Mayhem (15 page)

As night gathered in, threatening to crush the light from the small lamp at my desk, I did the only thing I knew would calm me: I threw myself into analysing the reports on the deaths of Jack’s victims. There was a picture of the man to be found here, I was certain of it, hidden within the way he worked and the women he chose to murder.

I poured myself a glass of port and settled down to study the information I had gleaned from Bagster Philip’s notes. The liquid shone like blood in the glass, and when I sipped it, I shuddered slightly as my imagination led me to expect a different flavour; something warm and metallic, rather than the fruity wine I swallowed. I pushed the thought away as I felt the first tingles of anxiety prickling on my face. I was a man of science. There were no monsters. No
Upirs
. There were simply wicked men who did terrible deeds. With that thought firmly fixed in the forefront of my mind, I set about building some kind of profile of one
such person. A man was only ever a summary of his actions. It was time to see what kind of man ‘Jack’ really was.

I was lost in my work for hours, the decanter forgotten beside me as I scribbled notes and questions until my desk was covered in an untidy jumble of papers. It was nearly dawn when I realised that my legs were stiff and my back aching from being hunched over for so long. As I finally felt a wash of sleepiness fall over me, I stumbled up to my bed where, still fully dressed and not even under the covers, I fell into a deep slumber for nearly four hours.

I was cold when I awoke, but my mind was clear, and sitting by the fire in the drawing room, I put my thoughts to paper. I would send them to Robert Anderson himself.

7 The Sanctuary,
Westminster Abbey
November 10
^th
’88

Dear Sir,

Whitechapel Murders

I beg to report that I have read the notes of the four Whitechapel Murders viz:-

1. Buck’s Row

2. Hanbury Street

3. Berners Square

4. Mitre Square

I have also made a Post Mortem Examination of the mutilated remains of a woman found yesterday in a small room in Dorset Street.

1. All five murders were no doubt committed by the same hand. In the first four the throats appear to have been cut from left to right, in the last case owing to the extensive mutilation it is impossible to say in what direction the fatal cut was made, but arterial blood was found on the wall in splashes close to where the woman’s head must have been lying.

2. All the circumstances surrounding the murders lead me to form the opinion that the women must have been lying down when murdered and in every case the throat was first cut.

3. In the four murders of which I have seen the notes only, I cannot form a very definite opinion as to the time that had elapsed between the murder and the discovery of the body. In one case, that of Berners Street, the discovery appears to have been immediately after the deed. In Buck’s Row, Hanbury St., and Mitre Square, three or four hours only could have elapsed. In the Dorset Street case the body was lying on the bed at the time of my visit two o’clock quite naked and mutilated as in the annexed report, Rigor Mortis had set in but increased during the progress of the examination. From this it is difficult to say with any degree of certainty the exact time that had elapsed since death as the period varies from six to twelve hours before rigidity sets in. The body was comparatively cold at two o’clock and the remains of a recently taken meal were found in the stomach and scattered about over the intestines. It is therefore, pretty certain that the woman must have been dead about twelve hours and the partly digested food would indicate that death took place about three or four hours after food was taken, so one or two o’clock in the morning would be the probable time of the murder.

4. In all cases there appears to be no evidence of struggling and the attacks were probably so sudden and made in such a position that the women could neither resist nor cry out. In the Dorset St. case the corner of the sheet to the right of the woman’s head was much cut and saturated with blood, indicating that the face may have been covered with the sheet at the time of the attack.

5. In the first four cases the murderer must have attacked from the right side of the victim. In the Dorset Street case, he must have attacked from the left, as there would be no room for him between the wall and the part of the bed on which the woman was lying. Again the blood had flowed down on the right side of the woman and spurted onto the wall.

6. The murderer would not necessarily be splashed or deluged with blood, but his hands and arms must have been covered and parts of his clothing must certainly have been smeared with blood.

7. The mutilations in each case excepting the Berners Street one were all of the same character and showed clearly that in all the murders the object was mutilation.

8. In each case the mutilation was inflicted by a person who had no scientific nor anatomical knowledge. In my opinion he does not even possess the technical knowledge of a butcher or horse slaughterer or any person accustomed to cut up dead animals.

9. The instrument must have been a strong knife at least six inches long, very sharp, pointed at the top and about an inch in width. It may have been a clasp knife, a butcher’s knife or a surgeon’s knife, I think it was no doubt a straight knife.

10. The murderer must have been a man of physical strength and of great coolness and daring. There is no evidence that he had an accomplice. He must in my opinion be a man subject to periodical attacks of Homicidal and erotic mania. The character of the mutilations, indicate that the man may be in a condition sexually, that may be called Satyriasis. It is of course possible that the Homicidal impulse may have developed from a revengeful or brooding condition of the mind, or that religious mania may have been the original disease but I do not think either hypothesis is likely. The murderer in external appearance is quite likely to be a quiet inoffensive looking man probably middle-aged and neatly and respectably dressed. I think he must be in the habit of wearing a cloak or overcoat or he could hardly have escaped notice in the streets if the blood on his hands or clothes were visible.

11. Assuming the murderer to be such a person as I have just described, he would be solitary and eccentric in his habits, also he is most likely to be a man without regular occupation, but with some small income or pension. He is possibly living among respectable persons who have some knowledge of his character and habits and who may have grounds for suspicion that he isn’t quite right in the mind at times. Such persons would probably be unwilling to communicate suspicions to the police for fear of trouble or notoriety, whereas if there were prospect of reward it might overcome their scruples.

