Chapter 1
Lovely ladies
Waiting for a bite
Waiting for the customers
Who only come at night?
London 1888
Fog rolls through the streets thick and rancid. A monster stalks the dark alleys, searching for its next prey. Shadows stretch and twist along the walls, a knife appears, and a scream cuts through the mist. Darkness envelopes the killer, leaving behind a broken husk of a woman with her skirt slightly raised.
* * *
“Hell of a thing, Inspector, eh?”
“Indeed…” Detective Inspector Edmund Reid ran his callused hand over his sweaty face. His stomach twisting in disgust, he forces himself to gaze upon the corpse. The woman’s throat had been slit, her torso sliced across in several locations, and smaller cuts along her right side. Her face was pale, mouth agape in a silent scream. “What a mess,” Reid mutters to himself before slowly approaching the three other police and surgeon huddled in the early August mist.
“Who discovered the body?”
“Cart drivers by the name of Charles Cross and Robert Paul. At first look they thought she may be unconscious, so being gentlemanly they adjusted her skirt. They went looking for help and found me.”
“And your name sir?” Edmund asks
“PC Jonas Mizen, then PC John Neil here,” Mizen gestures at a short, squat man with unruly black hair and bright gray eyes, “came from the opposite side and flashed his lantern for help. PC John Tain then joined us sir.” Edmund offers his hand and the men exchange brief, solemn handshakes. “Well sir it wasn’t long before word spread that there had been a killing. Three men from the nearby knacker’s yard came and looked at the body, we asked around but none of the men or any of residents of the neighboring streets heard or saw anything out of the ordinary.
“That’s when I went to fetch the doctor here, so he could tell us the time of death,” injects Tain, who was pale and thin.
“Dr. Henry Llewellyn at your service, sir,” the doctor is a man of average height and build. He has a very plain face with mousy brown hair and eyes. “Strange thing, not much blood for her injures.”
“Could she have been moved?”
“No sir, the way her throat was slashed would lead to instant death. The other injures were inflicted after that.”
“Strange…” The men stand in silence for a moment. “Poor soul, any idea of who she is?”
“Not yet, sir, but the workhouse laundry mark may help us identify her quickly.”
“Good, which house was it?”
“Lambeth, sir,” Mizen answers. Edmund looks at the young cop, a tall and muscular fellow with pale blond hair and blue eyes.
“Why don’t you and PC Neil go there and see if you can get a name. The coroner should be here soon and we can all meet back at Bethnal Green Division.” With a nod the two men stroll away, their lanterns dancing in the silvery light of dawn. Edmund withdraws a badly bitten pipe and tobacco pouch from his coat pocket. With a practiced hand he taps in the aromatic leaf and starts patting at his pockets, looking for a match. PC Thain offers Edmund one and they share a polite nod. Puffing fiercely, Edmund glares down the street searching for the coroner’s wagon. A few gawkers stood off to the side, rubbernecking and whispering about the crime. The doctor has turned back to study the corpse some more, muttering to himself about the nature of the knife wounds.
“PC Thain I want you to stay here and interview the onlookers, perhaps one of them can provide you with information about the woman, who she was, and when she was last seen alive.” PC Thain nods and steps away.
After a few moments the sound of hooves echo off the cobblestones and the large black wagon appears. Edmund puts out his pipe with a disheartened sigh. Within moments the coroner, his assistant, Dr. Llewellyn, PC Thain, and Edmund stand in a semi-circle around the woman’s body. The coroner introduces himself as Wynne Baxter and his assistant as Craig Huse. They lay the stretcher next to the body and look at each other. With gentle care they lift the body, exposing a pool of sticky, drying blood. Working in solemn silence the coroner, assistant, doctor, and Edmund cover the body and carry her to the back of the wagon. The doors on the carriage close with a loud finality.
“Can I ask you something Doctor? Why was there such a large pool of blood under that poor girl?”
“I have my theories but not sure of which one fits this situation. I can make an educated guess that it had to do with the way her throat was cut. The blood gushes out and pools down her back, creating that bloody puddle.”
“This whole mess turns my stomach.” Edmund pulls out his pipe and chews absently on the stem for a long moment. “Hell I suppose I should head to the station and see if I can make heads or tails of this whole mess. I tell you something I will be in need of a stiff drink tonight.”
“May I join you at the station Detective Reid,” Dr. Llewellyn inquires.
“Indeed Doctor, I would like to assist with the autopsy if you don’t mind.”
“This is an interesting case. She looked like a working woman, perhaps a prostitute. Poor creature, what turns a woman to such a degrading profession.” Edmund makes a noncommittal sound and hops up into his carriage and the doctor slips into the passenger side. “We have to go to Bethnal Green Division. I know the detectives there, John Spratling and Joseph Helson, good cops they will help us sort this out, we will have our man, and he will hang for his monstrous crime.” Edmund cracks the whip and with a jolt the horses head off into the morning, leaving only the whispers of the crowd and a large pool of dried blood behind.