Requiem for the Ripper

by kindels

  With Forbes safely tucked in for the night, there was little more I could do other than lock up the house and turn in myself. Perhaps Forbes's paranoia had rubbed off on me a little, because, despite my scepticism surrounding his Jack the Ripper tale, I decided to take a quick turn around the outer environs of my home before turning in. I donned my thick Parka and a pair of sturdy leather boots and, with my trusty halogen torch in hand, made a quick tour of the area immediately surrounding my home. I soon carried out my external examination of the croft and its outbuildings, satisfying myself that there was nothing and no one present, apart, that is, from Forbes and myself. There were no other buildings on Skerries rock and, in such a gale, the breaking wave crests that struck the rocky shore were instantly transformed by the driving wind, into a bitingly cold, salty, rain-like squall that swept right across the tiny spit of Skerries Rock before carrying on its course towards the sheltered side of the island, disappearing once more into the darkness, falling into the narrow span of ocean that divided my home from the mainland. As such, there existed no hiding place for any self-respecting human being on the Rock. As for the ghostly spirits of long-dead serial killers, however, I really couldn't say.

  Returning to the welcome warmth of the croft, I locked and bolted the thick, heavy and solid front door. The oak tree of which it had once been a part, probably withstood such Atlantic gales for many a century. Now, it formed a beautifully crafted barrier between me and the storm that swept across the Rock. I swiftly divested myself of my wet outer clothing, and sat, for a few minutes, in my fireside chair, recently occupied by the now-sleeping William Forbes. I yawned, but, before turning in for the night, I decided there was one more thing I had to do. I picked up the telephone, and dialled a number from memory. It might be midnight, but I knew, from past experience, that the owner of the number I was calling would certainly be up and about at the witching hour. It was one of her favourite times of the day.

  After only three rings, the phone at the other end of the line was picked up and a firm, though polite voice answered with a simple, "Hello?"

  "Kate, it's me, David Hemswell."

  "Why, David, how wonderful to hear from you."

  There was no, What time of the night do you call this? or Why are you calling me at such a late hour?' I knew the lady too well to expect anything less than that simple, everyday greeting, no matter the hour, day or night.

  "Listen Kate, I think I need your help."

  "You still on that God-forsaken rock in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?"

  "Yes, but it's not quite in the middle, Kate, just a mile from the mainland."

  "Oh, fiddle-de-dee. Such minor details. You say you need my help?"

  "That's what I said, Kate."

  "Then say nothing more, dear boy. I'll set off tonight and be with you sometime tomorrow. Any ferries running your way?"

  "I'm afraid not, but ring me when you arrive in Balnakiel, and I'll skip across in my motor launch and pick you up."

  "Motor launch, eh? My, aren't you the grand one?"

  "Oh, stop it, Kate. It's not nice to mock."

  "Mock? Who's mocking? You sound like a grand landowner from another era, David. Can't wait to see that island you've shut yourself away from the world on."

  "Kate, I haven't ... Oh, never mind. I can never win an argument with you, can I?"

  "Ah, the boy is learning at last," my friend laughed down the phone. "Expect me when you see me, then," she said, and I could imagine the broad grin spreading across her face as she spoke.

  "Wait. Don't you want to know what it's all about?"

  "Oh no, dear boy, and spoil the surprise? If you say you need my help, then my help you shall have. Now, good night to you. I have to pack a few things and get the old banger out of the garage."

  "That old banger is a ninety-six Bentley convertible, Kate. Hardly a battered old wreck, now, is it?"

  "I suppose it'll do until something better comes along. Now, David, please, will you allow an old woman to get on? It's a long way to the middle of the Atlantic."

  She chuckled devilishly.

  "Okay, Kate, and ... thanks."

  She spoke no more and I heard a click as she replaced the receiver at the other end. At last, I heaved myself up from the chair and made my weary way to bed. As I finally laid my head upon my pillow that night, I felt that at last I'd done something positive in the case of William Forbes. He needed far more than I alone could give him. That much was for sure and, as I closed my eyes, I smiled softly to myself, and wondered what Forbes would think of the redoubtable Kate Goddard!

