Exiting the hotel he had his head down and collar up as he hurried towards the seedier part of town. His hands stuffed into his jacket’s pockets seemed to give credence to all who saw his hurried walk: this was a man with a mission!
Using the small folded street map of the area, he took back ally ways and side streets that most people would avoid unless they were looking for trouble. The few men he passed looked just once and kept on about their business. Finally at his destination of Sydney and Victorian Streets he kept up his pace as he just reconnoitered the area to see the best place to hide in the shadows. Two blocks past he checked his watch by the light of a match he struck to light his cigar. It was 12:35 am and he knew that Officer Wallace would pass by Sydney and Victorian Streets in 10 minutes. He pulled deeply on his cigar and took a circuitous route back to Sydney and Victoria Streets thus avoiding the police officer heading his way. Back at the site, he squashed the cigar out and slid into a deep shadow next to the spot he saw in the hologram where Jeanine Larsen was lying. He knew that the Ripper could not have gotten here before him because, knowing the Ripper’s past, Patty knew that the killer knew the policeman’s schedule and wouldn’t take the chance of being spotted. He stood dead still and was pleased that his black clothes just disappeared into the shadow of the shallow ally-way he stood in. Controlling his breathing even though he was excited was an easy task for the man who taught others how to control their breathing as they sang.
It was a long ten minutes and Patty was almost relieved as he heard a light step entering the area from his right side. Knowing that he was facing the right way and not wishing to move at all, he waited and was rewarded by another step, this time closer.
Suddenly, from his left this time, came a less cautious footfall and he knew that it was the victim entering the area. Damn! Why did Jeanine say she wasn’t coming here tonight and still show up? he thought as he gripped his blackjack tighter.
A church bell sounded 1 am and it all seemed to happen at once. The distinct form of Jeanine Larsen entered the moonlit puddle of light as a darkly clad figure dashed from Patty’s right side, the moon flashing off a raised knife. The time traveler leaped forward and grabbed the Ripper’s left shoulder. The sudden attack just stunned the man momentarily before he turned his attention to Patty who tried to grab the wrist holding the large knife. The Ripper snarled and deftly pulled back his arm as Patty swung his blackjack. Enraged at facing her aunt’s killer, Jeanine suddenly leaped into the fray and was rewarded with a slap on the side of her head by Patty’s blackjack as it completed its swing at the Ripper. She went down in a heap at their feet and both looked down at her in surprise. Before the Ripper could run, Patty grabbed him by the front of his coat and cracked his right hand with his blackjack. The crack was followed by the clatter of the steel knife hitting the stone floor of the ally. Patty felt the frustration of all the years of reading and writing about this serial killer and he grasped the Ripper’s throat. He was about to squeeze when he came to his senses and let him drop back against the wall as the killer held his broken wrist. Patty looked down at Jeanine and in that instant the Ripper tried to run. The time traveler did the best football tackle he had ever done and they hit the ground hard . . . hard enough for someone to curse or yell, but Patty was shocked to hear Jack the Ripper, sob.
He sat on the killer’s prone body and pulled off the man’s knitted cap only to see shoulder length brown hair and a pair of pleading, wet eyes staring up at him.
“Jane? Jane Barlow,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“P-Please, please don’t hurt me,” she said matching his whisper. “I won’t hurt her. I didn’t know it was Jeanine, I thought it was just another…”
“Never mind what you thought it was, you were about to kill another innocent person. It was you, who killed all those other women, wasn’t it? And then you left for America and picked up right where you left off when you returned.” He allowed her to rise but kicked the knife away as Jeanine lay where she fell.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
She shook her head as she answered with a sob, “I don’t know, I just felt the need to rid England of . . . “
“Never mind,” cut in Patty. “You need to be analyzed by a professional, not me.”
“Will they hang me?”
“If they catch you they will.”
She looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Are you not going to turn me over to the police?”
“It’s not my job to do that. I just hope and pray that you stop what you’re doing and seek help.”
“Then, I’m free to go?”
