Whitechapel

by Bryan Lightbody

  There was a slight bump which unsettled some people on their feet as the boat met its moorings. Klosowski remained steady on his feet and with his air of confidence strode onto the gangplank as soon as it was lowered despite shouts of ‘Wait!’ from some of the dockside workers and sailors. His command of verbal and written English was good and he ignored their derision and spotted the signs for the station. Having passed through the immigration control he walked with excitement through the streets of Dover taking in the new sights and sounds of England and noting how different in many subtle ways to France and the rest of mainland Europe it was. He observed with great interest the look of English women, their style, their varying types of deportment and, as they passed closely by, their scents. He drew long lingering breaths through his nose so he could fully appreciate the wonderful perfumed scent of the high class women emanating from their soaps, the powders and the perfumes they carefully prepared themselves with.

  There was a vastly different odour from the lower class women he passed, most of them trying to disguise poor or non-existent levels of personal hygiene with shockingly fragranced cheap perfumes. Both had their individual merits as far as he was concerned dependent on his mood.

  He bought his third class ticket to London and waited on the platform. He could see further along an Arabic looking young girl of about twenty, slim, tidily dressed in clothes which gave her away as having come from France too. He found her alluringly attractive as he had done Monique from the Bois, but had no murderous intentions, purely sexual. The train pulled in to their platform, empty having come from the sidings leaving plenty of space for all. He followed her into the carriage she chose and sat opposite her in a set of four seats, her flowing Victorian bustle encompassing the seats onto which she sat whilst he dominated his seats with his case and overcoat and dark homburg hat to try to discourage anyone else from joining them.

  The train set off with the customary jolt but at least with everyone settled in their seats. He could not take his eyes off of this tanned skin beauty as she looked restlessly out of the window trying to avoid his stare. He would either have to wait until the train emptied or follow her off of the train if she was also headed to London. He could feel himself beginning to shake with excitement at the thought of probably being the first man to take her and his palms began to sweat with the anticipation of being able to take part in some debauched sexual act. He noted that she was quite heavily made up and that her Victorian blouse collar seemed to come up very high to under her chin. He did note that as the journey went on that she began more and more to acknowledge his stare and on one occasion stared back at him with the hint of a smile.

  Passing out of Ashford continuing to the capital she got up and headed for the carriage door. As she reached it she looked back at him and gestured very subtly with her head for him to follow her. He could not believe that she was willing to partake in sex with him so willingly so he followed eagerly feeling his excitement growing. She found a toilet cubicle in one of the second class carriages and opened the door beckoning him in. He happily followed and found her standing in front of the sink looking at him and licking her lips as she watched him enter. He considered that she might be a prostitute from France looking for new employment in London. He had not intention of paying for anything.

  He lifted her onto the enamelled sink and she sighed with excitement as he did so. She was fumbling with the belt and buttons of his trousers to free him as he had his hands around her waist. He ripped open her blouse to reveal wonderfully rounded pert breasts that indicated her level of excitement. He plunged his face into them kissing and sucking on the flesh with lustrous intensity, and at the same time he begin searching within the folds of her bustle to reach her womanhood. Eventually he moved up from her now saliva coated chest to kissing and biting her neck. She began to pant with excitement as he did and pulled hard on him with her right hand whilst her left hand felt for his rectum to give him a quick but massive climax and avoid full intercourse.

  Suddenly he discovered two things which caused great horror and for him to immediately pull away from what he thought had been a woman. As he had kissed her neck he became aware of the fact she had an Adams apple and also felt his hand brush an erect penis. She was a hermaphrodite. She too had a look of horror from his discovery as she would normally keep this tucked to one side to avoid detection and looked with fear into the dark eyes of Klosowski wondering what he would do next. He pulled up and buttoned up his trousers and turned away as if he was about to leave. She felt relief as it looked as if he was going to walk away. But before she could react he turned swiftly having taken a surgeons knife from his coat and slashed out at her face gashing it across her cheeks and nose and sweeping twice, once in each direction to maximise the damage. She screamed out in agony and shook as he attacked her, cursing at her “You will never fool another man again as they will never give you a second glance now!” He wiped the blade of the knife with a ragged handkerchief from his pocket and put it back in his coat and opened the cubicle door.

  She tried a vengeful lunge with her hands at his face but she was not quick enough, he caught her hands and threw her back onto the sink. He looked cautiously around and saw no one. He pulled her out into the corridor and punched her twice in the face inflicting more damage to her nose and causing her to sob heavily. She began shouting “Au secours!” repeatedly but not for long and to no avail. Klosowski wrenched open one of the carriage doors to the outside world, “Non, NON!” she screamed as he threw her from the train, observing her body tumble over and over as it ended up lifelessly in a field.

  Klosowski washed his hands and returned casually to his carriage seat.

  ***

  Abberline and Godley arrived at Bucks Row the murder site of Mary Nichols to be met by a crowd and some uniform constables clearing up the blood from the scene with buckets and stiff brushes on the cobbles. Abberline spotted a paper boy with a dirty looking old collie dog to one side from the rest of the crowd who was watching the actions of the constables intently. The crowd was made up of a few grubby looking working men, a large bunch of what appeared to local prostitutes, assorted children of all ages with a group of constables and a sergeant keeping them all to one side. About half a dozen of the filthy street kids were larking about as if nothing had happened as all the adults talked amongst themselves in hushed voices. Abberline immediately approached the paper boy.

