Part 2 - A Cry in the Night
(Continued from Part 1 - Reserved Seat)
‘Now what!’ thought Tristan as the sergeant came running up.
“Sir! There’s been another murder!”
“Where?”
“At Whitechapel sir, it’s another lady Sir.”
Tristan sighed; first a series of inexplicable burglaries, happening right under the noses of the victims and now this; prostitutes being brutally murdered.
“Have we identified the victim” asked Tristan, massaging his temple.
“Yes sir, an associate of hers identified her as Elizabeth Stride also known as Long Liz. That’s the third one so far sir.”
“I know Sergeant. OK, I will come right away, let me just put someone in charge here.”
“Um, Sir, there’s something else as well”, the Sergeant looked down, almost ashamed.
“What?” growled Tristan.
“The press are involved, they are all over the crime scene and have dubbed this another case of Jack the Ripper.”
“Oh gods, get back there and make sure they don’t disturb anything. Is a doctor on the way?”
The sergeant nodded then ran away as fast as he could.
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A while later, having put Sean Gordon in charge of the Opera House security, Tristan strode through the dark streets of Whitechapel. He wanted to cover his nose with his handkerchief at the ripe smells that assaulted his senses, but knew that would leave a bad impression should there be any lingering members of the press.
When he arrived at the scene the first thing he noticed was the blood. He gazed at the victim, her body lying on its side and the face turned towards a wall. She had a delicate silk handkerchief around her neck, and it was impossible to tell what colour it had once been. It was now red with blood from the deep gash in her throat. There was blood pooling around her face as well and Tristan saw to his disgust that all the teeth from her lower jaw were missing. Whether this was due to the attacker or just her lifestyle he did not know.
He turned to Doctor Jekyll at his side who was looking pale. He had briefly met Henry Jekyll from a previous case about a year ago, dealt with by his colleague John Utterson. A young girl had been trampled by a sinister figure named Hyde who had given Dr Jekyll’s address as his own. Tristan did not know any more about the case but knew that Jekyll had been cleared and more than willing to help the prosecutors with any questions.
“So doctor, any ideas?”
“Well, apart from the cut throat I can see no other damage. I was only called because I was the closest doctor on call, but I arrived much too late. A post-mortem should help reveal more.”
Tristan sighed again; “Well we will need more than a simple post-mortem to catch this killer. He’s an absolute beast and nothing seems to be able to stop him.”
“Do you have any leads at all?” asked the Doctor.
“None at all, it is as if he’s taunting us with every murder. The bastard! I heard of a police force in France who were at wits end to catch a notorious killer and in the end did the only thing left they could think of; they let a known killer go from prison with an official pardon if he managed to apprehend their man. Sometimes I wonder if they had the right idea - a beast to catch a beast.”
“Did it work?” Jekyll’s eyes were full of curiosity.
“Oh yes, he retraced his steps and caught him, splattered his brains with a shovel if I remember correctly.”
Tristan put away a notebook he had been scribbling in and shook the doctor’s hand.
“Well, I must be going. The officers will be interviewing witnesses and I will await the post-mortem. Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
“Not at all. It has been my pleasure.”
Tristan watched as Doctor Jekyll walked away, his head down and swore he heard the man muttering under his breath.
Had he paid more attention, he would have heard Doctor Henry Jekyll repeating again and again:
“A beast to catch a beast…”
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It was three hours later that Jack the Ripper met his next victim. Popular accounts state that the Ripper had killed three to date, but in reality the number was closer to thirty. He would leave one body on display, out in the open for the public’s eye whilst the others he would dispose of, never to be found. His razor sharp knife would never be satisfied with just the one victim per night.
He stalked the young lady, his cloak pulled tight around him against the bitter London weather. She was alone, as all his victims had been and looked dressed up for the Opera. He had heard it was in town and had been tempted to visit, but the appeal of the blade was much stronger.
Slowly he waited around a corner, his breathing steady as his eyes narrowed. This was the moment of truth that he waited for, the moment that defined his life; the moment the victim saw the blade and realised it was too late.
Then suddenly the young lady fell to the floor with a startled whimper. A man stood over her with a heavy walking cane in his hand. He was the ugliest man the Ripper had ever seen, hunched over and repulsive. He laughed as he hit her again and again with the stick, her head cracking open like an egg.
The Ripper stepped out of the shadows and gazed at the man in wonder.
“Ahhhh, Jack the Ripper, I thought I could smell you. I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
The infamous blade suddenly appeared in the Ripper’s hand as he gazed at the incarnation of pure evil. He smiled.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr…?”
“Hyde, Edward Hyde. I’m a big fan of your work and would love to chat about its delicate intricacies, unfortunately however, my continued existence depends on stopping you from carrying out your art.”
“That truly is a disappointment” said the Ripper, slowly edging forward, mindful of the other’s heavy cane.
Then, without a further word, the two incarnations of evil launched themselves at each other. They laughed as they did, rejoicing in battle and blood, slaughter and sin. They trampled over the young woman’s body without a thought and each knew that only one would walk away from this encounter.
