Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) Page 7

  A bedraggled girl with a stained apron and unkempt black curly hair approached, “Is that all, Mum?”

  “There is one more thing. We are looking for our niece Polly; we hear she sometimes calls herself Penny. Here is a picture of her. I am not sure if the likeness is accurate, but we believe she frequents this establishment with a man named, William. Do you think you might have seen her?”

  “It’s not a thing we like to speak of, Mum. It’s considered the code of silence. People they come here not to be found or talked about. It’s why they comes here.”

  “We understand that, but we are not seeking her for any purpose that would be unfavorable to her. Her aunts have come into some money, and they wish to share it with her. I’m sure you can understand that she might wish to show herself when she hears of this.”

  “That’s another thing entirely. I might know her. I’ll write an address down for you. I think she might have a room with another lady around Buck’s Row.”

  Anna stood and unexpectedly took the girls hands and squeezed them, thanking her over and over.

  “May I have another bourbon and soda, Miss?” asked Madeline.

  Then she turned to Anna and Helen and said, “I think we are making progress, ladies, don’t you?”

  Helen was about to speak when she gestured over towards the bar, “I do believe that might be Jonathan.”

  They turned and looked towards where she had pointed, Madeline hoping in her heart she was right.

  “I’m not going to sit here and wonder about it, I’ll go to see if it is,” said Helen.

  Helen was the most gregarious of all the ladies and the most forthright. The last few days had emboldened her even further, and she appeared to be at home with her new independence.

  Helen touched his arm, and Madeline watched as he smiled at Helen, the two then returning to their table.

  “Jonathan, what brings you to this place—your story about the Ripper?”

  “No, I was looking for you, well, all of you. I have left several messages at your hotel, and when I didn’t hear a response, I was concerned. I went again this morning, and Clinton told me where you had gone. I can tell you I was not completely shocked, but I became, even more, concerned and wanted to see all of you.”

  “I have not checked my hotel messages; it didn’t occur to me that anyone would leave me one. I apologize for that. I thought you would be too busy, with you news story, to be in touch with us.”

  “I have been working long hours, but I meant what I said about being a bodyguard of sorts, if I am able. I know you are all capable women, but still, this is a hostile environment even for men, let alone ladies.”

  “It hasn’t been pleasant, but we have some leads to our Polly. Do you have any to your Ripper?” asked Anna.

  “It seems just about everyone who has ever broken a law is suspect, and anyone who might have knowledge of how to dissect a carcass of some sort, human or animal. But as he has not struck again, there is some talk that he may have left London due to the extensive search for him.”

  “That would be the easy answer. If only that could be true, but after having spent a little time down here, it seems it is a place ripe for the taking place of a crime. Accessibility to women is easy, and comes cheap because there is so much desperation,” said Madeline.

  “May I join you in your search? I have to be down here, so perhaps we can try to achieve mutual needs,” said Jonathan.

  “That would be wonderful, I will feel so much better with you with us,” said Anna.

  “Yes, I think we all feel that way,” said Madeline at she smiled at Jonathan.

  She looked at him, as if for the first time, and thought she had never realized how ruggedly handsome he was. She supposed she had not allowed herself to think of him in that way, but now she was noticing him, and a part of her felt an uneasy guilt about it. She was somewhat angry with herself as if she had somehow besmirched the memory of Russell. Still she had allowed herself the luxury of wondering what it might be like for him to hold her in his arms.

  “Should we leave then and have a go at the Princess Alice and see what we can find out?” said Jonathan.

  “The clouds look like rain, so I do think we should go quickly if we are going to get anything accomplished today,” said Helen.

  Madeline and Jonathan had dropped back behind the ladies, and he said to her in a hushed tone, “I know you have a mind to become a sleuth, so I wondered if you would like to go by the place of Martha Tabram’s attack. I don’t imagine the ladies would like that, but I know you are conducting your investigation of this, aren’t you?”

  “It is a sensitive matter indeed. I think you are right, and it would not be appropriate to take them there, but yes, I would like to go. After knowing me for such a short time, you have made a quick and accurate assessment. I have to say, I have been thinking about Polly and the Ripper during every waking hour. Perhaps it is a necessary distraction or maybe something more; I don’t really know right now what is driving me, maybe it is Mr. Holmes,” she said smiling again at him.

  The Princess Alice was just a short walk from the Britannia and of all the pubs, it could easily claim the title of being the most run down and dirty of them all, despite its lovely name.

  Responding to Jonathan’s inquiry, a young man said he knew of a Polly that came in at least twice a week. He said he remembered her because she was rather loud when she took to the drink and had many men friends.

  Anna blushed and put her head down when he said this, and Helen started fidgeting with her gloves. Once again, they left an address and note in the hopes he would see Polly again soon and pass the information on to her.

  “Anna, Helen,” said Madeline. “Jonathan and I would like to go into some other areas that might be of such a nature, that it might upset you. May we take you home, and then we will return to see you later this afternoon?”

