Whitechapel

by Bryan Lightbody

  Around 1.a.m. Louis Diemschutz a peddler of cheap jewellery pulled into Dutfields Yard with the intention of depositing his cart and his stock with his wife and taking the horse to be stabled at George Yard in Gunthorpe Street. As he drove into the yard the horse shied and pulled to the left and hesitated to go forward. Looking down Diemschutz could see something by one of the gates and prodded it with his long handled whip finding it to be soft. He got off of the cart and lighting a match he saw what appeared to be an unconscious woman who he believed was drunk. He went into the club and related his findings to a couple of the patrons who were good friends, Morris Eagle and Isaacs Kozebrodsky, who both accompanied him outside to try to rouse the drunken woman. To their horror they discovered Liz Stride having bled to death from a slit throat and immediately went in search of a police officer, but only found another club member Edward Spooner. They continued the quest for a policeman and eventually Constables Collins and Lamb arrived, examined the body and blew long and hard on their whistles to summon additional help to secure the crime scene and begin a search of the surrounding area and especially some of the adjacent roads and their premises; such as Batty Street which ran parallel and was the next turning east of Berner Street along Commercial Road.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Shut the door behind you please, Cathy,” said Constable George Hutt as Eddowes was leaving Bishopsgate Police Station.

  “All right. Good night, old cock.” Cathy Eddowes left the Police Station in a significantly more sober state some three hours later as it was now approaching 12.30.a.m on Monday morning 30th September. It still took her some time to head down towards Mitre Square where she hoped she would pick up a punter despite the late hour.

  Tumblety passed into Mitre Square via Church Passage and entered a dimly lit cobbled open space enclosed by high buildings of a mixed residential and commercial nature. Facing west immediately on his left was one of two buildings that belonged to Kearley and Tonge, the other being on the north side of the square next to which were two houses, one empty the other lived in by a police constable. On his left on the south side was Horner and Co and on the west side was Williams and Co, Mr Taylor’s shop and some more empty houses. At this time of night there was no one to observe any activities in the square, be they illicit or illegal. It was around 1.35.a.m as Tumblety stood outside the empty house next to Mr Taylor’s shop in the shadows and almost invisible from the east side. The only lights were at the Church Passage entrance and on the north side outside Kearley and Tonge’s and he looked across to where he had come from hoping he would see a victim to appear to try glean some information from and perhaps more.

  Cathy Eddowes passed along Dukes Place and turned into Church Passage. She had walked by a group of three men who stopped their conversation to see where she went. Joseph Levy, Joseph Lawende and Harry Harris had left the International Workingman’s Educational Club about an hour previously and had made their way to this spot via Tubby Isaac’s seafood stall. Constable James Harvey emerged from Church Passage and they observed Cathy stop and speak in a very friendly way to him even placing her hand on his chest at one point during their very brief encounter. In the shadows they did not realise it was a policeman as he wasn’t wearing his helmet but had it under his arm and was putting out a cigarette. As Cathy left him they saw her go off towards Mitre Square and the constable emerged from the shadows putting on his helmet with the group then realising who he was and all bade each other a polite ‘good evening’.

  Tumblety couldn’t believe his good fortune when he saw a female walk reasonably steadily into sight seemingly having been drinking earlier in the evening. Little known to him potential witnesses were all around not only in the group just out of sight but Kearley and Tonge had a night watchman called George Morris who was asleep. Tumblety was completely concealed from view as she wandered towards him humming gently and looking all around the square while just brushing her hair under her bonnet around the tops of her ears. She got to about twenty feet from him and turned her back towards him, she stopped humming and everything was still. Tumblety on tip toe crept up on her to within arms length.

  For no reason she turned briskly to face him quite by chance and brought her hand to her mouth as she took a silent breath in sharply in shock. He tipped his hat and greeted her politely dressed in his usual garb.

  “Evening, mam.” There was a pause as she moved her hand from her mouth, smiled, coughed and replied.

  “Hullo, sir, and what can I do for a fine gent like you?” looking him up and down and sensing the possibility of doss money for a quick service in return.

  “I’ve seen you haven’t I, mam, around The Ten Bells or Britannia?”

