Stalking Jack the Ripper

by Kerri Maniscalco

  “All the unknowing is driving me mad.” Now I understood how Uncle felt while waiting for Thomas to come back with news that time several weeks prior. If curiosity plagued him the way it did me, it was a terrible affliction to suffer from.

  I shoved myself off the ottoman and paced around the laboratory. The maids had done an excellent job putting it back together. One would never know Scotland Yard had nearly ripped it apart in their mad search of Uncle’s belongings.

  I walked over to the specimen jars, looking, but not really seeing objects the murky liquid contained. There was no quieting my mind.

  “How had Father managed to throw us so easily from his trail?” I asked. “We were so careful, falling a safe distance behind his carriage, moving from one darkened alley to the next until he arrived home.”

  Once we hit my street we waited a few breaths before following. We’d just managed to see Father slinking into the house before the lights dimmed.

  To be sure he was in for the night, we’d stood guard until three o’clock in the morning. No other murder had taken place that late, so we foolishly assumed it was safe to leave. How very wrong we were. The first rule in tracking a madman should be to never believe their moves were predictable. It was a hard lesson to learn, with astronomically devastating consequences.

  I’d never felt like more of a failure in all my life.

  “Do you think all that pacing will help the situation out? You’re distracting me from my work, Wadsworth.”

  I threw my hands in the air, making a disgusted sound in the back of my throat before walking to the other side of the room. “Must you be so obsessively annoying at all times? I do not criticize you when you walk about in circles, deducing preposterous things.”

  “When I pace, it actually results in something clever. You’re just kicking up dust and the scent of formalin and it’s ruining my tea,” he teased. Taking in my sour expression, he softened. “There’s nothing to be done until Dr. Wadsworth arrives. You might as well eat something.”

  I tossed him a disgusted look and kept pacing.

  He slathered a scone with jam and held it up. “I’ve a feeling you won’t be very hungry later. Especially if they bring her bits and pieces here for further analysis.”

  I slowly turned around, noticing he was suddenly standing a bit too close. He didn’t bother stepping back, almost challenging me to stay near him, to not care about propriety during the daylight hours, either.

  My heart furiously banged in my chest when I realized I didn’t want to move away from him. I wanted to be even closer. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and press my lips against his again until I forgot about Jack the Ripper and all the gore.

  “You look quite lovely today, Audrey Rose.” He stepped forward, staring down at me, and I fought to keep my eyes from fluttering shut. Thomas drew closer until I was convinced my blood would explode from my body like fireworks splattering across the night sky. “Perhaps you should comment on the excellent cut of my suit. I look rather handsome today as well. Don’t you think?”

  “If you’re not careful,” I said, brushing imaginary wrinkles off the front of my riding habit and breeches, hoping the flush in my cheeks would come across as anger and not embarrassment, “you’ll be the one dragged here in bits and pieces.”

  Thomas tilted my chin up with a finger, his intent gaze setting my skin aflame. “I do love it when you speak so maliciously, Wadsworth. Gives my heart a bit of a rush.”

  Before I could respond, the door of the laboratory slammed open and Uncle rushed in, his overcoat stained dark crimson all over its front and sleeves.

  Every other thought leapt from my brain.

  After all the postmortems and murder scenes he’d attended, he’d never come home so bloodied before. Uncle’s eyes were unfocused, his spectacles askew on his face, as he tossed his journal down and took over my pacing. Thomas and I exchanged worried glances but didn’t dare speak while Uncle murmured to himself.

  “He couldn’t have done it. It’s too much for him to do. None of the other bodies had the skin removed. And the thighs… why cut the flesh from the thighs like that? Surely they weren’t needed for any transplants.”

  I was fighting down nausea growing inside me. Uncle flipped through the pages of his journal, stopping on pictures he’d drawn of the murder scene.

  A minute later a team of four men ambled down the stairs, carrying a body in a shroud. They deposited the corpse on the table, then quickly exited the way they’d come. The whole lot of them looked as if they’d just returned from a holiday in Hell. I’d never seen such unadulterated fear on anyone’s face before.

