Whitechapel (27 page)

“We’re all scared, darlin’, all the girls dead, ‘cept Martha, all knew each other and we reckons one of us is next. So we’ve been moving around from doss to doss. Sorry.”

“For God’s sake, it won’t get any safer than mine!” he sobbed.

“Didn’t think you could tolerate us all.” She paused at looked at him quizzically as the tears were now streaming heavily down his face. “Robert, what’s wrong?” He now fought back the tears to speak and breathe. He paused to take a breath so he could speak coherently.

“Del’s dead, Mary, Del’s dead.” Mary was stunned. It took her several seconds to think and then speak to the almost inconsolable young policeman now weeping in front of her.

“My God, how?”

“The murderer, Jack the Ripper killed him!” She led him over to the table where Liz and Cathy were still sat who both pulled an expression of concern at Mary. She just shook her head back at them to indicate they’d best not interfere. They in fact made their excuses and downed their drinks and left. Mary sat with Robert whose arms were crossed flat on the table with his head buried in them. For quite some time she simply had her arms around him to console him before he finally stopped sobbing and could start rational conversation.

“Robert, there’s been no news of this. When did it happen?”

“As I told you we’ve been doing special patrols for quite some time. The other night we were out, me dressed conventionally for the area and Del in disguise as an unfortunate, oh,er, sorry, lady.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t ply any more.”

“I was watching his back around Commercial Street when the dog, Bruiser, he was with me, got really spooked by this bloke. So we followed him off. The dog was really mad, so it had to be to do with Ralph’s murder. Well it was. It was a bloke called Ostrog. We chased…”

“We?”

“Me and the dog chased him down to the river.”

“Did you arrest him?” There was a huge silence. Robert stared at the table, frozen, unable to speak.

“Well? Did you nick him, or what?” She sensed something terrible troubled Robert.

“No, I killed him.” He spoke coldly and distantly without remorse.

“What? You…….what?” Mary felt very uncomfortable. She thought she had got to know this man.

“An eye for an eye, Mary. The sense for revenge was too strong in me.”

“Robert, that’s …..That’s….” She looked away from him feeling completely detached with tears gathering in her eyes. She was unable to touch him and pulled her hand away as he tried to take it in his own.

“Mary, you don’t understand, that boy was an innocent, and he had as much right as any one to live. Yet some loathsome serial criminal killed him for no good reason. Summary justice, and I tell you this, if I find the fucker who’s the so called Ripper I‘ll do the same to him. I’ll protect you at all costs from this bastard.” She looked at him troubled.

“You’d kill for me?”

“If I had to, yes.”

“You’re scaring me, Robert. Let’s get away, now this minute. We’ll start a fresh, somewhere new.” Robert sat silently looking down at the table. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I can’t, not until this bastard’s been caught. He killed my best mate. I owe it to Del to stay until he’s found.” She considered his words.

“All right, I’ll stay off the streets, but I’m staying at Millers Court with me mates ‘til it’s done.”

“Cathy and Liz?”

“Yes, Bowyer doesn’t know and he’s no need to.” Thomas Bowyer was the spend thrift landlord of Millers Court, such a spend thrift that he hadn’t replaced a broken pane of glass for some months. Although this aided Mary and her friends to come and go without keys as they could release the internal door latch by reaching through it.

“All right, if you must, but meet me here whenever you need me around nine o’clock, Mary, I’ll pop in most nights. I need to make sure you’re all right and let you know what’s happening.” He deliberately omitted being suspended from duty.

Mary looked across at Liz and Cathy at the bar who in turn had been watching the conversation between the two troubled lovers. She beckoned them over and all four sat down and the gin began to flow along with the drunken banshee type laughter. After a time the need to raise some more alcohol and doss money drove out the drunken Eddowes and Stride leaving the troubled lovers together again for a while. Mary and Robert were finding it hard to talk and eventually through sheer frustration she left him staring into a beer glass and perhaps in some way plotting more vengeful acts.

