Authors: Bryan Lightbody
He moved down her body and lifted up her dress to reveal her abdomen. He lifted the knife high and cut down hard across her stomach instantly opening the lower abdomen cavity as result of the depth and width of the cut. The smell, normally overwhelming to those not used to working with death, to Klosowski was matter of fact as a result of all the post mortem’s he had assisted with in Paris. He cut out her intestinal tract feeling its bloody warmth pulse in his hands and discarded it over her right shoulder to expose the organs contained within the pelvic region. Klosowski turned his pathologic knowledge to his advantage and cut out with one stroke of the knife and removed in their entirety the organs directly in the front of the lower cavity. There was wide open sewer nearby and in revenge for his own injuries he threw the uterus, the upper part of the vagina and most of the bladder into the sewerage hole. His sick and tortured mind worked on the principle that she left this world incomplete she could not enter and function in the next. He sat back on his haunches to survey his work as he began to calm himself. He decided to search for anything worthwhile and then make good his escape. He cut open her pockets and found a twisted piece of paper that he opened to find it held some tablets. Discarding these to one side he searched further and came across a piece of coarse muslin, two combs and two farthings which he place in a pile next to her head. “You need these for the pearly gates,” he said under his breath. He wiped his hands and knife on her dress and had been fortunate not to contaminate himself with any other blood as a result of some of his old working knowledge from the mortuary. He left the body of Annie Chapman in the yard with a blood sprayed fence close by to her.
Incredibly, no one had seen or heard a thing.
Only a matter of about half an hour later John Davis entered the rear yard of 29 Hanbury Street and saw the body of Chapman laying close to the fence and the rear steps of the house. She was as Klosowski had left her, undignified with her skirt still up exposing her stocking legs and abdomen and the intestines thrown over her shoulder. Davis moved to the sewer retching and was sick as a result of the shock of what he saw. A crowd soon gathered and after 6.a.m and with the assistance of many constables to cordon the area off Inspector Chandler, the morning’s duty officer from ‘The Street’, took charge of the scene to await the arrival of Inspector Abberline and the Scotland Yard Detectives.
Sunday 8
th
September and Abberline and Godley met at their office at The Street before walking across to the murder site at Hanbury Street to join the uniform officers under the command of Inspector Chandler. Also in attendance was the divisional surgeon for the morning Doctor Bagster Phillips. The scene of the crime could almost be observed from the front doors of the Police station and Abberline found it galling that the killer could commit a crime literally right under their noses. The fifty-four year old doctor had arrived on scene at 6.30.a.m and examined the body in situe to establish the provisional ‘diagnosis of death’, a commonly used glum Victorian expression, before ordering it removed to the Whitechapel Workhouse Mortuary in Eagle Street. He finished his examination around 7.10.a.m as Abberline and Godley arrived fresh from a hot cup of tea at the police station on the crisp September morning as it was. Abberline was surprised by the Doctor’s humour and appearance, although he shouldn’t have been.
Normally George Bagster Phillips was a dapperly dressed gent with well groomed hair and neatly kept heavily bushed sideburns with highly polished shoes and the pleasant smell of quality men’s fragrances. He normally carried with him a broad and jolly demeanour and sense of humour being able to make light of all circumstances, a mechanism for those dealing with such unpleasantness to survive. As a result of a heavy evening of port and cigars following a Masonic lodge meeting, Phillips was severely hung over and wheezing heavily from the harsh abuse to his lungs from rich strong Cuban cigar smoke. He was not in a good humour as the smiling Abberline addressed him
“Morning, Doctor, good to see you so early in the day, although you must have dressed in the dark, sir,” noting his unkempt hair, shirt buttons fastened askew and neck tie done up pulling to the right side well off centre.
“Abberline, is there any of your detective loafers in your office over the road?” Abberline noted the stench of his stale breath from his over indulgences and now stood addressing Phillips also noting the lack of use of his fragrances. “Yes, Doctor, head over there and I’ll join you shortly, if those loafers as you put it are not there then help yourself to all the stuff.”
