Authors: Bryan Lightbody
“What’s that got to do with anything, Guv?” inquired Del. Godley interjected.
“Well, son, it’s like this, you are going to dress up as an unfortunate and he,” pointing to Robert “is going to shadow you from a distance at all times, dressed as a vagrant. You’ve both got to not look out of place and one of you is bait.” They both looked at each other sensing they were equally feeling unease.
“The French call it agent revocatoe, that is to set a trap to catch the man,” said Abberline.
Robert and Del sat silent thinking about what they were expecting to do when another man in plain clothes entered the room. Abberline spoke and shook hands with this man as he did so to introduce him to those in the room. “This is Inspector Walter Andrews from Special Branch, how are you, Wally?”
“Very well thanks, Fred,” he replied warmly.
“This man is the Mets’ resident expert on surveillance, which you’ve had input on anyway, but also more importantly disguise. He’s got a carriage full of stuff with him from The Yard which you lads are going to unload into the nick and we’re going get you sorted to do your jobs.”
Andrews nodded in recognition of Abberline’s input and said to the lads “All right, fellows, follow me,” and led them from the office to the station yard to his waiting carriage. “Should be a fun afternoon, George, watching them get transformed.”
“Let’s hope that the trap works, Fred, and we don’t create another victim.” They stared at each other and then got back to reading some of the gathered statements as they considered Godley’s words while they waited for Andrews and the young officers to return. “Oh, and, Fred, its provocateur.” Abberline was embarrassed by his obvious error.
“Yeah, I know, I was just testing the lads.” Godley nodded knowingly. Even the most renowned detectives can make mistakes.
That afternoon, Ralph and Bruiser were enjoying a quiet walk and game in Victoria Park. He had been hard at work selling his quota of papers all morning and the sun was out so he and his oldest pal enjoyed the warmth it gave in the green open spaces. He threw a cheap wooden ball he owned for the ageing dog who trotted and fetched it dutifully and dropped at Ralph’s feet. The sun had brought many people to the park and Mary Kelly was walking through there with her friend Cathy Eddowes, both of them enjoying the escape to the safe, daylight, uncluttered area. They sat and watched the boy and dog playing from a distance, Mary recognised young Ralph but did not want to disturb him. After five minutes or so of the game the old dog was getting a little tired so he fetched the ball one last time and then trotted off to the shade cast by a tree. This was only about thirty feet from Mary and Cathy. Ralph ran over to Bruiser speaking as he did so, “Well done, old fella, you deserve a rest.” The dog was panting heavily as he lay on the grass and wagged his tail with the words of encouragement as Ralph approached. The newspaper boy then spotted the two women. He only knew Mary though.
“Hello, Mary Kelly, how are you today, my pretty lady?” he said with false juvenile bravado.
“Very well, young man, are you and your fine looking friend all right?”
“Yeah, me and him are fine. Gonna go and scrounge some tea at home or somewhere soon.”
“Lovely, you take care and give my best to your ma when you get home, Ralph.”
“Thank you. Seen Constable Ford lately?” Mary got a warm feeling inside at the mention of his name, and hadn’t worked the streets since their afternoon together. She had decided with all her heart that he was the one; but because of the scare over the murders they had only seen each other in passing when he was on patrol. Although she had packed, she couldn’t yet bring herself to move out of Miller’s Court.
“No, not really, but if you see him before me give him a kiss from me,” she replied jokingly.
“Not bloody likely!” Ralph shouted and then ran off towards Grove Road, Bow with Bruiser trotting on behind carrying the ball.
Ralph ran along Grove Road with the dog in tow towards Mile End Road. He passed the junction with Roman Road watching for traffic for both he and Bruiser as he crossed. Suddenly as he passed a narrow alley way he was grabbed by the back of his shirt and pulled off the main road. The dog trotted on a fraction and then realised his master had turned off and turned round to follow. It was Michael Ostrog who had grabbed the boy having seen him running towards him from a distance. He had hidden to take his revenge. He knew the boy must have shopped him to the police and needed to silence the little runt from any further damage. He was expecting the dog too and although his left shoulder was still weak it had become strong enough over the twelve days since the ‘operation’ to wield a piece of wood quite efficiently. The dog turned into the alley to be met with a blow to his head. Ostrog struck out as hard as he could with the wood at Bruiser striking him and the growl that the dog had started to present became a yelp and with a second strike the dog collapsed motionless, his head gashed open. He had hold of Ralph the whole time as he did this in the vice like grip of his right arm.
