Whitechapel (30 page)

“And then be fully examined in the morning. A post mortem I will attend with my number two, Sergeant Godley. Before that, get some pictures taken if we can, all the witness statements available to us and I’ll go off to Berner Street if one of your ranking chaps can supervise all that please, sir.”

“Thank you, Inspector; I shall put Superintendent McWilliam in charge of that.”

At that point both men were interrupted by Police Sergeant Jones who had been relayed some news by a constable who had just ran into Mitre Square.

“Sir, something very significant has turned up round the corner. Local copper Alfie Long had found some writings in Goulston Street, Wentworth Model Dwellings, reckon they might be linked. And a blood soaked bit of torn apron.” Dr Brown cut in at that moment.

“Torn apron? Could be very significant gentlemen, look,” he indicated to Eddowes mutilated body. Abberline, Smith, McWilliams and some of the other officers gathered were overtaken by a sudden silence as they all looked down at Eddowes clothing that Doctor Brown was drawing their attention to. Her massively blood stained apron was in tatters with a large proportion of it missing; they now had discovered the killers escape route.

“Right, take us there,” said Abberline in a decisive manner “And the rest of you get this bloody scene photographed, drawn and fully documented, long hand too. Nothing must be left unturned and unaccounted.” He stormed off grabbing the young constable who had delivered the message by the arm pushing him forward to lead the quickest why to the graffito and the blood stained remnant of apron.

Godley rounded the corner into Dukes Passage as Abberline was exiting on an obvious mission. He looked tired and depressed being back in to work so soon; he looked at his friend and superior who so obviously lived now to solve this case and appeared totally focused. Before he could speak Abberline launched a multitude of orders in his direction.

“George, get over to Berner Street and make sure it gets sorted out proper, I want everything. I can’t believe this fucker has struck twice in one night. I’ll tie the gallows’s rope me self if we find him.” Godley stood aghast about to reply but was cut off.

“Don’t just stand there; take a quick look over there and then fuck off!” Abberline disappeared off with the young Constable heading east, to where Godley had no idea. Godley immediately recognised all those ranking officers around Cathy Eddowes as he took a look at the scene. There was something that seemed unsaid around these men as he surveyed what was going on and what hideous event had taken place. As he wandered around that part of the square, McWilliams then spoke.

“Sergeant, perhaps you could remind Inspector Abberline to address those superior to him with a just a little more respect. Perhaps asking us or suggesting a course of action instead of just telling us.”

Godley continued looking at the carnage around him giving some instructions to the Police photographer who had just arrived. Then before he turned to leave, Godley addressed the question.

“Well, I’ll pass that on, sir, but just so you know he does address his
superiors
with respect.” Godley walked off out of the square leaving the City officers fuming amongst themselves. He exited via Mitre Street to make use of a cab that had been hired since his arrival to carry the detectives between scenes. Sinking into the quilted leather seat he sat back purposely letting out a huge sigh and looking at his watch. Sleep seemed to be commodity kept in short supply whilst this man ‘Jack the Ripper’ was still out there.

Abberline came across quite a gathering in Goulston Street mainly formed by a variety of police officers. Stood within the crowd were Constable Alfie Long, Detective Constable Halse and another young Metropolitan Detective Constable called Walter Dew. Alfie Long was interviewing a group of Jewish working men who Abberline assumed must be witnesses. Dew saw Abberline approaching and stood to attention awaiting directions or questions.

“Morning, sir.” He greeted the noted detective.

“Morning, Wally, what’s going here then? I hope it ain’t all been trampled over?”

“No, sir, writing and apron bit are still as they were found. Photographer is on his way.” He paused and Abberline was about to enter the Model Dwellings, “And Mr Arnold is on his way, with Sir Charles, sir.” Abberline stopped in his tracks before entering the building and paused before giving Dew an answer. The seriousness and notoriety of this case was growing massively day by day and a visit by these two individuals in the middle of the night was a measure of its magnitude.

“When they get here, son, make sure you make plenty of noise out here to alert me before they fuck things up.” Dew was somewhat taken aback by the detective inspector’s response and swallowed heavily before replying.

