Ripped, a Jack the Ripper Time-Travel Thriller

by Shelly Dickson Carr

  “So Major Brown had nothing to do with any of the deaths?” Katie asked. Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

  “Major Brown?” Collin sneered. “With all his militarism and sanctimonious sense of superiority he couldn’t gut a fish, let alone a flesh-and-blood girl. But Brown eventually figured it out. He was on to me at Dark Annie’s house when I suffocated Georgie Cross. Oh, how he was on to me! But being a Cockney, he couldn’t hand me over to the authorities because he believed I would soon be his brother-in-law! The blighter wasn’t good enough to lick my boots, let alone my sister’s, yet he dared to presume he could ask for her hand in marriage! My sister is the great-great-grandniece of a king! And Major Brown—a mere commoner from the lowest of tenement slums.”

  “But why,” asked Toby, inching closer, “kill Georgie Cross?”

  In the distance a five-mast schooner swayed on the waves like a ship on the open sea.

  “Ah, there’s the rub, Toby!” Collin chuckled, shifting his weight. “You might have saved Georgie Cross. Yes, you. If you hadn’t left me alone with the addle-brained nincompoop when we first entered his sickroom at Dark Annie’s house. So you can chalk up Georgie’s death to your own incompetence.”

  “How . . . so . . . Collin?” Toby asked between clenched teeth.

  Toby was having trouble keeping his voice steady, Katie could tell. She swiveled her eyes and tried to focus her gaze along the shoreline below, silvery white and speckled with seaweed and rocks.

  Collin, one arm wrapped around Katie’s waist, the other gripping the dagger at her throat, shouted at Toby not to come any closer, and resumed his narration as if talking to Katie alone.

  “Here’s what happened, Katie,” Collin hissed, his breath prickly against her ear as he tugged her tight against his chest. “When Toby and I entered Georgie’s sick room—which smelled like the bloody plague—Georgie was asleep. His breathing was regular. He might have lived to a ripe old age, if not for Toby. I turned my back in case the young fool woke up and recognized me. But the idiot porter boy must have sensed we were there in the room because he became agitated, half-mumbling a French song and muttering about a girl named Cecilia. Toby told me to stay put, then he stole back into the hallway to eavesdrop on Major Brown who was shouting at Dark Annie, telling her she had no business hiding a witness from the crown.”

  “But why smother Georgie?” Katie cried.

  “It was the opera glasses! After the inquest I went to Georgie’s grandmother’s house—I knew the address because they read it off at the inquest. Mrs. Richardson told Toby that one of her tenants had overheard Georgie arguing with someone who had a Cockney accent, but who sounded like a toff. That was me. You’ve heard me imitate Toby’s rhyming slang a hundred times. And as you so aptly pointed out, Katie, I sound like an aristocrat pretending to be a Cockney. That’s exactly how Mrs. Richardson’s neighbor described the person who attacked her grandson. You and Toby thought the description fit Major Brown. But he’s a Cockney pretending to be an aristocrat. There’s a big difference.

  “Georgie Cross refused to give me the opera glasses. Disavowed all knowledge of them. But since Mary Ann had them on her when I’d killed her—and it was a fair bet Reverend Pinker didn’t nick them—it had to be Georgie. We argued. I smashed his head against the kitchen wall so hard it addled his wits, concussed his brain.”

  Katie swallowed hard, squirming ever so slightly. “Go on,” she said in an urging tone.

  “I’m growing weary of talking.”

  Katie glanced at Toby standing several feet away. She saw in his face that he was as repelled as she by Collin’s confession, but was trying with great effort not to let on.

  “So,” Toby continued. “When Mrs. Richardson learned that the police were looking for her grandson because he hadn’t shown up at the inquest, she spirited him away to Dark Annie’s house. In his stricken condition, Mrs. Richardson was afraid that the peelers would put Georgie in Bedlam Hospital and he might never come out.” Toby took a deep breath and went on.

  “At Annie Chapman’s house Collin stayed with Georgie while I went into the hall to eavesdrop on Major Brown. But Georgie sensed Collin was there in the room and became increasingly agitated. Collin didn’t want Georgie to regain consciousness and spill the beans. Isn’t that right, Collin?”