“Abberline, try to give some of those uniform mannequins some direction, one of them was washing the blood away when I arrived. They do know what evidence is I assume?”
Godley cut in sensing the doctor’s abrasiveness could either be a sense of annoyance or amusement to Abberline. He wanted to avoid the former.
“They do, sir, sorry we’ll bring it up at the next briefing with this having happened, help yourself to some macaroons when you get your tea, sir.”
“It’s a bloody Saturday morning, Sergeant; I expect some bacon and eggs too, like I’d be getting now at home. If they’re not available at your filthy little office bring some back with you.”
Phillips marched off in the direction of The Street whilst Abberline turned to Godley.
“I bought those bloody macaroons, they’re ours, George. In fact they’re bloody mine.”
“Just trying to placate him, Fred.”
“Well he’ll be eating yours and not bloody mine once we get back there. And don’t forget the bacon and eggs for the return.”
Working the early turn shift were Robert and Del who were busy trying to clear up the scene with stiff brushes and buckets of water as the two detectives rounded the corner to see what was going on at the scene of the crime.
“Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing again?” barked Abberline at Robert who was scrubbing the roughly cobbled yard whilst Del poured on buckets of cold water to dilute and disperse the blood. Robert didn’t bother looking up as he replied to the hostile tones that had addressed him.
“What does it look like; I’m not having tea with the bloody queen am I?”
“Not having tea with the bloody queen, sir, I think is the answer,” said Abberline quietly and cynically as he stood before the two young constables who, having both now looked up stood to attention. Being local officers they instantly recognising Abberline and Godley. Del looked across at Robert through the corner of his eyes and waited for his foolishly vocal mate to answer.
“I’m sorry, sir, Inspector Chandler’s orders now that the body has gone, sir.”
“You know what that was, son, don’t you? Bloody evidence that us, the detectives, need to be privy to,” replied Godley in an unsympathetic tone. “You newer uniform lads need a bit more savvy drummed into you about scene preservation for evidential purposes. You were doing this before the doctor got here, so he says, washing away vital clues to him and us. What have you got to say, lad?” Godley was now standing directly in front of Robert face to face almost nose to nose looking to intimidate a reply from the boy through his own pent up frustration.
“We stopped when the doctor turned up, Sergeant,” chipped in Del.
“Oh, you do speak as opposed to stand there nonchalantly watching your mate do the scrubbing and take a rollicking, eh?”
“Yes, Sergeant, we was just following Inspector Chandler’s orders to try to discourage the crowds by giving them less to see.”
“Yes, that’s it, sarge, it wasn’t our choice, honest,” added Robert foolishly.
“Sarge, bloody sarge? There’s only two kinds of sarge in the Metropolitan Police, sau
sarge
and
sarge
and onion on a Sunday roast, and I’m not bloody either of them so you will address me properly!”
“All right, George, it’s obviously not all the lads here’s fault, we need to speak to all the duty officers and sergeants to brief the shifts so that if this happens again to leave the scene as they found it and keep the crowds at a good distance away. I mean look, all the blood stained footprints, we’ve got no idea if any of them belong to the killer now and we don’t even know if she’s been moved before the doc got here by the ghouls charging a fee to see her and the scene. We have got to establish more control of the scene to ever have a hope of catching the bastard. Where is Inspector Chandler, lads?”
Robert replied “Sorry about all this, sir, he’s inside 29 trying to establish witnesses to anything.”
“Right, okay lads, I’m intending to be back in the incident room around an hour from now. Come in for a cup of tea and we’ll have a chat about how you can find out more at a scene, then you can let your mates know, never know, if things get any worse there could be jobs for you in there.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Robert.
“Thank you, sir,” said Del echoing the sentiments of his now sheepish colleague. They put down their brushes, picked up their beat duty helmets and began to make off towards Commercial Street.
