Whitechapel

by Bryan Lightbody

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “What’s you’re address then?”

  “17 Graham Road, Hackney,” said Tumblety knowing he would have to look for somewhere else or be ready to move immediately.

  “You don’t turn up when you are expected then I will personally put your door in.” With that Abberline left slamming the door behind him. By 3.p.m Tumblety had lawfully left the police station. Exhausted from a sleepless night, he caught a cab to Graham Road and slept through to Friday morning.

  Late that afternoon Abberline and Godley had heard from the main C.I.D office at Scotland Yard that it would take up to ten days for the handwriting to be analysed and inference of guilt satisfied.

  “Why the hell does it take so long, George?” asked a frustrated Abberline.

  “Because the Mets’ one and only expert in a line that rarely has to be pursued is on holiday in France and doesn’t get back until the 19th,” replied an equally irritated Godley, both men desperate not to let a good suspect slip through their fingers. They could take comfort in the fact that he would now know that he was an obvious suspect and if it was him he would think heavily as to whether he would strike on bail. However, another dramatic twist was about to influence the direction of the investigation yet again.

  Robert Lees had not slept from about 3.a.m until day break as a result of the most startling clear vision he had ever had. Having experienced no sleep, subsequently he had meticulously written down a record of what he had seen in his most vivid vision of the next potential or actual Ripper crime. Despite reservations of hostility from Abberline he knew he had to see him to allow his conscience at least to be at rest if nothing else. He knew it would be sometime before the horrors of the murder he had psychologically witnessed would fade. He arrived at Commercial Street Police Station at 5.p.m by stylish carriage which waited for him outside while he went in to conduct his traumatic business. He spoke to the front desk sergeant who sent off a constable to fetch Abberline, a routine he was now accustomed to. Within minutes he was guided by Godley to the incident room where he was invited to sit by Abberline.

  “Mr Lees, without wishing to sound cynical or ungrateful, I do hope you have some new information from your visions for us,” said Abberline.

  “Inspector, I spent the night awake from 3.a.m until dawn as a result of what I witnessed in my last vision. A crime so horrible is imminent that it will shock the core of society and the police service and will scar the memories of all who witness it. I will not be wasting your time.”

  “Mr Lees, most importantly can you tell me when and where it will happen?” asked Abberline keen to cut to the chase.

  “Mr Abberline, my visions as I have said are mainly and mostly entirely symbolic, but…” Abberline cut in with impatience and irritation.

  “We have just made a significant break through potentially, Mr Lees, now get on with it and tell me something I need to know!”

  “Damn your godless impatience, Abberline! Listen! There must be something from what I am about to tell you that will help you catch him. In the next week a woman not from this country will be the next victim. She will die alone in her own home as a result of a crime fuelled by greed. The killer will be a foreign man dressed smartly with knowledge of what he is doing, with dark evil eyes set behind a face covered by a moustache. They will meet in a building that is named after a figure head of sorts. When she is found she will be unrecognisable.”

  “Fred, The Britannia. Tumblety matches the description and all we need to do is watch any girls in there that maybe from abroad,” said Godley interpreting the vision instantly. Abberline was still cynical.

  “Right. You tell no one of this, Lees. There must be no chance of the man being tipped off. Do you understand?”

  “I do, Inspector. Tell me when this over and I am proved right, any chance of a simple apology or a thank you?” Abberline ignored him totally.

  “Show him out, George.”

  “May God be your judge, Abberline, you are the most soulless man I have ever met.”

  “Get out. Yes, your visions are accurate and they tell us much but this is the first time they have given us anything close to a clue before the crime. Problem is Whitechapel is full of foreign men and women, some are smartly dressed, many of both have moustaches and we won’t be able to follow everyone to their homes, so don’t flatter yourself that you think you might of solved these crimes, if you do, then truly you might be considered a fool and a lunatic. But thank you, don’t come back unless you are asked.” Lees stormed out too humiliated to reply with Godley looking a little stunned by the outbursts from both.

