by Tate Jackson
The first suspect, Montague John Dritt was born to a well off family in Dorset. He graduated with a degree in the classics and went on to teach at Blackhealth Boarding School. His father was a surgeon, and his mother was institutionalized for depression. Shortly after being dismissed from his job at Blackhealth, he committed suicide by jumping into the Thymes River in December of 1888, a month after the last Ripper murder. No evidence exist that Druitt was the Ripper. For reasons unknown, his own family told police that they had little doubt that he was Jack the Ripper. The second suspect, Aaron Kosminski lived in White Chapel at the time of the murders. He was known for his strong hatred of women and homicidal tendencies. He was locked up in an insane asylum in March of 1889. There was an alleged witness to the Mitre murder who at that time said he could not identify the murderer. Only two years later did he claim that Kosminski was indeed the murderer. Most investigators do not believe that the witness was credible enough to point the finger at Kosminski for the murders, and he was never charged with any of them. The third suspect was Michael Ostrog who was a Russian doctor. Ostrog spent the majority of his life in prison for theft and was later transferred to an insane asylum where he registered himself as a Jewish doctor. No evidence exist that he was even in Whitechapel at the time of the murders, and he was never known to be a violent criminal. Being 5’11” and in his late 50’s to early 60’s, he was both too tall and too old to fit eyewitness descriptions.
The fourth suspect was Prince Albert. This opinion did not surface until decades after the murders. It has been claimed that syphilis caused him to go insane and commit the murders. Many investigators discredit Prince Albert as a suspect owing to the fact that he was in Scotland at the time of two of the murders. It is also known that he possessed no medical knowledge and was never known to be a violent man. Other theories of the Ripper abound. None of the victim’s bodies showed any kind of defensive wounds. There were no signs of a struggle. This lead investigators to assume that he must have been very charismatic and able to charm the prostitutes. It was also assumed that he had to have been very fast and strong giving the women no time to defend themselves. The reason behind the attacks does not appear to have been rape but rather for degradation, humiliation, and mutilation.
Later in the 1980’s, the Institute of Forensic Science prepared a psychological profile of Jack the Ripper. The profile suggested that he was a male, in his late 20’s, and thought to be a resident in the Whitechapel area at the time of the murders. It was believed that he had regular employment and was single because of the late hours that he kept on weekends. It is probable that he had been in trouble with the law on lesser charges. It is also believed that he was abused as a child, probably by his mother. No one was ever caught, and the identity of the murderer remains a mystery to this day.
Beck thought he was one sick son of a bitch, whoever he was. They knew from the wounds that he was likely right-handed. Because of his knowledge of anatomy, the thought was he had at least some medical knowledge, but he could have just as likely been a butcher. All the books and reports she had read told her the same thing; that they didn’t know jack-shit, and they still don’t. Many of the authors of the Ripper books put the blame on the police for not catching him, but Beck didn’t feel that way. They didn’t have the forensics then that they do now.
They didn’t have crime scene experts, finger printing, DNA, testing or fiber analysis. We have all that now, and we still don’t catch all the bad guys. Back then, they had to catch them in the act or have a credible eyewitness. In the Ripper case, they didn’t even believe that most of the eyewitnesses were witnesses at all. You have to work with what you got, and in the Ripper case, they just didn’t have a lot to work with.
***
Beck was in the end of her third year of college before she saw Richard again. She’d had dinner with her friend Benny the night Richard turned up. She’d only made a couple of friends since she started college. One was Maggie from across the hall. Maggie was also studying parapsychology, and she also saw ghosts. Beck believed her, because they had seen the same ghost at the same time outside a pizza place in town, but they felt differently about it.
They had both seen ghosts their whole lives. However, whereas they didn’t bother Beck, they scared the ever lovin’ shit out of Maggie. She’d just never gotten used to it. he was here to study ghosts, but also to see if she could make it stop.
Beck didn’t mind the ghosts, and she thought she’d actually found one of her own answers. She’d seen one male ghost off and on since she was a kid. Most ghosts stayed in one location or with the person they had attached themselves to.
This man wasn’t attached to Beck. He wasn’t there all the time, but he did pop up from time to time. He had always been pleasant enough, and from listening to Jenny talk about her family, Beck was pretty sure her ghost was Jenny, Richard, and Leso’s brother, Bruce.
Her other friend was Benny. He was in his second year, and was also studying the Ripper cases. However, Beck was known as the Ripper expert on campus, and he had come to her for some information. To her surprise, they got along well. It was nice to have somebody to argue with about the cases. They rarely agreed, but had a wonderful time debating it.
He walked her back to her dorm after dinner, kissed her on the cheek, and left. When she opened her dorm room door she found Richard sitting on her bed.
“Who was that?” he asked in a pissy tone. “Hello to you, too.”
“Who was that?” he asked again. “Oh, calm down. He’s just a friend.” Beck told him.
She could feel his anger and jealousy.
“He kissed you!”
“Only on the cheek.”
“What is a man doing kissing any part of you?”
Now she was getting mad. Did he actually think she would cheat on him?