  “You have, sir, haven’t seen a fine man like you though. I’d ‘member you all right. Real smart you are.”

  “As a local lady, you don’t know a girl almost as pretty as you called Mary, sometimes called Marie-Jeanette or Emma?” Alcohol and keenness to please made Cathy’s tongue loose and her naivety took the flattery fully on board too.

  “As it happens, I do, sir. She knocks around them pubs too and is courting a local policeman at present. Normally lives round the corner from The Britannia, can’t remember the address, know how to get there though. I’m always too pissed when I go there.” He shuddered with rage at what she said and also feared the complications of a policeman being involved. If she was courting it would explain a lot about her lack of presence on the streets and that address would be important.

  “Does she still work on the street, mam?”

  “Nah, proper in love she is. Going to leave this shit hole for pastures new they are from what I can fathom.” Tumblety felt the urgency within him to act and he could hear his demons beginning to urge him to as well.

  “Only one more question and then perhaps we can do some business together, if you left The Ten Bells, how would you get to Mary’s place?”

  “Well, you’d cross the road and then go down some little narrow alley. Got a broken window it has, that’s all I know love.”

  The time for talking further was over and Tumblety had gleaned more than on any other encounter. He had begun to carry his Listern knife in a special pouch he had devised on the inside of his right forearm so he could shake it free sliding down and straight into his hand for immediate use with no obvious attention initially drawn to it. During this exchange he had managed to discreetly get into his hand and as he nodded his head in acknowledgment of Cathy’s last response he slashed it in a rapid movement across her throat. The blood sprayed unluckily for him almost exclusively in his direction coating his outer clothes and his hat and face heavily. She stood silently and pointlessly raised her hands up to her throat as had all the previous victims, from which she could neither breathe nor speak or scream as if to try to stop the bleeding. She fell forward into the waiting doctor’s arms and he dragged her face first into the dark recesses of the south west corner of Mitre Square. He knew nothing of how little time he had to complete his grisly task make good on his promise to the police to prove his handiwork before he would have to escape quickly via Mitre Street.

  He laid her face up on the pavement close to its edge with the cobbles and set to by using the knife to rip open her clothes to gain access to her bare abdomen to start dissecting it to get to the parts his collection demanded. He sunk the knife deeply and harshly into her stomach and ripped fiercely up and down and then across to create a gaping wound in which to work. He pulled out her intestines and threw them across her right shoulder. A small piece still obstructed his work which he cut free completely and discarded by her left arm next to her warm yet lifeless body. He cut into her lower abdomen removing virtually all the womb and most of the uterus, his normal prize, but also took the entire left kidney. This was part of his plan to taunt the authorities even further. His outer clothing, the sleeves of his tunic and his medical bag were covered in warm running blood from the butchering he had just indulged in and even in his psychologically unhinged
state he knew he could not afford to be seen before reaching the sanctuary of Batty Street. Having gained his internal prizes he knelt beside the body and looked down on her with absolute contempt for her and her kind. As he stared down at her all he began to be able to see in her face was that of Mary Kelly’s. Remembering his taunt to the police he cut off the tips and lobes off of both her ears and then looking at that face again he lashed out fiercely but with design to inflict some very deliberate scars.

  He cut ‘v’ shaped flaps on both her cheeks and a deep cut across the bridge of her nose. He even cut the tip from her nose and then went on to inflict some hideous cuts all around her mouth and across her eyelids. These were vicious actions that served two purposes; firstly to confuse the police with Masonic symbolism and further wreak his revenge on the organisation that had disowned him back in America, and to disfigure her face so that he could no longer see Mary’s image looking back at him. His hands and knife were caked in blood and looking at her lifeless form no longer having any use for her torn and stained clothes. He cut off a large piece of her apron from its lower corner to wipe both off. Having done so he realise that the minutes had ticked by and it was now just past 1.45.a.m and he stood to make his escape having just flung loosely into his bag the knife and the vile trophies of the night. He looked up across to Church Passage from where he could hear some foot steps and began to see the shadow of a constable being cast into the square. He ran as briskly as he could into Mitre Street and off towards Aldgate High Street to begin to make good his escape. He was just out of sight as constable Ted Watkins from the City Police entered the square, himself believing that he had heard someone running off.

