by N. M. Bell
“Jake, is that you back there?” Aggie’s sweet voice drifted back to him.
He frowned, the woman sounded nervous. Was his Aggie nervous of him? “’Tis just me, Aggie,” he called back. Jake pulled the knife safe out and set it open on the bench by the peg where he hung his wet outer clothes. A flashing image of the Kelly woman’s dead eyes reproaching him chased the unfamiliar feeling of contentment from him. He peered out into the gloom of the yard looking for the bare footed urchin who should be herding the first steer in by now. The rustle of Aggie’s skirts alerted him to her presence.
“Young Joe isn’t comin’ today. His sister come by real early to tell me. He’s got himself a stone bruise from steppin’ on a nail or sommat.” Aggie glanced nervously out the narrow door.
“What are ye lookin’ fer?” Jake peered over her shoulder.
“Nothin’ really. Just can’t be too careful with that knife man on the loose.” Aggie shuddered and pulled the shawl closer about her shoulders. “He murdered poor Annie not much earlier than this, and Katie got done in the morning hours, too.”
Jake snorted and tipped his head to hide the grin. “The ladybirds should stay in their nests, so they should. Where the man can’t find them.” He busied himself at the bench.
“Jacob! What a horrible thing to say.” Aggie rounded on him, an aggrieved look on her face with fists planted firmly on her hips. “You have no idea what it’s like being a woman in this accursed place.”
He turned back to face her, cursing himself for forgetting that the Eddowes’ woman had been a close friend of Aggie’s. “Aye, well, maybe yer right about that. I didn’t mean to upset ye.”
“Hmph.” Aggie tipped her chin a little higher fixed him with a hard look. “Ye’ll have to chase yer own steers this morning until ye can find some’un to replace young Joe.” She turned on her heel and marched into the shadowy interior of the shop.
The work proceeded painfully slow during the morning hours. Jake went through the actions methodically while half of his mind replayed the events of the previous night. He quashed the parts where he acted in a sinful manner and concentrated on the areas where he was moved to act by the hand of God. A small corner of his attention kept an ear cocked to the front of the shop waiting for the news to reach the Minories.
Noon hour bells just finished chiming when there was a commotion in the shop front. Jake straightened from the carcass he was eviscerating and wiped his hands on a bit of flannel. After cleaning off the knife he was working with and placing both it and the flannel on the bench, Jake went through to the area where auld man Fleischer prepared the cuts of meat.
Heinz stood at the butcher block, a cleaver clutched in his upraised hand and a look of horror on his face. Aggie’s face was white as chalk, one hand upraised to her throat. The woman on the other side of the counter seemed familiar and it took Jake a moment to place her. Kit Picket what lived just down from him in Miller’s Court. He hid a grin and schooled his features into a look of concern.
“What’s the matter?” he addressed the old man.
Heinz nodded toward the two women and swallowed hard. “Another murder, in Miller’s Court this time.” He lowered the cleaver and buried the tip in the wood of the block.
“Not again?” Jake managed a plausible expression of shock and outrage. “In Miller’s Court, ye say?”
“Did ye not hear anything, slaughter man?” The Picket woman turned her gaze on him. “Ye live not a few doors down from the place.”
“Didn’t hear nuthin’ but the rain last night,” Jake said smoothly. He moved closer to the counter, following Heinz, who placed an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Where’d it happen? Who is murdered?”
“Mary Jane, it were Mary Jane Kelly … and she … oh my God … he … he…” The woman dissolved in tears, stuffing a handkerchief against her mouth.
“Miz Kelly?” Heinz asked. He stroked Aggie’s hair with his work hardened hand.
The daughter nodded. “When’s it going to end? Annie and Katie, and now Mary Jane. Every one of them customers of ours, friends of mine…” Her voice trailed off as tears shone in her brilliant blue eyes.
The words ‘Ye should be careful of the company ye keep’ were on the tip of Jake’s tongue, but he suppressed the urge to speak them aloud. There was still much work to be done for the Lord. No sense in throwing any suspicion his way, no matter how faint. Maybe he should have killed her someplace other than the court, somewhere that wasn’t so close to his own room. Too late to worry about that now, best to concentrate on looking outraged and horrified.
