Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “It’s that Motts, he done it—that nasty man, who pushes all us ladies around, and expecting something for nothing just because he was a copper once. He’s a bad man,” said a young, attractive woman.

  Madeline assumed she had not been in the streets long, for most women she saw were ruined in their mental or physical appearance. She spoke with her for a while and informed her of her hope that Motts would no longer be an annoyance, and told her of the agreement he had made with Hugh. She urged her to leave word with Patrick should she ever be harassed by him again. She spoke with several people to hear what the scuttlebutt was, most still believing the Ripper might be Prince William or someone associated with the royal coach that bore his symbol on it. She still had her suspicions about both of them, but they had waned.

  She walked to the aunts’ house and found Helen outside on the porch reading a newspaper; no doubt fixated on the latest tragedy. She waved when she saw her and started walking to meet her. “Madeline, it’s so good to see you. We worry for you when we do not see you. Are you eating? You look thin. Come in and have some soup,” said Helen.

  When she reached the house, Anna held her arms out to her, and they hugged. She took them both by the arm, and the three went into their home.

  “Sit, sit,” said Anna. “I will heat the soup, and I have a bit of stew left over. You will have it.”

  “I confess I am hungry. I could not eat after hearing the news, but I am beginning to be light headed now for not having had any food this day,” said Madeline.

  They sat and ate together in the dining area, calming candlelight gracing their table.

  “Did you hear who it was?” asked Anna.

  “There were few words about her except that her name was Mary Kelly,” said Madeline.

  “Is the Ripper just to go on picking the girls off like something in a royal hunt? What is Scotland Yard doing? How is it they cannot find him?” asked Helen.

  “It is perplexing how he escapes detection, with so many people about in the streets, and a constable every block or so walking his beat. I hope you will stay well. I will call on you again when I come back down here in the next day or so,” said Madeline.

  When she returned at the dinner hour, she had received notes from both Jonathan and Hugh. Hugh said he would like to come, but his workload was mounting after his absence. Jonathan was in the thick of interviewing anyone who was about during the murder and also was unavailable. She didn’t mind going alone, although she always welcomed their company.

  For the next few days, more details came in regarding the murder of Mary Kelly. If the public had thought the other murders were ghastly, the murder of poor Miss Kelly gripped not just London, but the world. Even the American papers had the Ripper case on its front pages. Mary Kelly’s face had been hacked with a knife until it was unrecognizable. Her organs had been removed and placed behind her head and around the room. He had cut her breasts off and sliced her arms and legs. This murder was different, as it perpetrated in Mary’s room, and obviously gave the perpetrator the time he needed to do his deed. She believed he would have done the same to all of his victims had he had the coverage he had with Mary. Again, very little could be told. A few people reported seeing a man come in and out of her room but said that was common enough. Some people reported seeing her several hours after she had been pronounced dead by the coroner. So once again, eyewitness accounts were unreliable, and one of the most heinous crimes ever reported was done under the watchful eye of a city, but without detection.

  She was more diligent than she had ever been. She spent the next few days virtually hounding the trio of Harry, Rocks, and Fielding. She stood watch over the royal coach until it seemed forced to drive away, but she was happy to say she had seen very little of Motts and his father, although, she wondered if they were lying low because they had somehow had a part in it. She had gone to Whitechapel as Jenny, the prostitute, and immediately men approached her. She used those opportunities to question and seek out further information about anyone who was seen with Mary. But almost all were drunks, who could barely stand when they spoke to her, and she felt had no ability to commit such devious acts and still slip away undetected by anyone.

  Hugh had asked her to join him for dinner, but she had declined. She went about her task as another one of her addictions. She now was unable to stop herself from her relentless searching; the pictures of Mary Kelly in the newspaper had revolted her to the point that she felt if it were the last thing she did while breathing, it would be a good death.

  On the evening of the 13th of November, the moon was full and with such a clear brightness, it appeared as a spotlight over the city. It was almost midnight, and she had been walking the streets for over an hour as Jenny. She had taken more opium than usual and felt dizzy and unsteady on her feet, but she thought that might even be an advantage. If the Ripper wanted a victim, who would be better than an inebriated prostitute who appeared weak and ripe for the picking. She had her weapons and found herself periodically reaching down into her boot and around the knife attached to her thigh under her petticoats. She wanted to be sure she could access them without hesitation.

  She was walking down Dorsett and going around the bend when it happened.

  “Mrs. Donovan, how unusual to see you walking the streets and so poorly disguised that only a fool would not know it were you,” said Harry Nelson.

  Before she could speak, he placed his hand over her mouth and pushed her further into an alley that smelled of dead rats. The flies flew at them, buzzing around their heads. She tried to kick him in the legs or free herself, but he was behind her pushing her deeper into the darkness. A few steps further and another figure, dressed in black appeared. “Did you think we would not stop you? You foolish, wretched woman, did you think you could outsmart us?” growled Rocks speaking with such hatred, Madeline could feel the spit from her mouth upon her face.