  “What’s your name, son?” he said as he began stroking the apparently friendly dog’s head

  “Ralph. You’re Inspector Abberline, ain’t ya?”

  “You know your stuff, young fellow, who told you that them? Him?” he said pointing to the dog and smiling.

  “No, I don’t think so, mister, ‘e’s clever but ‘e’s a dog. It was ‘im over there,” he said pointing to one of the constables doing the washing down.

  Abberline flicked him a penny and said “Well, you keep your ear to the ground and your eyes open and let me know what you see or hear, all right?” Ralph took the money eagerly and replied “Certainly, Mr Abberline, you leave it to me.”

  Abberline and Godley approached the two constables who were doing the scrubbing. They were both aware of the two detectives heading towards them and they kept their heads down and carried on brushing. One said to the other

  “That’s bleedin’ Abberline, isn’t it, Rob?”

  “Yeah, it is, but don’t know the bloke that he’s with, Del.”

  “Oh, that’s George Godley used to work around here, don’t you remember?”

  “Suits all look the same to me, Del Boy, don’t remember him meself.”

  “So, what the bloody hell do you two think you’re doing then?” said Abberline.

  “Inspector Spratling’s orders, sir. Clear it away now that the body’s gone.”

  “You know what all that is, son?” asked Godley.

  “No, sir, I don’t,” answered Robert Ford.

  “Evidence, Constable, and its Sergeant Godley.”
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  “And you’re Inspector Abberline,” piped up Del.

  “Got it in one, lad, where is Inspector Spratling?”

  “He’s down at the mortuary at Old Montague Street Workhouse Infirmary with the body and Dr Llewellyn, sir.”

  “Well, George, it’s off to there then.” As Abberline continued to speak the sergeant from the crowd walked over to them. “Now you, lads, when you’ve finished get yourselves back to The Street and start tidying up the incident room for me please.”

  “I don’t think so, they’re my blokes and I say what they can or can’t do. They are going back on patrol,” said the bearded sergeant.

  “Do you know who I am, sergeant?”

  “I expect you are Mr Abberline,” he replied arrogantly looking the detectives up and down, “And I am Sergeant Kerby.” Abberline stepped up to be face to face with Kerby.

  “Well, Sergeant Kerby, if you know who I am then you may well know that you are to lend us all courtesy and help in the swift resolution of these murders. So you, Sergeant, will go with them and clear up that incident room. I expect to find it ready for us first thing on Monday. Now, all your lads, are they the early shift?”

  “We are, guv’nor,” said a somewhat disgruntled Kerby.

  “Well, once you’ve got it tidied up and ready for us and an eventual squad of detectives you’re off. Don’t want to hear that the C.I.D never gives you something.” Kerby took Rob and Del off to The Street and Abberline and Godley made for the mortuary and the expected showdown that Abberline knew he would have with one of his old working uniform rivals, John Spratling.

  They arrived at the Old Montague Street Workhouse Infirmary Mortuary to find Dr Rees Llewellyn, a forty-nine year old General Practitioner and one of the district’s Divisional Surgeons, examining the now naked body of Mary Nichols with forty-eight year old stern faced Police Inspector Spratling looking on. Llewellyn was dictating his findings to a constable who was making notes in his pocket book. Abberline and Godley listening as the doctor catalogued her injuries.

  “Five teeth missing, a slight laceration to the tongue and bruising on the right lower jaw. All consistent with a blow to the face, or pressure from being held. May or may not be linked to the homicidal injuries. Injuries to the neck, I shall catalogue in more detail but needless to say that the neck wounds are so deep as to go back through all tissues to the vertebrae. No wounds to the upper body cavity but to the abdomen we find several deep slashes, which again I shall elaborate on in my notes, all very jagged and caused by the same instrument being used violently downwards. They appear to have been done left handed, or cutting backhand.”

  “Well, Doctor, what kind of man do you think might have done this?” said Abberline

  “You’re the detective, Abberline, why don’t you tell us?” responded Spratling aggressively.

  “Because I’ve only just arrived, John, but seeing as how you’ve been around all day, what do you reckon?”

  “I think it’s just some local nutter, in fact two nutters as both the eventual states of the bodies are different, don’t know why there’s all the fuss of getting you Yard boys in.”

  “Because, my Dear John, we don’t make some early shift assumption but look at all the evidence, so I wish to speak to Dr Llewellyn about both the month’s murders, so if you’ll excuse us John…….” Spratling stormed off from the mortuary.

  “We’ll see him back at The Street no doubt, George. Now then, Doctor, you’ve examined both bodies, do you see any link between the two?”

  “Well, Inspector, obviously only the second victim has such extensive mutilations, but both have had their throats cut deeply cut. Both would appear to have been cut by someone who is left handed as both initial slashes to the neck area are from the victims left to right. Also I suspect that the same or similar knives have been used on both victims judging by how much damage was created; only a powerful and sharp butchery knife could do it.”