  “George, don’t get me wrong, it all helps but consider the logistics of what I have just described.”

  “But we’ve got to try, Fred.”

  “I know. I fucking know more than anyone. Big briefing tomorrow at six, two and ten and get Mather and Robinson on watch for Tumblety.”

  The worst fact for the two of them was that it was now imminent a murder was coming, there was no doubt of that based on Lees’ previous information and that’s what hurt and troubled them most, knowing it was coming.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Thursday 8th November 2.p.m. For the second time that day Abberline had given the following briefing to all patrols.

  “No one takes time off during the next week and everyone will be paid to do an extra four hours after their normal shift. We are looking for a foreign man with a dark appearance, deep set ‘evil’ eyes and a moustache. He may well be smartly dressed and could be a medical practitioner. Our man Tumblety is already under observation so pay attention to others. He may well, from information provided by Mr Lees, pick someone up in The Britannia and go home with them. Potential victims to be looked at are also of foreign origin with somewhere of their own to go to so there could be a lot of following people off at a discreet distance. Everyone has got to be vigilant because the one thing that is certain is that he will strike. We need to stop or catch him and hopefully both. No questions? Then get out there and find him. I will be out too in-between the briefings.” The parade room emptied of all it’s occupants who filed out of the police station to hopefully bring about an end to these crimes.

  Severin Klosowski was keen to have the money to pay the new world a visit and be able to return if he didn’t like it. The task that he had been requested to do by the odd fellow Townsend fuelled his sense of opportunity. If this man had offered him £500 to kill a woman then she must be in possession of more money driving him to act alone and not bother to contact Townsend further. He pondered these issues as he cropped his hair and moustache to venture out to The Ten Bells that night. The newspapers had been full of information about descriptions of the Ripper and the sporting of a moustache seemed a key element, so keeping it short cropped might allow him to go un-noticed. He wished to pass unobtrusively and changing his appearance should help. He would dress in very average clothes for the area again to be unexceptional. He recalled the picture of Mary Kelly in his minds eye as he contemplated his task for the evening. He had seen her about as he had told Townsend and she was indeed unusually attractive for the normal unfortunates of Whitechapel. He would take delight in her form before killing her. His shop was closed for the day so that he could get into Commercial Street at the earliest opportunity.

  Meanwhile Tumblety had left his lodgings in Hackney to head down to the East End in the hope of finally finding Mary to warn her off. Almost instantly having only walked for some ten minutes to take the air he was aware of a curious man and woman who seemed to be going at a distance to wherever he was going. He guessed it wouldn’t affect him trying to find her, but would they intercept him as soon as he did and may prevent him from being able to warn her.

  Sir Charles Warren was in his office with a tailor trying out the final fitting of his Commissioners dress uniform prior to the Lord Mayor’s parade the next day, 9th November. Used to military dress uniforms the nature of the outfit was not unfamiliar to him alth
ough he did feel that there were a few too many feathers in the dress hat. Superintendent Arnold was present in the office and they were chatting about the Whitechapel case.

  “Tom, you are aware of my fragile position in relation to this whole affair?”

  “Indeed I am, Sir Charles. Abberline seems to have been presented with his greatest opportunity yet to catch the killer. They have one suspect under observation who is on bail for a string of indecent homosexual assaults and information from Robert Lees that a murder will take place in the locale this week. They’ve flooded it with patrols and watching all foreign men and women as a result. I don’t think your resignation will be necessary. I think he will be caught in the act this very week.”

  “I wish I could share you optimism, Tom. I can’t seem to remember a time when this grisly affair wasn’t taking place.”

  “Don’t worry, Commissioner, as soon as this is over then no one will ever remember the whole ghastly affair.” Arnold would never really know the irony of his words.