  “Precisely,” Collin sneered, “Georgie started to wake up and was mumbling some silly French song. Any minute he’d have recognized me as his attacker—the one who’d given him that thumping crack on the head.”

  Toby nodded. “Georgie had been given laudanum, so it was nothing short of child’s play for you to take a pillow, place it over his face, and smother him. Later, when Major Brown stormed into Georgie’s sickroom, leaving us all out in the hall, Brown saw the pillow and hid it in the corner cupboard, where I found it much later. He concealed it because it had Georgie’s teeth marks embedded in it. Even with all the laudanum, Georgie struggled for his life, didn’t he, Collin? Which is why Major Brown realized it had to be you. He knew I wouldn’t hurt Georgie. As you just said, Collin, I wouldn’t lash out at anyone who hadn’t lashed out at me first. Major Brown knew I’d never hurt a defenseless boy, and never in a million years would I hurt Georgie Cross, a lad I’d known since my youth. So Major Brown rightly assumed that it was you.”

  Collin threw back his head and laughed. “And when Major Fathead came barreling out of Georgie’s room, he saw me and was furious. Mum and Dad as you put it, Toby. Spitting mad. He cursed me for my unlawful audacity. He said, ‘What you’ve done is a criminal act of vindictiveness aimed at me, is that it?’ I just laughed in his face. I knew he couldn’t hand me over to the authorities. Beatrix would never forgive him, nor marry him if he exposed her brother as a cold-blooded murderer. Cockneys live by different sets of rules. They hush things up where family members are concerned. Once I became part of Major Brown’s extended family, in his mind, he was duty-bound to shield me from the law. Knowing this, I goaded him: ‘Want to tell Lady Beatrix what a cowardly cuss I am?’ I knew he wouldn’t turn me in. I knew I could taunt him as much as I pleased. But my jeering drove him over the edge. He pummeled and lashed out, giving me the thrashing of my life. Might have killed me, too, if Toby hadn’t intervened.”

  Katie remembered how miserable Toby was when he had described all this to her later. “Had you asked me yesterday, Katie, if Brown was capable of losing his temper over Collin’s childish antics, I’d have sworn an oath, not. Collin didn’t say anything so very inflammatory — nothing to provoke such violence.” But Collin had done something to provoke Major Brown. He had killed Georgie Cross.

  “Then! The evening got even better!” Collin crowed. “Reverend Pinker arrived. Dark Annie didn’t know Georgie was dead, and she begged Pinker to intervene on his behalf. ‘Don’t let ’im hand Georgie over to the authorities until he’s recovered. He’ll be taken to Bedlam Hospital!’ Major Brown couldn’t let the cat out of the bag, at least not then—not while suspicion might land on his future brother-in-law. ‘Don’t disturb Georgie,’ Brown warned Pinker. ‘He’s got a fever and may be contagious.’ Humph!” Collin snorted. “Georgie was no more contagious than you or I—because he was dead—but it was enough to insure that Stink-Pink wouldn’t set foot inside that sickroom. Major Brown needed time to come up with a strategy while he wrestled with his conscience, trying to decide whether his allegiance to Beatrix was greater than his allegiance to the law. His Cockney ethics must have been warring within him—God rot his soul.”

  “And Dark Annie?” Katie choked out. “Did you kill her, too?”

  Collin nodded.

  The muscles in Toby’s face tightened as he forced a smile. “Tell us about Annie Chapman.”

  “Ha! That was an easy one. But I’m weary of telling this tale. The two of you will have all eternity to dissect the minute details of my scurrilous—though dare I say, brilliant—crimes!”

  “Wait! The others . . . ? Lizzie Stride and Catherine Eddowes. You killed them as w
ell?” Katie asked.

  “Yes and yes! But I won’t hurt Dora, even though you predicted her death, Katie.”

  “You’ll marry her, then?” Katie asked, stalling. She could see Toby from the corner of her eye, slowly raising his fist, clenching Mrs. Tray’s rock.

  “Hah!” Collin spat out. “The Duke can’t dictate to me, by thunder. But in this instance, he’s right. I shall marry Prudence. She’s an earl’s daughter after all, with a private fortune, country homes, and farmland to boot. But as to Dora . . . Have no fear from that quarter, Katie. I’m too fond of Dora to kill her. She’ll be my Scotch warming pan, as the Cockneys say.”

