“I thought I was to wait further down the road?”
“Yes, yes—but where is Holmes? He is supposed to be here with us.”
Dr. Watson looked concerned. “I do not know—it is not like him to be late. Should I send a messenger to his house? I could perhaps pay someone in the pub to take a missive.”
“No, that would draw attention to us,” Inspector Grant said. “I suppose we will just carry on with our plan and hope he appears.”
Just then, the drunk sleeping on the street gave a snort that sounded strangely like a chuckle. The fellow lurched to his feet and pulled a shining pipe from his pocket; he placed a small amount of tobacco in the bowl and tamped it.
“Could I bother you blokes for a match?” the man said—and it was then that Dr. Watson realized the tramp was his old friend and partner, Sherlock Holmes!
“Why, it’s you!” Dr. Watson gasped, laughing in shock. “You are wholly unrecognizable!”
Indeed, Holmes’ own mother would not have recognized the man; though he was usually impeccably groomed and garbed, now he was dressed in a tattered overcoat and his face and hands were smeared with grime.
Holmes did not break character for a second. “If you’ve no match on you, then I’ll sit myself down again,” he said, slipping the pipe into his pocket and resuming his post.
Dr. Watson continued his walk to a nearby alley, and Inspector Grant gazed with admiration upon Holmes—he knew he was in the presence of greatness whenever that man was near.
Inside the pub, Thomas had instructed the bartender to give Julie only seltzer water after the first drink; assuming Thomas was her pimp and perhaps used to such requests, he readily complied. Julie slowly began to act as if the liquor had gone to her head, and soon men began to gravitate toward her. She rebuffed them one by one based on their appearance, and made sure to mingle with the other women in the bar as well. At 1 A.M., when no one who resembled the suspect had approached her, she stumbled out into the night alone (though watched closely by those around her).
Holmes and Grant were alert and ready when Julie left the bar. They each went to opposite sides of the fence so they could watch her better. She was to stop along the way, talk to men, and see if the Ripper tried to target her. So far, nobody of Jack’s description had made a pass at her.
She stopped, leaning against the edge of an alcove to a store, pretending to dig through the small satchel at her waist. A man of average build strolled over and attempted to engage her in conversation. Holmes and Grant could not quite hear what he was saying, but the look on Julie’s face told them she did not feel she was in danger. More men, none matching the description, approached her as the night dragged on. And it was a long one. The Ripper either knew something was up or he was taking the night off. At about 6:00 A.M. the group went home, still in character so nobody would notice.
They gathered around lunchtime the next day at Baker Street, discussing the night before.
“None of the men matched the description of the Ripper,” Grant said solemnly. “It might take weeks to catch him—or perhaps he’s moved on and we will have no more murders.”
Julie shuddered. “I can’t believe that a monster can just stop,” she said. “But I didn’t feel any threat from the men who spoke to me last night—and none of them tried to get me to go off alone with them.”
“Shall we carry on again tonight, then?” asked Dr. Watson.
“For as long as we have the energy,” answered Holmes. “Eventually, we will have to get a few solid nights’ sleep.”
The rest of the day was very busy. The suspect list continued to dwindle, and Holmes distributed an updated list to the men. Everyone had been working so hard as well as interviewing the various drunks and crackpots who came in to confess.
Holmes’ personal list read as follows:
Joseph Barnett
Barnett is an out-of-work fishmonger who fits the physical description of the Ripper. He lived with Mary Jane Kelly for roughly a year (though not consistently) before her murder, and is known to have been angry she made her living on the streets.
Reasons to suspect Joseph Barnett as a suspect: He has knowledge and skill with knives and fits the description of the Ripper; he also likely has a key to Mary Jane’s room, and thus could have easily let himself in without raising suspicion. Additionally, Mary Jane may not have initially struggled or fought against a man who she recognized as a lover, making it easy for him to overpower her.
George Hutchinson
Hutchinson claims to be a witness who saw the last victim with a man shortly before her murder. He claims he came close enough to see the man’s features and hear his voice. He saw the alleged murderer hand the woman a red handkerchief. However, there are several details that he should have noticed and did not. He followed the couple to Mary Jane’s residence and waited outside, watching.
Reasons to consider George Hutchinson as a suspect: He could be Jack the Ripper, giving himself an alibi—however, he is the least likely suspect on the list.
James Kelly
See notes on previous list. Kelly remains a strong suspect.
George Chapman
See notes on previous list. Chapman remains a strong suspect.
Dr. Alexander Pedachenko
Very little is known about Pedachenko, other than that he knew two of the victims.
Reasons to consider Dr. Alexander Pedachenko as a suspect: An informant has revealed Pedachenko may have been sent by the Russian police to commit these murders and discredit Scotland Yard, who the Russians believed to be too easy on socialists. Pedachenko is said to be a surgeon and enjoy wearing women’s clothing; his motivation for the murders may have been exacerbated by mental illness.