The hours passed through to ten o’clock and Robert left The Britannia for a walk back to his lodgings. Not by a direct route so he could patrol the streets and try to spot some activity. He wouldn’t spend long as the fatigue of the recent events coupled with a lack of restful sleep was catching up with him. He passed into Lamb Street along side of the Spitalfields flower market and as he walked along it towards Bishopsgate and the Metropolitan and City Police border, a carriage pulled up alongside of him. The door opened and a deep baritone voice spoke to him.

“Good evening, Constable Ford.” He peered in and as he did so the lone occupant leaned forward to see him. He saw a man in his forties, smartly dressed in a bowler hat with a cane propped in front of him on which he rested his hands. Robert looked the man up and down and cynically replied “Yeah, what of it.”

“Join me aboard, young man; I have an offer to make you to get you back into the investigation.”

“Who are you?” As he asked this question he was bundled onto the coach from behind by two burly but again smartly dressed younger men, who once he was on board slammed the door shut and the carriage moved off. Robert sat opposite facing the dapper stranger.

“I am Detective Chief Inspector Littlechild, Special Branch.” Robert was astonished by who this man was and what he wanted with him.

“What do you want with me then, Guv’nor?”

“You’re a local boy from what I understand and without a job right now, eh?”

“S’right. What can you do for me then?”

“As a suspended officer we want someone to infiltrate and keep an eye on the Vigilance Committee that has formed in these parts. We have enough problems with the up surge of Fenian attacks in London and we don’t want the Irish militants to try to wield this Group for violent purposes. You can get among them as who you are, a suspended policeman, and watch for that sort of activity plus just watch they are up to anyway. Interested?”

“Well, what do I get out of it?”

“Good point, you’re not in much of a position to bargain but here goes; you’ll be re-instated at the conclusion of the Ripper case and in the meantime we’ll ensure that you get paid whilst you work with us. If you change your mind or give up or any other reason I’m not happy with you lose everything. All right?” Such a major consequence was said in such a matter of fact way. Robert paused and thought about Mary’s insistence to go, but a short delay could be useful to get some money for a while, it would help him and Mary and avoid them leaving Whitechapel penniless.

“Fair terms, Mr Littlechild, I’m in. How do I start?”

“Good, lad. Get in with the Vigilance Committee and every bit of info you get pass to us via the landlord of the Commercial Street Tavern, he’s an ex-copper. If you are in the shit at any time blow your whistle and keep your warrant card on you.”

“Ain’t got it, Mr Littlechild. Abberline took them.” Littlechild pulled both from his pocket and threw them to Robert.

“Problem solved. You’ll get your pay through the pub too.” The coach pulled up to a halt.

“Right, out you get, lad, we’ll speak soon. I’ll find you whenever I need to. Goodbye.” Littlechild opened the carriage door and Robert alighted into Mitre Square, part of the City’s patch. The carriage pulled off rattling across the cobbles and Robert walked out through Church Passage, Dukes Place and into Aldgate High Street and began walking home.

***

Mary Kelly returned to 13 Millers Court while Cathy Eddowes and Liz Stride went their separate ways to earn a bit from some punters. Cathy fancied her chances towards the City as Liz made her way along Commercial Street down towards Whitechapel High Street. The streets were still buzzing with activity despite it getting on for twelve. Liz picked up no trade all the way along Commercial Street and had no more luck along the High Street. She eventually walked east along Commercial Road in hope of something. Meanwhile the drunken Cathy Eddowes had got into an alcohol fuelled row in Aldgate High Street and was arrested as a result by Constables Louis Robinson and George Simmons of the City Police and taken to Bishopsgate police station. In the charge room Eddowes was presented to Sergeant Byfield.

“Obviously in for drunkenness lads, name please, lady?”

“Nothing!”

“All right, lads, cell four please let her sleep it off.” By nine o’clock she was asleep, contently, drunkenly and safely.