  Collin laughed and poked the knife into Katie’s throat, pricking the skin until she cried out. Then he turned to Toby and shouted, “Drop the rock in your hand, Toby! Unless you care to see Katie bleed to death.” Collin made an exaggerated twisting motion of the knife at her throat.

  Toby let the rock clunk onto the pitted boards at his feet.

  “Go to the end of the pier, Toby,” Collin continued barking orders. “Get down on your knees. Raise your hands above your head. Do it now! Do it, or I slit her throat from ear to ear.” Collin yanked his grip tighter around Katie’s waist.

  Toby moved haltingly to the edge of the wharf, knelt down, and put his hands up. Katie could see the crooked arc of his broken left arm. To raise it must have been excruciating. But Toby’s face was as implacable as the stone he’d just dropped.

  Collin spun Katie around so that she faced him, her back to Toby. “I want to gaze into your eyes when I kill you.” Again the maniacal laughter.

  “So! Toby?” Collin continued, his breath warm and sickeningly moist against Katie’s cheek. “I’m going to ask you nicely to jump off the cliff edge,” he shouted. “If you do, I give you my word of honor — as a gentleman—that I shall kill Katie quickly. She’ll feel no pain.”

  “Then you’ll eviscerate her?” Toby shouted back. “Gut her like a slaughterhouse calf?”

  “Of course. I need this to appear as if Jack the Ripper—you, Toby—killed her, and I wrestled you over the side. So, what’s it going to be? A fast, easy death for Katie, or an agonizingly slow and painful one?”

  Katie remembered a ruse from a TV show. She gaped past Collin’s shoulder and shouted, “No! Major Brown, don’t! Collin’s got a knife!”

  Collin gave a snorting laugh. “Nice try, Katie, old girl.” He made a heavy gesture with the knife, drawing a new gush of blood at her collar bone.

  “She’s right!” Toby shouted. “Major Brown is behind you.”

  Uncertainty sprang into Collin’s eyes, then quickly faded. “You want me to turn around so you can jump me? Well, I’m not so easily tricked. Major Brown is dead. Anyone who plummets into the Thames at this height hasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell. You’ll have to try something more original, old sod. Now, let me explain the plan once again—”

  “Drop the knife!” boomed Major Brown’s voice from behind Collin.

  Collin shoved Katie aside and whipped around.

  There was no one there.

  But in that split second, Toby sprang forward. Katie lunged and shoved Collin with all her might. Collin let out a billowing whoosh of air as Toby grabbed his wrist and twisted it back until the bone snapped. The dagger fishtailed through the air and landed tip-down in the pitted boards where it thrummed like the shaft of an arrow. They were perilously close to the side, waves thundering below.

  “Get down, Katie!” Toby cried.

  Katie dropped to all fours, her fingers gripping the ribbed boards, damp and slippery beneath her open palms. She heard the crunch of fist against flesh. Then came a whomping thud as Collin toppled over her arched back.

  She turned her head in time to see Collin’s arms flapping in the air, followed by a screech of pure terror as he wheeled over the edge of the wharf.

  Then the sound of his body hitting the current below with a gurgling, loud splash.

  And it was over.

  On her hands and knees, Katie scrabbled across the uneven boards and stuck her head over the side. Swirling dark water dipped and slapped, black tinged with gleams of silver where the waves crashed against the lower pier. She squinted hard, scanning the depths, but it was impossible to see anything more than the shades and shadows of the water rising and falling, and crashing back, whitecaps foaming.

  Bending low, Toby reached out a strong hand, and Katie clasped it tightly in her own and rose up slowly, clamping her free hand to her bloodied neck. Some dim recollection, a déjà vu feeling caught her up short. Major Brown! He’s alive!

  Katie whirled around. “Major Brown . . . ?” she called out.

  Farther along the pier, sheltered from the breeze, Dora popped out from behind an upturned barrel. “I heard what that murdering devil said. He killed me best friend, Mary Ann!”

  Katie’s heart thumped wildly. The small nicks at her throat throbbed.