“You fucking bastard, you’ve killed my dog!” screamed Ralph. Ostrog dropped the wood and threw the struggling youth against a wall knocking the wind out of him and he slumped to the floor. Ostrog grabbed him by his shirt lapels and picked him up. He stood side on now to Ralph so if the boy lashed out he wasn’t presenting a vulnerable target. Ostrog hissed at Ralph “You little bastard, you shop me to police. You die!” he took hold of Ralph by the throat and pinned him to a wall. The boy urinated in sheer terror as he tried to speak out and punch Ostrog. He did manage to rein some blows on Ostrog’s hip and thigh side on but to no avail. He could not speak for the vice like grip that Ostrog placed on his throat with his rough hands.
Ralph’s short life sadly began to pass before his eyes as he felt his head getting lighter and lighter starved of life giving oxygen. He saw his mother, smiling down on him as if he were still a babe in arms; he saw Bruiser as a puppy staring into his face as if seen as an out of body experience as a dog facing a baby; he saw his pitch in Commercial Street selling ‘The Star’; he could smell the waft of perfume from Mary Kelly’s room; he could taste the mash from the pie and mash shop next to The Ten Bells and could smell the stench of beer from the pub; he saw Constable Ford walking towards him smiling warmly; and he saw Mary and Bruiser in the park. The images began to fade and become very dim and increasingly hard to see. Then for a split second in his consciousness he felt nothing and saw nothing. This was that ultimate moment in human life; death.
The boy’s body fell limp in Ostrog’s hands and he let it slump to the floor. Looking up and down the narrow street he could see that he was safe; no one had seen him. He walked out of the alleyway leaving the two silent and still bodies behind him and casually strolled towards the park always on the look out for police. He passed a flame haired pretty girl at the gates on the way through with a more haggard looking forty-odd year old and disappeared into the green of the park leaving the urbanised East End behind. Mary couldn’t help but be disturbed by this odd looking man dressed in a cleric’s type suit, with a blood stained and patched up left shoulder to the jacket. It was the evil satisfied look in his eyes that she didn’t like and the fact he was sweating profusely.
Some minutes later Bruiser came around whimpering from the unexplained pain he felt in his head. He sat himself up and could see Ralph. He approached him and nuzzled him to get him to move but got no reaction. He licked his face repeatedly but again with no reaction. Then he settled himself next to Ralph resting his head on one of the boys out stretched arms. He lay like this for about an hour which to the dog seemed like an eternity. He sensed death now as the boy’s body was getting colder. He stood up and walked out into the street kicking the wooden ball on the way which rolled into the gutter and came to a rest as lifelessly as Ralph in Grove Road. The dog sat on the pavement by the alley and began howling.
***
While Ralph suffered such a violent and sad death at the hands of Ostrog, Robert and Del were unaware of the tragedy as they re-paraded some two hours or so after they had left the incident room having undergone a transformation at the hands of Inspector Andrews. As was the plan hatched within the office, Del had taken on the ‘provocateur’ role having been dressed and heavily made up to pass as an unfortunate. His fair complexion as expected gave not trace of a shave shadow and his slight build carried the female disguise well. Only the ungainly walk he proffered gave weakness to the deception but with work it could pass as the effects of drink. Robert had been disguised to pass as a vagrant, of which the East End already offered so many. He had been given the filthy clothes from a drunk who had died in police custody to wear that meant there was no need to ‘scent him up’ for realism. He had purely needed to have been given the unwashed look with a combination of theatrical make-up and real dirt.