  Helen was about to speak when Anna said, “I know my sister, she would most likely go, but I have seen enough, enough that I am happy to return to the safety of our meager rooms. They no longer look as small as they did before, after seeing how these poor people live.”

  “All right, Anna. Let’s go home,” said Helen.

  It had begun to rain, a light rain that came upon them as they arrived at the aunts’ home. Madeline assured Jonathan she still wanted to go back into the heart of Whitechapel. Anna and Helen had invited them to supper upon their return, and they had accepted.

  “You know their niece may not wish to return and live with them, even if you do find her. It becomes a sort of addiction, the nightlife, the drinking. I believe it’s very difficult to leave that life once you have immersed yourself in it,” said Jonathan.

  “I hope that will not be true in Polly’s case. They will be offering her more than just a place to stay; they intend to give her part of their recent inheritance.”

  “That may help, but I have known people close to me who have fallen into the trap of addiction; it can prove almost impossible to return to a life without these influences.”

  “That is too hard a truth to think of right now; I can only hope that it won’t be so with Polly. But, tell me what of your findings about the Ripper?”

  “There is a rumor now that it might even be a member of the royal family that frequents these parts. It seems a prince has a penchant for the ladies. I don’t hold much to that way of thinking.”

  “I agree with you. He would have a carriage and driver. The idea that he would commit murder and then return to his carriage with a bloody knife and clothes seems preposterous.”

  “The mind of one like that is hard to contemplate, but it does seem unlikely.”

  When they entered the street where they found Martha, she had expected there would be a blockade in the area of her attack. It wasn’t, and everyone bustled about as normal. The steps were still stained with her blood, although it did look like someone tried to wash it, but the faint pink color remained.

  “Did he kill he
r there or was her body placed there? Either way, to do an act in such an open area, he apparently feels there is no danger to him that he will be apprehended,” said Madeline.

  “Whoever it is must know this area well, and how easy one it is to lose oneself in the crowd.”

  “Life goes on in a way in Whitechapel that seems to discount its importance.”

  “They say there is a lady, a midwife named Annie Maddox, who has the build and knowledge to do such an act. I’ve had several people tell me they thought she could be a suspect. But I find there is no motive. There is also a tall, rather robust lady in the market who has been seen to cut up a pig in no time, and it is said she disdains the ladies in Whitechapel, as she lost her husband to one.”

  “I think I have seen the lady you speak of, she is hard not to miss, but still, don’t you feel it unlikely that it could be a woman?”

  “I do, but as a reporter, I still have to check every avenue. Besides, there’s nothing better people like to read about more than an unlikely suspect. Even if no validity, they like the notion of it. I was going to try to get an interview with her. Would you like to come along?”

  “Definitely, do you mind if I take my notes?”

  “Not at all, at some point, we can sit over dinner and compare them.”

  “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  The market area had a feast of flies crawling around, touching the meat and landing on the lady with splatters of blood across her apron and her cheek. Her name they learned was Roxanne Thompson. She had agreed to speak with Jonathan if he didn’t mind that she continued with her butchering as they talked. It was difficult not to be fascinated by her; she was tough, sharp and devoid of any pretense. Her bloodied and scruffy appearance added to the effect.

  “They call me Rocks, on account of it sounds like me name, and fits me personality. I can carry me weight as any man, yet I love like a woman,” she said with a strange, infectious laugh.

  Madeline was not used to such frank talk, at least from a woman, but she secretly admired her for speaking her mind.

  “What is it you’re wantin’ to know, Mr. Franks, like everybody else, if I could be the monster they call the Ripper? Well, maybe I just might. I hate the likes of these women, everyone knows that, but could I murder? If I saw the woman thats took my man, maybe I just could,” Rocks said.

  “Are you an actual suspect? I mean, have the police questioned you?” asked Jonathan.

  “They asked me where I was, and I done told ‘em, when I gets off work, I go to one of the pubs like everybody else, and I don’t be remembering which one I was in. I guess they didn’t like it that I didn’t show no shock about Martha. One less of her kind luring men to their end, so be it.”

  Her harsh tone when she referred to Martha was evident and now appeared to sober up.

  “Did you dislike Martha?” Jonathan asked.

  “I got no feelings for her one way or another.”

  “Then you did know her.”

  “I knew her; she come ‘round begging for food sometime when she was too drunk to know what she was doing, just like the others.”

  “You don’t seem to have any sympathy for what happened to her?”

  “Ya’ reaps what yas sows. Ain’t that what the Bible says?”

  “Do you have an opinion of who might be responsible?”

  “I told the coppers; it’s probably Bob Fielding. A fire disfigured him, and the woman laughs at him, and he tells everyone who listens how he’d like to cut ‘em all.”

  “Does he have any background that might have shown him how to use a blade the way you do?”

  “After he got himself burned up in a bomb attack in the war, he went into hospital as an aide. I don’t know for sure if he knows how, but he sure was around the cutting ‘cause he talks about it when he gots too much of the drink in ‘em.”

  “Anything else before we go Rocks?” said Jonathan.