Francis Thompson
Francis Thompson, though he comes from a well-respected family, is an opium addict given to hallucinations—he has no known address and perhaps lives on the streets. We have been unable to interview him about the crimes, though we continue to seek his whereabouts.
Reasons to consider Francis Thompson as a suspect: Thompson is known to interact with prostitutes, as well as other less savory members of society; he has a habit of wearing neckties, and the victims may have been strangled with a necktie. He has worked in a medical factory and has had some surgical training, He also was allegedly in the vicinity of the murders at the time they occurred, and more than one witness has mentioned his instability and tendency toward violent anger. His physical description fits that given by other witnesses, as well.
Francis Tumblety
An eccentric who presents himself as a physician and has knowledge of human anatomy. His housekeeper claims to have found bloody sheets in his house, and he lives in the area.
Reasons to consider Francis Tumblety as a suspect: Tumblety has the reputation as a woman hater, and dislikes prostitutes in particular. He has a collection of wombs and a history of violence.
Alois Szemeredy
Szemeredy is a Hungarian surgeon who has served time in a lunatic asylum and has a history of violent crime, as well as a penchant for surgical knives. He resides in a hotel near where the crimes were committed, but we have been unable to interview him thus far in the investigation.
Reasons to consider Alois Szemeredy as a suspect: Szemeredy has a professed hatred of prostitutes and his past indicates an inclination toward mental instability and the capacity for murder. However, it appears the links between Szemeredy and the Ripper’s crimes are weak without more information.
Dr. John Williams
See notes on previous list; remains a suspect but is unlikely to be the Ripper.
Now, most certainly, Jack was amongst these people left on the list. The real work was about to begin…
CHAPTER nineteen
Intuition
As the sun began to set, Grant told Holmes they would have to put off the nights’ surveillance due to unforeseen circumstances. He and the other officers would be working on another case. It appeared there was a lull in the murders, and other
crimes on the London streets demanded attention.
Holmes was pleased with this turn of events, as he was eager to carry out the investigation on his own. He quickly decided that he and Dr. Watson, as well as Julie, would still visit the bar that night; Holmes wanted to observe the patrons and their habits.
Holmes left Scotland Yard and paid a call upon Julie. She was in, and answered the door herself—her humble home was a far cry from the orderly, upper-class address of Baker Street.
“Detective Holmes,” she said with real pleasure in her voice—she liked the man, despite his many awkward quirks. “Will we still be trying to catch the Ripper tonight, or have you come with other plans?”
“Inspector Grant and the officers cannot join us tonight,” Holmes said. “But Dr. Watson and I would still like to accompany you to Whitechapel—I assure you that we will not leave you unprotected.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to catch this beast I will do,” she told him.
“We won’t be far from you, as I have said, so you will be safe. I have a notion that this might be the night,” he said. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your help.”
“And I yours. Please, come in—can I offer you anything?”
Holmes knew it was untoward to see Julie without a chaperone present—such things would start a torrent of gossip in proper society—but in Julie’s neighborhood it was unlikely anyone would raise an eyebrow. He gladly accepted, and they sat in her small parlor and discussed the case.
“It’s time for him to kill again isn’t it?” Julie asked.
“Yes. This is Saturday night. It seems he only kills on the weekends, or so far anyway. Inspector Grant believes he is in a lull, or has moved on—but I have an intuition this is not the case. We will all have to be on our toes tonight.”
“I certainly will,” Julie laughed, a touch of cynicism in her tone. “Otherwise it’s my head.”
Holmes knew he needed to go talk to Dr. Watson, so he bid Julie farewell and left.
When Holmes arrived at his friend’s house, he was happy to see there was a late lunch awaiting him. They sat down at the table and ate ham sandwiches with a mug of ale.
“So, we will be on our own tonight?” Dr. Watson asked.
“Yes, my friend. I hope that is alright with you.”
“Quite so. We’ve always worked best alone. I do believe you know something you are not telling me yet. Am I right?”
“Well, let’s just say I think I have a lead on the subject—as I have told you before.”
“And I know you well enough to realize you will tell me nothing else, to preserve your objectivity. I know by now how you work, and I will do whatever you need me to do. We have to stick close to Julie.”
The two men went over the suspect list. Dr. Watson knew the Ripper was on that list. Of course, there is always room for mistake, so they took each person seriously and went over the facts carefully.
“I still suspect there might be someone not on the list. I keep thinking Jack has a partner—an accomplice,” Holmes said.
“That could be correct. We seem to have different descriptions along the way of what he looks like. Maybe one is luring the women to the real Ripper,” Dr. Watson mused.
“Yes, that is a possibility. If there is an accomplice, Jack the Ripper could be anyone—perhaps no one has even set eyes on the fellow leading up to the crime. But if we can catch the accomplice, he might lead us to the bigger prize.”
“Having an accomplice would also make easier the task of framing you,” said Dr. Watson. “If more murders occur, it is only a matter of time before you are linked to one; and you will have only Mrs. Parker as an alibi.”