Meanwhile Dr Tumblety had been drinking in a new haunt on the fringes of the East End and the City; ‘The Grapes’ public house. The Grapes sat on the corner of Aldgate High Street and Mansell Street and tended to be frequented by a better class of prostitute and general clientele due to it’s proximity to the financial centre of London and other establishments such as the Sir John Cass college buildings nearby. He also hoped that knowing Mary Kelly was in fact a very attractive girl he may find her here or get some sort of lead as to her whereabouts. His expectations of what The Grapes would bring him were quickly dashed. The pub was busy with many wealthy looking well dressed Jewish merchants who, because of their obvious possession of money, were almost to man surrounded by the best of the unfortunates frequenting The Grapes. The women were all very tactile with these men with their obvious false affection likely to bring them well paying custom. He, on the other hand, was short on cash and had to track down Mary Kelly to recover his fortune. Failing to ignite any conversation, his uniform appearance seemingly working against him in favour of the draw of riches and easy good money from the merchants, in sheer frustration he headed off to a local hot spot for picking up unfortunates; Mitre Square. As he walked briskly and purposefully from the pub he cursed the ‘wealth controlling Jews’ under his breath. ‘I’ll make sure they don’t get the blame for nothing.’ Time was ticking by, it was gone midnight and he suspected sex and the chance of some information may be slim. As he walked the voices returned as it had been sometime since he continued his work and they gave him another notion beyond his precious gems. ‘Don’t forget, you have not taken a trophy for sometime or done work to keep the streets clean……’

***

The International Workingmen’s Educational Club was located at 40 Berner Street just off of Commercial Road with Dutfield’s Yard located just behind it. Inside much drunken revelry and socialist discussion was taking place to which Aaron Kosminski and Severin Klosowski were party to. A major debate raged amongst a large group of Jewish men regarding the principles of socialism. The debate had been raging for a very heated hour and Kosminski just kept getting drunk whilst Klosowski was losing interest in favour of finding an opportunity for sex before heading home. Kosminski in his stupor having lost track of the debate some time ago turned to Klosowski and tried to focus on him to speak to him.

“You cut hair, eh?” He was mumbling and Klosowski could just about make his words out.

“Yes, what of it?”

“You do mine,” he pointed to his scalp. “Very good. Thanks.”

“No trouble.”

“You not argue any more?”

“Lost interest.” He drank some ale from his tankard.

“Why, you seem quite clever.”

“Exactly, they bore me. It’s Sunday and late and I need a fuck.” Kosminski drunkenly chuckled and raised his tankard to his new found friend.

“Me too, let’s go split one and get a discount!” He laughed heartily at his own comment and missed his mouth trying to drink pouring it all over himself. Klosowski considered this thought for a moment. This tramp was probably too drunk to get it up anyway and if he was burdening the cost he’d get sex to himself for less money. He’d go with that idea.

“All right, Lipski, lets go.”

“Lipski? No, Kosminski.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a term of endearment,” Klosowski downed his tankard while Kosminski spilt most of his looking confused. They left the Club together and walked out into Commercial Road towards the City Of London. They could not believe their good fortune to be confronted by an unfortunate plying for trade straight away. She was tall quite slim in her early forties so would probably be a reasonable price. Knowing the state of his accomplice, Klosowski made the response to her offer.

“’Ullo, fine men, fancy something for a shilling each then, eh?”

“As both of our luck should have it, we do, how about a shilling and four pence for the two of us then?”

“I’ve already offered you a good rate, c’mon don’t take the piss.” She was right she had actually made quite a good offer. Maybe he’d go first.

“Yeah, all right, how about the privacy of Dutfields Yard, I’m first then he’ll see you after.”

“C’mon then, darling.” She took his hand and led him off to the seclusion of the yard. Kosminski stood opposite the yard to wait his turn in the shadows. He listened in to the activity he was yet to indulge in.

In the darkness of Dutfield’s Yard Liz Stride very quickly went to work unbuttoning Klosowski’s trouser fly and pulling him free to started to fellate him to get him ready. It didn’t take long to get the effect she wanted. “Blimey, you got a big’un ain’t ya? Don’t take you long neither.” She stood up and pulled her bustle skirt up to reveal herself with no obtrusive under garments.

“Turn around; I want to take you from behind.”

“As you like, but in my old cunny, no where else.” She turned so her back was to him and then leaned forward, wetting herself with spittle on her hand as she did so; she knew it could be painful otherwise. He eased himself in and she gave a genuine cry of pleasurable pain.

Outside Kosminski was listening and had started to abuse himself to be ready to step straight in. Klosowski rhythmically pumped in and out of her leaning forward to caress her breasts. She took his hands and held them still for a moment and spoke.