by kindels
"Not if he found a way to stick to the original layout. You see, when I laid the map of Brighton over the plan of Victorian Whitechapel the murder sites matched so, why couldn't the killer have picked a new town or city and done the same thing again, this time adding the other murders by committing them in locations that when added to the earlier killings still produced the same geographical layout as the original Whitechapel murders? Remember that whoever did this had to be ingeniously and fiendishly clever. Also, his mental state wouldn't have made him think that perhaps no-one would add two and two together to join the dots and associate his new murders with the Brighton ones. I've had that confirmed by a psychiatrist by the way. He assured me that the killer, if there is someone else apart from Jack Reid who is responsible for the crimes, is probably so fixated on his own 'mission' that he wouldn't care if no-one else realised the significance of any new killings in a new location. He was satisfying his own need, a compulsion to complete his re-creation of the Ripper murders and he would do it in any way he saw fit that would also enable him to escape detection.
"So, my next step was to try and find out if any murders identical to those in Brighton had been carried out on the relevant dates relating to the original Ripper murders. There was nothing in the U.K. That would have been too easy, I suppose, and would also have been reported in the press. I began trawling the internet, looking at press reports from around Europe to begin with. If I'd found nothing, then I would have moved my search further afield, but I got lucky!"
"The other bodies?" I asked, hoping that the answer was just around the corner.
"Correct," said Nickels. "I discovered that there'd been a series of murders in Warsaw, mirroring those of Jack the Ripper, committed on the correct dates and including a so-called 'double-event' as in the case of Liz Stride and Cathy Eddowes in Whitechapel. Everything appeared to fit, and all I needed was to confirm whether the locations would fit with the Brighton killings in reproducing the locations on the Whitechapel map."
"That's where I came in," said Wright. "Alice brought me her information and Mike Holland was virtually convinced there and then. He contacted the Warsaw police and an Inspector Fabian Kowalski who was in charge of the Polish investigation, replied by e-mail within a day attaching a map of the city with the murder sites clearly marked."
"You're going to tell me they matched, aren't you?"
"Yes, they did. When we took the Warsaw map and added the Whitechapel murder map to it as a template, and then added the Brighton ones to what we then had, the killings in Poland completed the scenario perfectly."
"Good God," I exclaimed. "So Jack Reid could really be innocent after all."
"Wait, Doctor, there's more," said Alice Nickels.
"If we assume that Jack's story is ostensibly true, then we also have to accept that the mysterious journal he spoke of is also genuine."
"You mean the so-called 'Journal of Jack the Ripper?"
"Exactly. And if the journal exists, and the tale Jack Reid related regarding his own Uncle, Robert Cavendish having been psychologically affected by his perceived family relationship with Jack the Ripper then isn't it also safe to assume that the logical person to have stolen it and who would also have the genetic make-up of the Ripper in his bloodstream and therefore the psychological and deranged motive to carry out these killings must be another direct descendant of the Ripper? Another member of the family, perhaps?"
"But the only other surviving male member of the Cavendish/Reid family is Jack's father," I said, refusing to believe that the mild-mannered Tom Reid could possibly have carried out the killings in Brighton, and anyway, hadn't he been visiting his son regularly here in Ravenswood? Surely I'd have known if he'd left the country for any length of time?"
"Ah, my good Doctor," said Alice Nickels, shaking her head and looking gravely at Sergeant Wright as she did so. "I'm afraid that's not quite true. You see, we have discovered that there is another, far more likely candidate for the killings, one who carries just as much, if not more of the Ripper's blood in his veins. That's why Carl's Inspector is now in Warsaw. You see the real prime candidate for the Brighton murders and the man who can clear Jack Reid's name is not only a blood relative of Jack's but also has, or had, extensive business interests in the Polish capital."
"Wait a minute," I said, as the realisation of what Alice Nickels was saying hit home to me. "Are you trying to tell me that the man who did this, the one who killed all those women, drugged and then framed Jack Reid is none other than&"
"By George, I think she's got it," Carl Wright exclaimed before I could finish my sentence.