The pair breezed into the office fully in character, without Andrews initially, with Del tottering on his low heeled boots and Robert limping heavily and doing so with the aid of a beaten crutch. Abberline, Godley and the other detectives in the office who were variously busy with tasks looked up in astonishment at the audacity of the two street types who had found their way in. Godley shouted to them “Get out, and back to the cells! Who let you out!” and stormed out past them jolting Robert as he passed by striding out to find some uniform officers to take care of them. The pair looked at each and began laughing as the wilier and investigative Abberline approached. He tumbled within seconds of Godley’s outburst who it actually was and called out to Godley now ranting in the corridor.
“It’s all right, George, they’re with us,” and he began chuckling. In the corridor Andrews approached the bemused Godley with a knowing smile and said “Fooled you, eh, George?” Godley’s initial anger had to break into a smile then a laugh as he realised how he had been almost unintentionally duped. They all gathered in the office. Murphy passed out mugs of tea to everyone as Abberline began a briefing.
“Right, then, we have put out two plants here who are going to work the streets every night seven until three until this bastard or bastards are caught. If it proves too much for them to cope with we’ll get another two lads in to help. How it works is this; Del, or should I say ‘Delilah’,” the room roared at the joke made with the name juxtaposition, “will wander as any unfortunate would but not pick anyone up of course. What we’re looking for is someone to attack, but if you get an inclination that you’re being lured into something go with it. Rob will keep you in sight at all times and be watching everyone moving around you too. If he thinks there’s someone of particular suspicion you should go off with work out some sort of signalling between you. Now Rob’s got his whistle and truncheon still and ‘Delilah’ I’ve got something for your bag.” Abberline went over to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He reached in and took out a small shiny metallic miniature revolver. “If you are in real danger, use it. If you are threatened at least point it, all right, son?” He passed the revolver to Del who stared it for a moment without answering. “I said all right?” repeated Abberline.
“Yes, sir, fine.”
“Right then, all of you go and get some grub and start hitting the streets at seven when it’s getting dusk. And yes, you will all be on overtime today as we’re all on until three as the first night of this methodology.” All of them eventually trooped up to the station canteen to enjoy a hot meal and get full bellies for the long night ahead.
***
Mary and Cathy had turned along Old Ford Road on leaving the park, and so although having heard Bruiser’s howling they never came to realise it was him. A drunken soldier was the first to pass Bruiser who clipped him round his already tender head as he passed. The dog cowered at further attack as the soldier staggered on. PC Jonas Mizen was the next to arrive at the scene following the drunk and again the dog cowered at the approach of another uniform. Mizen, immediately seeing the dog’s distress, took his helmet off and approached slowly and spoke gently to calm him extending his hand for the dog to smell. He recognised Bruiser from his time patrolling The Street’s ground and wondered where the newspaper boy was he normally saw him with.
“All right, Bruiser, there’s a good boy, you’re okay now.” The dog slowly wagged his tail from the friendly approach; Mizen noticed the injury to the dogs head. “We’ll sort you out, lad, where’s your boss, eh?” He had the dog’s confidence fully now and was able to stroke him along the length of his back, an action that seemed to keep the dog calm. Bruiser then got up and wandered to the entrance to the alley. He stopped and looked back at Mizen a sign that the constable took to mean to follow him. Mizen did so and saw the dog walk just a couple of steps further and start to nuzzle a limp body. Getting closer Mizen saw it was in fact the paper boy he would expect to see with the dog and quickly bent down to his aid. The boy was now barely warm and so Mizen picked him up, brought him into the street, drew his whistle and began blowing furiously for assistance. Not being qualified to say whether or not the boy was dead he vainly wrapped him in his tunic as he waited for another officer to arrive.
He was joined firstly by an out of breath Taffy Evans who on seeing what the situation was flagged down a hansom cab and made a demand of the driver. “This lad here needs hospital treatment now! Take my mate and him to Whitechapel!” Mizen got into the cab clutching the lifeless boy in his arms and with the crack of the driver’s crop the cab lurched off to the hospital. Taffy secured the scene and the whole site was eventually dealt with by Inspector Chandler. Such an almost routine death in comparison the prostitutes’ murders didn’t attract that much attention and it would be some days before Ralph’s mother would even know. The death of a child was not considered that out of place with them killed by jealous boyfriend’s of their mother’s, or because they couldn’t be kept properly by their families, or sadly because they had been sexually abused and then killed once their purpose had been served.