  During the afternoon Mary visited Robert in hospital to find a miracle had taken place; he was awake, out of the coma. He was sat in bed when she arrived and chatting happily to a nurse but appeared to have little use of his left arm at present. She ran to his side sobbing and flung her arms around him, with him only able to respond with his right arm.

  “Oh, Robert, darling! You’re alive, oh I love you so much!” she kissed him and spoke to the nurse before he could reply. “When can he be released?”

  Robert interjected before the nurse had an opportunity to answer.

  “They say I have to have a couple of days under observation to make sure there’s no complications but then I can go, the arm will apparently regain movement gradually as the break heals,” replied Robert.

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” said the nurse smiling. Mary settled into the chair next to him holding his right hand in both of hers and earnestly addressed him.

  “So, what the hell happened to you?”

  “I’m sorry I stormed out, we’ve got to put our pasts behind us.”

  “I agree, now what happened.”

  “After I left you I went for a walk to clear my head. I got dragged into an alley off of Whitechapel Road by that Sean Miller and one of his mates, the biggest bloke I’ve ever seen. He had some how discovered I was a copper and they laid into me good and proper. There was no way I could beat him so I managed to get free before they killed me and ran. Trouble was I was a bit concussed by them and ran straight into the roadway and got knocked down big time by a cab. That’s it, everything went black after that.”

  “My, God. That bloke Littlechild has been in to see you. He said to let him know through the bar keeper at the Commercial Street Tavern when you woke up. I’ll try and get there later.”

  “Well what you doing tonight?” asked Robert.

  “I’m having a drink with an old friend in The Ten Bells. I’ll certainly be having one to celebrate darling,” she smiled holding his hand.

  “Be careful. Have they caught him yet?”

  “No. They…….”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know what they are doing. When are we going to leave London?”

  “As soon as I’m out I can tell you. I’ve had enough. Let’s go to Ireland, eh?” He spoke now sensing that life was too precious to hold on to and he had to leave his personal vendetta behind. They spent a very happy couple of hours together in the hospital chatting about the future before Mary had to leave to go and meet Julia. Neither of them knew that it would be last time they ever saw each other.

  ***

  Tumblety strolled south in Commercial Street now completely aware of being under constant observation. In a way it didn’t matter, he intended to kill no one; he just needed to warn Mary. He had passed The Britannia and was heading towards the High Street when he noticed an auburn haired girl coming towards him in the distance. It was her. They neared and she saw him too and instantly turned off into Middlesex Street and quickened her pace. He picked up his own and looked over his shoulder at his pursuers and could see their alarm at him speeding up. He rounded the corner himself to see her running. He had to call after her.

  “Mary! Wait, I’ve got to tell you something, and now!” She screamed back a reply the pitch of which got people watching them and started Mather and Robinson into a sprint after Tumblety.

  “Leave me alone, you killer!”

  “Stop, police!” he heard from behind. He stopped to avoid her calling something else incriminating and he felt himself pushed to the ground by the two disguised cops, the one dressed as a woman now veil and hatless and looking very odd. They spoke harshly as they handcuffed him.

  “Francis Tumblety, you are under arrest on suspicion of attempted murder!”

  “You dim wit’s! I’m trying to warn her.”

  “Oh yeah, heard that before,” said Mather. He continued talking to Robinson. “Better go and get her and find out what all this is about.” Robinson looked up but couldn’t see the auburn haired girl in the street any longer. He ran in her direction looking left and right into doorways and side turnings but she was gone.

  “Warn her about what then, eh?” Tumblety fell silent. If he spoke now he would incriminate himself at the very least in a conspiracy to commit murder. He did not know what to say. He began to sob. Robinson returned and helped lift Tumblety off the floor having had his arms handcuffed behind his back. They walked him to the junction with Commercial Street where Mather blew his whistle. Six uniform officers were with them in seconds and what they were actually waiting for turned up within a minute; a black Mariah to transport Tumblety to The Street.