Over the next few minutes, the theory that the policeman and the solicitor/ripperologist had brought into my office that day began to grow in clarity and conviction until I began to believe, as they did, in the innocence of the young man who currently languished in a locked cell here within the walls of Ravenswood.
Chapter 34
Guilt by Heredity?
"Look," I insisted, "I have Jack Reid's family history here in his file. The only male relatives he had at the time of him receiving the so-called journal were his father and his uncle, Mark Cavendish, Robert's brother, and Mark was later found to have died, probably by committing suicide, in Malta."
"Ah, but that's where things began to get interesting," said Wright. "Mike Holland banged off an e-mail to the police in Valetta, and the Maltese police came back to us with some very interesting information relating to the death of Mark Cavendish. It's true that he was reported as dead but the evidence for that fact was sketchy at best. The police found his clothes on a rocky beach not far from Valetta. His wallet, credit card and money were all intact in the pocket of his jacket. It was assumed he'd been depressed after his brother's death, sold up all of his business interests and eventually ended his life by walking into the sea and drowning himself. A body was washed up on another beach about five miles along the coast three weeks later, but it had been so badly taken apart by the marine life of the area and showed signs of having been struck by the propeller of a ship, leaving it headless, that no positive identification was possible. The police put two and two together, assumed it to be Cavendish, and closed the case."
"But, what about DNA comparisons?" I asked.
"Look, Doctor, far be it from me to cast aspersions on fellow officers, even those from another country, but firstly, the Maltese police had no-one to compare any recoverable DNA with. They would have wanted a nice quick closure to the case so it would have been a lot of trouble for them to have obtained DNA samples from what remained of the corpse and send them to England in the hope that someone here could have traced the man's family and maybe done a comparison test. As far as they were concerned, they had a missing person and a decomposed and badly damaged set of remains that appeared to correspond as far as they could tell, with the missing man. It was only a week ago, after Mike Holland contacted them that they began to have doubts as to the identity of the body. You see, another man was reported as missing some days after Mark Cavendish disappeared and so far he hasn't been found, alive or dead. At the time of Cavendish's so-called suicide, the police wouldn't even have known of the connection between the two men, but it now transpires that the second missing person was at one time a minor business associate of Mark Cavendish who handled some of his interests on the island. If Inspector Holland hadn't asked them to delve deeper into the background of this man, they might never have realised that the two missing men knew each other."
"And you believe that Mark Cavendish killed this man&"
"Guido Bonavita," Wright added, giving the man his name, and therefore a sense of corporeal reality in my mind.
"Right, I think I see what you're getting at. You believe he killed Bonavita and used his disappearance to cover for his own while he came back to England to execute his diabolical plan."
"I do," said Wright, "In the same way that he then cynically used this Michael character as his willing assistant in Brighton, though what hold he ha
d on the man I've no idea, and then took him with him when he did a runner only to dispose of him in Poland, where I presume he thought that Michael would go down as just another unsolved murder. He's clever all right, but I think his mind is reaching a point where his psychosis or whatever it is he suffers from is perhaps beginning to make him take risks."
Alice Nickels spoke again as Wright paused.
"It would also explain why he didn't let Jack see his face and why he disguised his voice. Jack Reid said that there was something vaguely familiar about the man's voice though he couldn't place it. If it was his uncle, he'd have known his face, his voice, everything. It's obvious that Cavendish would want to keep Jack in the dark about his identity."
"But why frame his own nephew?" I asked.