  Harry released his hand for a moment to move her, and though she wanted to scream, all that could come out was, “It is you. I had hoped it was not. I felt compassion for you all along.”

  “Compassion for me…it was my wife that deserved the compassion, not me. She died because of me, died of the syphilis, and I give it to her because a whore from these streets give it to me. And now everyone that I can kill before I die is nothing short of God’s work.”

  “But you did it, you killed your wife. If you hadn’t gone to the streets, you wouldn’t have caught the disease.”

  He took his hands and began to choke her while she tried to reach for her knife. As she continued to struggle, Rocks laughed.

  “I seen ‘em do it, and he gave me money to shut up, and I did one even better. I offered to watch out for him if anyone was coming. I liked his work so much; I left money in the blood when he was done. It’s true what he says, it’s God’s work. We won’t stop until the syphilis gets him. You were the only one who figured it out, and you was getting to close to us. You should have just left it alone. You weren’t in no danger before you put your silly nose into it,” said Rocks.

  She pushed Harry away, jamming her knee into his groin, and for a moment, he released his grip on her. Harry looked at them both and said, “Yes; no one knows. No one on the earth except for the two of you and nothing will stop me from continuing…nothing.”

  She tried to speak, but he was choking her, and only a barely audible, raspy sound came out, “It’s done Harry, it’s enough. You’ve killed enough. God have mercy on you for what you have done.”

  “You have to die, Madeline; you know that, but not before you do,” he said as he turned to Rocks.

  With that, he took a silver scalpel from his pocket and turned to Rocks, and with one swift stroke, cut her throat. She fell bleeding, looking at him with shock and horror.

  When he turned back to Madeline, his black eyes boring into her, she took her knife and plunged it into his chest. He grabbed his chest where she had struck him, but took the scalpel and lurched at Madeline. It pierced her i
n her side, but she had moved in time to have avoided it being placed directly into her heart. This time, she would hit her target if it took her last breath. Holding her knife with purpose, she once again struck him, deep into his heart. He moaned a short gurgling moan and fell back over Rocks body. She slumped down onto the street bleeding, trying to remain conscious when she heard a voice.

  “Let me at you, I use to be in hospital services,” said Bob Fielding.

  She was now fading in and out of consciousness. “You’ll go into shock. I need to get yous somewhere. Tell me where. I have to get you out of here,” he continued.

  “Why are you helping me? I thought you were with them?”

  “I worked for him, and I sometimes suspected who he was. I will tell you another time—we need to get you somewhere safe and do it quickly, tell me where to take you.”

  She gave him the address of the aunts and leaned against him while he put pressure on her wound to stop the profuse bleeding; he spoke to her all along the way.

  “I been following you the last few days, I knew you was going to get in trouble. I wasn’t sure about Harry, but he talked awful hate about the women for killing his wife, but he were such a quiet man, I didn’t think he could have done it.”

  “Thank you for helping me. You must call the police.”

  “No; you have to stay out of it, the coppers will charge you with killing 'em. It’s done now, The Ripper’s dead. Let the police think they killed each other.”

  “But you, Bob, you will know.”

  “I’ll take it to me grave; I promise you that.”

  “I don’t know if I can make it. I’m losing too much blood.”

  “You must. It’s not far. I can see the door to their house.”

  “Leave me then and get the aunts. I can’t make it.”

  She saw him pounding on the door and Helen answering. Helen put her hand up to her mouth and came running out to her.

  With Helen and Bob on either side of her, she made it inside.

  “Helen, please get Hugh. He can get Dr. Scott to come.”

  “I best be going,” said Bob.

  “No; you have blood all over you. Maybe the aunts could give you a coat to cover you. Don’t let anyone see you with that blood on…”

  She was losing conscious, and she wanted to try and tell Helen what happened, “Helen,” she whispered, “He’s dead. The Ripper, I killed him, but you must keep my secret. Please, only you, Anna and Bob will ever know.”

  “All right, Madeline, I have to get Hugh. Anna will stay with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Recovery

  When she awoke, Madeline was between white sheets, in a stark room in Queens Hospital. She was weak and felt sharp pains stinging up and down her side.

  “Nurse,” she called.

  “Mrs. Donovan, at last, you are awake. You have been here many days.”

  “My sheets are damp. Could I possibly get clean coverings?”

  “We have changed them many times. You have been sweating profusely. After I change your sheets, I will bring in your visitor. He has been here every day waiting for you to wake.”

  She wondered if it were Hugh or Jonathan that had been waiting for her, but she knew that whoever it was, she would feel fortunate that someone was here for her, and would bask in any affection given to her. After everything that she had been through, she desperately needed a smiling face to look upon and a hand to hold. She was beginning to recall the events of that night and realized how lucky she was to be alive. She touched the place on her skin where the scalpel mark was.

  When she looked up, the man coming towards was the one person she would have hoped to see if she had all her wishes granted.

  “Madeline, I have waited for this moment for three days, waiting to see your eyes open and hear your voice. My darling daughter, I was so frightened.”