  It was Dora! Dora had thrown her voice to mimic Major Brown’s, and Collin had taken the bait. He had fallen for it, literally.

  Katie raced down the pier, wrapped her arms around Dora, and hugged her. “You saved our lives! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dora.”

  “You would’a done the same for me,” Dora said. “Collin deserved far worse. He ought to ’ave been skinned alive and salted! And as for a Scotch warming pan . . . I gots me pride, I does.”

  Dora disentangled herself from Katie’s embrace. “I wouldn’t hurt nobody, not for nuffink. Not even for this here ring!” She held up the ring with an emerald the size of a pigeon’s egg. “Course it’s mine now, good and proper. May Collin rot—”

  “—in hell,” they spoke in unison.

  Katie thought about Major Brown. He was innocent, but he too had died at the hands of Jack the Ripper. She swallowed hard. I threw that rock at him. If I hadn’t thrown it, he might still be alive . . .

  Sunlight streamed through the overhead clouds as Toby limped forward. “It’s time to go home, lass.”

  “But Major Brown—” Katie’s stomach lurched.

  “He died as he lived. It’s time for you to return home. Where you belong.”

  Home.

  Katie nodded, but felt helpless and oddly alone—helpless because she had unwittingly assisted Collin, and alone because when she returned to her own century, everyone here would be dead. She would never see Toby again. Her time with him was drawing to a close, trickling away like the blood oozing down her neck.

  Toby, Lady Beatrix, Collin, the Duke . . . everyone and everything here would be a distant memory, consigned to history. But at least Jack the Ripper’s reign of terror was over.

  Or so they thought.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Tell Me My Fate say the Bells of Traitors’ Gate

  An hour later Katie would be back in the twenty-first century. But if she thought she was finished with Jack the Ripper, she was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  After devising a makeshift sling torn from Katie’s petticoat for his broken arm, Toby guided Katie and Dora down the slime-coated ladders traversing the truncated construction pier.

  Descending the slippery metal rungs was easier than climbing up. At least for Katie. Every few steps Toby would wince from the pain shooting up his arm.

  “Hurry, lass, we haven’t much time!” Toby whispered to Katie when they reached the lower level. “Mrs. Tray told me you needed to return to the London Stone before the sun was full in the sky. And by the look of things . . . she wasn’t wrong.”

  Katie glanced down.

  With a gasp of surprise, she realized that Toby was right. Her skin—especially on her arms, showing through the torn patches of her sleeves—seemed to be fading in and out. The molecules were . . . flickering like a fuzzy TV picture that blinks and crackles and eventually goes blank.

  What’s happening?

  Dora, too, noticed. She kept giving Katie sideways glances and muttering about having had too many drinks at the Ten Bells. “Me vision
’s a wee bit bleary,” she kept repeating, blinking and rubbing her eyes.

  When they finally reached the muddy bottom below the pier, Katie looked out past the shoreline across the dark water where a five-mast schooner bobbed on the waves. Ferry boats passed in both directions, their whistles blowing like mournful bagpipes.

  Toby told Dora to go to the Tower and ring the bell for the river police. “Tell them to look for two bodies. Major Brown’s and Collin’s. Can you do that, lass?”

  Dora nodded. “Me dad’s an oarsman on this river. I knows me way around the Thames like the back of me hand. The closest bell is at Traitors’ Gate. I’ll ring it till me hands fall off. But whatchya want me to really tell ’em, eh, Toby?”

  “The truth.”

  “I’ll give ’em an earful, I will. Collin was a nasty piece of goods. May he sizzle in hell for what he did to my poor Mary Ann and them others. And to think it could have been me what got her throat chived from ear to ear.”

  Katie took a deep, shuddering breath just thinking about the fact that Dora would have been Collin’s next victim.

  Toby gave Dora a gentle nudge. “Best hurry, Dora.”

  “Don’t you worry, Toby. I’ll summon the River Police quick as a wink. Lord! Think of all the attention this will get once the newspapers hear of it. I’ll make a pretty penny selling my side of things. And the inquest . . . I’ll wear me best bonnet, I will! I shall be known far and wide as the lucky girl who outwitted Jack the Ripper.”