Annie Chapman’s body was still in situe having been covered over with some rough hessian sacking by Inspector Chandler who had also been responsible for clearing away and keeping away the gathered crowds with his officers from the early shift. Looking at the body was Abberline and Godley’s next gruesome job before speaking with Chandler. The detectives stood one either side of the lifeless sack covered form and each took hold of an edge of the cover at the head end. Looking at each other and with Abberline giving Godley a nod they both pulled it back at the same time revealing the dull open lifeless eyes of Annie Chapman and the gaping neck wound framed by congealed blood but exposing the entire interior of the throat cavity. The wound cut so deep that even them as laymen could see the severed windpipe, the now vacant severed artery ends and the outline of her spine.
They were both grimacing at the sight of the top part of Chapman’s remains but it was nothing compared to the sight that was about to shock them as they continued to roll the sacking back down beyond the abdomen. Initially the massive abdominal wound was disguised by her dress but as the rough sacking dragged open part of her ripped skirt with it, the horror of her injuries was revealed. A massive crescent shaped cut extended from above her left hip across the bottom of her stomach and finished above her right hip completely opening it up as if to disembowel the whole of her abdominal cavity. The sight and the smell of this hit Abberline and Godley instantly and near enough simultaneously causing both of them to gag and for Godley to pull out a handkerchief to cover his face.
“God almighty, Fred, what sort of monster can do anything like this?”
“I don’t know, George,” replied Abberline with fury developing inside him as a result of the horrifically violent aftermath of the attack which he saw in front of him, “but if find him he’s going to die if not by the gallows then by my hand, old friend.” They surveyed the butchered mess of what was left of ‘Dark’ Annie Chapman and her almost empty stomach cavity and stood for some time surveying the blood sprayed along the fence. Appalled by the lack of dignity that this unfortunate woman had in death Godley covered her over again and stood in silence for a few seconds looking at the sacking with Abberline stood opposite. They looked at their surroundings taking stock of what they had seen and trying impossibly to put some sense to it all.
“All right, George, lets go and find Inspector Chandler and see what he has discovered thus far for us,” said Abberline then walking off through the police lines to enter the rear door of 29 Hanbury Street.
Inspector Chandler was inside number 29, a typical slum East End dwelling taking notes from John Davis who had discovered the body as to time, position and state of dress and location of belongings. It was not uncommon for people such as drunks to be robbed in the street either conscious or unconscious by thieves known as ‘muchers,’ so Chandler was trying to establish if Annie Chapman in death may have been further preyed on by a mucher. He had taken several pages of notes from Davis establishing that he had discovered the scene exactly as it still was barring the cleaning up of the blood. Any mucher may well have been scared off by the sight of the murderous injuries and therefore fled the scene to save being accused of the crime.
Others who had gathered early at the scene were being questioned by other officers from the early shift from The Street as well as by the two new detectives seconded to Abberline. All were within number 29 and all trying to tell their varying accounts over the noise of everyone present talking. They were varying East End types, Henry Holland, James Green, Jim Kent and a local landlady Mrs Handyman all talking with individual officers at once creating a loud chatter. Each conversation was struggling to overcome the constant din and becoming louder as Abberline and Godley entered.
Twenty-nine Hanbury Street was a typical three storey two rooms on each floor Victorian slum terraced property which, once filled on the ground floor with five potential witnesses and four policemen, one of whom was being spoken to by two locals desperate to tell their versions and all trying to elicit information from them, was simply oversubscribed and bursting at its seams. Abberline and Godley stood silent in the doorway for the best part of a minute observing this chaos before individuals quickly noticed them and fell silent, eventually leading to complete silence as Chandler finally spotted the two yard detectives.
Joseph Luniss Chandler was a thirty-eight year old career policeman who had made uniform inspector in fifteen years. He had worked most of his time like Abberline in the East End and in fact they had spent time serving together at Commercial Street when Abberline was a uniform inspector and Chandler was a young sergeant. They had a good professional relationship then and neither would see any reason for it to change. On seeing the detectives at the door Chandler broke away from John Davis and made for Abberline with a warm smile and extending his hand to greet him.