“Did you find her?” Aggie asked laying her hand on Kit’s arm.
She shook her head. “No, I went by around eight to see if she wanted to go the Britannia to wet ‘er whistle, but I figured she were sleepin’ when there were no answer.”
“Who discovered the body then?” Heinz scowled and shifted his feet.
“Injun Harry went round lookin’ to collect that bastard McCarthy’s rent. Mary was thirty shillin’s behind, so she was. Poor dear.” Kit paused to wipe away tears. Me auld man were sittin’ on the stoop by our door and saw t’whole thing.”
“He went in to see her like?” Jake prompted the woman to continue.
“Oh my stars, no. George said Harry peeked in through that broken winder and let a yelp outa ‘im like a stuck pig. He lit outa there like a moggy w’its tail on fire, and quicker’n ye could spit, him and McCarthy came hightailing it back. McCarthy spewed all over his self after takin’ a keek in the winder.” Kit informed them, her voice growing stronger as she relished being the centre of attention.
“Went to fetch the Peelers, did they?” Heinz pressed her for more gossip.
“Aye, they did. Brought back a mess o’them, and a bloke what were taking photy-graphs.” She shook her head in wonderment. “I heare’d ‘em talkin’ ‘bout bringin’ in the dogs to snuff the place out. Just afore I left to come down ‘ere that McCarthy smashed the door down wi’ a pick axe, so he did,” she finished proudly.
Jake’s stomach turned at the mention of the dogs. Damn it all to hell, the fucking beasts could lead them straight to his door. Where in the name of God did he leave the heart? Was there blood on the clothes he left in a heap on the floor?
“Them dogs were busy somewheres else.”
Kit was talking again and Jake experienced an almost heady rush of relief as her words registered in his brain.
“Found a cleaver they did, by the bed.” She leaned closer to Aggie. “Ye don’t think the bugger used that on ‘er do ye?
Their initial horror spent, the two women moved away from the counter with their heads together. Jake couldn’t hear what they were whispering about. The cleaver. He picked up all his tools, didn’t he? Maybe Barnett had a cleaver he kept there.
“Vater, will ye watch the counter for me? Kit and I are nippin’ out fer a drink. I’m feeling faint like just thinkin’ of poor Mary Jane,” Aggie called as she headed for the door.
“Have ye heard? That cracked nutter did another one last night,” Elsie screeched as she burst in the door. “Me Dick’s that worried about me going out on me own, even in the daylight.”
“Kit’s auld one was there when they found ‘er,” Aggie bragged, her fear apparently forgotten. “C’mon, we’s on our way to the Swan fer to ‘ave a glass.”
The three women departed leaving a swirl of whispered gossip behind them. The butcher turned back to his task and Jake retreated to the slaughter room. An urchin lounged in the door to the yard, picking his teeth with a bit of straw.
“Ger on wi’ ye, then. What do ye want, ye thievin’ brat,” Jake snarled, his thoughts still on the whereabouts of his cleaver.
“Young Joe Wilcox was after sayin’ ye needed sum’un ta send the craytures on in ta ya.” The boy stood his ground, shoving grimy fists into his pockets. “He’s in a bad way, Young Joe is. Foot swelled up like a dead whore. Fair gave me the skeeves jus’ lookin’ at it.”
Jak
e grunted and waved the lad out into the yard. “Send one in when I tells ye, then. Not before, mind, or I’ll skin yer arse fer ye.” He turned and examined the knife pouch on the bench where he left it earlier. He could have sworn he picked up all the things he’d used on the filthy slut and put them away. The cleaver wasn’t in its normal spot. His gut clenched and sweat rose on the back of his neck. The sharp scent of body odor stung his nose as his shirt dampened under the arms. Jake removed every item in the pouch and checked all the pockets and hidey-holes in his jacket. Bloody hell! There was nothing for it but to go and acquire a replacement. He dumped the canvas apron in the corner and stomped out across the yard ignoring the would-be cattle chaser who demanded to know when he should send the first steer in.
