by Glynis Smy
Arthur stood up as he responded.
‘Calm down. Calm down. So, you think killing a person is the same as a cat or dog do you?’
James said nothing. The thought that Arthur now held onto his secret, and how it could lose him contact with Kitty, worried him.
I should have kept my mouth shut. Fool!
Arthur’s voice had a hint of malice, and he spoke in an exaggerated whisper. ‘You do realise you are my accomplice in a murder now, do you not? We are in this together.’
James looked to the floor. A sinking feeling hit his gut, a defeated fatigue drained what little energy he had left. Arthur was right.
‘Do not remind me. I have trusted you with my secret, and you can trust me to keep yours. The question is, what do we do now?’ James sat back in the chair. The drinking and lack of food made him feel faint. ‘I need to eat.’
‘Help yourself. There’s bread and cheese in that bag over there.’ Arthur flipped his hand towards a small kitchenette area of the room.
James prepared the food while Arthur brewed coffee. They worked in silence. Eventually James broke the tension.
‘What does it feel like, Arthur?’
‘What? Killing another human being? Exciting, frightening, exhilarating. I cannot explain - it just happens. I have to do it in order to see inside. To record my findings. It is research.’
‘Research? Who are you fooling? You know you will never make it into medical school. This is a sickening infatuation, not research. Wake up Arthur. How long will it be before you are caught?’
Arthur said nothing.
Knowing he needed to keep on the good side of Arthur’s personality, James apologised.
‘I am sorry, Arthur. I apologise for mocking you. I know it is your dream to be a doctor, but you do have to face facts. How many years will it take you? Can you afford it? Be honest with yourself.’
James body stiffened as Arthur walked over to him.
‘Relax. You are safe. Let us start again. Shake hands.’
‘To a fresh start.’ James shook his hand. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Go ahead.’
Both men sat back into their chairs. Arthur had refilled their glasses and James took a mouthful before he spoke.
‘How many have you killed?’
‘Not including my mother, I would say roughly, fifteen in total.’
James choked and spluttered on his drink.
‘Goodness. I expected you to say three or four, but not that many. Your mother? You killed your own mother?’
Arthur shifted in his seat and James noted he looked embarrassed.
‘I was twelve years old and she deserved it. Enough about that. What is happening from now on? We are still going around in circles. I am bored of the whole affair.’
‘Who do you --have you killed?’ James studied Arthur’s face carefully when he asked the next question. ‘Did you have anything to do with Brady’s death?’
He saw no change in expression when Arthur responded.
‘No. Nothing. That was a complete mystery. Even I was shocked.’
James nodded his head slowly. ‘I had to ask. To know, you understand.’ It was more of a statement than a question. He expected no reply.
‘What do you want from me, James? If you are not going to join me with my projects. What do you want to do?’
James lifted his head sharply. ‘Join you? Good gracious man. I cannot join you. It is not a sporting event. A jolly day out. It is murder, pure and simple.’
Arthur laughed. It annoyed James.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘You. Aren’t you tempted? To watch a slum whore die, can be quite satisfying. You should accompany me sometime.’
James stared at the man in front of him in disbelief. He was so flippant with his words.
‘You intend to continue? Despite being caught? Have you considered what it would mean for us, should we do as you suggest? We would be bound to each other until death. Our own. We have to trust each other, and to be frank, we barely like each other.’
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but James held up his hand to stop him.
‘Be honest, Arthur. You are fond of Kitty and see me as a threat. I will not deny I have feelings for her. Can we set those feelings aside while working together?’
Arthur walked to the window and looked out, his back to James.
‘With Kitty, there is no question where her heart lies. I am her oldest friend, I mean more to her than you do. Therefore our working together would not pose a problem.’
James said nothing. He felt it wiser not to continue along the Kitty topic.
‘Tell me. Do you have a routine? A special area where you work?’
‘You mean as a journalist, or as a killer?’ Arthur retorted in a jocular manner.
‘The latter. Do you plan everything? Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?’
Arthur turned around. ‘I work to no plan. I set one night a fortnight aside for my hobby.
I have only been disturbed three times while working. Last night was the third.’
James already knew the answer, but still asked the question.
‘And the other two?’
Arthur finished his drink and put down the glass.
‘We both know the answer to that one.’
James groaned.
‘You. You are the one. Chrisakes.’
‘The Whitechapel killer of prostitutes. Yes, that is my forte.’ Arthur gave a mock bow. ‘James, you are getting into this deeper and deeper. You now know the answer to current news. The police would be most interested in your claim.’
James walked to the door. ‘I need to walk away from this.’
Arthur sneered. ‘So you are a coward sir. I never would have thought, given your background.’
‘Not a coward. A fool. An idiot for getting in so deep. I will never be able to relax around you again. Not knowing what you are up to next.’ James stood with his back to the door. Arthur grinned at him.
‘Come and sit down. Join me. That way you will always know what I am up to - no secrets. Then you will be able to relax in my illustrious company.’