  Chapter Eleven

  Kate's Arrival

  Thanks, in the most part to the sedative I'd administered to Forbes, the night passed peacefully, with me achieving my full quota of six hours sleep. Nothing went bump in the night and I witnessed no ghostly manifestations. Clearly, whatever William Forbes felt had followed him to Skerries Rock had no evil intent toward me.

  I rose early, as was my habit, and looked in on my guest. He appeared to be in exactly the same position I'd left him in the previous night, sleeping sonorously, also due to the effects of the sedative. I chose to leave him to wake naturally and set about preparing breakfast.

  The bacon, eggs, and beans were ready to be served, and, before I could make a move towards checking on my guest's state of wakefulness, he appeared, fully dressed in the kitchen doorway.

  "Smells good," he said, greeting me with a smile that belied his appearance of the previous night, when all manner of terror had gripped him and sent him into paroxysms of fear and dread.

  "You seem to be feeling better," I replied. "Hungry?"

  "Yes please. You won't mind if I leave shaving until later?"

  "Feel free, William. There's no one here to insist you shave at all, come to that. You probably feel a little weary after the sedative I gave you. It'll wear off soon though."

  "I am a little lethargic," he said as he sat opposite me at the kitchen table. Breakfast was soon behind us, and I deliberately left it, until after he'd eaten, to tell him my news.

  "But why?" Forbes asked after I'd told him of my late night phone call to Kate Goddard, and of her impending arrival at Skerries Rock. "Why do you need someone else here? I thought it would just be the two of us. You said I could count on your discretion. Why invite this Goddard woman?"

  "Because, William, from what I've observed so far, your case presents certain characteristics that fall well into Kate's field of expertise. Much of what you've told me so far relates to the history of the 19th century crimes of Jack the Ripper, and the more recent ones of Jack Reid. The rest, however, your visions and the sounds you insist you've heard, and the feelings of being victimised by the soul or the spirit, call it what you will, of Jack the Ripper, appear to me to possess more than a passing link with the supernatural, or the paranormal. That, my dear William, is where Kate Goddard fits in.

  Kate lives in Scarborough, in the upmarket Atlantis apartment complex, from where she carries out her own, reliably well documented investigations into things that, perhaps, might be dismissed by the established scientists and psychological medics of this world. I met her during the time I lived in the town and, rather than dismiss her as many might have done, I became extremely friendly with her, and though I may remain a little sceptical about some of what she does, I've learned to trust her enough to understand that there are, indeed, things in this world that we can't always explain away by the application of science or psychoanalysis. Trust me, William, if anyone can help me and, therefore, help you to explain what's happening to you, it's Kate Goddard, and it will have been well worth me asking her to come and assist us."

  Forbes remained sceptical and appeared disappointed that I'd brought in outside help. I, however, had made the decision, and firmly believed that Kate would have much to offer as Forbes's story gained momentum.

  "Well, there's not a lot I can do about it, is there?" he spoke quietly.

  "Like I said, William, trust me
. I know what I'm doing. You came to me for help, and Kate is the person best-placed to assist me in giving you the assistance you require."

  Forbes capitulated.

  "Very well, let's see what she can do. When will she arrive?"

  "I'm expecting her to phone me on her arrival in Balnakiel, after lunch, maybe later in the afternoon. When she does, I'll go pick her up from the village in the launch. You can come with me or stay here to await her arrival. The choice is yours."

  "No way am I staying here on my own, David. You can't ask me to do that."

  A momentary flash of fear showed in his eyes once again, and then disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

  "I didn't ask you to, William. I said it's up to you."

  "Then it's settled. I'll accompany you in the launch. Anyway, now that you've explained about her, I'm anxious to meet your mysterious friend. Maybe she'll understand the things that have been happening to me without being quite as doubtful as you."

