The Smoke In The Photograph

by Kit Tinsley

  'You,' Helga said.

  The woman nodded. She drew a scalpel from her jacket pocket. Helga had time to scream before her throat was slashed from ear to ear.

  Twenty minutes earlier, DS Sid Graves had watched the pretty young woman walk down the street and stop at the door to Helga Cranston's home.

  Women had been coming and going most of the day, so there was nothing unusual about that, or at least so it had seemed to him at the time.

  In his whole career in the police force, the one thing he had always hated were what the Americans would refer to as stakeouts. Being trapped in an uncomfortable car seat for hours on end watching people coming and going was the least interesting thing in the world.

  He had brought a book with him, but of course it was difficult to concentrate when you had to keep checking the activity out on the street. That was why he had only half-finished the crossword puzzle in his paper. It was too difficult to do anything but sit and watch.

  Also, eating his lunch and a greasy pizza in that awkward position had left him with terrible heartburn, the kind that stung your throat whenever you burped. He needed some antacids, but, of course, the pack of Gaviscon capsules he kept in the glove compartment was empty.

  He wasn't even certain why he was there. Sam Fluting had been worried about the woman's safety based on his vague hunch that the Ripper was watching him.

  Graves liked Sam. He thought he was a damn good copper who was getting a rough deal from the media and public for a case that Graves didn't think anyone would be able to crack. Sam had been working hard, and the cracks were starting to show through. That little drinking binge that ended up with him sleeping in his car for one. Sam would have never done something like that a few years ago.

  The Ripper case had got to him. It had become an obsession for him. Graves worried that he was getting paranoid and seeing the Ripper around every shadow.

  However, he respected Sam, and believed he deserved one final crack of the whip before he was re-assigned. If Graves sitting in the car all day watching this woman's house made Sam feel better, then he was pleased to do it. He just hoped that someone would come to relieve him sooner or later. He had, after all, organised the group of uniformed officers that Sam had requested. Surely this job would be more suited to one of them.

  His phone rang and he saw on the screen it was Sam.

  'Graves,' he said on answering the call.

  'Sid. It's Sam,' he sounded tired. 'How are things over at Mrs Cranston's place?'

  'All quiet. Well, clients have been in and out all day, but nothing unusual to report.'

  'Good,' Sam said. Graves could hear the relief in his voice. 'We've got a suspect in custody.'

  Graves couldn't believe his ears.

  'Really?' he said.

  'Yes. Reed's pushing me to charge him,' Sam said. 'Thing is, I don't think he's our man.'

  'What do you need me to do?' Graves said, hoping the answer would be to get out of this bloody car.

  'Can you stay put for a while?' Sam said. Graves felt disappointed. 'If this guy isn't the Ripper, then he's still out there, which means I've still put Mrs Cranston in the line of sight. I'm going to meet with the uniforms you sorted out in a while. I've got to go and talk to the suspect's wife first though. I'll send someone to relieve you as soon as I can.'

  'No problem,' Graves said.

  Sam apologised again for keeping him there, and they said their goodbyes. Graves had a home and a family waiting for him, but he guessed it would be a while before he got to see them yet.

  Through the open car window he heard the scream. A woman was screaming. He looked around to determine where it was coming from, but there was no sign. It was probably unrelated, but he knew he had to check on Mrs Cranston.

  He stepped out of the car, feeling the sting in his back as he did. This always was a problem when sitting in a car for hours on end at his age. He jogged across the road to the front door. This was one thing that had been a lot easier when he was younger.

  When he got to the door he rang the doorbell. He waited for a while. There was no reply. He knocked loudly on the door. Still there was no reply.

  Pressing his ear to the door he listened for any sound. There was none. It was odd. He was sure he hadn't seen the pretty young woman leave.

  Something didn't feel right. Graves tried the handle and found that the door was unlocked. He stepped into the house. He was surprised to see the lights in the corridor were off. The hallway was black. The only light was streaming from under and around the door at the end.

  'Mrs Cranston?' he called out.

  There was no answer.

  'Mrs Cranston,' he said louder. 'It's DS Graves. DCI Fluting told me to keep an eye on you. Is everything all right?'

  Still there was no answer. Graves thought about calling for back up, at least get Sam out here, but what was the point until he knew for sure something was wrong?

  He walked slowly down the hallway. There was a set of stairs that led up to the flat above, where Mrs Cranston actually lived. He listened at the stairs, but it seemed quiet up there. He passed a door marked W.C. and on the other side one marked KITCHEN. There was no light coming from under these doors so he kept heading towards the door at the bottom of the corridor.

  When he reached it he grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

  Mrs Cranston was laid on the floor in a substantial pool of blood. She had her hands pressed to her throat and was gasping for air.

  He rushed to her side. He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, then remembered he had left it on the passenger seat after his call from Sam.

  'I'm going to call for help,' he said to Mrs Cranston.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. She attempted to shake her head. He thought it was as she didn't want to be left alone.

  'I'll be right back,' he said, getting to his feet.

  Mrs Cranston reached out for him, exposing the gaping wound on her throat that was still pumping blood in little jets.

