A Knife in the Fog by Bradley Harper

Author:Bradley Harper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prometheus Books

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE RIPPER IS BORN

Monday, October 1

The next morning Bell and I dined at six so he could deliver his report by seven o’clock to Major Smith. We arrived on the hour and were promptly ushered into the acting commissioner’s office by the gloomy desk sergeant, who greeted us only with a nod and “He’s expecting you.”

Major Smith was as meticulously groomed as before, and although he did not smile, he did nod approvingly when Bell presented him with the summation of the postmortem examinations for the four victims.

“It’s refreshing to deal with a man who keeps his end of a bargain,” he said. “Based upon your cooperation, I have decided to liaise regularly with Inspector Swanson, Commissioner Warren’s lead man on the murders. It is best for all concerned to put our jurisdictional squabbles aside to bring this cur to heel. Is there anything else you would ask of my office?”

“Thank you, Major,” replied Bell. “Might we speak with one of your inspectors to get an accounting of how the body was found, and what you have learned of the victim’s movements the last few hours before her discovery?”

“Certainly, Professor, though I doubt you will learn much more than what is in today’s papers. I fear some of my men are over fond of speaking with journalists. Superintendent James McWilliam is the man heading our investigation. Let me compose a brief note to him authorizing disclosure of information to you and Inspector Swanson.”

The note was written quickly, and, bearing our latest in a series of passports, we returned to the desk sergeant. He nodded wordlessly toward an adjacent hall, which led to the office of Superintendent McWilliam.

We found a slender, pale man immersed in a cloud of cigarette smoke, actively consuming the latest of apparently many vile-smelling specimens. He was in his early forties and, like his superior, was immaculately groomed, and dressed in a suit more in keeping with a successful banker than a police officer.

I recalled Abberline’s disparaging remarks about his colleagues in the City of London Police, and inwardly smiled when we presented ourselves to this nervous gentleman who greeted us cautiously through thick horn-rimmed spectacles.

Bell explained our purpose and asked the inspector if he could give us any details regarding the discovery of the body in Mitre Square.

“I can only spare you a moment,” he responded, with the raspy voice common in tobacco fiends. “If brevity does not offend, I will spare what time I can.”

“Most generous and much appreciated,” replied the professor. “Then I shall be brief as well. I have four questions: What can you tell me about the victim? How was she discovered? What did your investigation of the scene reveal? And, finally, what do you know of her activities during her final day?”

McWilliam smiled briefly, revealing the yellowed teeth of the habitual smoker, and nodded. “Her name and movements I can tell you readily enough. Her name was Catherine Eddowes, a middle-aged married woman with no known history as a streetwalker, but she was well-known for frequent public drunkenness.

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