Monday 10 September
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ETCHUP, ANYONE?' ASKED KRISTOS.
Across the table DI Tulloch looked startled. At her side, Joesbury's jaw was tight. Next to me, Stenning was staring at the blood-red bottle being offered to us. Then Joesbury and I made eye contact. As I bit back a giggle, he reached out for the bottle.
âYou eating that bacon, Tully?' he asked.
Tulloch peeled back the white bread from her sandwich, lifted out three rashers of bacon and dropped them on Joesbury's plate. She licked her fingers, before replacing the bread and cutting the now empty sandwich into quarters.
âI'm a veggie,' she said, seeing Stenning and I staring at her. âI just can't resist the flavour of bacon fat.'
It was after two in the morning and the four of us were in an all-night café not far from the station on Lewisham High Street. It was the first time I'd been here, but the proprietor, a young Greek Cypriot called Kristos, obviously knew the others well. He'd made us large mugs of coffee and put bacon on the grill without being asked.
âWife-swapping,' announced Stenning, taking the ketchup bottle from Joesbury.
âExcuse me?' said Tulloch.
âIt's a wife-swapping ring gone wrong,' Stenning went on as Joesbury leaned back in his chair and raised one eyebrow. âMiddle-class women in their forties. They're all at it. Read the
Mail on Sunday
. So, one of the husbands has had second thoughts. Decided all the women are whores and that he's going to butcher them.'
Almost to the second, Joesbury and I bit into our sandwiches. Tulloch nibbled the corner of hers.
Stenning was leaning across the table, as though physical proximity to the two senior detectives might help persuade them. âWe've seen weirder things,' he said.
âIf that bloke I chased had been middle-class and in his forties, I'd have caught him,' replied Joesbury.
I looked up and caught Tulloch's eye. Difficult to say which of us smiled first.
âBoth victims were the same type.' Stenning wasn't one to give up easily. âLadies who lunch.'
There had been no clue, either on the body or in the shed, that would tell us who our latest victim was. All we knew was that she was probably early to mid forties, slim and healthy looking, with manicured fingernails and professionally cut and coloured hair.
Arriving back in the incident room, I'd been asked to check the missing-persons list. There had been several possibilities, although none of the photographs I looked at bore much resemblance to the woman I'd seen. Nevertheless, first thing in the morning, we'd start the grim task of contacting relatives.
The name and details I'd been given by the man who'd phoned in the original call about the boat shed had turned out to be bogus.
All the time we'd been back at the station, we'd had regular reports from our colleagues out on the streets. The man we'd chased from the park â we were calling him Samuel Cooper until we knew otherwise â had disappeared. Joesbury's guess was that he'd leaped into a garden and doubled back to the main road. A helicopter had been called out, but by the time it arrived we knew it was hopeless; he'd had plenty of time to get away. Cooper's details had been wired around London, though, and every patrol car on the streets would be looking for him.
CCTV footage from late Saturday afternoon showed someone dressed exactly as our suspect had been earlier, walking into the park
in the company of a dark-haired woman. The woman had been wearing a brown coat with polka dots on it and could easily be the victim. The two had been walking close together and the woman appeared to be going willingly enough.
After we'd watched it, Tulloch had sent for the footage from the Brendon Estate on the night of Geraldine Jones's murder. After thirty minutes, we'd been rewarded. A figure, again dressed exactly like our suspect, had walked into Kennington Tube station just over five minutes after Geraldine had collapsed in my arms. I'd sat watching the two clips of footage for some time, flicking from one to the other.
âSame clothes on three separate occasions,' I'd said, almost to myself.
âDifferent trousers on the night Geraldine Jones was killed,' Tulloch had replied from directly behind me. I flicked back to the right piece of footage. âThose look like cargo pants to me,' she went on. âAnd maybe he only has the one jacket.'
âMaybe,' I agreed. There was something bothering me, I just couldn't put my finger on it. Eventually, Tulloch called me away.
Although we couldn't be sure he was the killer, Samuel Cooper's photograph had been released to the papers. More than one national was reprinting its front page to carry the image of the man suspected of being the new Ripper.
âSo you think he's choosing Victorian locations?' Tulloch said now, glancing sideways at Joesbury.
He nodded. He'd just put the last of the sandwich into his mouth and couldn't talk.
âOr with a Victorian connection,' I said. âThe pool building and the park were built during Victoria's reign, but obviously not the Brendon Estate. It was the block name that was important there.'
âMakes sense,' said Stenning. âHe can't replicate the original locations, most of them don't exist any more. They've been knocked down and built on and look nothing like what they did a hundred years ago.'
âAnd look how many rubberneckers were out in Whitechapel two nights ago,' agreed Joesbury. âHe'd have been playing to a packed house.'