  "That's right, William. But please remember, it's not that I totally disbelieve you. I just don't know exactly 'what' to believe. Kate will help me sort it out."

  ***

  Having spent the remainder of the morning showing Forbes around my tiny island, taking in the sea bird colonies and the dramatic view from the cliffs out to the rolling Atlantic, lunch was a casual concoction of cold meats and salad, composed of my own, (if I do say it myself), excellent and tasty freshly grown produce. Soon afterwards, the telephone rang, with Kate Goddard announcing her arrival in Balnakiel. Forbes and I were soon on our way to collect my latest house guest, as I piloted the launch, as fast as its motor would allow, hugging the coast all the way in the now calmer and less threatening inshore rollers.

  "Good God, man, she's eighty if she's a day!" Forbes exclaimed, as I pointed out the diminutive figure of Kate Goddard waving to us from the harbour wall as we neared port.

  "Seventy-five actually," I corrected. I'd deliberately not mentioned Kate's age earlier as, for me, it was irrelevant. To someone like Forbes, perhaps it might have a negative effect. We'd soon find out. "Don't let her age put you off. Kate's as sharp as a knife, believe me."

  "I hope so," Forbes replied, adding, "Hope the old dear doesn't have a coronary while she's with us. It's a long way to the hospital."

  I could have mentioned my own fears for Forbes, should he need immediate psychiatric care, but I declined the opportunity to do so. It would have served no useful purpose.

  I guided the launch in to a smooth docking beside the jetty and hailed the lady standing some ten feet above us.

  "Ahoy there, Kate."

  "And the same to you, Captain Bluebeard" she retorted.

  "Shouldn't that be Blackbeard?" I laughed up at her.

  "Blue, black, who cares? Now, how the dickens do I get on board that old skiff of yours?"

  "Wait there, Kate, I'll help you."

  Leaving Forbes on board, I ran up the steps to the top of the jetty and, in seconds, Kate and I were involved in a deep embrace, one that signified the meeting of two very good friends. Kate was dressed in a bright yellow sou'wester, heavy sea boots, and a pair of rather inelegant, but highly practical, waterproof trousers that would have looked more at home on a trawlerman.

  "Before you ask," Kate spoke before I could get a word in, "I borrowed the clothes from Martin Humbold, back home. He's the skipper of the fishing boat, Sally B, and he advised me they were the best thing to wear in this neck of the woods."

  "You mean you woke a trawler skipper, in the middle of the night, to borrow his clothes?"

  "Oh, he didn't mind at all. He and I are old friends, a bit like you and me, David."

  "Well, good for Martin. Is that all your luggage?" I asked, pointing to an old-fashioned brown leather suitcase that stood at her feet.

  "Indeed it is, dear boy. You'd be surprised how much a lady can pack into one of those wonderful old cases. I didn't know how long I'd be here, so I brought enough clothes to last me a week. If I have to stay any longer, I'll be hoping you have a darn good washing machine in that hovel of yours."

  "Croft, Kate. It's called a croft, and it's certainly not a hovel, I'll have you know."

  The two of us hugged again and then burst out laughing. Kate had an irascible sense of humour that could rub some folk up the wrong way. Luckily, I wasn't one of them. I found her witty and amusing, and loved her as I would a favourite Aunt.

  "Better come and meet my other guest," I nodded in the direction of the launch where Forbes stood, waiting for us to join him.

  "Oh yes, please introduce me, David. Then, not another word about the case until we reach your island. I want to enjoy the adventure of this short sea cruise, if that's okay with you."

  "Your wish is my command, dear lady," I replied, taking her hand as I led Kate down the sea-slippery steps from the jetty and, in a few seconds, onto the deck of the launch.

  William Forbes greeted Kate cordially as I introduced the pair, though his face registered surprise when I told him that Kate wished to know nothing of his case for the time being.

