Whitechapel (18 page)

“Do you believe it likely there could be more, sir?” asked Godley

“Undoubtedly, Sergeant Godley, either the same man or men if they are in some macabre competition or perhaps someone who kills to gain the same notoriety.”

“How would you go about catching him, Doctor?” asked Abberline.

“Well, you’re the policeman but since you ask you do have men in plain clothes? If so why not try a new tack. It’s all very well to have men in disguise as men; why not have men in disguise as women. Let’s face it none of the unfortunates are generally pretty so disguise is not impossible, I believe the French police use it as a technique and call it ‘agent provocateur’.”

Abberline and Godley looked at each other and gave a nod indicating they each felt it maybe worth a chance. Volunteers maybe the only problem to dress as a woman. They discussed the case with Phillips for another hour before he decided bed was calling and a hansom was called to take him home. Doctor Phillip’s points disturbed the detectives deeply. Could it be the work of several or one? Had he or they finished? Were they three unrelated murders fuelled by money or lust? It would be time to get Doctor Llewellyn’s take on the latest murder. At that moment there was a knock at the door and Robert and Del entered. Both keen to get back in the good books of the detectives, they tried speaking over each other and failed dismally to communicate to Abberline until he gestured with his finger for them both to stop, be quiet and then pointed to Robert to speak for them both.

“Sir, just to let you know the crime scene is all finished with, sir. Anything else we can help with, sir?”

Abberline and Godley looked at each other with a knowing glance before the inspector then looked back to the young constables and spoke.

“As it happens, lads, yes. Too many ‘sirs’ in one sentence, boy. So sit down shut up and listen to a job you two maybe perfect for, Inspector Spratling permitting.” They sat down and looked at each other with excited curiosity. Godley went to the tea pot and brought the lads over a fresh piping hot cup each. They received it gratefully, foolishly believing they may have made it into the C.I.D, they were getting close, however. They were about to join the team.

***

Monday 9th September 7.15.a.m; Detective Sergeant William Thick, known locally as ‘Johnny Upright’ due to his physical posture and integrity, along with Detective Constables Parish and Murphy, had been tasked with arresting John ‘Leather Apron’ Pizer for many reasons. Firstly, as a obvious suspect following the crowd incident of Saturday morning, secondly to eliminate him from enquires, and thirdly for his own safety as on the Sunday whilst the last statements were being taken his lodging house in Holloway, ‘Crossman’s’, had been attacked with bricks and bottles by an East End mob. It was only a matter of hours before the vigilantes would descend on 22 Mulberry Street. The police pounded on the door as Pizer stood in fear in the front room of the premises, the cobblers shop, clutching a heavy leather beating mallet and a working knife ready to defend himself against the mob. He refused to answer the door and stayed silent despite the fact the detectives identified themselves as police.

“Pizer, we know you’re in there, open up or we’re coming in,” shouted Bill Thick. Pizer stood firm. Thick nodded to Parish who shoulder charged the door which gave way immediately. They were all carrying heavy truncheons and Murphy had manacles. A black Mariah was parked with it’s uniform driver outside. Pizer stood in the middle of the shop brandishing his weapons with the colour draining from his face. He screamed out in panic to try to ward them off. “Don’t come no closer, I’ll do ya, I really will.”

The detectives held their ground for a moment as Thick spoke to give Pizer a chance to come quietly. “You’re just the man I want, come quietly, son, and you won’t get hurt, you can see we’re coppers, try anything silly and I’ll bust your skull open.”

“That fucker did that on Saturday night; I don’t care, come and take me then!” This was a very unwise move by Pizer, all three moved forward and while Parish drew his attention, with the first attack coming from Murphy who struck at the side of Pizer’s right knee. His leg buckled and he went down onto his right side dropping both weapons as Thick struck him across his right upper arm to ensure he was completely disabled. Pizer cried out in pain from the strikes and screamed “All right, I’ll come, don’t fucking hit me again, you copper bastards!” This was an unwise insult as Murphy deadened his other arm for his troubles. He carried on screaming as they manacled him behind his back. “Murder, murder, get off, you bastards!”