Dr. Thomas Bond

18

MURDER.—PARDON.—Whereas on November 8 or 9, in Miller’s Court, Dorset Street, Spitalfields, Mary Janet [sic] Kelly was murdered by some person or persons unknown: the Secretary of State will advise the grant of Her Majesty’s gracious pardon to any accomplice, not being a person who contrived or actually committed the murder, who shall give such information and evidence as shall lead to the discovery and conviction of the person or persons who committed the murder.

CHARLES WARREN, the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis

Metropolitan Police Office, 4 Whitehall Place, S.W., Nov 10, 1888

From Queen Victoria to the Home Secretary, Henry Matthews:

The Queen fears that the detective department is not so efficient as it might be
.

No doubt the recent murders in Whitechapel were committed in circumstances which made detection very difficult; still, the Queen thinks that, in the small area where these horrible crimes have been perpetrated a great number of detectives might be employed and that every possible suggestion might be carefully examined, and, if practicable, followed
.

Have the cattle boats and passenger boats been examined?

Has any investigation been made as to the number of single men occupying rooms to themselves?

The murderer’s clothes must be saturated with blood and kept somewhere
.

Is there sufficient surveillance at night?

These are some of the questions that occur to the Queen on reading the accounts of these horrible crimes
.

19

London. November, 1888

Inspector Moore

Inspector Moore pulled on his overcoat and joined Inspector Andrews in the busy throng outside his office. Another day over, and still no end in sight.

‘Let’s get out of here before some bastard pulls us back in,’ he said. ‘I’ve already been here an hour longer than I should have and I do not see tomorrow being any less chaotic.’

‘I doubt it,’ Andrews said, carving a path for them through the corridor towards the main entrance. ‘Abberline’s got orders to question anyone who appeared at all suspicious during the house-to-house last month.’

‘Suspicious? In Whitechapel?’ Moore snorted. ‘We’ll be here till hell freezes over.’

‘O’Brien’s already back out. He should have gone home.’

‘What about the man he brought in?’ Moore asked, standing aside to allow past a beleaguered constable dragging a scruffy man with several teeth missing behind him; the man was loudly protesting his lispy innocence. ‘Did they get him to hospital?’

‘Yes – he was lucky though. That mob would have beaten him to death in another few minutes.’

‘They were
all
lucky they were so close to the station.’ Moore nodded goodnight to the officer manning the entrance desk, but he was too focused on his paperwork to notice. They were all too busy for polite formalities this week. ‘Mobs don’t think straight.’

He pulled open the door and they stepped out into the street. Night had fallen heavily and the air was bitter, but the street was still busy. Wives, mothers and sisters were waiting for their menfolk to be released, and several constables had been charged with keeping the entrance to the building clear so the inspectors could get in and out freely without being further assaulted, either verbally or physically. Sometimes Moore felt as if the public thought the police knew who Jack was, and were wilfully not sharing the information, just to terrify the people of Whitechapel some more.

‘What kind of fool claims to be Jack in the middle of a crowd? It’s beyond comprehension.’

‘A fool or a madman.’ Moore lit his pipe. ‘Or both.’ He looked across at Andrews. ‘You can’t fathom those minds, so don’t try. For my own part, I’m too tired to remember my own name, let alone all those I’ve questioned today. I’ll sleep like the dead tonight.’

‘Ah, there he is.’ Andrews gestured at a man climbing down from a hansom cab.

‘Dr Bond?’ Moore frowned. ‘Don’t tell me there’s been another.’

‘No, I’m dining with him. If there’s any man who can fathom those minds, I believe it’s the good doctor.’

‘You may well be right. His report made for interesting reading.’ He raised his hand in a hello as the doctor made his way towards them. ‘Apart from that shit about the killer having no medical skills – but we can forgive him that defence of his profession, I think.’

‘He works hard,’ Andrews said, ‘as hard as we do. I think it’s taking it’s toll.’

Moore studied the doctor as he joined them. Andrews was right: Thomas Bond looked thinner and older than he had at the beginning of the year – but then, no doubt they all did. It had been one of those years.
No
, he corrected himself,
not one of those years
. There hadn’t been a year like this before, not during his time with the Force, he was sure of that. This year was something altogether different.

‘I’ve kept the cab waiting,’ Bond said. ‘It’s too miserable a night to walk and I fear I’d like to be out of this area with some speed. It feels too much like work, if you understand me.’

‘Oh, we do,’ Moore said. ‘Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen. I shall see you tomorrow, Andrews – maybe at some point we’ll be able to do some work on our own case.’

He was about to head down the steps when the doors flew open behind them and a scruffy, wide-eyed man was thrown out into the street.

‘Go home!’ a constable – Brown, Moore thought his name was – growled. ‘We’ve done with you for the day. What’s the matter with you?’

The young man was thin, and although not overly poorly dressed, he was unwashed, even by the standards of this dire area of London, and odours both stale and fresh carried from him to the clutch of men, who’d stepped backwards automatically.

‘You don’t understand!’ the man said. His accent was thick, Polish, perhaps, as so many in the poorer parts of the city were. ‘It won’t be the man you need to see, it will be what’s behind him – it’s hiding behind him!
In his shadow!
Don’t you understand? I’ve seen – in my dreams. The water. The
Upir
.’ He said the last word softly and shuddered slightly, scratching at himself as if trying to wipe something away.