  He moved toward the bed and kissed her forehead. Tears rolled down her face as she proclaimed, “Father, how did you get here? Who informed you? How is it possible that you are here, at the moment, when I need you so! Bring your chair near to me father.”

  “Several weeks ago, when I received your last letter, I decided to book my fare on the next voyage of the New York. There were things you mentioned in your correspondence that were so unsettling, that I felt I should come immediately, but we will speak of that on another day. That is what brought me here. When I arrived at the Hotel George, I was informed by your friend, Clinton, of what had happened. Your friend, Hugh had told him of the attack. I was so worried; I thought the doctor would have to find a place for me in this hospital. What happened, Madeline? How did you come to be stabbed, and what was your business in that ungodly place Whitechapel?”

  “Father, I am so weak and in pain, but I promise I will explain it all to you at a later time. Let me just enjoy the happiness I feel that you are here.”

  “I have met many of your friends and have spent time talking to them about you and Whitechapel. They have been vigilant in coming to see you, sitting by your bedside with me.”

  “Father, something amazing has happened to me, I want to live again. I don’t want to just exist and take meaningless breaths of air, but I want to live again.”

  She saw a tear fall slowly down her father’s face. “I never thought I would hear those words from you again. You have returned to me. We will get through this together and return to America with new hope.”

  “There is so much I wish to confide in you about. I have not been well and have done things that you would not approve of, but I had so given up on living. I had given myself over to thinking it was all right to do things; I would never have done if Russell and the boys were still alive.”

  “I have an idea what that might be, at least, I think I do. I am a physician, and I see your tremors and the constant changing of sheets that you have soaked through with sweat. You are in the throes of withdrawal, are you not?”

  She put her head down and could not look him in the eye, “Yes.”

  “Besides your other injuries from the stabbing, this will prove a test for you to get through this, but I will be here. You have a fight on your hands, but you have someone to fight with you.”

  “Before this and without you here, it would prove a daunting task, but now, with you standing beside me, I will do it. I must, I still have a life I wish to live.”

  The nurse brought her lunch, and she sat with her father, sometimes looking at him as if she had dreamed him there. Jack was dead, she was alive, and her father was here. Life was beginning anew. She spoke to him of her friendship with Hugh and Jonathan, and of her affection for the aunts and all the ladies she had met on the ship.

  They talked until the nurse said it was time for her to rest, father promising to return in the evening.

  “Madeline,” he heard her say as her eyes opened. She had fallen asleep and now looked up to see Jonathan.

  “Jonathan, how good of you to come to see me.”

  “We thought we might have lost you. Has the constabulary been to see you?”

  “No, not yet, but I am expecting them. I have little to tell them. Are you interviewing me for an article or talking to me as your friend?”

  “You know I have to try and interview you, but this is off the record, between you and me.”

  “I will tell you as much as I can, and then someday I will tell you all that I can.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but first I must know, will you be staying through Christmas?”

  “Yes, Father has agreed, and I couldn’t imagine leaving for America without spending the holidays with everyone. But what of you, are you staying on?”

  “As long as the murders go on, I will be here, but if nothing breaks by Christmas, they are sending me back for a while.”

  “Father has booked us on the New Year’s Day cruise. Is there any possibility at all that you might return with us?”

  “If there are no further developments in the next week or two, I will r
equest it. I could not imagine anything nicer than having the company of you and your father. The winter cruise is a much bumpier ride, and it will be comforting to have friends aboard to brave through it.”

  “Now, tell me if you are well enough to talk?”

  “I will tell you what I can.”

  “What were you doing there at that time of night?”

  “What I have been doing for several months, speaking to people about Jack the Ripper.”

  “Off the record, were you there in your disguise?”

  She had told Jonathan long before about her thoughts that she might consider going to Whitechapel as a low woman but had never confirmed to him that she had gone through with it.

  “Yes, I wanted to draw Jack out after what happened to Mary Kelly. I was not thinking clearly as to my safety; I felt compelled to complete what I had started.”

  “Could you tell me what occurred?”

  She went on to tell him of her late night visit to Whitechapel and her encounter with Prince William’s coach. She told him about following the coach as it crept along Dorsett Street, and how the man in the coach had stopped often to solicit young ladies, and how the driver had tried to shake her off, but she persisted. She spoke of her trying to see what the Motts boys had been up to, and visiting with Patrick Rooney and told him all that he had told her.

  “Then I turned down the street into a darker area. I was about to turn around and retreat to another street when a man came up behind me and told me to leave The Ripper investigation alone. Not in those words, I think he said something like, “stop sticking your bloody nose in or you’ll be done in.” Then we struggled, and I felt a hot, stinging feeling in my side where the man knifed me. I avoided a more direct wound by pushing my satchel against me because I believed he meant to pierce my heart. I was lying on the ground, bleeding profusely, when some man came upon me and offered his help. The next thing I know, he was helping me to the aunts’ house.”