“It will be murder if you don’t come with us, Pizer, the mob will be here soon if we don’t take you,” replied Thick.

He was wrong, as they took Pizer outside to the Mariah a mob was already gathering and as he emerged with the detectives they began jeering and throwing rotting vegetables. He was placed in the Mariah and it set off at speed with Bill Thick leaving the constables to search the house. Fortunately another uniform constable was on hand to stand guard at the front of the house while they did so. Part of the crowd chased the police carriage for a short distance but gave up as it gathered speed. They soon all dispersed as the detectives pulled out the bloodied apron and shirt from Pizer’s rubbish. Expecting the visit from the police he had hidden his surgery tools well and they were never found. This was fortunate for him it may have inferred guilt and sent him to the gallows before the reign of terror on Whitechapel had finished.

Unsurprisingly Will Bates was in the crowd as the Mariah pulled off and spotted a group of unfortunates who were screaming and spitting at the Mariah as it passed. Two of them were Cathy Eddowes and Liz Stride, both weeping and screaming with emotion as the police withdrew with Pizer who also had some rotten vegetables which they feebly threw at the police transport as it passed. He approached them sporting his usual appearance; today they were not keen to see any journalists seeking a story in their sober and emotional state.

“Did you know Annie, Annie Chapman, ladies?” He addressed the question wrongly to the tall and statuesque Stride. She looked at him with complete disdain and for once he was caught off guard and left speechless.

“Why don’t you just fuck off, you horrible little toff bastard!!” She screamed at him and at the same time punched him firmly on the right cheek knocking him off his feet and landing on his backside on the cold cobbles. He could say nothing. They pelted him with the last of their rotting vegetables and walked away weeping still for the loss of their friend. The next day the headlines very damningly read for Pizer:

‘PIZER / LEATHER APRON ONE AND THE SAME.’

And the sub text read;

‘POLICE PREPARE CASE TO SEND HIM TO THE GALLOWS AMONGST LOCAL HYSTERIA.’

Francis Tumblety when he read this news several days later was not pleased that someone else was killing in Whitechapel as it would undoubtedly lead to a larger police presence in the area.

***

That evening George Lusk was getting drunk in The Ten Bells public house in Commercial Street and raising his voice to vent his dissatisfaction in the police and the government following the three murders in the local area in the recent weeks. George Lusk was a forty-nine year old builder who specialised in the restoration of old time musical halls. He was a well know local figure as a result of this building company employing local crafts men to ply his trade. Recently a widower, he had seven children to raise so employed various local girls as guardians so he could work, attend Masonic meetings as a member of the Doric Lodge and go out drinking. He was known at times as a ‘rebel rouser’ and this night he was calling for action by the people over the murders.

“All you hard working men and women of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, you don’t deserve a lack a protection. That’s what it is, the politicians making sure that there are plenty of coppers in their areas, the West End, and out in the leafy Hams of the East, but for us real working people we can go hang. They come here to drink our cheaper beer, abuse our women and demand protection from the few bobbies that are here. It’s not right, brothers and sisters, we must form up, we must act!”

Much of the pub clapped and cheered as he made his final point with a loud crescendo to his voice, he took another swig of ale as he waved to thank them for their adulation. The land lord was not happy, however, knowing that a visit from one of the local police inspectors like Chandler or Spratling could get him shut down with such behaviour taking place. He approached Lusk at the bar from his own side to have a quiet word in his ear before he continued. He hadn’t counted on Lusk’s aggression under the influence of drink.

“George, look, mate, can you tone it down a bit or take it outside. If Spratling pays a visit I’ll be closed down. I can’t live with no licence, or worse still no pub.” Lusk looked up from his glass and smiled at him breathing fetid beer smelling breath in his face as he spoke. He looked at the landlord but his voice was addressing the masses.

“Did, you hear that, brothers and sisters, this bourgeoisie dog doesn’t want us in here.”

“Not them, George, just your ranting,” replied the landlord irritated by his accusation. Lusk always walked with a heavy stick, not as an aid but as a weapon. With a swift hard movement he pulled the ageing landlord half way across the bar and held the stick hard against his throat. The landlord was caught totally by surprise and froze in fear of the immediate and impending violence.