  Uncle, still muttering to himself, quickly lifted the cloth, revealing what was left of the victim without any warning.

  It was as if time halted in its pursuit of racing around the track of the clock. I didn’t want to look but couldn’t prevent myself from slowly peering over his shoulder.

  I had no one to blame but myself as I ran from the room, searching for a washbasin to vomit into.

  I slowly made my way back down to the laboratory, my knees quaking from anticipating the carnage I’d be facing.

  I’d never witnessed such sick barbarity inflicted on a person before. The body was barely recognizable as human. If an animal had torn her apart it would’ve been more pleasant to gaze upon. And less cruel. I could not fathom what kind of terror she must have experienced prior to passing on. Death would have been her welcome friend.

  I was glad I hadn’t accompanied Uncle to the scene; this was quite enough to deal with. Reaching the end of the narrow staircase, I steadied myself before turning the knob and entering the twisted nightmare once again. I’d do this for all the women who’d been brutalized, I reminded myself.

  My attention skimmed over the corpse before sliding on to Thomas, who appeared only slightly more affected than usual, scribbling notes and practically getting nose-deep in the exposed cavity as if it were a Christmas feast to be savored. He cringed every once in a while but quickly schooled himself into neutrality.

  Attuned to my presence, he looked up. “Are you all right?”

  Uncle lifted his gaze from the body, waving an impatient hand for me to come assist them. “Of course she is. Hurry, Audrey Rose. We haven’t got the luxury of pondering life all day. For some god-awful reason Superintendent Blackburn wants the body back in two hours. There’s much to do. Now, hand me the toothed forceps.”

  Why indeed was the superintendent in such a rush? I tied an apron around my waist, then quickly sprinkled sawdust across the floor, following my postmortem preparations. I doubted we needed the sawdust, as the body appeared completely drained of blood, but proceeding as usual helped my mental state clear.

  I grabbed the tray of postmortem tools, handing the forceps to Uncle. I wrapped my emotions together, not allowing a single thread to unwind.

  It was time to act like a scientist.

  I watched Uncle peel back the skin flap on her thigh, seeing nothing but an anatomical diagram needing to be studied. We’d done the same thing to frog specimens over the summer. This was no different.

  “The superficial layers of the skin and fascia have been removed,” Uncle clinically stated. Thomas rapidly transcribed each of his words onto a medical sheet, his pen hungrily lapping up the ink and going back for more. “The breasts have been excised and were found in various positions. One was located under her head, the other was found beneath her right foot.”

  I handed Uncle a dissecting knife and Petri dish, taking it back and sealing it once he’d placed a sample inside. He shoved his spectacles up his nose, leaving a smear of blackened blood along the brass. He’d have to address that later. People would start fearing him again if he walked around splattered in gore.

  “The viscera were removed entirely and were also scattered about the crime scene. Her kidneys and uterus were found under her head, while the liver was near her feet,” Uncle said. “All the intestines were placed on the left side of the body. The
missing flaps of skin—both from her thighs and abdomen—were sitting on a small table and are now resting in two bags for further inspection.”

  Uncle paused, allowing Thomas enough time to capture everything down on paper. When he motioned to continue, Uncle did so, reporting from memory everything as if he were reading from a book.

  “A great deal of trauma was inflicted upon her face. Several lacerations were noted—at the scene—in various directions, and her mouth had been cut down to her chin,” Uncle said. “Her throat appears to have been slashed down to the bone prior to the removal of her organs.”

  Using the forceps, Uncle peeled back the flayed skin, inspecting the hollow cavity once containing the life force of this woman. The corners of his mouth tugged down, and he reached for a handkerchief, blotting at his brow.

  He set his jaw, then continued with his findings. “Her heart was surgically removed and was found neither at the crime scene nor in her person. It’s my belief it was removed for attempted transplant by the murderer.”

  A large, metallic object clanked to the floor. Uncle motioned for me to pick it up. I grabbed a pair of forceps and lifted the large gear to the table.