  He had to get help. He turned to leave and saw the pretty woman. She must have been hiding in the toilet or kitchen. She was covered in Mrs Cranston's blood. She howled like an animal and charged at Graves.

  He put his arm up to defend himself, but she dropped to her knees at the last second and drove the scalpel into his gut. He screamed in pain as she pulled the blade across the width of his abdomen. The last thing Sid Graves saw before passing out and then passing away, was the sight of his own intestines unraveling out of him as the pretty woman looked up at him, her eyes bright and filled with hate.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sam had explained everything to Julia: why he had initially thought that Steven could be the Ripper, that Steven had been caught out lying, though he refused to give her the specifics of the lie; Steven, it would seem, was quite adept at concealing the truth; the fact that the superintendent was pushing Sam to charge him, and finally that Sam didn't think he was the Ripper after all.

  'I know there's something he's keeping from me,' Sam explained. 'But I honestly don't believe that he is the Ripper.'

  Julia understood. She herself could see that Steven was a liar, but she still held onto the belief that the man she had married was not a murderer.

  Julia told him about her visit to Rob Swanson, and how she had discovered that Steven had known both Rob and Helen Swanson. In fact the Ripper's first victim had been his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his child, a child that Steven had kept secret from her throughout the marriage.

  'He told me that in the interview,' Sam said. 'It's strange that he would buy the house his ex was killed in, but I don't think there's anything sinister behind it.'

  Julia felt relieved.

  'Are you releasing him then?' Julia asked.

  Sam shook his head.

  'Superintendent Reed wants me to keep interviewing him until I get a confession,' Sam said. 'Which I don't believe I'll get. I do think he's keeping something from me though.'

  Juli
a wondered what the detective meant.

  'You just said you didn't think he was guilty.'

  'I said I don't think he's guilty of the Ripper murders,' Sam said. 'I still think he's hiding something, and if there's any chance it relates to this case I need to know it.'

  Julia nodded. She felt like she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

  A group of uniformed officers had been assigned to the case, Sam informed her, and he would be sending a couple of them home with her, just to keep an eye on things. He told her that he had to go and meet them, and she should join him.

  Sam led her from the comfy interview room to the incident room. Waiting there were two young men, and one young woman. They were sitting at a table in the centre of the room, each of them reading a case file. They saw her and Sam enter the room and sat to attention.

  'Good evening, lady and gentlemen,' Sam said, taking off his jacket. 'This is Mrs Draper. As far as we are concerned she is the next victim. I know PC Branning here.' He motioned to the female officer. 'You two are?'

  'PC Tyler, sir,' said the young man nearest to Julia. His voice wavered slightly. He was obviously nervous about being in the big leagues.

  'PC Addle,' said the other man. His tone was one of confidence, and Julia couldn't help but notice how he had not ended his sentence with ‘sir’.

  'Mrs Draper, we are taking your belief that you are the next intended victim very seriously,' Sam said.

  It was a relief that they believed her.

  'I must point out that I'm not in the habit of believing everyone who comes in here claiming to be psychic, but something about Helga Cranston made me believe her.'

  'Do you believe in ghosts, Detective?' Julia asked.

  'I… I guess I don't know,' Sam admitted. 'I can't say I've ever seen one, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.'

  'Do you believe that my house is haunted?' she asked.

  'I believe you believe it is,' Sam replied.

  'I thought we were here to catch a killer,' the young constable called Addle said. 'Not talk about ghosts.'

  Sam shot him a look that made the young man look like a rabbit in headlights.

  'You're here to do whatever I tell you to do,' Sam said forcefully. 'Is that clear, Constable?'

  Addle nodded vigorously.

  'Yes, sir.’

  Julia watched as the young PC sank down in his seat. It hadn't taken much for Sam to break his confident attitudes.

  'Tonight Tyler and Addle will be spending the night parked outside your house, to keep an eye on things. If you have to go out, call me, and Branning and I will follow you.'

  Julia nodded.

  'Good,' Sam said. 'Go home, Mrs Draper. Those two will follow you. If we release your husband, I'll bring him back personally.'

  'Thank you,' Julia said. 'I just hope this isn't all a big fuss over nothing.'

  Sam stood up.

  'Believe me, I'll be just as relieved as you are if it is.'

  Julia got to her feet and the two young men did too.

  'Thank you.'

  Sam shook her hand again and then told Tyler and Addle to escort her to her car, and then follow her home. Julia felt relieved that Sam didn't think Steven was the killer, and even more relieved knowing she had a police guard.

  The last red glow of the day's sunshine clung to the horizon like it was afraid to let go as Julia pulled into the driveway. The car with the two police officers Tyler and Addle following behind her made her feel a little more secure. Until, that is, she saw the house looming in the darkness like some primordial beast on its haunches. Where she had seen the beauty at first, she now only saw lies, secrets, fear and death.

  She pulled up next to Steven's car. Addle pulled the police car up on the other side. She switched off the engine and paused. She didn't want to get out of the warm safety of the car. She didn't want to go into the house.

  She saw Tyler getting out of the police car and this forced her decision to finally step out of her own car. She walked to the back of it.