âSo we identify Victorian buildings and stake them out on 30 September,' said Stenning.
âHow many of those do you think there are around London?' asked Joesbury. âThe Victorians practically built this city. There are over forty streets in the
A â Z
with Victoria in their name. I checked before we came out.'
âSo we do the prominent ones, the well-known ones.' Stenning wasn't giving up easily.
Tulloch was chewing her bottom lip. âThat piece of wood,' she said, and her eyes fell to the tabletop. âThat didn't happen to Annie Chapman.'
I gave the two men a moment to chip in. Neither of them did.
âIt did to Emma Smith,' I said.
âThat's a new one on me,' said Stenning, looking my way.
âEmma Smith was the first Whitechapel murder victim,' I said. âShe was killed some time in April that year. A thick piece of wood was pushed up inside her, causing extensive internal injuries. She survived the attack but died the day after in hospital.'
Stenning was looking confused. âSo, hang on â¦'
âNo one really believes she was a victim of the Ripper,' I said. âShe herself said she was attacked by three men. It was probably some sort of revenge thing or punishment.'
âSo what is Cooper playing at?' said Joesbury. âHe's not an out-and-out copycat, that's for sure. It's like he's sorting through and picking the bits he likes best.'
Tulloch glanced at her watch and I wondered if she were looking at the date. It was 10 September. Just twenty days before a Ripper copycat would strike again.
âWe'll catch him,' I said, wondering who I was trying to convince. âI saw him. He's real. We know who he is. We'll catch him.'
I could see her trying to smile.
âWe need a plan,' said Joesbury.
âTell me about it,' she muttered.
Joesbury was looking at me. âI mean a plan for young Ripper-bait here,' he said.
I sat a little more upright in my seat. âIf that becomes my nickname around the station, I will personallyâ' I began.
âNot the testicles to the pigeons again,' he said, as his face relaxed and those great teeth appeared. âThat one's getting tired.'
âI will wear them as earrings,' I said. âAnd when they start to rot, I will skewer them, alternating with your eyeballs, and give them to Kristos to serve as shish kebabs.'
Joesbury was actually smiling at me. There was a tiny fleck of ketchup just above the left side of his mouth and I had an almost irresistible urge to reach out â¦
âWow, she's nastier than you,' he said, turning his grin to Tulloch. She smiled back, reached up her left ring finger to wipe away the ketchup.
âI really need to get home,' I said, before realizing I had no way of getting there. âIf that's OK, Boss?'
âWe should all go,' she said, before turning back to Joesbury. âBy a plan, you mean ⦠?'
âWe should get her to a safe house,' he said. âTomorrow if we can. I'll sit outside her flat tonight.'
âNo,' said Tulloch, her eyes flitting between the two of us. âYou need some sleep. I'll get uniform to do it. We can move her tomorrow.'
âAre you sure?' I asked.
Three pairs of eyes looked at me.
âWe've got twenty days,' I said. âThat's not a lot of time to waste.'
Silence.
âIf he's a traditionalist, he'll kill twice next time,' I went on. âThirtieth of September.'
âHe's not a traditionalist,' said Joesbury. âWe've just established that. He's a pick-and-mixer.'
âI'll bet he finds it hard to resist the double event,' I said.
Tulloch was looking at Joesbury, who was still looking at me. âNo,' he said.
âElizabeth Stride and Catharine Eddowes,' I said. âButchered within an hour of each other.'
He was shaking his head. âNot gonna happen, Flint.'
âYou were happy enough to dangle me in the snake pit earlier,' I pointed out.
âCompletely different,' he said. âIt was a containable situation. We can't keep you safe twenty-four hours a day.'
âIf I stay at home, he'll make contact,' I said. âYou had CCTV cameras put in the garden, didn't you? And over the front door.'
He dropped his eyes to the tabletop.
âThey're linked to the station,' I went on. âAnd there's a panic button by my bed?'
âLacey,' began Tulloch, âit's notâ'
âThere are intruder alarms across every door and window?' I ignored Tulloch. I was talking only to Joesbury, as though he was in charge now. He was looking at me again but his eyes weren't smiling any more. âHe can't get me inside,' I said. âBut he might try and get into the garden or put something through the front door. He might call me. He might try and contact me when I'm out and about. I'll spend a lot of time out of the station for the next few days. I'll go out on the streets again.'
Silence around the table. Over at the counter, Kristos had gone very still. He was listening too.
âWe have twenty days,' I said. âIf we haven't got him by the thirtieth I'll go to a safe house.'
Still no response, but I knew they were going to agree. If we hadn't got him by the thirtieth, two more women were going to die. Tulloch dropped her head into her hands and Stenning's hand settled on my right shoulder. Joesbury was still glaring at me, but he wasn't arguing any more.
It was official. I was Ripper -bait.