“I’ll be expectin’ to gets paid fer me troubles, standin’ about in the muck,” the boy called after him.
Jake’s thoughts darted every which way. Where was he going to get a cleaver without drawing attention to himself? It was reasonable enough for a slaughter man to need a new tool every now and then, but to go looking for one the morning after the same thing was found at the scene of the latest murder … he just couldn’t take the chance. A brilliant idea occurred to him as he passed Cusin’s pawn shop.
The inside was cramped and gloomy and Jake had to wait his turn to speak with Hiram. He picked up a few sundry items he really had no use for, but they would serve well as cover for the one thing he did need. The woman in front of him haggled desperately over the price of a tin or brass ring she held between her thumb and forefinger. Finally, they agreed upon a price and the bitch pushed past him wiping away a tear but the coppers firmly grasped in her hand.
Jake dumped the items on the counter, and then as if in an afterthought, picked up the small cleaver lying with a pile of other knives on a rickety shelf. “How much fer the lot?” He nodded at the heap on the counter. Hiram glanced at him shrewdly and appeared to do some quick mental calculations. Jake balked at the figure and made to walk away. The pawn broker called him back as Jake had known he would. A few minutes later he left the establishment a few coins lighter but with a well-used cleaver in hand.
When he passed a rag and bone cart pulled up against the side of an alley Jake dumped the other bits of pawned rubbish into it as he sidled by. The young tearaway was still hanging about the cattle pen when he got back to Fleischer’s. He nodded at the boy as he passed and proceeded into the dark confines of the slaughter room. With a sigh of relief Jake tucked the cleaver into the knife safe. It fit as if the pocket had been made for it. He picked up the bludgeon and gestured for the ragamuffin to send the nearest steer in to him.
Aggie returned shortly after one in the afternoon having frittered away the better part of the day bending her elbow with her ladybird friends. He shook his head, why the auld man let her get away with that kind of behaviour was beyond him. The last steer was dispatched and Jake flipped the raggedy youth a ha’penny before sending him around to the front to collect his brass from Aggie. He heaved the final side of beef to his shoulder and lugged it through the back of the shop and hung it on a hook in the smoking room. Smoked beef was his least favourite thing, except for maybe salted beef. Most days though a man had to be grateful for whatever type of meat came his way. Jake was luckier than most working as he did at a butcher shop. He returned to the slaughter room to tidy up the mess before heading to the Star to meet Dick.
“Jacob, are ye still here?” Heinz called through from the front of the shop.
Irritation raised the hair on the back of his neck. What the feck did the auld man want now? “Aye, I’m here,” Jake answered.
“Detective here, wants to talk wi’ ye.”
The information jump started his heart rate. There was no way the coppers would tie him to anything. He’d been so careful … unless they did bring in those bloody hounds. Wouldn’t the rain have washed away any scent though? He wiped his hands on a rag and folded up the knife case.
“Yeah, I’m comin’ then,” he replied. Tucking the case into the large inner pocket of his jacket, he made his way to the shop front.
Aggie left off talking to the tall detective as Jake emerged from the shadows. The lamps were already lit to fend off the early November evening. Jake’s eyes narrowed, Aggie was acting far too friendly with the detective man. He glanced at Heinz who seemed unconcerned with his daughter’s flirtations. The woman needed a firm hand to keep her in line, that much was becoming clearer to Jake with each passing day. Spare the rod, spoil the child, or in this case the woman. He turned his attention back to the detective when the man cleared his throat loudly. Jake met the man’s inscrutable gaze with one of his own.
“What’s your name, slaughter man?”
“Jacob Winncott.”
“You live in Miller’s Court, do you not?” The detective fired his opening salvo.
Careful to keep his face expressionless, Jake nodded.
“Were you to home on the night of November eighth to ninth?” the man persisted.
Jake nodded again ignoring the look of impatience that crossed the man’s face.
“Are you aware of the murder that occurred early on the morning of ninth November at Number Thirteen, Miller’s Court?”