“Well, you haven’t been here to kiss me so somebody had to.”
It was the wrong thing to say. In a blur of movement, he had her pressed against the door with his body, pinned her hands above her head, and was kissing her. It was the hardest, deepest kiss they had ever had. There was violence in it, but rather than scare her, it excited her. Slowly, his body relaxed against hers. He released her hands and buried his fingers in her hair.
It seemed a long time later that he pulled away. “Now you’ve been kissed.”
“Do you know how hard it is to have a boyfriend you can’t see?”
“Do you know how hard it is to have a wife you can’t touch?” he countered. “Who is he, Beck?”
“I told you, he’s just a friend. Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes, but I don’t trust him. He’s bound to be interested in you,” he said, the pissy tone creeping back into his voice.
Beck just laughed, “He’d be more interested in you than me, no doubt.”
“What?” he asked, clearly confused. “Benny’s gay,” she said between giggles. “Oh…well, that’s different, isn’t it? Now I feel like an idiot.”
“You sound like an idiot,” she agreed.
“It won’t be long now and we’ll be together. Just five more years,” he said.
“You say that like it’s not a long time”
“In vampyre time, it’s not.”
“Well, I’m not a vampyre, and five years is a long ass time,” she told him.
“I’m sorry, Little One,” he said.“Why do you call me that?”
“You said once that you always wished you were shorter. I told you that you’d always be my Little One, and it just kind of stuck.”
“Oh well, that’s kind of sweet, I guess. By the way, I know you’ve been in my room,” she said, smiling.
“How do you know that?”
“I can smell you on my pillows. Have you been sleeping here
“Sometimes. Mostly, I come here just to feel closer to you.”
“So, you come here to smell me?” she asked. “No. I can smell you from across the campus. That’s just your scent. It’s how I follow you. I co
me here to be where you live, to touch the things you touch, to feel like I’m still part of you,” he said quietly.
“So stay,” she urged.
“I can’t do that,” he said.
“Then just stay tonight,” she said, and she took his hand.
“That I can do,” he said, and pulled her down on the bed with him. When she woke up in the morning, he was gone. She didn’t see him again for years.
Chapter Five
After Bev graduated from college, she took a job in Durham to be closer to Beck. Bev got a job in one of the smaller law firms in town. They handled all kinds of cases but mostly personal injury. Bev said she liked it, because most of the cases were settled out of court. It was nice to have Bev around. She kept some of Beck’s loneliness at bay since Richard had stopped coming to her room.
His scent no longer lingered on her pillows. She felt so alone most of the time, and had it not been for Potter and Jenny, she probably would have convinced herself that Richard had just been a figment of her imagination.. Beck graduated at the top of her class and was forced by Bev to go to yet another graduation ceremony. She had flat refused to give a speech. She watched the crowd for any sign of Richard, but he never showed.
She moved into a house she and Bev leased in Durham. It was a nice house with a big private yard enclosed by a privacy fence. It had 100 year old trees in the yard that provided shade for the house. She was more comfortable living with Bev again than she had been the entire time she had been at the dorms. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed Bev until they were back together.
Richard had once told her not to go looking for the Ripper job that it would come to her. That left her a lot of free time to fill, so she took part in a paranormal research team. They searched through old houses in North Carolina looking for ghosts. Potter and Jenny joined in just for fun. “You’re crazy! Why would you go looking for ghosts?” Bev asked her over dinner one night. “Don’t you get enough of that?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of interesting. I’ve seen them my whole life, but what they get on the voice recorders is just amazing. I may not see any ghosts, but we still capture voices. It’s strange. Potter loves it, but it kind of gives Jenny the creeps.”
“Yes, your friends, they’re very…interesting. You never told me how you met them. Ya’ll seem real close.”
Beck told her that Potter had written a book she’d read in college and that she had went to ask him some questions, and met his wife Jenny. She didn’t lie to her. She just didn’t go into detail.
“So, what was the book about?”
“Vampyres,” she said quickly, wishing the conversation would go in another direction, but knowing it wouldn’t.
“So, I’m curious. What are some of the vampyre myths? I’ve seen a lot of movies, but what did they teach you in school?”
“Well, it depends on what you read. Most of the myths about them are just bullshit; like they sleep in coffins; they’re repelled by crosses; they burn in the sun; they’re burned by holy water; they shape-shift; they’re not visible in mirrors; and that they can only live on human blood. I could probably think of fifty more, but they’re all crap,” Beck explained before continuing, “Now, there are some that hold up better. Vampyres are cold. Silver is the only thing that can penetrate their skin, but they heal very, quickly They can be in the sun, it just affects their vision. They can’t fly, but they are very fast and can jump extremely high.”
“You sound like you actually believe in this stuff. So, tell me Ms. Expert, how do you kill a vampyre?”
“Again, it’s subjective, and most of its crap, too. Burning; burying a body face down; a stake through the heart; piling blessed stones on the grave; putting poppy seeds on the grave; burying the body at a crossroads. Most of that shit is just to prevent a body from rising as a vampyre, and none of it would work. Once they’re infected with the toxin, they will rise.”
