by Glynis Smy
A two-wheeled trolley with a wooden crate was propped against the wall nearby. He gathered the pieces of James and put them into the crate, then wheeled him out into the street. One side of the Thames was not too far away, and Arthur pulled his cap down, put James's outer coat over his clothes, and moved quickly to the docking bay he had in mind. It was a disused area, and only a few people ventured into the site. Arthur knew of a fenced off piece of ground that led out onto a wooden pier. The current from the river flowed faster there, and James's body would move along with the tide.
He was fortunate enough that the only people he encountered were a disgruntled Tom and her customer. He mumbled his apologies and moved into the darker areas. When he felt it was safe to do so, he pulled back the fencing, and pushed the trolley through. The voices from the couple faded away. They had finished their business transaction. Arthur, opened the crate, and piece by piece, James disappeared.
Chapter 31
Final Moments
Fear and panic raced throughout Arthur's body. His mind was out of control. He pushed his way through the crowds and joined the passengers who climbed the gangway onto the ferry. Once on deck he reflected over the past twenty-four hours.
He had paid his landlady all monies he owed and more, but still she had not been happy about the short notice he had given her.
‘We 'ad an agreement did we not Mr Twigg? You would give me notice to get another tenant in place. I need the money, you know this.’
‘Mrs Evans, the moneybag contains two extra weeks rent. It will cover you until you get someone else to rent the room.’
The woman shrugged her shoulders and she stood with her hands on her hips in the doorway.
‘I do not understand why you have to leave. You have a good job here, so you tell me. Why do you need to up and leave so fast?’
Arthur had listened to enough of her questions; he was not in the right frame of mind for interrogation from a back street property owner. Despite his desire to snap her neck and continue his Ripper projects, he knew he needed to get away. She was to help cover his disappearance.
‘I have told you, I am going on a special assignment. It is a secret and not in London. You have your money and I have a boat to catch. So please leave me to continue packing. It is a secret remember? Queen and country. Government. Important work.’
‘Well you are going up in the world. Government you say? Good luck to you Arthur, but do not come crawling back for your room in a few days time. Good rooms are these, they will get snapped up.’
Arthur could not help but smile. She would spread his story as fast as she could blink. He was relying on her to tell as many people about his move. By mentioning the Queen had given her the license to sound important when she relayed it. He could not ask for a better alibi. He moved towards her, and shook her hand, ‘Thank you Mrs Evans, goodbye. Do not worry, I shall not return.’
He had sent a young boy to the ticket office on his behalf earlier that morning. His instruction was to purchase a ticket to Ireland. From there, he would decide his future.
With the ticket safe inside his jacket pocket, Arthur sensed a mix of emotions. The attack on Kitty and the murder of James had been foolish and dangerous errors.
He felt sick each time he thought of what he had done to Kitty. James he had no feelings for, he got what he deserved as far as Arthur was concerned. Now Kitty had told James, he was certain she would report her ordeal to other people soon. The moment she confides in Sarah, all hell will break loose. Time for Arthur was of the essence. Her family and friends would search for him, they would not bother with the police, and her friends would be out in droves for his blood. Especially the McKinley boys, she was like a sister to them. With James gone, so had Kitty’s plans. His chest tightened, the pain he had caused was unbearable. Yet still the thought that Kitty loved James over him enraged him. A small part of him, delighted in the fact that James would never be part of her life again.
What Arthur did find most incredible, was the fact that Kitty had no idea of what James had been capable of doing. That he was a murderer.
Surely, she must have had some idea of his temper and depraved habits? How could you know someone so intimately and not be able to tell that the person was capable of violent acts?
James performed the last attack, Jack the Ripper had carried out on a member of the public. He had hacked and mutilated the woman in such a way, that it frightened even Arthur. There was no telling what was woman, and what was mattress. It would have only been a matter of a few years and Kitty's future might have been to deal with his anger and violence. Convinced himself that he had done her a favour and she was safe now, he pondered over his own future.
Had she told James, she suspected Arthur was up to no good?
Arthur started to panic. Questions ran through his mind. James said Kitty had told him about the bag contents and he wondered if she suspected him as Jack the Ripper, especially after his beating of her. If she had suspected him as a murderer, she would have told the police by now. Soon he would not be able to leave London. He called out to the cabbie.
‘Move it man. I have to sail soon.’
Every clip of the horse’s hooves sounded hollow inside the cab. His head ached and the tension inside was rising. The fear crept inside again. Thought of capture and what it would mean frightened him.
With relief, they arrived at the dockside and he boarded with no complications. While standing watching the world below, he thought about the letters he had written to the police, relating to Jack the Ripper. They were true Red herrings. No one could trace them back to him. He had not made copies and had thrown the paper and pen he had used into a muddy creek at the end of the quay. He used different paper to write four notes before he left.
He wrote to tell Samuel Pipe, a doctor friend, and William that he had accepted a job offer in America. He told them he had to start as soon as possible and had taken the first ship available. Although he heard William had died, he wanted to make it sound as if he had already left the country and was unaware. He knew Kitty would open the letter and it was his hope she would see it as an apology, and that he had removed himself from her life, and give her peace of mind. Despite all his violent acts against her, he still loved her. The very thought of never seeing her again was driving him insane.