“Right ho, sir, will do. Just a loud ‘good morning’ or something do?”

“That’ll be fine, just make sure you add their names too. What’s that lot that Long is talking to all about?”

“Oh, reckon they saw some bloke with a big moustache all covered in blood disappear in here.”

“Interesting, make sure you get decent statements.” Abberline walked into the tenement block, the entrance to which was glowing from all the additional candle light that had been brought in. Halse had already entered and had a note book out and was copying down the chalked words. This Abberline quietly observed and he also noticed a uniformed Met constable stood further in the entrance way almost lost in the shadows; he was very upright, smart and holding a military ‘stand easy’ pose and nodded in acknowledgment to Abberline and spoke.

“All correct, sir.”

“Far from it, lad, or else we wouldn’t be here. You got all that written down then?”

“Every word, sir, the detail, the layout, the spelling. Bit odd, goes to show whoever’s doing this ain’t bright. Don’t spell Jews like that, does you?” Keeping thoughts about it actually not being an error to himself, Abberline responded to the obviously tired officer, a condition with which he fully sympathised.

“Absolutely. Who’s been put in charge here right now?”

“Inspector Chandler, sir. He’s just out there,” pointing to a yard area at the rear of the premises.”

“Right tell him the Commissioner and Mr Arnold are on way so we need to look lively over this, getting it all recorded.” He hadn’t heard anything and he could see Long looking beyond him to the direction of Goulston Street and the entrance to the dwellings. He heard a voice that he knew would mean interference and he felt his whole demeanour change knowing he was about to be bossed about in his own back yard.

“Ah, Abberline. Glad you’re here, Sir Charles has decided to join us,” said Superintendent Arnold. Abberline turned round reluctantly to greet them both.

“Good morning, sirs, early start for you?”

“No need for flippancy, Abberline, what have we here?” replied Warren as he stepped into the passageway of the dwellings and began inspecting the graffiti with Arnold immediately behind him also peering in curiously.

“Well, seems it could be some sort of clue but with an odd command of English, sir.” Warren read it out loud in a slow, laborious manner and immediately drew an aggressive and rushed conclusion quite deliberately; in his own mind he knew exactly what the key miss-spelt word could refer to.

“It’s a load of anti-Semitic rubbish, Abberline and I want it cleaned off now.” Abberline looked horrified and stumbled over his reply.

“Sir Charles, this must at least for now be considered a significant clue. It must be photographed and fully documented before we clear it.”

“Abberline, we have enough problems with racial tensions in this area and this could cause a pogrom if it’s left up. This could clearly be interpreted as the murders being committed by a Jew and we’d have the streets running with Hebrew blood. Clean it off now.” Warren turned to a City police inspector and spoke to him seeing that Abberline was about to cross his authority.

“Inspector, clean that off now. It’s an order, it’s on my ground.”

“Wait, Sir Charles I at least need that noted before it goes. But I warn you, history will judge you harshly, sir.”

“Detective Inspector, do not ever cross me publicly again. Now get out of the damned way and let’s have it cleaned.”

“Long, note it down now and quickly,” and turning to the City DC Abberline spoke further. “And you get it written down and all.” Halse and Long both noted it down, and as history would also discover, in two different versions. Abberline stormed out back into Goulston Street to compose the rage that was developing within him. Having watched the graffiti cleared Warren and Arnold strolled nonchalantly into the street giving Abberline no break from them.

Arnold initiated the conversation in a condescending tone.

“Now then, Inspector, no more nonsense over all this, we need a result. Rowing with the highest ranking officer will not get us that.”

“Well, Superintendent, I’m glad you give a shit. Although if you really did you may have liked to consider that also in there,” Abberline pointed back to inside the dwellings “is the torn blood soaked section of Cathy Eddowes apron.” They both looked at Abberline aghast and in silence. “Oh, didn’t you know that? Well that’ll teach you to interfere with real coppers. Do correct me, Superintendent, but Sir Charles is not and has never been a warranted police officer, and you haven’t worked the streets for over five years.” They continued to stand in silence, incredulous to this verbal attack they were receiving. Abberline concluded his rant. “Now with that being the case, fuck off and leave it to the police to deal with this. You’ll get your result, and I will get it for you without interference.” Warren was unable to reply, Arnold did in a veiled menacing way.