“Toxin? So, if you’re bitten by a vampyre, you’ll turn into a vampyre?”
“Not likely, they don’t have to release the toxin. They choose who they want to change, and they’re very selective. Most people bitten by a vampyre are just going to die.”
“Beck, do you believe in vampyres?”
“Yes, I do,” she answered honestly. “Why do you ask?”
“You just sound so sure about all of this. Want to tell me why?”
“Not really,” Beck answered. “Okay…Well, I’m thinking about planting something under the living room windows. Any suggestions?”
“Four O’clocks,” Beck said quickly, and just like that, the conversation moved to other things.
Bev had always been good about not pressing Beck about things. It was one of the things she loved about her. However, what she didn’t like was Bev’s attempts at matchmaking. She kept trying to set her up with guys and she was becoming increasingly frustrated at Beck’s flat refusals.
“You’re 25 years old. You have to start dating eventually,” Bev told her after about her seventh attempt to get Beck to go out with someone. “No, I don’t,” Beck told her firmly. “Tell me this is not because of Alex Whitman,” Bev said quietly. Beck looked her straight in the eye and told her. “This is not about Alex Whitman.”
“Okay,” Bev said, obviously believing her. After a few moments, she inquired delicately, “Are you gay?” A picture of Richard’s face, and perfect naked body, blazed across her mind. “Definitely not.”
“Don’t you get tired of being alone?” Bev asked. “I’m not alone. I have you.”
“You know what I mean. You need to find someone to be happy with.”
“You’re not with a man right now, and you’re happy,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but at least I’m trying to find the right man. I just can’t find the one,” Bev said, clearly frustrated.
“Don’t worry. You will,” Beck said with a smile in her voice.
Bev looked at Beck and said, “You know something. You saw something.”
It wasn’t a question. She knew Beck’s tones too well.
Beck just shrugged. “I gotta go to work. There’s boogiemen to be found.”
She said as grabbed her keys from the table and headed for the door. “You know I hate you, right?” Bev called from the other room.
“Naw, you love me,” Beck laughed.
“Be careful,” Bev yelled past the closing door.
“Will do,” she called as she stepped out into the night.
***
The night was a flop. No ghosts, not so much as a single whisper on the recorders. She’d dropped Potter and Jenny off about 20 minutes ago, and was just pulling into her driveway when her skin started to crawl. It was a charged night, a lot of lightning, but no wind, rain, or thunder. Her grandmother used to tell them that lightning with no storm was a bad omen.
She’d never noticed until now how dark their yard was at night. She turned off the car and just sat there for a minute. Her skin was crawling in waves. It was already 2:00 in the morning. She couldn’t sit in her car all night. Then it hit her; what if the danger was in the house? ‘Bev!’ her brain screamed. She jumped out of the car and ran towards the house.
She didn’t even make it halfway across the yard when a man landed silently in front of her. He was dark-haired and her height, but that was all she saw before he grabbed her by the neck with one hand and threw her backwards toward the car. She twisted in mid-air and landed hard on her stomach, her face smashing into the ground. She didn’t even have time to rollover before she felt him above her.
She heard a deep growl from the other side of her car, felt something sail over her, and heard the impact of meat and bone crashing together. She couldn’t see much. The porch light wasn’t on to illuminate the yard, but she saw enough in the frequent lightning to know there was one hell of a fight going on.
They moved quickly around the yard, almost too fast for her eyes to track, but the sound was horrible. It sounded like a bobcat fighting a dog; hissing, sn
arling, growling and snapping noises tore through the still night air. The sound of the impacts were violent and terrifying. Then the front door of the house opened and the yard was suddenly lit from the porch flood light.
“What’s going on out here?” Bev called from the porch.
At that moment of distraction, the strange vampyre was thrown onto his back. Leso took this opportunity to jump on the stranger’s chest and kick his head off like a soccer ball…and Bev had a front row seat.
“What the fuck?!” Bev screamed.
Leso turned towards Bev in a blur of movement. Bev fainted, but Leso caught her before she hit the ground. Beck got up off the ground and limped over to the body in the yard, never happier about the privacy fence.
“That’s just nasty,” she said to Leso.
“Yes, but still, it was necessary,” he replied.
“I’m not complaining, and thank you very much for charging in like that, but it’s still nasty,” she said, wrinkling her noise.
Leso carried Bev into the house. She followed him, snapped off the porch light, and closed the door on the horror scene in the yard. She didn’t bother to lock it. What would be the point, really? If any other vampyres wanted to come after them she really didn’t think a deadbolt would give them much pause.
She turned to Leso. “Are there anymore?”
“Not that I can feel,” he said softly as he sat on the couch, cradling Bev in his arms.
She could tell he was having a hard time taking his eyes off Bev’s face. He finally slid Bev gently off of his lap and settled her carefully onto the couch. He came over and squatted down in front of the chair Beck was sitting in.
“Are you alright, Beck? You’ve got blood all over your face.”
“I’m fine, but we have to get that body out of the yard.”