“That worries me,” Holmes admitted. “Mrs. Parker does not pay much attention to my comings and goings—she knows I cherish my privacy. That leads me back again to my theory of the secret society, one that opposes the Sovereign Order of the Count of Monte Cristo. It would be far easier for them to find a patsy to pin the crimes on me than it would be for an ordinary serial killer.”
“The Sovereign Order of Monte Cristo is powerful, though, my friend. Can’t its members do something to help?”
“I have been hesitant to draw my old friend Dantes into this,” answered Holmes. “He is a busy man with worries of his own. If the situation worsens and I am indeed linked to the crimes, I will not hesitate to reach out to him—but I still think we are close enough to capturing the Ripper that it won’t be necessary.”
“I shudder to think that any group of intelligent men—even those with reason to hate the Sovereign Order—would use innocent women as pawns against their enemies.”
“I do as well, Watson. No civilized man would take such action. But then again, enemies of the Order may not have anything to do with this. Jack the Ripper might well be only one man, moved to do his horrible acts by inner conflict. We will just have to see how things play out.”
CHAPTER twenty
Revelations
The man knew he had to go out that night. He readied himself and ran over in his mind what sort of woman he wanted to find. His blood pounded hotly in his veins, his heart beating faster with excitement. That killer instinct would not stop. He got such a thrill out of what he had been doing. Nobody was the wiser, and for all he knew, even though he might have been on Scotland Yard’s suspect list, he wasn’t a very viable one. He was smarter than that dumb detective, Holmes—otherwise Holmes would have caught him by now.
He stared at his somewhat stocky physique in the mirror—though often he lived on the streets, he now had enough money from his benefactors to rent a room whenever he wanted; he had also purchased some fine clothes. Though he was only of medium height, women seemed to find him attractive, even when he acted like an everyday bloke with no polish or education. The Ripper liked playacting. In his mind, all a woman really cared about was where her next dollar was coming from. Of course, many men merely wanted their manly urges satisfied, and whores were there for the taking. They were despicable cows doing anything for precious coin, and most of them were drunkards. If he was forced to admit it, most of them were harmless. This didn’t matter to the Ripper.
Their insides were all the same. That he knew for sure. It was such a treat to get to see them from the inside out. Who would suspect him? What a thrill it gave him to feel their blood on his hands and the touch of innards sliding through his fingers—it was poetic, in a way. He didn’t have sex with them. That did not interest him at all—only what they were and how they used their power over men. That’s what mattered.
He must hurry and get ready. It was almost midnight. He had to make his appearance tonight, or those who now funded his lifestyle would be most displeased with him.
Out of the door he walked.
Julie was sitting at her place at the bar, attired in a black gown. She had arranged her hair in tumbling curls, atop which she had pinned a red and black hat. Multiple men approached her, offering a drink or something more, but she brushed them off—none of them fit the description of the man for whom she waited.
Holmes sat at a back corner table in disguise, while Dr. Watson lounged at the other end of the bar. They would not leave Julie unattended. Holmes had noticed three of the men on his suspect list in the bar that night. None of them had approached Julie, and all had left the bar alone. He was pretty sure none of them was the man he was looking for. Still…the night was young. Holmes remained hopeful.
Around 12:30 A.M. a short, stocky man, sharply dressed, walked in and took a place at the bar. He had been sitting for about half an hour when he looked over at Julie and nodded. She nodded back—he fit the description perfectly. Holmes and Dr. Watson watched him carefully, their bodies relaxed but their eyes bright and alert. This could be the one—Holmes was certain the man was one of the suspects on the list, though he couldn’t be entirely sure in the dark bar.
The man eventually moved to a vacant stool next to Julie. They chatted for a while, Julie giggling and acting intoxicated. The ma
n appeared to be entranced by her flirtatious behavior. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, and then steered her toward the door.
Julie’s eyes searched for Holmes as she went with the man, but Holmes had already slipped outside. He had left as soon as the man started to pay his tab.
Julie and the stranger walked out onto the cobblestoned street, their heads inclined toward one another. Julie noticed that although the man’s tone was relaxed, his body was tense—she sensed he was nervous. The street was lined with drunks and women of the night. Some of the prostitutes leaned in alcoves, quietly talking to men.
As Julie and her would-be suitor walked toward the end of the street, she was relieved to have spotted Holmes. Dr. Watson would not be far behind.
“What do you charge for a night of your companionship?” the man whispered in her ear.
“Well, it depends on what you want,” Julie said, deliberately slurring her words a little. “I have to pay my bills, ya know—and if you haven’t noticed, I am a beautiful woman. We don’t come cheap.”
“Let’s walk down this alleyway here and discuss it.”
“Whatever you say, darling,” Julie said as she let herself be led down the dark street. “As long as you’ve got the coin to keep me, I’m yours.”
They walked a ways down the alley, until the narrow passage expanded into a wider road. There were others in the vicinity, but none too close. The man guided Julie off of the path and into a dark corner of the street. All at once, he pulled up her skirts over her head and pushed. She fell at once to the ground and the glint of the knife shone in the moonlight.
Jack The Ripper: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page 9