“Aye, but only what Aggie and her friends gossiped about this morning.” Jake decided it best to be specific about what he knew and how he knew it.
“Are you acquainted with Mary Jane Kelly?” the detective leaned a little bit forward.
“In passin’, fer sure. I lives in the court,” he answered.
“Did you hear anything unusual on the morning of ninth November, this morning?” the detective tried another tack.
Jake shook his head.
“Two people, a Sarah Lewis and an Elizabeth Prater both residents of Miller’s Court, have reported hearing a cry of ‘Murder’ between three and four a.m. Did you hear anything at all?”
“Not a sound all night, detective.” Jake inclined his head toward the officer.
“When was the last time you saw Mary Jane Kelly?”
Jake supressed a sigh of annoyance. The bleeder was like a dog with a bone. “I don’t rightly recall.” He scratched the hair under his cap. “Day before, maybe?”
“Could you be more specific?”
Jake shook his head again.
“How do you earn your living?”
“Slaughter man.” He looked down at the blood and gore stained canvas apron that covered him from neck to knees and back up at the detective.
“You are employed at this establishment?”
“Aye.”
“Can I examine the knives and tools you use in your trade?”
Jake drew the knife safe out of the inner pocket and opened it on the counter beside Aggie. Wordlessly, with a wave of his hand he indicated the copper was free to look to his heart’s content. He smothered a smile when the detective’s hand paused over the cleaver and then pulled it out for a closer look.
“Had this one for a while, have you?” He ran his fingers over the notched and well-worn handle.
“Aye, for a while,” Jake agreed.
The detective returned the cleaver to the proper place and withdrew a few of the other knives before he flipped the safe closed and handed it back to Jake.
“Thanks for your time, Mister Winncott. We’re talkin’ to everyone from the court, appreciate your assistance.”
Jake returned the knife safe to his pocket and turned to leave by the back entrance of the shop. He paused as he left the pool of lamp light for the darker confines of the area between the shop front and the slaughter room. What the hell was Aggie on about?
“Will I be seeing you later, Miss Fleischer?” the detective’s voice reached Jake’s ears.
“Certainly, Detective Keegan. I’m looking forward to seeing the musical with you.” Aggie lowered her voice to a seductive purr.
Rage exploded in Jake’s gut, he swallowed back the vomit rising in his throat. So she was seeing the Peeler tonight, was she?
Ungrateful slut. What was Fleischer thinking? Standing there dumb as a post while his daughter gave the come on to a man.
“I’ll come by for you in about an hour, if that suits you,” Keegan informed her.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Aggie answered.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake shoved his way into the Still and Star and signalled Will for his usual. He spied Dick and a few of his cronies at a table in the corner and made his way toward them. Dragging a chair from another table, he joined them.
“Hoi, Jake.” Dick clapped him on the shoulder. “Ye got plans fer t’night?”
“None,” Jake replied. He took the pint a bar maid brought to the table and passed her the required coin.
“I’m plannin’ on getting corned afore I go home and corn hole the old ball and chain.” Fred’s words were met with rough laughter. Sometimes Jake wondered about the company Dick kept. But, he supposed, he was no better.
“Friday night, always an excuse to cut loose and find some dollies who aren’t any better than they should be,” Harry chimed in. He rubbed his crotch to emphasise his words.
“I’m going by to pick up Elsie when we’re done here. She’d skin me alive iffen I laid a hand on another woman,” Dick said.
“Ye got it all wrong, mate. Man’s s’posed to wear the pants in the house, not the woman,” Fred chided him. “Show her the back of yer hand, fer God’s sake.”
“She’d show me the back of a cast iron frying pan iffen I tried that,” Dick said ruefully.
Jake tuned out the rest of the chatter. It was all the same old same old and he had more important things to worry about. He’d forgotten it was Friday night. Just one more excuse for the local rabble to go out and get pissed. Get roaring drunk and get into as many knickers as a man could before the hilarity died down. He picked up a copy of The Courier as he left the public house. A small article on an inside page caught his eye.