“Yes, as long as you promise to leave Jeanine Larsen and the other girls out of your life forever. Let them think that you succeeded and went your way. Now, go before she wakes up and sees you.” He watched as she walked off into the dark morning, slumped over holding her wrist. He went to a stirring Jeanine and lifted her up. She shook her head and allowed him to carry her out of the section.
The sun was a feeble orb in the cold morning as they sat in a teashop that opened early for sailors and dockworkers. Jeanine sat with her shoulders hunched together and shivered every so often as though she had a chill. Patty held her hand from across the small round table. The steaming tea did not thwart her shivers and the red mark on her temple made Patty nervous.
“Don’t you think we should take you to a doctor and let him take a look at that bruise?”
“No,” she said as she sniffed and held his hand tight. “Did you see him? Did you see his face? Can we describe him to the police?”
“No, it was too dark and he disappeared into the shadows after you fell and I attended to you.”
“Did he hurt you at all?” she asked as she punctuated the question with a tighter grip on his hand.
“No, not at all. Tell me,” he asked looking into her puffy green eyes, “Why did you go there tonight? I thought you were going to wait awhile?”
Her chin quivered as she said, “I-I know I said that and I really meant it, but I saw an old Times Of London newspaper clipping in the hotel and there were drawings and photographs of the victims and when I saw my aunt, I just had to go straight away.” Now she looked at him with a puzzled look, “How is it that you happened to be there this morning?”
“Just luck. I’m writing a book about The Ripper and needed to visit the same area. I’m so glad to be able to have given you assistance.”
“If not for you, dear Patty, I would be victim number six.”
Patty felt a closeness entering their relationship and he knew he had to end it fast even though he was reluctant to do so. “Come on, finish that tea and we’ll get you back to your hotel. You need some sleep, my dear.”
She nodded and put a tight smile on her pretty face as she answered, “Yes. That’s probably the best that can be in store for me at this time.”
Patty mentally kicked himself as he remembered Canali’s words calling his nothing more than a flirt.
He escorted her back to her hotel and with his mission completed, went down to the dock and inquired about the next ship back to America. When he was told that the Servia would be taking on supplies and would be ready to set sail the next morning he immediately booked his old cabin, went back to his hotel, opened his still locked valise and removed the communicator. He sat and typed,
GREETINGS FROM MERRY ‘OL ENGLAND! BILL, THIS WAS THE CRUISE OF CRUISES AND THE MISSION WAS A SUCCESS. NOW GET THIS, BUT IT’S NOT FOR PUBLICATION: JACK THE RIPPER WAS JANE THE RIPPER! I’LL EXPLAIN IN DETAIL WHEN I GET BACK, WHICH SHOULD BE ON DECEMBER 14, 1888. SEE YOU THEN, PATTY.
He read his message and satisfied, pressed ‘send.’ He was tired but decided to walk the section of England that Jane the Ripper had operated in, during the daylight hours and dressed as a gentleman.
The time traveler enjoyed a big dinner at his hotel followed by a few beers at the bar along with a good Cuban and later a nice, long, hot bath before getting a well-earned night’s r
est.
He stood at the rail as a light snow fell on the Docks of London when the ship’s whistle told all that her lines were being cast off and she would soon start her journey across the Atlantic Ocean. He smiled as the throb of her engines intensified and black smoke billowed from her stacks as she started to pull away from her slip. Patty looked at the few people watching her leave when he saw her. It was Jeanine, and she was just standing there looking up at him with a forlorn smile on her face.
He blew her a kiss and she returned it. They both watched until the ship was to far away to make out an individual.
“Would you have dinner with me this evening, Mister Gelardi?”
A startled Patty turned to see Peter Canali standing there. “Mister Canali? Well, fancy meeting you here. I guess you are going back to New York?”
“That I am, sir.” He looked into Patty’s eyes and said as though he had had just come to a conclusion, “Perhaps we can chat right here?”
Patty removed two cigars from his inside jacket pocket and offered one to Canali who took it and after clipping the end offered Patty a light. The two men trailed long gray smoke to the ship’s rear.