James did not move. He stared down at the floor. Part of him wanted to run, to report what he had discovered. His secret Jack wanted to learn more of Arthur’s secret life.
‘Cat got your tongue?’
James moved to the chair. His curiosity could be curbed no longer. He wanted in. He wanted to experience the thrill Arthur spoke about -to learn more.
‘If we do this together we need to be organised.’
‘Agreed. Now. I use this place to protect my living quarters. I store a change of clothes and wash out my others here. The landlady does not have a key. I paid her to give me all she had. It was enough to keep her happy. It would be wise for you to have somewhere of your own. We could alternate visits. What do you think?’
James nodded in agreement.
‘A wise idea. I will find somewhere on the other side of town.’
Arthur continued, his voice higher pitched and enthusiastic.
‘I have been toying with a new idea. It is my intention to write to the police a series of letters. This will have a twofold effect for me. One, it will throw them off into different directions with the searches. And two, it will give me an opportunity to write articles related to the murders. It will keep it newsworthy. Plus I have a friend who is willing to pay for the organs. They are valuable for medical students. My-our income would be much healthier.’
James stared at the man before him. His hair was on end, his clothing crumpled and his face flushed from a combination of alcohol and excitement. A maniac. There was no other name for him. A cold wave of despair trembled through his body. A realisation. He was no different. Here he was, contemplating joining forces with a murdering maniac.
For what? What am I hoping to gain?
‘So what do you think? When shall we start?’ Arthur clapped his hands. The noise broke James’
s train of thought.
‘Eh?’
‘When should we start our first project?’
James spoke softly. He knew he was going to go ahead with Arthur’s plan, but he needed to establish one last thing.
‘I have one question. Should Kitty ever find out, how would you react? Would you kill her?’
Arthur clasped his hands together. James could see his knuckles turning white.
‘The truth scares me. My answer is yes. If it was a case of her life or mine. If I could continue satisfying my need. Yes, I would kill her.’
James staggered to the sink and vomited. Arthur had spoken aloud his own thoughts.
They were no different.
‘Quite something isn’t it, this hold our vice has upon us? The thought that we would kill someone we love to save our own skin.’ James put his head in his hands. Arthur continued.
‘I think we have come full circle now. So why do we not move forward? Pull yourself together.’
Finally James recovered enough to drink more coffee. Arthur explained his ideas in full and James agreed or disagreed wherever was relevant. The brandy was poured in generous amounts and they relaxed as it flowed through their veins.
They gave each other snippets from their past. James confided in Arthur that his mother used to call him Jack. He missed the affectionate pet name. Arthur in turn had told about a regular prostitute he had used as a teenager. One night she had said if he bounced on her any harder he would 'rip 'er'. She named him Rip.
The more they drank the bawdier their jokes and jibes became. They joked about Jack and Rip. Of what they would do to women, if they were real men.
‘Let’s do it!’ Arthur jumped from his seat. He grabbed a pencil and paper from his pocket. ‘Let’s bring them alive, we both have an inner urge. Just think how powerful we would become if we worked together. Jack and Rip.’
James, revived by food and brandy joined in the excited speculation.
‘Yes. Jack and Rip the devils of the city. The killer of women and sheep.’ James retorted. His voice heavily loaded with sarcasm.
‘I am serious, James. I mean it. A signature killing and name is all that is needed. Never in one million years would the police suspect two men. Never. They are pulling in Doctors, teachers and foreigners. Individuals. With the two of us, we could work faster, and move around more. What do you say, man? Are you game?’
‘The women. Who would they be?’ James questioned.
‘Whores. Down and outs. Women of any age.’ Arthur scribbled on the paper. ‘What do you think? The name?’
James burst out laughing.
‘Jack The Ripper?’ Are you serious? Actually, it has a ring to it, yes; a powerful man indeed is Mr Jack the Ripper. I am game. But we must have a pact. If either one of us is caught, we must not implicate the other. Plus. No talking or hinting in any such way, in front of people. Especially Kitty. We are both fond of her, and to have to ...’
‘Agreed.’ Arthur said no more. He held out his hand, and they shook their agreement. The agreement of Gentlemen.
He then handed the paper to James. Jack the Ripper added his signature to the first public letter to be sent to the local police force. The game had begun.
The rest of the day was spent plotting and planning their victims, and which whore houses, ale rooms and darkest backstreets, to frequent.
***
For many months, their Jack the Ripper entertained and tortured his way around the city. Many bodies went undiscovered, some were thrown into the Thames, and others sat in jars, unlabelled in the depths of The London Hospital. Neither man could exist without the other.
Chapter 14
Down to Earth
The stench greeted the two women before they entered the courtyard. A block of run down tenement buildings created a dark shadow across the street. Not a ray of sunlight could break through. In truth the sun would do nothing to brighten the scene. It was the worst area of the city. Smoke, gas, and sewerage fumes choked the residents.