  “Set it there for the time being,” Uncle said.

  Something inside me snapped like a brittle twig used for kindling. This had gone on long enough. Murdering women. Taking organs. Now there were gears inserted into their bodies? Each new crime grew more horrific than the last, as if Jack couldn’t control the animal rage clawing his demonic soul one second more.

  What would the next victim look like if he wasn’t stopped immediately?

  I refused to find out.

  I’d finish this postmortem, then go directly to the source of evil and speak with the devil himself. After witnessing him with this woman last night, all doubt of his guilt was erased. Father had hunted his last victim.

  If I had to bring all of Scotland Yard with me, I would. Hope for redemption was as dead as the woman lying on the mortuary slab.

  “Wadsworth?” Thomas’s brow creased, his tone implying it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name and was pretending not to worry. I put on an air of annoyance and he replied in kind. “You look about ready to mount a horse and go gallivanting into some epic battle. Might you pass your uncle the bone saw before you run off and save the world?”

  I glared, but gave Uncle the bone saw and rinsed the other tools off in carbolic acid. We were almost done. Since the body had been so badly attacked, there wasn’t much for Uncle to sew up. Especially since Scotland Yard wanted another doctor to inspect the cadaver before the evening was through.

  “It’s a bit strange. Blackburn demanding the body back so soon, I mean,” I said. “Could he be the killer, working on Father’s orders?”

  My uncle stiffened, then lifted a shoulder. “If you’re right about your father’s whereabouts last night, I suppose anything is possible. We need to be open to all theories. And we need to test Blackburn out.”

  Uncle placed the skull back together, then got up to wash his hands.

  “Are you interested in confronting Jack the Ripper with me?” I asked, checking over my shoulder to be sure Uncle hadn’t heard. I didn’t want him dissuading me from turning Father in. Uncle was still trying to prove Father’s innocence. But I’d seen enough.

  Thomas eyed me suspiciously. “Of course I’m interested in confronting the Ripper. What else would I be doing with my time these days? Besides wooing you, that is.”

  “I’m heading home shortly. Father should be sitting down to supper within the hour. I plan on—”

  Uncle thrust a bag at Thomas’s chest. “Take this directly to Superintendent Blackburn, will you? Best we immediately hand over any mechanisms lest they toss me back in Bedlam. Be sure to gauge his reaction.” Thomas held on to the bloodstained bag, a crinkle in his brow when he glanced from my uncle to me. Uncle huffed. “Get on with it, boy. Make yourself useful and stop staring at my niece like that.”

  Thomas laughed nervously. Uncle didn’t appear as if he were feeling particularly jovial, however, and Thomas’s chuckle died in his throat. He nodded at my uncle, then leaned in.

  “Please don’t confront him alone, Wadsworth. Act as if everything is normal.” He straightened when my uncle cocked his head. “Do give your father my regards, though. Perhaps even a kiss on the forehead. I’d like to remain on his good side, especially when I inform him I’m madly in love with his daughter.”

  Shameless flirt. I watched Thomas run up the stairs, then tugged my apron off and tossed it into the makeshift laundry bin along with the others awaiting their nightly cleansing. Act as if everything was normal indeed. As if I’d listen to that absurd plea! A part of me was sad Thomas would miss the confrontation, but he’d have his hands full with Blackburn. I said good evening to Uncle and trudged up the stairs, letting the door shut tightly behind me, then paused.

  It was better this way, actually. It seemed only proper that I’d be the one confronting Jack the Ripper on my own.

  Father’s reign of terror would cease before a new day dawned.

  Of that much I was certain.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  A PORTRAIT WORTH CONSIDERING

  WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,

  BELGRAVE SQUARE

  9 NOVEMBER 1888

  I stood, hesitating, outside the door to our dining room, the very same room I’d eaten all my meals in, never knowing I’d been sharing food with a monster.

  How many times had Father cut into his meat, imagining it instead as human flesh? As fiery as I’d felt on the way over here, the reality of what I was about to do was setting in. Nerves were twisting and writhing through my body, making me jump at every small sound. Even the beat of my own heart was causing a great deal of anxiety.