“Very well, we hear you. But let me tell you Abberline, no matter how this repulsive case is resolved, be assured that you will never rise beyond chief inspector.”

“Well, sir, that’s the best news I’ve had all day. At least that way I always get to work for a living.” They stood silent as Abberline returned to the hallway of the dwellings to examine the apron and ponder its significance. This was the hottest trail they had followed so far. He passed the now just chalk stained wall and felt sick to his stomach.

***

Godley arrived at Dutfields Yard to find the usual crowd of local people gathered being kept outside the yard by a large contingent of uniformed police. He entered the yard and saw a body lying just slightly past the gate with an old blanket draped over the upper part from head down to above the knees. A pool of blood had spread well beyond the confines of this blanket and it appeared glistening and black as always in the moonlight. Godley could see a portly bearded Jewish working man stood in quite a distressed state with some local officers one of who was taking notes from this man. He walked over to this small gathering and introduced himself to the constable taking notes.

“Morning, DS Godley, Whitechapel incident room. What’s going on here?” Before the policeman could reply the distressed Jewish man who Godley would later discover was Louis Diemschutz butted straight in.

“What’s going on!!? Why have you not caught this killer? Whitechapel women are dying and what are the police bloody well doing?”

“Sir, your name please?” Godley replied. As the constable was about to answer he was shouted over by Diemschutz again.

“Louis Diemschutz, I am a local salesman. I have a wife; she won’t go out after dark. Why have you not yet caught him? Why!!”

“Mr Diemschutz, we’re doing our best. We have many lines of inquiry which we can only expand based on news from the public. Have you seen anything, sir?” Godley was trying to empathise.

“I turn up in the early hours to leave my cart and the horse gets very spooked and rears slightly. I steady him and get off the cart and find what I thought was a drunken woman, but she is dead, another victim of this Ripper, why you have not caught this man!?”

“Mr Diemschutz, did you see anyone around at all who could have been involved, leaving or trying to hide?”

“No, I see no one, if I did I’d kill him myself to stop all this.”

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t think that would be the way forward.”

Godley left Diemschutz with Constable Collins the officer who was first with him to complete his statement while he went to see the immediate crime scene. The victim was still there along with Dr Bagster Phillips and the evening’s divisional surgeon Dr Blackwell. As he walked over he and Doctor Phillips acknowledged each other and one of the constables pulled back the sheet covering the victim’s body. He could see that the victim had her throat cut and the wound had bled heavily, looking up to her face he instantly recognised her. Rubbing his forehead and running his hand down his face over his mouth to chin Godley was taken aback by this realisation.

“Liz the cleaner, Liz Stride, I can’t believe it.” Phillips was quick to reply.

“Yes, indeed, Sergeant, a bit of a bloody shock to you and your lads I know as she’d worked at The Street for a while. Do you notice anything unusual to the others so far though, Sergeant?” Godley bent down and looked around Liz and lifted some of her lower clothing, noting almost instantly she seemed to have no further injuries.

“Well, Doc, if I’m right, she’s only had her throat cut.”

“That’s right. What about the Mitre Square victim? What was her condition, eh?”

“Absolutely butchered, Doctor, no comparison to this. What are you suggesting?”

“Simply that before anyone gets the melodramatic idea that the same man did both, consider that two murders have occurred co-incidentally in the same night.”

“Well, that’s true, but what if he’d been disturbed here and then gone looking for a victim elsewhere. I mean we know he likes to take trophies.”

“Well, that’s something for you detectives to decide based all your evidence from tonight and so far. If you’d be so kind now, Sergeant, can she now be taken away to the mortuary and I’ll be doing the P.M later on in the day. This ‘double event’ will certainly court some press and interest at the inquests.”