  I cast off the mooring rope a minute later, and we headed out past the breakwater, into the open sea. Kate positioned herself on the small bench seat that ran from the wheelhouse to the stern of the launch, while Forbes stood looking through the windscreen at the open sea ahead of us. I set course for home and, as the sea was by now almost an unusually flat calm, I was able to do some people watching as I held the helm on a steady course. William Forbes appeared to me to be staring at some unknown point on the horizon, looking at, or for, something only his mind could comprehend. He was edgy and uneasy, and he held himself stiff, legs planted well apart to steady himself with one hand holding on to the side of the tiny cabin. Now and then he cast a glance at me, and then at Kate, but his eyes soon returned to that distant point, searching, perhaps, but for what, or who?

  As for Kate Goddard, I soon realised why she'd asked to enjoy the ride to Skerries Rock in silence. I remembered how her mind worked as I noticed that, throughout our short and uneventful voyage, her eyes never once left the rock-steady form of William Forbes. She was studying him, his demeanour, his body language, everything about the man, and he hadn't the faintest idea that he was being scanned by one of the sharpest brains it had been my good fortune to meet in many a year.

  I finally broke the silence on board with a hearty "Land ho!" as Skerries Rock came into view, and then, and only then, did Kate assume the guise of an excited elderly lady, eager to cast her first glance at my island home.

  "Oh, I say," she exclaimed. "Isn't it all rather delightful? Small, but delightful, David. A bit on the wild side too, I should say, but then, you are a bit of an adventurer, aren't you, darling boy?"

  "Glad you like it Kate," I responded, and then winked at her and nodded in the direction of my other passenger. Kate knew that I'd caught on to her strategy and she winked back, conspiratorially.

  "Oh, I do, darling, I really do. Can't wait to see this little croft of yours. I do hope you have a goodly supply of gin on hand, David. I shall be most disappointed if you haven't."

  "Don't you worry Kate. I even have a supply of tonic and fresh lemons, too. You shan't have to forego your favourite tipple while you're here."

  "Excellent," she grinned broadly. "And you, Mr. Forbes, are you a G & T man, may I ask?"

  "Eh, what? Sorry," Forbes spluttered, his mind quickly returning from one of those far off points I was getting used to. "G & T did you say? No, actually, I'm more a brandy man myself, or perhaps a fine malt now and then."

  "Ah," said Kate, adding that snippet of information to her mental database on William Forbes.

  "Come on, you two," I shouted above the sound of the breaking waves. "We're here. Help me manoeuvre her into the boathouse, then we can all get to know each better, up at the house, over a nice cup of tea."

  "But David, dear boy, it's not a house, it's a croft!"

  William Forbes simply couldn't understand why Kate and I burst into
paroxysms of laughter after her last remark.

  "Oh, come on. Let's go," I grinned as I led the two up the short pathway that led to my home.

  I led the way, carrying Kate's suitcase, with Forbes close behind me and Kate bringing up the rear. I knew, without looking, that her eyes would never once have left the walking figure of William Forbes. Kate really is the best at what she does.

  Chapter Twelve

  First Impressions

  Thirty minutes later, Kate, William Forbes, and I sat comfortably in front of my glowing log fire as we sipped tea, and Kate devoured an unhealthy supply of chocolate chip cookies from my supply of biscuits. Forbes had graciously given up the spare bedroom, and Kate's case was swiftly unpacked and her clothes hung in the wardrobe. I'd set up a camp bed in my office, which Forbes assured me would suit him admirably.

  Divested of her outerwear, Kate now sat in a warm, but hugely oversized fisherman's style sweater (another loan from her friendly trawler skipper), and a pair of well cut blue jeans that made her look somewhat less than her age. Slight of build, and with black hair that showed only traces of grey, Kate resembled an archetypal granny, though one with a wit and a mind as sharp as a university undergraduate.

  "So, Kate, please tell me exactly what it is you do. David was a little reticent in his description of your talents and specific field of expertise, though he's told me you're the best person in the country to help with my problem."

  Forbes was doing his best to appraise the new arrival, though, I knew that by now, Kate was well ahead of him in that department, having studied him from the moment she first set eyes upon him.