“Tell, me, Mister Canali. Do you work for Cunard?”
“No,” he answered as he blew on the lit end of his cigar. “I do contract investigations for Scotland Yard and have been chasing a few leads as to who Jack the Ripper may be.” He looked at the surprised Patty with a grin as he went on. “At one point I believed it may be Miss Jane Barlow as she had all of the skills needed to be the Ripper: she is the daughter of a butcher and grew up around knives; she was skilled at a young age in cutting open hogs and such and, I do believe that she is slightly insane.”
Patty just shrugged his shoulders and drew deep on his cigar, as he knew he was being interrogated.
“As I know that you have become a confidant of her and her friends, can you enlighten me in any way, Mister Gelardi?”
Patty truly felt sorry for the man, as he knew of his own frustration at knowing who the killer was after all these years and not being able to tell anyone, as they must be allowed to live out their lives as they really did in our history books. Once again he pulled deeply on his cigar and told one of those white lies that Bill said was part of him being a time traveler. “Mister Canali, as much as I’d like to help you, I have no knowledge of this man, Jack the Ripper as I almost never even indulge in reading newspapers back home and Miss Barlow never once told me that she was this-this Ripper fellow.” He shook his head and continued, “Sorry, but that’s all I can say.” He looked in the man’s eyes and asked, “Am I to believe that you will seek me out again to ask me of my involvement with those women?”
He shook his head, no, and said, “No, I have another suspect and hope you stay clear of him.”
“Him?”
“Yes. He was in England and around the docks continuously during the time the five ladies were killed. The murders stopped as he left England.” He arched an eyebrow as he looked into Patty’s eyes and said, “Coincidence? One wonders.”
Just then a huge hand slapped Patty on his back and the jovial Captain Lawrence Roberts said with a smile, Patty Gelardi! You do me an honor sailing aboard my ship so soon. I insist that you dine with me this very evening. What say you to that, sir?”
Patty grinned at the look on Canali’s face as he realized that the man he wished Patty to avoid is the very same man who just invited him to dinner this evening. He looked at the captain and said, “Captain Roberts, so pleased to see you again so soon and yes, I shall be pleased to dine with you this evening and I insist that I be allowed to give your orchestra some points on singing so as to enhance their fine show by adding some vocals.”
“By Jove, man, that is outstanding. Outstanding, indeed! I do feel that we shall see one another many more times on this trip and I look forward to it. See you at 8 pm.”
“I’ll be there,” answered Patty as the captain walked back to his control room. Patty turned to Canali and said, “Now, where were we . . . oh yes, you were going to tell me to stay away from a man that you suspected of being that Ripper fellow.” He looked at Canali with raised eyebrows and asked, “So, who is the man I’m to avoid?”
He watched and smiled inwardly as Canali turned and tossed his unfinished cigar overboard as he stormed off as usual.
The ship docked at Pier 48 and as Patty walked down the gangway the band struck up, “For He’s A Jolly-Good Fellow,’ accompanied by a small section singing the words. He turned and waved as Captain Roberts waved from his open window high up on the command room.
The streets of New York were white with snow and Christmas decorations were everywhere. Patty carried his two valises and stopped to wave over a cab when a large sleigh pulled over and Bill jumped down, a large scarf wrapped around his face.
“Hey, Patty,” he called, “Over here.”
Patty smiled and dragged the valises over and Matt grabbed them and tossed them on top before the three entered the inside. The driver slapped the horses gently on their blanketed rumps and they took off. The ride was much smoother on the skis than steel wheels and they sat back and relaxed out of the blowing wind and snow.
“Feel like a brew?” asked Bill.
“Most certainly do,” said Patty.
They went to Diamonds Bar & Grill and as the cab driver sat inside the warm cab to wait for them, they entered the establishment.
The big Irish owner and bartender came waddling down the long wooden bar with an outstretched hand. Bill, Matt, Patty, how ya’s been?”
“Fine, Paddy” answered the three men.
“And in need of a beer,” quipped Bill. “Can you fix that for the three of us?”