  He had had no choice but to work so thoroughly which now cost him dear making his escape through streets he hoped would be quiet, but within which a man travelling at speed would court attention and especially in his blood soaked condition. As he turned into Aldgate High Street he heard the shrill sound of a whistle being blasted in, from the sound of it, in quite some desperation. The cops had found his handiwork by the direction from which the sound came so soon the area would be swamped. He had to get away briskly and stealthily.

  In Mitre Square Constable Watkins had roused the night watchman Morris to help him by sending him off round the locale to the square to see if he could find another officer or a likely assailant. Watkins felt almost physically sick at the gruesome sight that had been presented before him, unable to fathom the psyche of the kind of person to commit such atrocities. Some residents came out of their houses that, apart from the off duty police officer, he directed back into their homes. As a result of Morris’s circuit of the area Watkins was joined by Constable Holland who had been patrolling in Aldgate and, as fate would have it, missed crossing Tumblety’s path by seconds. He went off to fetch from Jewry Street Dr Sequeira and then informed Inspector Ed Collard at Bishopsgate police station at around 1.55.a.m. Collard sent for the City’s divisional surgeon Dr F Gordon Brown before arriving at Mitre Square just after 2.a.m and was surprised by Brown’s arrival within minutes of his own. The notoriety and seriousness of the crimes brought Superintendent McWilliams accompanied by Sergeant Foster and even within a short time the acting City Police Commissioner Major Henry Smith.

  Tumblety passed the junction with Middlesex Street and ahead he thought he made out the silhouettes of a group of men not more than a hundred yards away. They were walking away from him and by their mode of head dress he guessed them to be local Jewish workers. As he had committed past the junction of Middlesex Street now closing on Goulston Street they must have heard his foot steps as two out of the three turned. Tumblety was directly under a lamp, highlighting the glistening blood on his top coat and bag. One of them shouted.

  “You, what’s with you? Wait, fellow. Why are you shiny?”

  ‘Damn! My goose could be cooked,’ he thought, and he ducked into Goulston Street and ran hard to make some ground on them but began tiring quickly. He had to find somewhere to hide. He made it quite some distance along before he heard another shout from behind; they had now got into the same street. He had got far enough ahead that they probably would not be able to gauge which building he entered to try to lose them. He chose 108-119 Wentworth Model Dwellings and sheltered below a stairwell breathing very hard and sweating profusely from all his physical exertion. He could then hear them talking. They had decided to split up and search the area between them. This would be a real problem because even if not found he would have to be very cautious timing his departure. ‘Bastards, if it wasn’t enough with the cops on my ass.’ He had view of the doorway and saw the silhouette of a figure, one of the Jews, enter. He desperately subdued his breathing but felt his heart beat right through his head, so loud he thought it seemed as if others would be able to hear it and it’s beat would give him away and he would be discovered.

  His pursuer failed to find him and departed with a very scant search. Lying on the floor he found some sticks of chalk that local children must have left from marking out a ‘hops scotch’ court. He’d fix both the Jews, for the nights problems they had caused him, and the police with another insulting distraction, this time not by post but by hand on the buildings wall. He had a good knowledge of Freemasonry from a brief involvement in America before his public humiliation in New Brunswick when they failed to stand by him. He knew well the story of Jubelo, Jubelum and Jubela, the ‘Juwes’ and the crime they committed in the Temple of Solomon. His lodge had disowned him following the death of his patient Mr Podmore and were instrumental in discrediting him. His quick thinking vindictive mind saw another way of distracting attention from himself.