The fourth was a letter to Kitty in disguised handwriting. He wrote it as if from James and entwined within it his own feelings for her. Plus it was a letter of revenge on the woman he loved and who had rejected him. A letter from the two minds of Arthur Twigg.
The shout for the ship to leave dry dock went out. He leant against the rails on the deck. It was a chilly breeze and shoved his hands into his outer coat pockets. He felt the cold, glass bottle of cheap gin he had pushed in the left hand one, prior to leaving home. He pulled the stopper and swigged two large mouthfuls. The warmth of the alcohol flowed around his body as he watched the world he knew grow smaller and smaller. He swigged more and more. The melancholy, miserable mood refused to subside. The despair he had held down came to the surface and tears flowed, as they never had before. He cried for the child he had been and for the man he had become. Over the hours the flow continued, each tear represented a wrongdoing in his life and each swig of the bottle, a loss, and his regrets.
Kitty I loved you. It could have been so different for us both.
***
The loud splash in the water startled some of the passengers but no one investigated. The majority were too busy vomiting to care what had caused it. Jack the Ripper died on a bleak, cold day in December. Not one person on earth would mourn his passing, there was no one left who knew he no longer existed.
Chapter 32
Acceptance
William had been buried with the dignity and grace he deserved. The dockside workers lined the roadsides as the solemn procession passed by. Kitty rode with Sarah, while Patrick and his brothers walked slowly in front. Fortunately, Kitty had given her father the money she had sav
ed from Button and Bows, and with his savings, she could give him a decent burial.
The gatherers left the cottage and Kitty was left with her thoughts. Sarah had been a wonderful support, and agreed Kitty should move back into her father’s room. Patrick assisted in removing William’s belongings into the small room, and moved into his mother’s home. Until she was fully fit, Kitty was to eat with the McKinley family.
Kitty sat motionless, looking around the room.
What if I had never left home? Would my father still be alive?
If I had not been so selfish and sinful. God has punished me. A hard lesson to learn.
Patrick called her name, and walked in through the back door.
He had been such a good friend to her, he had become a quieter man of late, and she saw new qualities in him. He treated her with respect. Kitty knew in her heart of hearts, he would never have treated her as Arthur or James had done.
‘Patrick. Come sit. I feel dreadful you having to leave your home.’
Patrick crossed the room, and sat in the chair that had always been William’s. He hesitated to sit at first, but Kitty motioned for him to do so.
‘Kitty, worry about yourself, not me. You have taken quite a blow from every corner. I slipped around to the shop today. The landlord has instructed a team of men to clear all debris, and salvage anything of yours, should there be anything worth saving. I did have a look, but I am afraid, you have lost the bulk of things. Even your beautiful chest. I am sorry.’ Patrick said.
‘Nothing can bring Papa back. Those things are not important. I can still sew, and will do so when my fingers are no longer sore. It is the loss of my mother’s items and the box of memories I have lost that saddens me.’
Patrick nodded his head slowly, and shook it side to side as he listened. He looked so sad.
‘I understand your sadness, Kitty. Truly I do. I will make you a new memory box one day.’ He rummaged in his pockets and smoothed out two letters. ‘I almost forgot, I was asked to give you your mail.’
‘Mail?’ She looked at the post and held out her hand. ‘One is for my father. Do I open it?’
‘Only you can, Kitty. It might be of some importance. I will leave you to read them in peace. Ma says I am to bring your supper to you tonight, save you coming round. You must be exhausted.’ Patrick gave a soft smile. ‘I am always here for you, Kitty. Anything you need, please just ask me.’
‘You are very kind, Patrick. I treasure your friendship.’ Kitty sighed. ‘We know those who are true to us in our time of need. Thank you.’ She rose from her chair and took the letters from him. On impulse she kissed his cheek. He put his hand where her lips had touched.
‘That is for saving my life. Thank you.’
Patrick took her hand. ‘A life worth saving. I need no thanks.’
A silence fell between them. Kitty sensed something had changed; their small gestures had expressed so much.
‘I will leave you to your letters, and as I said, I will return with your supper.’
Kitty sat down and looked at the envelopes before her. She recognised Arthur’s handwriting on the one addressed to her father. Her skin tingled, and she shivered. A tremor of fear and anger made her breathless.
What is that man doing writing to my father?
She tore open the envelope and read the lies Arthur had penned.
Good riddance. America is welcome to you.
Chapter 33
Confessions and Confusion
Sadness crept into her heart through the form of the other letter, and life for Kitty changed from the moment she read the first paragraph. The cold hand of fear reached inside her and tore her heart in two. The letter was from James. The more she read of it the more she became confused. There were parts of the contents clearly written by a man she never met. She sat at the table and stared at the papers she laid out before her.
She traced her finger over his name scrawled at the bottom of the page. Kitty realised she had never seen his handwriting before. It was not like Arthur’s neat hand. James’s was looped and almost a scribble. Not exactly what she expected from an educated man. She assumed he had been educated in the village where he lived, but they had never talked about it. It had never occurred to her to ask more about his life as a child and he had never mentioned it. They spoke mainly of their dreams for the future, rather than of the past.