  I had no idea what Father would have to say for himself, or what he might do should I enrage him. The only thought mildly comforting me was knowing my brother would be there, and he’d allow no harm to befall me.

  I wished I had the same confidence in Father. But he was past the point of sanity now. Perhaps no amount of reasoning would convince him to hand himself over to detective inspectors. Perhaps I should’ve gone with Thomas and fetched a constable. I heard a utensil clank onto a plate, the sound muffled from this side of the door.

  It was too late to run for assistance now.

  I placed my hand on the doorknob, allowing myself a few breaths to pull my emotions together. Falling apart before I even confronted him wouldn’t do. If I were to show how scared I was, he’d sense it, lunging for my jugular, no doubt.

  I removed my hand from the door, holding it about my throat instead. He could very well murder me. As Mr. Robert James Lees claimed he would. I blinked several times, regaining my composure.

  How foolish I didn’t bring a weapon of my own! Why would I think he’d spare his own daughter?

  Thank the stars Thomas wasn’t around, pointing out everything I was doing terribly wrong. Maybe I should creep back down the hall and run out into the night. I was without help, and without anything to defend myself.

  An image of Mother’s sweet smile flashed before my eyes. Father had inadvertently destroyed her. Weapon or not, I’d not allow him to do the same to me.

  I squared my shoulders, steeling myself for the battle I was about to encounter. It was now or never, and I’d procrastinated long enough. I turned the knob and threw the door open, striding inside like a dark angel sweeping down to deliver justice, rage burning behind my eyes as the door shook the wall upon contact.

  “Hello, Fath—” Words faltered as the footman dropped a plate, its blue and white pieces shattering across the empty table. I fisted my hands on my hips, as if he were responsible for all the problems in the world, too incensed to feel guilt as he cringed away from my aggressive stance. “Where are my father and brother?”

  “Gone, miss.” He swallowed hard. “Said they won’t be back for supper.”

  Of all the miserable luck in the universe! I rubbed the
bridge of my nose. Of course the night I decide to confront the beast, he’d be packed up and gone. He probably sensed the noose being tied. I realized our footman was still staring, mouth agape.

  Perhaps he was more afraid of my ensemble of death. He hadn’t seen me in my black breeches and riding habit yet, and that mixed with my raven locks probably painted quite the portrait of darkness. “Did they say when they’d return?”

  He shook his head. “No, miss. But I got the feeling he meant they’d be gone for most of the evening. Lord Wadsworth said to leave the door unlocked and dim the lights when we settled in to bed.”

  I gripped my fists tighter. If Father did anything to hurt Nathaniel, I’d rip him limb from limb before the queen had a chance to order it done herself. I relaxed my grip slightly. No need to worry our footman any more than he was.

  “I’ll be in Father’s study awaiting his arrival,” I said, my tone cold and unfamiliar even to my own ears. “I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. In fact, it’d be wise for you all to retire early. Have I made myself clear, then?”

  “Y-yes, m-miss. I shall pass your wishes along to the other servants.”

  I quickly exited the room and ran down the hall, not wanting anyone to see how badly I was shaking. I hated being rude, but that was so much better than having their deaths stain my hands. If they were all in their rooms, they’d be safe.

  I tried the door to Father’s study. It was unlocked.

  This time I wasn’t sneaking around, Father would come straight here as he did every evening, so I pushed the door open and lit some lamps around the gloomy space. I scanned the forbidden room; it seemed much less intimidating now than it had weeks ago. His desk no longer appeared to be the imposing monster I once thought it to be. Now it just looked like a large, old desk that had witnessed too many terrible things.

  The familiar scent of sandalwood and cigars that accompanied Father also didn’t send my heart into spastic drumming. I welcomed it. Let it call his ghost to me now, I dared. My attention drifted over objects passed down in our family for generations, landing on the large, open tome. Recalling the cryptic message from my mother, thanks to the spiritualist, I strode over to it, curious.