"I'm not sure if that's what he intended to do in the beginning," Wright went on, "but when Jack turned up in Brighton and Michael bumped into him by accident and found the journal in his bag as Jack insists he did, perhaps it gave Cavendish a new side to his plan. For Jack, meeting Michael was a tragic coincidence as he couldn't have known that the man was already in league with his uncle. As far as Cavendish was concerned, what better scapegoat for the killings than another direct descendant of Jack the Ripper? The fact that it was his nephew doesn't seem to have any effect on him at all. I suspect that Mark Cavendish, apart from whatever else ails him, is a classic sociopath. He feels nothing for his victims or for anyone else who he can use to help further his own plans. Cavendish and Michael appear to have used drugs to help control and confuse Jack. I think we'll find that Mark Cavendish has done some serious research into the use and application of various narcotics and he used that knowledge to help him once Jack arrived on the scene and became his unwilling patsy. Having a ready-made suspect with all the right genetic and hereditary background would have been like manna from heaven for Cavendish. All he had to do was leave enough clues for us to find and follow and we'd obviously think we had the right man, and of course that's just what we did.
"The whole preposterous story that Jack told was just too unbelievable to be true, and yet, I believe he told it like it was. Doctor, by the time Inspector Holland returns from Poland, I believe we'll have enough evidence to at least throw doubt on Reid's incarceration here at Ravenswood and maybe re-open the case and prove that Mark Cavendish, not Jack Reid, killed those women. Mike Holland, even now, is working with the Polish police to try and locate Cavendish. You see, Mark Cavendish also had business connections in Poland, all to do with his computer business and he may have a number of friends or acquaintances there who will have information that might help us trace his whereabouts."
"The only problem the police have," said Nickels, "is that without actually catching Cavendish and getting him to confess to the crimes, or at least finding some other evidence such as the journal with which to back up Jack's story, the chances of having him released from here will remain poor to say the very least."
Alice Nickels' last remark set me thinking for a minute and when I spoke it was with an air of resignation and regret as I said,
"But, Sergeant Wright, Miss Nickels, the thing you're forgetting is that whether Jack Reid did or did not kill those women, we are dealing with a severely disturbed young man here. Jack Reid does have a history of psychological disorder, and now exhibits many of the symptoms we've come to associate with a highly dangerous and potentially life threatening individual. He may seem polite, calm and in control, but there are things in that young man's mind which we haven't even begun to unlock yet. Whether we like it or not, Jack Reid is mentally ill and he needs treatment for that illness."
"Agreed, Doctor," said Nickels, "but that doesn't include being branded a pathological psychopathic killer if he isn't one and surely he could receive treatment for his illness without being banged up in the most secure psychiatric facility in the country?"
"I'm sure he could, Miss Nickels, but how would you feel, Sergeant, if he were released, only to go out and harm someone before we'd had a chance to cure him, if a cure is possible?"
"I know where you're coming from, Doctor, and I agree with you for the most part. However, it's my job to uphold the law without fear or favour and if Jack
Red is innocent of the crimes for which he was tried and sentenced to be placed here, then it's my job to right that injustice, as much as it is to catch the real killer. What happens after we present whatever evidence we may find, the decision as to what'll happen to Reid will have to be decided by the courts or whatever relevant authority has the power to deal with what I'm sure will be quite a complex problem."
"Surely you agree that if he's innocent, he mustn't be held here any longer than is necessary?" asked Alice Nickels.
I simply nodded in reply, saying nothing, as I wasn't sure if the news they'd brought me would really help Jack Reid, or society as a whole in the long run. Having presented their evidence such as it was, Carl Wright then asked if they might be able to speak with Jack. I agreed, as long as they understood that I would be present throughout their conversation with my patient. They both readily agreed and a few minutes later, the three of us were sitting in a comfortable consulting room in the company of the young, charming and maybe, just maybe, innocent Jack Reid.
Chapter 35
An Audience with Jack Reid
The consulting rooms at Ravenswood resemble nothing like the name suggests. They are in fact quite luxuriously appointed, each with its own comfortable sofa, armchairs, and even a reclining relaxer for those who prefer such comfort. A long, low coffee table complete with a selection of up-to-date magazines and periodicals sits in the centre of the room, taking the place of the expected physician's desk and doctor and patient sit in the relaxed atmosphere specifically created to ensure a peaceful and tension free environment. The floors are all carpeted with deep pile wool carpets in a variety of designs, the walls decorated in soft pastel colours with landscape prints added as a finishing touch. The only giveaway, the one visible sign that dictates to the visitor that this is indeed a secure hospital and not someone's comfortable lounge in a suburban home, is the presence of the bars that form an inescapable barrier at each window.