  “Is Abberline still in the nick?” Mather asked the Mariah driver.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he replied.

  “Well looks like we might have his man for him then,” Mather said with a sense of pride. He and Robinson rode with Tumblety in the Mariah whilst the other uniform officers who had come to the scene wandered off, with their guards now a little down.

  Mary made her way up to The Ten Bells via the back streets which had eventually brought her into Church Street leading directly to the pub. She was a little shaken and needed a drink to calm her nerves and was not disappointed to find Julia already at the bar who she spoke to instantly.

  “Get me a double G, love.”

  “My God, Mary, you’re bloody shaking. What’s up then?”

  “Oh I just saw a strange bloke I used to know who gave me a fright. I’ll be all right in moment with a good drink inside me.”

  “Too bloody right, love.” The bar keeper served them their drinks which they chinked together to toast themselves and knocked back in one.

  “Another of the same please, ‘barky’,” said Mary getting some coins from her small purse to pay him.

  “Blimey, kid, you’re in a rush ain’t you?” said Julia a little surprised.

  “Yes, I’ve got a lot to forget about,” she smiled and looked into her friends eyes “And a lot to celebrate. Robert’s woken up and I have a lot to look forward to. This time next week I reckon we’ll be our way to a country life in Limerick.”

  “Well good luck you. Here’s to you and your Rob.” Julia raised her glass to toast her friend’s future. Mary smiled and knocked the drink back again very quickly, this time with her eyes beginning to roll from its intoxicating effect, but getting ready for another. “Bloody hell, Mary, you do want a party dontcha?”

  Mary simply nodded her head as she tried to catch her breath. They ordered another double gin each.

  All of this was being keenly observed by Severin Klosowski sat in a corner of the pub quietly enjoying a pint of ale and a pipeful of tobacco biding his time watching his intended target who he had been waiting for to arrive. He planned to follow her off close to her home and strike in the privacy of the interior of it. He carried a box inside of which he had sharp bladed butchers gutting knife, a gag and a folded leather sack. He was optimistic by the drink
ing he had witnessed so far that she would be quite easy to deal with later on, mostly likely being too drunk to offer any real resistance.

  ***

  Tumblety had been sat in a cell with his handcuffs removed and had regained his composure during the short journey to the police station and had prepared himself psychologically for another grilling from Abberline.

  It wasn’t long before the door to his cell opened and Abberline was stood there with his same sidekick again, Godley.

  “Hello, Doctor. About to strike again were you?” asked Abberline.

  “Is this an interview, cop?” said Tumblety abrasively.

  “Just answer the question.” Tumblety looked around the cell before speaking and swallowed looking down before looking at Abberline.

  “Actually, no. I thought the auburn haired girl was someone else. So it doesn’t matter really. Your men over-reacted of course, it’s not like I didn’t know they were there so it’s unlikely, don’t you think, that I would commit a murder whilst knowingly being watched. Hmm?” Abberline wasn’t going to allow Tumblety any form of moral victory in his mind so he took his time to give a considered reply.

  “Well, Tumblety, lets examine where we are at tonight. You are in here and that potential victim is still out there. I reckon if we can go the next seven days without another murder then that starts to give us a healthy case against you.”

  “What? Keep me here for a week? You can’t do that, Abberline.” The cell door was slammed shut leaving him alone. He stood and rushed to the door and shouted through the closed wicket.

  “ABBERLINE, COME HERE!” He found himself alone with no one taking any notice of him.

  Back at The Ten Bells a little before nine o’clock neither Julia nor Mary could make intelligible conversation and both of them were quite unsteady on their feet. They both realised that they had had enough and it was time to wander the short distance around the corner to home and sleep off the effects of alcohol abuse until the morning. The morning was a time that neither were looking forward to with the realisation of how much gin they had consumed. Klosowski watched carefully and could see that they were about to move. They both got to their feet slowly ultimately holding each other up to keep themselves steady and maintain some semblance of balance.