“There will be no pretense on this visit,” she informed. “We will not be casual shoppers, but rather the daughter of Sherlock Holmes, and the Watsons.”
“Are you certain you wish to go that route?” I asked. “As you know better than I, people in this neighborhood are somewhat reluctant to speak with the higher class.”
“I do not believe that will be a problem, for the good people of Whitechapel are more than eager to see an end to the escapades of Jack the Ripper.”
“It reflects poorly on them,” my father opined.
“And more important, it is bad for business,” Joanna added. “Because of this evil violence, shops close and people vacate the streets at the first signs of darkness.”
“You would think that the local gangs would happily dispatch Jack the Ripper,” said my father.
“They would do so if they knew his identity, but to them, like to us, he is little more than a moving shadow.”
“And how do you propose we catch a moving shadow?” my father asked.
“We don’t,” Joanna replied, as our carriage drew up to the curb outside Froman’s Jewelry Shop. “We must allow him to trap himself.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“By enticing him into a trap.”
“With what?”
“An irresistible bait,” she said, and left it at that.
We entered the jewelry shop and found its owner, Joseph Froman, cleaning the top of a glass counter. He immediately recognized us from our previous visit and greeted us warmly.
“It is a pleasure to see you once again,” he welcomed.
“I am afraid we are not here as shoppers, but rather on official business,” Joanna said frankly. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
“There is no need, madam, for your face is familiar to all London,” Froman replied. “I knew who I was dealing with on your first call to my shop.”
“Were you not concerned about my visit?”
“I am an honest man and thus have no such fears.”
“Excellent,” Joanna approved. “Let us get down to the matter at hand. Do you recall the man who purchased five sets of copper earrings from you last week?”
“It is impossible to forget such a customer, for they are rare indeed.”
“Has he returned, as I suspected?”
Froman’s brow went up in surprise. “How could you possibly be aware of that?”
“It is my business to know things others do not,” Joanna answered simply. “Now I need to be told everything about his visit in detail, beginning with when he last entered your shop.”
“It was in the late afternoon two days ago, and he came in with a most unusual request,” the jeweler described, as he thought back. “I offered to show him my newly arrived supply of copper earrings, but he was uninterested and seemed in a bit of a hurry. What a strange fellow he was.”
“How so?” she asked.
“He wished for me to make him a set of cuff links from farthing coins,” Froman said, shaking his head at the idea. “What respectable gentleman would publicly display such cheap jewelry?”
“Gentleman, you say?”
“That would be my guess, for although he attempted to sound like one of the local residents, a phrase or two gave him away.”
“Could you recall an example of that?”
Froman considered the request briefly before saying, “He waited in the store to see if the final product was satisfactory. His exact words were, ‘I shall await here to be certain the cuff links meet my expectations.’ There was not a hint of cockney in his voice, and I can assure you the people of Whitechapel never speak the phrase meet my expectations.”
“What exactly were these expectations?”
“He wished the cuff links to be constructed of new, copper farthings only,” the jeweler detailed. “I suggested that silver coins might be more appropriate, but he insisted on copper in a most demanding tone.”
“Could they also be used as earrings?” Joanna asked pointedly.
“I think not, for their attachments were far too large to pass through pierced ears.”
“Even if forced into place?”
“I am afraid that would cause too much discomfort.”
“I take it he was satisfied with your workmanship?”
“Quite so, and paid my charge of two shillings without hesitation.”
“Did you have any further conversation with him?”
Froman tapped a finger against his chin as he searched his memory. “He seemed to be keen on copper jewelry, so I tried to tempt him to buy a bracelet and other items made of that particular metal. He refused my bargain prices, yet his interest picked up considerably when I mentioned the famous daughter of Sherlock Holmes had visited my shop earlier and had purchased a similar item. He wanted to know the details of your purchase, and I saw no reason to withhold that information.”
Joanna smiled thinly, obviously pleased that all of her predictions had been accurate. “That is most helpful.”
The jeweler gave Joanna a lengthy look, moving his lips before forming words. “Would it be inappropriate for me to ask why you are so interested in this fellow? He seemed harmless enough.”
I had to strain to keep my expression even at the jeweler’s description. What an actor Jack the Ripper must be! One moment he appeared to be a harmless customer, and the next he could transform himself into the most vicious killer London had ever known.
“I can only tell you that he is involved with a group of thieves,” Joanna lied easily. “He disguises himself as a workman to gain entrance into the houses of the well-to-do.”
Froman nodded to himself. “And the farthing cuff links fit well with his disguises as a workman.”
“Precisely so,” she agreed. “Now, if you will, permit me to see the attachment placed on the cuff link.”
Froman reached into a drawer behind the counter and produced a tiny bar, the top of which could be pushed into a horizontal position to secure it into a cuff.
“You are correct,” Joanna assessed. “This attachment could never pass through a pierced ear.”
“Not without great difficulty,” the jeweler said, and, after loudly clearing his throat, asked, “Exactly how, madam, should I behave if he returns?”