“No problem, gents.” He went back down the bar and pulled three tall beers with thick foamy heads running down the sides as he placed them in front of his customers and went back to wiping down the bar.
Bill lifted his glass and the other two joined him in his toast, “To Patty and his first completed mission.” They touched glasses and took a long pull of their brews.
Bill turned and said in a low voice, “So, Jack was a Jane and the world never guessed.”
“Well,” said Patty wiping the white froth from his mustache, “Scotland Yard, wanna-be, Detective Canali had an inkling for a bit, but never got the evidence.”
“Even if you told him, that would not be evidence enough to convict her unless she admitted it,” said Bill.
“The world shall never know, sirs,” said Matt.
The snowstorm was pelting the bar’s large windows and, as people walked by with their heads down facing the wind, Bill said, “Wonder if this is going to be another blizzard like they had in March of this year?”
The three looked at each other and decided to go back to their time while the streets were passable.
They pulled up at the club’s garden gate and after paying the driver a handsome fare went back to their own time.
DATE: FEBRUARY 28, 2013 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
As the three time travelers entered the room Samson bounded from his perch on the soft, leather chair that he was sleeping on and into Bill’s arms.
“Ooof! Hey Samson, you need to get some more walks in.”
Bill turned to Patty and said, “Patty, I realized that it takes a day or two to settle back into our time, so why not come back in a couple of days and write out the mission report?”
Patty nodded and stretched. “I just have one request.”
“Sure, what’s that?”
“Can I take some more trips?”
Bill smiled, “Addicting, isn’t it?”
“Listen,” said Patty, I’ll even take Samson on a walk back in time if you want.”
Bill laughed. “No need, Patty. You proved yourself a capable member of the club and I’ll make sure that you get some more trips back. Now, go home and relax.”
Matt motioned to Patty to follow him to the dressing room to change into clothes of 2013 when Bill
said, “Patty, I’m not kidding. You did an outstanding job and the guys and gals uptime will be thrilled to know that the 1800 Club did it again. So far we’ve never left them wanting. Welcome to the time traveling section of the club.”
Patty left with a big smile on his face.
Four days later and one day after Patty had written up his mission report he couldn’t get the mission out of his mind. He went to his computer and entered Jeanine Larsen into Google. Instantly batches of information on her came up. He read the first one,
Jeanine Larsen, born in 1861 in Brooklyn, New York, U.S.A., became an accomplished singer and painter. She completed forty-four oil paintings while visiting England, France, Germany, Switzerland and lastly Italy before boarding the Bella Madonna on February 3, 1889. She returned to New York City and her paintings were the talk of the art world. She met and married Andrew Buist but kept her name, as it would forever be connected to her art. Her grandson, James (Last name not available), was one of the Secret Service agents who protected President Reagan when he was shot on March 30, 1981 during an assassination attempt. The family still resides in the home she built in Brooklyn’s affluent Park Slope section.
Patty closed his laptop and checked himself out in the mirror before hopping into his classic 1967, black, Oldsmobile convertible. He drove from his home in the DUMBO section of Manhattan to the address he got from the New York Historical Society, as her house was an Historical Landmark.
One hour later he finally found a parking spot on the ‘slope and walked to her home on the corner of Garfield Place and Ninth Ave. He admired the four-story, brownstone Townhouse built in the Victorian style. There were three very ornate bays that jutted out on the corner of the building and each had three windows with gargoyles that seemed to be guarding them. Each window went from just a foot above the floor to a foot below the eleven-foot high ceiling and all had beautiful, shear white linen curtains and wooden shutters on the inside. The sandstone stairs and thick, curved banisters reminded Patty of the ship’s Grand Staircase and the way they ended at a set of beautifully carved mahogany and glass doors at the top, told him that Jeanine had the ship in mind when she designed her home. He pressed the original round bell and after awhile was rewarded by footsteps and someone peeking from behind the very shear, white linen curtains. He smiled at the unseen person and after a few moments another curtain was used to hide someone else as they checked out the person who rang their bell, and he smiled at the second unseen person.
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club Book VIII Page 17