my tongue about the postcard and what I know about the business card? Should I tell Grant?”
“No, I think you are doing the right thing at this point. We have to find out how the murderer got your card. Do you have any ideas?”
“No.”
“Well, I imagine there are any number of your cards circulating London—you leave them when you make a call, or investigate witnesses. Perhaps you have given out your card to the murderer without knowing it.”
“True. Both could be true. We will just see what happens next and be on the alert. I will need you to help me, old friend, by searching any future murder sites. If this vile fellow is trying to frame me, he’s not as clever as I thought—or otherwise he would not use so obvious a method. I think he is merely trying to catch my attention and let me know that he is very aware I am on his trail.”
The men stayed up most of the night going over the interviews from both murders. There did not seem to be a common thread among them as far as identifying a perpetrator. The only connection between the murders was that the way the killing was performed was almost identical; that the victims were prostitutes; and that the victims were of a similar age. Holmes and Watson needed to concentrate on the profile and pay close attention when they did their interviews as to whom among the suspects had the traits they had identified.
The next day at the precinct, a loud buzz of excited conversation blanketed the room. The mail had just run. A letter had arrived that was supposedly from the murderer. Everyone was called together and the letter read.
Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they won’t fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shan’t quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work in the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I can’t use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. Ha. The next job I do I shall clip the lady’s ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn’t you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good luck.
Yours truly,
Jack the Ripper
Don’t mind me giving the trade name.
P.S. Wasn’t good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it. No luck yet. They say I’m a doctor now. Haha
Silence. Everyone was deep in thought, and then the noise of chatter and speculation became deafening once more.
“Now everyone, we must focus,” Inspector Grant said. “Go by the profile Inspector Holmes wrote for us. Pay close attention to anyone you run across, no matter how mild-mannered or innocent they seem. Remember, this man more than likely looks just like an everyday citizen. He’s told us he’s planning another murder, so we must be swift and try to stay ahead of the game.”
Holmes stepped forward and gestured for the men to wait just as they started to disperse. “Sirs, please give me a moment more of your day. When you’re studying the profile and interviewing witnesses, you must keep one thing in the forefront of your mind: logic. There’s nothing more important in solving crimes.
“Though many cultures have had famed fathers of logical thinking, in England we are most familiar with the Greek philosopher Aristotle. There are many forms of logic, but the basis he gave us—which evolved into a focus on inductive and deductive reasoning—remains the most important for investigatory work in today’s era.
“Inductive reasoning is the process of drawing a conclusion from a set of observations—but this process only works if there is absolutely no scenario in which the premises you’ve proposed are true and the conclusion is still false. Inductive reasoning gives weight to probabilities but not certainties; however, it can still be a useful tool for explaining all angles of a situation, though it should not be your primary tool.
“Deductive reasoning—there is the key! It gives us something a bit more concrete and reliable with which to work. With deductive reasoning, A invariably leads to B.
“I have said it to other audiences before, but it bears repeating—deduction is reasoning backwards. Take the conclusion, and all the data at hand, and try to go back—step by step. Don’t theorize before you have all of the evidence—look at the conclusion without bias. Observe, but do not judge; keep your mind free of emotion, for it clouds your thoughts.
“If you can notice even the smallest, most insignificant detail—you may realize that it is not so insignificant at all, and may lead to a groundbreaking discovery.
“In sum, deductive reasoning helps you eliminate everything but the truth. While this thought process takes time to develop, it will be of immense value to you—and even I was once as new to it as you are.”
Holmes stopped speaking abruptly and turned away to go about his day; he was thinking of the great man who had taught him the intricacies of logic: Edmond Dantes. The officers likewise returned to their duties, but Holmes’ impassioned advice would stay with them for the rest of their careers, and it improved the work of many a Scotland Yard detective.
The streets of Whitechapel remained quiet for the next few days, and no new clues came to light. Everyone went about their daily routine of interviewing witnesses and comparing notes. The officers in Scotland Yard even thought the first letter was a hoax and that the murders had ended, but their hopes would soon be dashed. The precinct received a postcard in the mail. It read:
I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, you’ll hear about Saucy Jacky’s work in the news tomorrow—double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn’t finish straight off. Ha not the time to get ears for police. Thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to.
Jack the Ripper again
The letter was posted and distributed. All of the officers were on the alert that they might find another murder victim at any time. Holmes knew there would be at least one more victim. He had to stay on his toes to see if the murderer planted a
ny more clues that would lead to his capture. Holmes wondered to himself why the fiend was committing such crimes, and whether perhaps he had met the maniac before.
Holmes went back over to the morgue to ask the coroner’s assistant a few more questions. Donald was welcoming and friendly, and he led Holmes into a back room for privacy.
“Mr. Hamilton,” Holmes started. “We’ve met before—how good to see you again. How many people have been in to view the body?”
“Well, right off the top of my mind I cannot tell you, but I will have a look at the log,” Donald said. He left the room and returned a few moments with a leather-bound book.
“Let’s see. You, of course, Inspector Grant, Inspector Jones…”
“Here, let me look please.”
“Of course.”
Holmes noticed that a few of Annie’s friends had come and identified the body early on. Other than that, nobody else had viewed the victim other than those involved in the investigation.
“Thank you, Mr. Hamilton.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Not at this time—I merely wanted to see if any of the names jumped out at me as a potential murderer. If the Ripper could possibly get away with it, I think he would be amused at viewing the body of his victim so close to Scotland Yard, and yet walking away. And I must inquire, for the satisfaction of my own curiosity, how do you work around all of these dead people day in and day out?” Holmes asked.
“I guess you just get used to it. They are all people. These just don’t carry on a conversation,” Donald said, trying to lighten the moment.
“I do not believe I could do it,” Holmes answered him.
Jack The Ripper: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page 4