Alice Nickels and Carl Wright were waiting for me when I arrived in the consulting room with Jack, the visitors having been escorted there by Tess. Both rose from their seats as I entered and Carl Wright offered his hand to young Jack Reid, who took it and returned his handshake firmly and with confidence.
I carried a small hand-held micro-recorder with which I'd tape the interview as had been agreed with both the visitors and with Jack as I'd walked with him to the room.
"Sergeant Wright," said Jack, smiling. "How nice to see you again. I haven't seen you since the trial. How are you, and Inspector Holland?"
"We're both fine thank you, Jack," Wright replied. "This is Miss Alice Nickels. She's come with me to talk to you about something important."
"I remember you," said Jack, looking at the attractive woman who now sat down in one of the room's two armchairs. "You were at the trial, as well. You gave evidence about the connections of the murders to the crimes of Jack the Ripper."
"That's correct, Jack," said Nickels. "I think you might be interested to hear what the sergeant and I have to tell you today."
"I hope so. I rarely get to hear anything interesting in this place," Jack replied, almost lazily, as though he didn't really care one way or the other what his visitors had to say to him.
It took the policeman and the solicitor almost thirty minutes to relate to Jack the same tale they'd told me in my office such a short time ago. Throughout their telling of the story Jack never spoke once, merely sitting with his head leaning slightly to one side as he often did during our sessions together, listening intently.
I didn't interrupt their relating of their theory, being content to observe Jack, my patient, and his reactions to what they'd come to tell him. Those observations led me to believe that Jack was quite pleased with what they had to say for the most part, but
once or twice a quizzical look crossed his face as though he would have liked to argue or at least question something they'd said. Only when they both fell silent and Wright asked Jack if he had anything to say, did the young man finally break his own silence.
"I'm pleased you think I may be innocent, Sergeant. I'm not sure myself anymore, you must understand. My head hurts a lot nowadays and I'm not quite certain what to believe any longer. They all said I did it you see. Even the Man said so, and he couldn't have been my Uncle Mark as you seem to think, because Uncle Mark is dead. The Man told me so himself."
I saw the odd look that Wright and Nickels exchanged at Jack's words. It was as though he hadn't really heard what they'd said, as if he couldn't grasp the possibility that the 'Man' as he called him and his Uncle, Mark Cavendish, might be one and the same person. In Jack's mind, such a possibility didn't seem to exist.
"Jack, didn't you hear what I said? Mark Cavendish set you up. I believe he was the mystery man in the house. He disguised his voice, kept his face hidden from you and kept you drugged to keep you from recognising him thus making it easier for him and Michael to place you at the scenes of the crimes so that you'd come to believe you actually committed the murders. Your uncle used you as a scapegoat, a sacrificial lamb if you like, and then left you to face trial for his crimes. He used Michael, too, and now Michael's dead, Jack. Do you understand me? He's dead, probably killed by your uncle to keep him from ever identifying him or giving his secret away."
"Michael's dead?"
"Yes, Jack. He had his throat cut and his body was dumped in a river in Poland, in Warsaw to be precise."
"Uncle Mark lived in Malta, and Michael's dead in Poland. See, I told you it couldn't have been him."
The strange quizzical look passed between the two visitors once again. It was quite obvious by now that Jack Reid didn't really comprehend their information with true clarity. I had warned them of course, and now they were seeing for the first time the true nature of the disturbances that existed within the otherwise intelligent young man's mind. Whether this had happened as a result of all that had happened to him in Brighton, or due to the influence of the as yet unsubstantiated journal or was linked directly to his childhood problems was something I was yet to ascertain.