  'Mrs Draper?' Tyler said as he approached. 'If you want, I can take a quick look around inside for you, before you go in.'

  This lifted a great weight off her mind. She would feel much safer going inside once this was done. She nodded and handed him the keys.

  'Can you switch as many lights on as possible?' she said, not wanting the house to be dark when she entered.

  'Of course.’

  She watched as he went to the door and unlocked it, then closed it behind him. Addle got out of the driver's seat and walked over to her. He had seemed so cocky in the meeting until Sam had shot him down.

  'Mrs Draper?'.

  'Yes,' she said.

  'I was wondering if you minded me smoking out here,' he said pleadingly. 'It's been a while.'

  Julia laughed.

  'Only if you give me one.’

  He pulled a cigarette packet from the inside pocket of his jacket and offered her one. She took it and then he took one for himself. He took out a lighter and stepped forward to light the cigarette for her.

  'Don't tell DCI Fluting,' he said as she drew on the cigarette to get it going. 'We're not supposed to smoke on duty.'

  She blew out a puff of smoke. 'Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.'

  They watched the house as the windows gradually lit up with each room Tyler checked.

  Addle shuffled on the spot. 'I'm sorry for what I said earlier.’

  Julia waved it off and shook her head. 'Less than a week ago I would have behaved exactly the same. Funny how quickly things change.'

  Most of the rooms on the ground and first floor, that were visible from the front of the house, were lit up. It appeared that Tyler only had to go up to the attic now. This was the place that Julia feared the most. So much had happened there.

  'Have you seen a ghost in there then?' Addle asked, clearly wanting to make conversation.

  'No, only some flashing lights,' she said. 'But with everything else that's happened, I don't need to see her to know she's there.'

  Julia saw the lights come on in the attic. She jumped a little as Tyler's silhouette appeared at that godforsaken middle window.

  'Is everything all right, Mrs Draper?' Addle asked. Clearly he had noticed her fright.

  'Yes,' she replied, never taking her eyes off Tyler at the window. 'I just hate that fucking window.'

  Addle didn't respond. He stubbed out his cigarette on the heel of his boot.

  'Where should I put this?' he asked.

  'Drop it on the floor,' she said, still gazing up at the window. 'I couldn't give a fuck what my husband thinks anymore.'

  PC Mark Tyler wouldn't have called himself a non-believer. It was just that the realm of the supernatural was not something that had ever crossed his path. He only dealt with things that affected him personally.

  That being said, he had to admit that something about the Draper house made him feel uneasy. Not frightened as such, but on edge. Expectant of something to happen.

  He wasn't sure whether he really felt something, or if it was Mrs Draper's tales of ghosts in the house, or just knowing that this was the very place the first Ripper murder had taken place. As he walked through the house, he kept looking over his shoulder though. He couldn't help but feel something was following him.

  There was no one in the house. He had checked every room, cupboard and cranny in the place, and then left the light on in each room as Mrs Draper had requested. The woman was nervous, that was for sure.

  There was only the attic left to check and he climbed the stairs to it and found the door open. He flicked on the lights and was shocked at how bright it was, and at just how big the room was. He looked across to the paintings set against the wall.

  Tyler knew nothing about art, but he could see that Mrs Draper was talented just from the two paintings on display. However, he didn't understand what they meant.

  He walked over to check the windows. He glanced down into the garden and for a moment
he froze in fear as he saw two orange glowing eyes staring back up at him. He quickly realised that it was just Mrs Draper and Addle smoking in the driveway.

  As his pulse returned to normal, he saw all of the nails that had been driven into the wood. They were all at different angles and had been driven to varying depths. Whoever had done this had done it quickly, and frantically.

  He went across the room to the door on the other side. He knew from reading the case files of the first Ripper murder that this was a darkroom.

  He opened it up and flicked on the light. The smell of the developing chemicals stung his nostrils, but there was no one hiding in there.

  He was satisfied that there was no one in the house, and that Mrs Draper would be safe inside with Addle and him to keep watch.

  He descended through the house, feeling that presence around him. It made him want to run, but he refused to yield to his own fear and slowed his pace right down. If there was a ghost in the house, as Mrs Draper claimed, then Mark Tyler was not going to give it the satisfaction of seeing him flee in fear.

  He finally made it outside and Mrs Draper walked over when she saw him exit the house.

  'All clear. I've checked the whole house.'

  Mrs Draper sighed with relief.

  'Thank you, PC Tyler,' she said.

  Mrs Draper offered to make them a coffee. They both accepted.

  'Do you want to come inside?' she asked.

  Tyler really didn't want to. He felt much more comfortable now he was outside the house again.

  'Sorry, Mrs Draper, but our orders were to stay out here.'

  'Okay, give me a few minutes and I'll bring them out to you.'

  Addle wandered back to the car. Tyler thanked her and watched her go inside and close the door. Then he went back to the car where Addle was playing with the heater.

  'So, do you believe all this ghost stuff?' Addle said as Tyler got in the passenger seat.

  He shrugged.

  'I don't know,' he said. 'All I know is we were ordered to sit here and keep the nice lady safe.'