“Simply be yourself, and be good enough to tell the thief that the daughter of Sherlock Holmes was inquiring about him.”
As we were departing, Joanna suddenly turned back to the jeweler and said, “Oh, yes, there was one final question I wish to ask. Did Pretty Penny ever visit your shop and show an interest in copper earrings?”
“She was never a customer, but rather a cleaning girl,” Froman replied. “Before she took to the stage and was given a room by Mrs. Adams, she worked here to sweep and mop the floor and shine the counters twice a week for a fee of one shilling. On more than a few occasions she admired the copper earrings which she thought would be an excellent match for her copper necklace. Of course, the lass could ill afford the earrings.”
“That is most interesting,” Joanna said, as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. We immediately wondered if Pretty Penny’s desire for the copper earrings was somehow brought to Jack the Ripper’s attention and gave him the idea to use them as gifts to his prospective victims.
Outside, the day was turning cold and misty, with a light drizzle beginning to fall. I was about to hail a carriage when my wife intervened. “Do not bother, John, for we have other, nearby visits to make.”
As we waited for traffic to pass, I asked, “How in the world did you know of Pretty Penny’s visit to the jeweler’s?”
“The copper earrings,” she replied. “I will explain all later.”
Walking along briskly, we focused our attention on the copper cuff links which Jack the Ripper had purchased. They seemed so out of character for the murderer and went against the profile he had carefully constructed for himself.
“Why the farthing cuff links?” I queried. “They are part of mas
culine attire, and The Ripper has never shown an interest in men. His prey are always prostitutes of the lowest possible class.”
“Perhaps they are not meant to be used as cuff links,” my father suggested. “The links could be sewn into the sleeves of a woman’s coat, such as buttons are placed for style on a man’s garment.”
“Or they could serve as top buttons on a blouse or sweater which would brighten their outfit,” I proposed.
My father nodded at the idea. “Any Unfortunate would welcome such a gift, for their clothes are typically worn and threadbare.”
“You are overlooking an important fact,” Joanna interjected. “He already has in his possession another set of copper earrings which he purchased earlier and could use as a gift. And if he wished to have yet another pair, he would have simply bought them from the jeweler. But he did not and demanded copper cuff links and only copper cuff links.”
“But to what end?” I asked.
“He is leaving us an obvious clue to decipher,” Joanna replied.
“He appears to be toying with us yet again,” my father said unhappily.
“And doing a splendid job of it,” Joanna added.
“Perhaps we are making too much of it,” I wondered aloud. “I propose he is simply following his usual custom of giving copper jewelry to a prospective victim he has already selected.”
“But why switch from earrings to cuff links?” Joanna asked, and waited for a response, but her question was met with silence.
We crossed the street and ducked into Mr. Hardy’s Sweet Shop just as the rain began to pour down. Mr. Hardy, like the jeweler Froman, recognized us from our previous visit and welcomed us with a warm smile.
“How nice to see you again,” he greeted.
“And we, you,” Joanna returned the greeting. “We were passing by and could not help but think of your apple spice chocolate.”
“And I have a goodly supply on hand.”
“Ten pieces, wrapped, should do nicely.”
“A tidy dessert, then.”
“Our intent exactly,” said she, watching the shopkeeper prepare our order. “You mentioned a goodly supply, so I take it there has not been a great demand for the apple spice chocolate.”
“It is a bit pricey for most.”
“But not for the fellow who bought twenty pieces earlier,” Joanna prompted. “I would wager you’d love for him to give your shop a return visit.”
“Oh, but he did return, madam, a few days ago.”
A thin smile came and left Joanna’s face. “Did he purchase more apple spice chocolate?”
“He did not, much to my disappointment,” Hardy replied. “He wished only a few pieces of the regular fudge which is a favorite for many.”
“I am surprised he was not tempted by the delicious aroma of the apple spice.”
“He appeared uninterested, even though I offered it at a reduced price, for I now have an oversupply since Pretty Penny’s disappearance. But the customer was most good-natured and told me not to worry, for others would soon come in for the apple spice chocolate. Are you by chance those individuals?”
“We are indeed,” Joanna said tonelessly, despite the obvious, yet surprising, clue.
As I paid for the candy, the door to the sweet shop opened and the Widow Marley rushed in, leaving her drenched umbrella at the entrance.
We exchanged pleasantries, but the conversation soon turned to Pretty Penny, and all of our faces went serious and solemn. I saw tears welling up in the eyes of the Widow Marley.
“Is there any news of Pretty Penny?” she asked.
“I am afraid not,” Joanna replied.
“We are all worried sick, and with each passing day our worries grow,” the widow remarked sadly. “I fear the very worst has happened.”
“As do I,” Hardy agreed. “I would give anything for her to bounce in for her normal purchase of apple spice chocolate.”
“Which is the reason for my visit,” the widow said. “I can no longer resist the lure of that wonderful candy.”