Trent Street was a dismal place. Drunks, adults and children alike, snored in dirty corners of rat-infested rooms. Residents were so vast in number the majority slept while standing.
Kitty and Sarah visited on a regular basis and over the years became friends with a few of the residents.
There was no cup of tea in the kitchen with the women they met here, just polite jovial banter. They handed over gifts, simple things to make the lives of the residents more comfortable.
A woman dressed in drab, dirty clothes leant over a wooden crate. Her body odour was offensive to her visitors, but their faces gave nothing away.
‘Well wadcha know, it’s me girls come to pay a visit.’
She stood upright and placed her hands on her hips. Her wide smile shared blackened teeth and wrinkled skin around her eyes. She was no beauty.
‘Sally, how are you? We missed you last visit.’
The women went to help move the wooden crates that would act as their table and chairs.
‘Oh I have me moments you know, but I get by, ta.’
Sally suffered a hard life and circumstances found her working as a prostitute.
‘Take a load off, it is me birthday and I bin celebratin’, wore out I am.’
Sally beckoned towards the crates. Other residents gathered. Kitty knew they hoped the visitors had gifts in their baskets. Sarah and Kitty’s generosity was well known. They were liked and trusted. They did not bring with them airs and graces, nor useless pity or words. They were thoughtful with their generosity.
Kitty looked into her basket and smiled, she had found a dress that she knew would be suitable for Sally. It was important not to offer the gifts as charity items. She always chose her words with care when she gave them out.
‘What do you think of this, Sally? I had an order to repair this dress, but the lady gained a few pounds and declined the order. Sadly it does not fit me or Sarah.’ She stood up and held out the dress.
Sally snatched the dress from Kitty and held it up against her: she twirled in a circle.
‘Is the colour good for me eyes?’
The crowd laughed at her antics. Sally kicked up her legs and pointed to Kitty, she loved the attention.
‘Now all I need is a pretty coat an’ ‘at, like my seamstress and I will be queen of the yard.’
Raucous laughter rang around the buildings. For the first time that day a little gaiety brought smiles to faces. Kitty joined in with the role-play.
‘Now madam, I will have to see what I can do for you on my next visit.’
‘I want none of your gifts’ Sally said, ‘not that I ain’t grateful. No Kitty, I am going to buy one of them posh ones you sell to your toff ladies, I will earn me Sunday best, you’ll see.’
Sarah cringed at the undertone of the statement; it was well known to all how Sally would earn her new outfit.
The friends stayed for an hour, and handed out the clothes and treats they had brought with them. Old skirts, shirts, and aprons repaired with care, and William had made a few wooden toys from scraps, little pull-along carts, wooden tops and face painted dolly pegs. Despite the terrible conditions and crude comments from some of the men, the wide smiles made their visits worthwhile.
Chapter 15
Secrets and Gifts
For William, the days ticked by with the usual daily activities. He missed his friend Brady. He missed his humour and the laughter that seemed to follow him around. Due to ill health, Samuel did not visit as often as he did. So William had taken to the occasional evening walk when he was not at work. He told Kitty it cleared his head and gave him a chance to stretch his legs.
The truth was that he had a secret, one he could not share with his daughter.
He met with a woman for comfort, for sexual release. He was lonely and his natural urges had refused to subside. William had chosen the company of one woman; she was one of the more decent ladies of the night, clean and intelligent.
William hated the fact that
he still had the need for sex, to lie to Kitty was one thing, but to feel unfaithful to Lilly was another. Beth had helped him overcome his guilt, and he enjoyed her company.
After his visit this particular evening, he saw Arthur leave an establishment near to Beth's. William remembered just in time, not to call out to him. Arthur's visit might not be one he wanted to share with a family friend. William would also have a difficult time trying to explain away why he was in that area himself. The way Arthur fondled the woman, it was obvious it was not a story he was gathering.
William was not happy to see Arthur using the facilities of that particular boarding house, the reputation of the women there was not a good one. They were unclean and always drunk; goodness knows what diseases they carried. If Arthur had been sleeping with them, it would be more than probable he had put his health at risk, and it was not a subject William would be able to bring up in conversation. If ever he did make his feelings for Kitty public, William now knew he would not accept Arthur as a suitor for his daughter. He turned around and walked away.
***
James had seen William leave his house; he congratulated himself on his good luck. Since he had met with Kitty again, he thought of many valid reasons of how he could call on her at home. The book snatcher had given him an ideal chance before, but now he had no reason. He was frustrated because his affection for her had deepened.
His father spent the evenings in London without James, and James was bored of his lonely visits to the theatre. On impulse he had booked tickets to see a play, but thought about the foolishness of it all. It was his intention to ask Kitty to join him, but why would he do that? How could he justify the gift and request. He was an acquaintance, a passer-by in her life, what valid reason did he have for buying theatre tickets for her? He spent time considering his options. Finally he found one.
***