“So you don’t like me defending the people, you pig, so I shan’t ask you if you agree with the formation of a vigilance committee to meet here then, eh?”

“I’m sorry, George, I just don’t want no trouble, mate, that’s all.” Lusk pushed the stick hard against his throat so that his breathing was restricted but speech was impossible. He again addressed the crowd “We’re not welcome here people, I propose the formation of a vigilance committee, who is with me, eh?” he shouted with passion. A mass of shouts of support emanated from the drunken crowd.

Lusk threw the unfortunate Ten Bells landlord away from him crashing into bottles against the rear of the bar; he then landed in a heap on the floor, dazed and cut by broken glass. “Follow me brothers and sisters, we’re off to The Crown in Mile End Road to form the ‘Whitechapel Vigilance Committee!’” Over half the pub stood up to follow him, the remainder were women and off duty policemen who couldn’t safely get involved despite their beliefs. The doors of the pub were almost flung off their hinges as Lusk threw them open with considerable force and the crowd followed after him all heading south along the gas lit Commercial Street.

That night at The Crown public house in Mile End Road the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee was formed and Lusk was naturally voted president by the very mob he had roused. As an organisation it would come to give the Police as many problems as the highly illegal Fenian movement operating in London trying to bring freedom to Ulster through terror.

***

Friday 20th September. Following a week’s intensive training on operating in plain clothes Robert and Del were back at The Street. Murphy and Parish the detectives assigned to the case had taken many statements since the Chapman murder from witnesses who had vague recollections of the movements of her and those of Mary Nichols. The results were not helpful; in fact in the minds of Abberline and Godley they cast doubt on the theory of one lone murderer.

Abberline had eliminated Pizer as a likely suspect through witness statements and those willing to support his alibi, but he was being held still in custody for his own safe keeping until a judge or coroner could give direction of his innocence so it maybe reported in the press. He had made an allegation to the police of assault by a Russian who he had met in a pub and then walked in his direction with him home and attacked Pizer in the street. Pizer explained that the man had pulled a knife on him and forced him to go to his work place to steal money from him. Once inside Pizer claimed to have tried to disarm the man who had fallen on his own knife in the process, hence Pizer himself being covered in blood, and then having failed in his robbery made off leaving Pizer to nurse his own wound in the form of the head injury. Those drinking in The Blind Beggar with Pizer had supported his story about the Russian. The wave of hysteria was diminishing a little as a result of over ten days of no incident but the notion of the lack of anyone having been caught was kept alive but George Lusk and the newly formed Whitechapel Vigilance Committee.

The detectives were assessing and re-assessing the cases so far. Chapman had been seen last with a man with a foreign accent, fuelling theories of a Jewish immigrant suspect, who was ‘a little taller than her’. She was only five feet tall so without more specific detail on how much taller it was not much help as most men were noticeably taller. He wore a hat and looked ‘dark’, referring to hair colouring. Mary Nichols had only been seen in dispute with a ‘toff’ some hours before she was found dead by PC Thain and this individual was allegedly quite tall around 5’10” well dressed and well spoken, again in some foreign accent, yet despite having been spoken to by a constable there was no further description. Little did the police know that the man who held the key to murder as a witness was already a wanted man; Aaron Kosminski. Details of Martha Tabrum’s last movements were available but a worthless identity parade of guardsmen suspects had not found a killer.

Abberline had little to go on with a very diverse chalk board relating to description. It seemed of little or no help at present with too much contradiction, unless there were separate individuals, in which case how do you catch an ever changing killer? It was time to put his two latest recruits to good use. Robert and Del were in the incident room to get a briefing from Abberline on their duties for the next fortnight. He began speaking earnestly.

“All right lads you won’t like this but this is how it’s going to be. Permanent night shifts as that’s when he seems to be striking.” Robert and Del looked at each other pulling and uncomfortable but knowing face each. “You’re both young fellows but you, Del boy,” pointing to him as well to emphasise his point, “have the, how shall I put it, the fairest complexion.”