“How many pieces, then?” asked Mr. Hardy.
“Two please.”
“Two it is,” the shopkeeper announced the order. “And I shall add an extra piece, free of charge, in hopes it will change our luck.”
“Business is down, is it?” asked Mrs. Marley.
“Most notably since Pretty Penny’s disappearance,” Hardy responded. “Attendance is down at the playhouse as you no doubt know, and more than a few of the audience usually stop in for candy prior to the performance.”
“And my sales of hair pomade have decreased as well,” the widow commiserated. “I have sold only a single jar in the past few days and that to a man who accidentally dropped a recently purchased one that fell to the floor and shattered.”
Joanna’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Is this the same man who bought a jar shortly after Pretty Penny’s disappearance?”
“The very same, for he is my only male customer.”
“Well, let us hope for better days,” Joanna said, and picked up the wrapped order of apple spice candy.
“Which cannot come fast enough,” the Widow Marley wished.
“Before we depart, I wonder if you could supply me with one more bit of information on Pretty Penny.”
“Of course,” the widow replied, while Mr. Hardy leaned over the counter so he would not miss a word.
“As a rule, do women remove earrings and necklaces when you dress their hair?”
“For the most part the answer is no, but a few take off their necklaces to avoid them being touched by the hair pomade.”
“Did Pretty Penny ever remove her copper necklace?”
“Always,” Mrs. Marley said at once. “You see, it was a family keepsake which she greatly treasured. She often told me that the day would come when she could purchase matching copper earrings from Mr. Froman.” The widow shook her head dolefully. “Such a sweet girl.”
“Indeed.”
After bidding all a good-bye, I led the way outside and hailed a carriage from Mr. Hardy’s doorstep. We hurried into the coach, protected from the downpour by the driver’s umbrella.
“How illuminating,” Joanna said over the sound of rain pounding on the roof. “It is clear that Jack the Ripper is leading us down a deliberate path he wants us to follow. He purposefully made those copper cuff links to tell us there is another victim in store. But who and where and when? Then he visited the sweet shop, but purchased only chocolate fudge and not the apple spice variety which Pretty Penny favors. Therein lies another message.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“That Pretty Penny remains his fifth and final victim,” Joanna replied. “Her execution date is fixed and on schedule, and thus he requires no additional apple spice chocolate. And lastly, the purchase of yet another jar of hair pomade carries yet another message.”
“But it accidentally fell to the floor and shattered,” my father contended.
“Nonsense, Watson,” she rebutted. “That jar is made of thick glass and would have to be forcefully thrown to a wooden floor to cause even a crack. He bought more pomade to prepare Pretty Penny for her final act and for no other reason. He will add more and more pomade until her hair glistens brightly in the light, just as it does onstage, and then he will slit her throat.”
“He is truly an evil monster,” my father commented yet again.
“And one who is clever enough to stay one step ahead of us.”
I shook my head in confusion. “But how could he know so much about Pretty Penny’s itinerary that he could predict where she would visit? After all, there was no way he could shadow and follow her in broad daylight.”
“He didn’t have to,” Joanna explained. “Remember, he is a part-time resident of Whitechapel and has a secret dwelling there. Thus, while in disguise, he could periodically mingle with the local inhabitants and hear all the gossip relating to Pretty Penny. It was common knowledge that Penny visited the Widow Marley for her hairstyling
and most importantly for the pomade that made her hair glisten. Everyone knew she regularly stopped into Mr. Hardy’s Sweet Shop for apple spice chocolate which she shared with Mrs. Marley, who no doubt told of the girl’s kindness to all of her customers. And both the widow and the jeweler Froman were aware of Pretty Penny’s copper necklace and her desire to one day purchase matching earrings. They chatted about it to us as they did to others earlier. So it is clear that Jack the Ripper had no difficulty learning of Pretty Penny’s routine itinerary through Whitechapel.”
“And he left clues behind to tell us exactly that,” I noted.
“He laid them out rather nicely,” said Joanna.
“But how did you know of Pretty Penny’s visit to the jeweler’s, which was not common knowledge?”
“The copper earrings, for they are the established link between Penny’s disappearance and Jack the Ripper. He learned of her desire for those earrings and she must have mentioned where they could be purchased.”
“So clever,” I conceded. “I suspect he will continue to leave us clues.”
“All except for one.”
“Which is?”
“The one which tells us where he is holding Pretty Penny hostage.”
CHAPTER 18
The Aroused Gentleman Drifter
After a brief rap on our door, Miss Hudson entered with a look of urgency on her face. “I know it is late, but the street urchins are downstairs and demanding to be seen.”
My father placed aside a copy of the Lancet and glanced at his timepiece, but there was no need, for Big Ben was chiming the ten o’clock hour in the distance. “Please show them up, Miss Hudson.”
“Such an inconvenient hour,” she noted. “I trust their visit will prove to be worthwhile.”
The Abduction of Pretty Penny Page 19