  As he stood the piece of apron he had wiped his hands on dropped from his pocket to the floor and he squared up to the corridor wall to write. It didn’t take him long. ‘That should confuse the trail for sometime’ he thought. His deliberate spelling of one word would leave intellectuals and masons wondering if this was ritualistic and laymen simply thinking that the author was slightly illiterate, especially with the double negative. The Jews had made his night difficult in so many ways, and he hadn’t found sanctuary yet. He stepped back to see his completed message:

  THE JUWES ARE THE

  MEN THAT WILL

  NOT BE BLAMED

  FOR NOTHING

  The deliberate spelling of ‘Juwes’ would potentially besmirch two groups for which he felt hostility. Now he had to make good his escape. He emerged back into Goulston Street slowly and cautiously and made his way north to avoid contact with the three Jews in case they had not yet resumed their own business. His route towards the sanctuary of Batty Street took him into Wentworth Street, the location during the day of the busy ‘Petticoat Lane market’ which then led across Commercial Street as he continued towards Brick Lane and Osborn Street. Ever vigilant he had to ensure he passed no one or did it at a massive distance so they could not see his shiny blood stained clothes. There was no point ditching his outer garments as it had soaked through to his white shirt which was then even more obvious to onlookers. His escape route took him past St Mary’s Church and into Church Lane the scene of a previous encounter which then spat him out close to safety, or so he believed, into Commercial Road. About to turn left and beginning to let his guard down Batty Street was only three roads up on the right.

  Appearing in Commercial Road he turned only fifteen feet from an approaching constable. He quickly ducked back into Church Lane and walked off briskly, but he had been seen.

  “Oi, you come here, I need a word.” The voice bellowed to him from behind. He briskly strolled a few more feet into the darkness of the poorly lit Church Lane before stopping to confront his potential assailant. With his back turned to the constable he got a knife to hand ready to use to make good his escape. As he heard the foot steps close and another question directed at him he turned ready to strike.

  “When I say stop, I want a word, mister, I bloody mean it. Now….” His words were cut short as the Listern knife flashed rapidly across in f
ront of him deep into his face slicing across his left cheek, his mouth and into his right cheek. The attack opened up his face almost literally ear to ear leaving a massive open wound that including his mouth was nearly ten inches across. He helplessly grabbed his face as the blood poured over his hands and he couldn’t form his lips to issue a scream or a cry for help. He fell to his knees helplessly in front of Tumblety who then pushed the kneeling constable over leaving him fighting for breath on the cold pavement, desperately trying to call for assistance. He ran back up to Commercial Road and peered round the corner looking east and west to see if he could continue his escape. It appeared clear so he ran across the road still sweating profusely and continued east towards his safe haven. As he neared Gowers Walk he could see two blocks up a mass of police around the top end of Berner Street with Batty Street being only just beyond; but it might as well be on another continent with all that police presence and his overall bloodied condition. He had to get there; he couldn’t turn up at the Ritz in this state. He had to find a way round.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder as he stood using the building line for some cover from view looking east. He whirled round to see another cop and without time to draw his knife again and noting the officer with his truncheon in hand he punched out as hard as he could at the man’s windpipe. He fell like a rag doll as Tumblety then kicked him in the jaw as hard as he could and then took his truncheon about to strike again but pausing with a sudden thought.

  The officer lying in front of his feet was a sergeant drafted in with some of his subordinates from another division on the outskirts of East London. He was actually unconscious as a result of the blow he had received and looking at him Tumblety noticed that he was of a very similar build to him. He bodily dragged him with great effort and nearing exhaustion deep into Gowers Walk out of sight to execute his plan. He began shedding all of his own top clothes throwing them in a pile and as soon as he had discarded them all on the cobbles he set to work with stripping the sergeant of his uniform. He was out cold and it was difficult to manoeuvre his dead weight. Once stripped of his uniform he stood bent double for a minute or so trying to get his breath listening intently for footsteps or sign of police or anyone nearing him. Having got his breath with only the sound of the gathering crowd from Berner Street in the distance, the occasional dog bark or carriage passing on the main road, he managed to struggle into the uniform complete with helmet and truncheon. He bundled up his own clothes and headed south in Gowers Walk finding a large tin dustbin to stuff them in. Leaving the lid off he lit a match and got them burning and hid his bag deep in a alcove between buildings further down and would fetch it back in the morning. He stood ensuring the fire took hold and then made his way through an alley into Back Church Lane to then try to wend his way into the bottom end of Batty Street via Ellen Street and Providence Street which would lead directly to it.