  “Or surgeons, doctor.”

  “Surgeons save lives, Inspector, not take them.”

  “But you would agree that a surgeon’s knife could do it?”

  “I concede only in the weaponry, Inspector.”

  “Doctor, can I take it you will be available should there be any other victims?”

  “If I am on duty Inspector, then yes.”

  “Well if you’re not I might like to call on your services for a continuity of opinion.”

  “I don’t mind, Inspector, but please don’t set me against my divisional surgeon colleagues unnecessarily.”

  “Don’t worry, doctor, I shan’t be doing that, good day to you.” Abberline and Godley left the mortuary.

  “Fred, I don’t think it’s a great idea to try to upset the divisional surgeon.”

  “I’m not trying to upset him, George, just gain a different view point, not a copper’s.” They walked briskly and from the mortuary to Commercial Street Police Station a relatively short distance. Abberline hoped that on arrival the incident room would be in the process of being prepared for the case to be launched in earnest the next week.

  They were greeted by the desk sergeant as they entered and both walked through the station as if they had never left and found their way directly to the incident room they would be using. The two young constables and Sergeant Kerby had made a good job at making the place usable and presentable, the walls were clear although grubby from previous use and there were several cleared blackboards all set with chalk on their shelves and board wipers. There were several desks and wooden filing cabinets dotted around the room and just about enough chairs to match although not any two of them were the same. The floor had been swept and there were two doors into the room from different corridors. If they needed the space, Abberline thought, they could block off one of the doors. The lighting was from a dim electrical source but there were old gas units spread around the walls ready for use if necessary.

  “Only one thing missing, George,” Abberline said as they surveyed the room. “Some tea making stuff, we need a little stove in one corner with all the bits, because I’m bloody parched.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s done for Monday, Fred, because I feel exactly the same.”

  At that time Sergeant Kerby stuck his bearded face around the door at them. “Everything all right for you, guv’nor?” He asked almost genuinely with a faint smile.

  “Splendid job, Sergeant, but mind you two of your finest cups of tea, for me and George here would top things off.” The faint smile disappeared from Kerby’s face as he strode off to get refreshment for the detectives. In the meantime they exchanged a wry smile.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Saturday 1st of September 1888. Robert Ford arrived outside the London Hospital early for his one o’clock date with Mary Kelly. He could see over the road a large crowd gathering for what he understood to be a most unsightly freak show, ironically opposite the place of so many medical breakthroughs and healing. Whilst he was waiting for Mary he listened to the show announcer stood outside on the pavement of the Whitechapel Road.

  “Roll up, roll up for the greatest freak show in Europe. You will feel terror, you will feel pity, you will feel amazement, you might well feel sick when you cast your eyes on a man who is quite simply not one thing or the other. His features are that of an unimaginable jungle animal, his skin has the texture of a hide; he does not have the bone structure of a man. Ladies and gentleman, and I must stress NOT boys and girls I invite you to come in for your viewing excitement, for your imagination overload, to enter and meet Mr John Merrick, THE ELEPHANT MAN!”

  The crowds swarmed the grubby seedy ticket booth at the entrance to the shop desperate for some cheap thrill or titillation.

  Robert looked on disgusted at these people indulging in another’s horrific misfortune and tried to put it to the back of his mind to be in a good humour for when Mary arrived. He hoped that she would not have a macabre interest in seeing the poor wretch in the show. Robert looked himself over in a reflection from a wi
ndow in the London Hospital and was quite pleased with his efforts. He had turned out in his best three piece suit, plain black leather shoes and a wing collar shirt with a tie. He hoped Mary would like what she saw. He straightened his neck tie much to the delight to a couple of passing squaddies who could not help but comment in a falsely high pitched voice “Oo, you look gorgeous, luv,” who then chuckled to themselves and walked on in what was obvious to Robert a semi drunken state.

  As he turned to view the main road again Mary was stood immediately in front of him, he could do nothing to help his mouth opening and his lower jaw dropping with what he saw. She was not in anything that resembled her working clothes; she was wearing a tight fitting crushed velvet Victorian lady’s dress in a deep blue with a cream coloured blouson jacket on top, a blue and cream bonnet to match her outfit with her radiant auburn hair tied back like flowing like the mane of a graceful thoroughbred mare, a lacy parasol and she was wearing high shoes of some kind with the height at which she stood and the way she held herself. He could detect the obvious but subtle scent of perfume which seemed to be of good quality and was pleased he had matched her effort with his own turn out.

  “Mary, you look beautiful. I don’t know what else to say,” Robert could not stop staring at her shaking his head in amazement. He thought she looked lovely everyday when he saw her, but now she appeared both gorgeous and elegant.

  “Well, Robert Ford, I must say you look the kind of gent who should be accompanying me, you look marvellous too.”

  “May I accompany you to the boating lake, madam?” Robert said imitating as best he could an upper class voice.

  “Certainly, sir,” Mary replied in her normally soft Irish accent which was of a very high class nature from her own attempts to always be more than she was by birth.