She had read the letter through but the words still did not register with her. She settled down to read it again. She felt numb.
The first paragraph was full of tender words; he spoke of the burden of a sad and heavy heart. Kitty empathised; her heart was experiencing the same emotions. Those words were from the James she knew, loved and until she had read this letter, the one he thought she had understood.
The rest of the letter was as if she had stepped into a nightmare. She read about murder. There was mention of James being the man they called Jack the Ripper. He explained he had a problem with anger and a dislike of prostitutes. The only way he could contain the anger was to kill. Prostitutes were his chosen victims because they were not worth worrying about, and most had no family to care. Kitty could not believe he had justified murdering women in that way. Her hand shook while she read.
Police hunted daily for Jack the Ripper and she had shared his bed. Nausea took hold and Kitty inhaled large gulps of air. Confused and dazed she read the words again. Still they made no sense to her.
James wrote that Brady had also been a victim of his. He had interfered with the progress of one of his murders and James could not have him identifying him.
She stood up and paced the floor. Her head hurt, tension around her neck and shoulders had brought about a headache that pounded with every step she took.
The man, who had stroked that nape and the inside of her thigh, had left her. In his place, there was a monster and she wanted to scream. She needed her father. He would have known what to do. Sarah would help, but Kitty could not bear the thought of telling her the man she loved had killed her husband.
The nausea made the room spin. She sat down again, no matter how much she wanted to avoid them; the letter begged to be read again. In the hope the words had changed, Kitty sat and read it for one last time.
My dearest Kitty
By the time, you read this I will be gone from your life. You will never hear from me again. And I am certain after you have read this you will never want to. It is with a sad and heavy heart that forces me to write this. It is my confession of love and of my life.
First, my darling I want you to know I love you and always will. When I lay with you, it was the best time in my life. Your beauty and sweetness are qualities I admire in you. I wanted you for my wife, but circumstances have prevented that. Something I will regret always.
I have a secret, one I am not proud of but one I cannot control. My father bullied me throughout my life, and it induced anger inside of me. In order to control the anger, I gave in to the impulse to kill. The instinct is too strong for me to fight. The women I chose were low life drunken women with no future. I never used them for any other purpose than relief from anger. The release and peace I found when I looked down on their bodies gave me the strength to carry on another day.
I have listed all the murders I carried out on a separate sheet of paper. You will see there are far more than the police are aware of, and many of the bodies have been disposed of so well I am certain the police will never find them.
You will see the name of your friend Sally on the list. Forgive me I beg of you. I did not know she was your friend. If I had she would still be alive, I would never have done anything to hurt you. Also, Brady. Yes I killed Brady.
I want you to move on with your life and put all thoughts of me behind you. It will not be easy for you to read this; it is not an easy letter to write.
I do want you to know that Jack the Ripper will never kill again, he no longer exists. That is my promise to you.
My parents are aware I have moved away, but do
not know where I am. Please never approach them. I want to avoid all contact with them, and do not want them to look for me. The weakness of my mother meant she could never protect me in the past, so she is of no use to my future.
You will read this and be horrified. Because of the good person that you are, I understand you will want to report this to the police. All I ask is for another twenty-four hours; this will give me chance to get right away from England. Yes my darling I have left the country.
I will be yours until the end of time. Fulfil your dreams beautiful girl, you have a wonderful future ahead of you and I want only the best for you, which is another reason why I am stepping away from our life together.
I will watch closely for London’s up and coming designer. Kitty Harper will become a household name.
Well my dearest, I could spend more hours writing the same thing, but the result will always be the same. I am a deceitful murderer and I love you. Please find it in your heart someday to forgive me, to try and understand why I did the things I did.
James
***
Kitty’s eyes absorbed every inkblot and letter. She wiped her hand over the paper, hoping the words would disappear and nothing in her life had changed. She was saddened that Sally had been a victim of James. Kitty was angry and hurt but knew that she must act quickly and not delay thinking of her future. She had suspected she was pregnant with James’s baby before Arthur raped her. To go to the police with the letter and list would not be a wise idea. The child she carried was, as she realised now, the child of Jack the Ripper. Neither Mother nor child would be safe. When word got out she had lain with him and survived there would be a lynching mob. The police would name him and his victims; this was such a public case. Many people knew she and James took walks in the park, they had been seen by local residents often enough. Her relationship with Sarah might not survive and it would not be easy to be around her on a daily basis. The baby would be a constant reminder for them. The pregnancy was a reminder of her choice to sin. She could not blame James for everything; she had been irresponsible when she slept with him. The news would destroy Sarah, she knew she would support her but things would never be the same. It would be better for all if the letters never existed. She felt guilty about the list, but there was very little she could do about it. Her duty was to the child that grew inside her womb, it deserved protection. The baby had not chosen to enter the world, but it had survived her rape attack and to Kitty it was a sign the child was meant to live. Despite all that had happened she still wanted the baby, it had been conceived out of love between her and James Lockwood, not Jack the Ripper. She refused to think about the crimes he had committed.