  “If you want to speak to him, Mr. Fielding, he likes the Ten Bells.”

  “You’ve been very helpful; perhaps I can come back and speak with you again.”

  “Anytime, governor, anytime—I gots nothing to hide.”

  They walked together and spoke of the day’s events, “What do you think, are you game to see if we can find Mr. Fielding?” said Jonathan.

  “As if you had to ask,” she replied smiling.

  “Have you been to the Ten Bells?”

  “Yes, twice. We came here at midnight, of course, we had escorts. You remember Phillip; he was gracious enough to accompany us with his cousin, Hugh. We hoped we might find Polly here at that hour.”

  “You are, how can I say it politely, adventurous, but I am relieved that gentlemen were with you.”

  “The Ten Bells is still better than the Princess Alice; I think of all the places that one fits the description of utter human despair.”

  After arriving at the pub, it was not difficult to find Mr. Fielding. He was at the far reaching end of the bar, hidden in the shadows and speaking with a one-armed man with a patch over his eye. The sorry pair, Mr. Fielding’s left side of his face scarred and twisted cheek still with maroon skin, were speaking with slurred words in loud, angry bursts.

  When they approached the presumed Mr. Fielding stared at them with such cold, squinting eyes, Madeline abruptly stood back and stopped her steps. Jonathan took her arm and urged her forward.

  “There’s nobody else in this mangy corner, so I suppose you be looking at me, and I’d like to know what for?”

  “I am Jonathan Franks, sir, from the New York Times. I’m a reporter assigned to look into the Ripper case. I would like to ask you a few questions if I might.”

  “Why’s that, why do you want to talk to the likes of me?” he replied with gritted teeth.

  “I’ve been speaking to many people, and I heard some say that a man named Bob Fielding was known to have a special hatred for the women in Whitechapel, I've even heard it said he liked to hiss at them and harass them as they passed. You are Mr. Bob Fielding, aren’t you?”

  “Now that’s saying something, something I like. It’s as true as you say and why not, they feel the same about me. But why is me feelings about some bedraggled nothings newsworthy?”

  “It’s not your point of view, Mr. Fielding; it’s your actions I’m curious about. I hear you might have worked in a field hospital during the war?”

  “It is so, why?”

  “That would give you particular knowledge about the human body.”

  “I see…me and half the city of London. If you don’t know hows to cut up a hog or a chicken, you’re not be eating too much. And hate, you might just look at the woman you’re with, she looks like she’s keeping a hate in her eyes.”

  Madeline had kept herself a distance from the two, not because of their appearance, but from the obvious feeling that emanated from them of disdain toward others. She was surprised to hear him speak of her in such a manner but stopped Jonathan from defending her.

  “It is not hate, Mr. Fielding; it is more of sadness, and I see that in you, also.”

  “And what’s your sad story, Miss. I don’t see any scars on ya’, nothing that can stop you from being with the living, not just being part of the dead as me.”

  “Life brings tragedy to all of us sooner or later. It chases us until caught. It is difficult not to be bitter, isn’t it Mr. Fielding.”

  “Yes, it is, Miss, yes it is,” he said as he looked down into his drink and wrapped his boney, dirty fingers around it.

  “Ah, it’s none of my business, I’m sorry for ya’, whatever it is. I don’t know that I hates ‘em exactly; I hate their cursed meanness. I didn’t always look like this. There was a time them women would have been standing round me looking for my favor, but the war took that from me, too.”

  They stayed an hour longer, Jonathan buying both the men a bottle of whiskey. After his initial surliness, Mr. Fielding showed he still had a human side left to him, and she felt compassion for his troubles.


  They spoke little as they returned to Anna’s house. Madeline felt more and more that judging another person’s life was a futile task. How could anyone be certain how they would live, and what they would do, if confronted with these accidental burdens?

  “It is good to see you both back here safely. Come in; let me make you some hot tea or a glass of absinthe for you Madeline. Helen went to the market to pick some up for you.”

  Perhaps in another life, before everything, she might have been embarrassed about that comment, but then again, in another life, she didn’t need to drink absinthe.

  “I am pleased and grateful for such hospitality. I would like both please, the absinthe and the tea.

  We didn’t find out any more about Polly, but Jonathan interviewed some people for his news article,” said Madeline.

  “It has been a stressful few days, perhaps it is time to take a minute and relax,” said Anna.

  They spent the next hour in light chit chat speaking of their time aboard the SS New York and the fond memories they had. Madeline said she wanted to spend the morning doing some letter writing to her father and attend to some other business, but asked if they could meet for dinner perhaps back at the Horn of Plenty. Jonathan was committed to work so he would not see them, but he promised to keep in touch. He rode back in her carriage and saw her safely back to the George.

  “Madeline, I hope we will meet someday under different circumstances when we may have a pleasant supper together.”

  “Someday in the future, I am sure we will do that. It was wonderful to see you again.”

  Chapter Six

  Hope

  The George was a comfort to her now. Even though a hotel, it was a place of solace, the closest thing she had to a home. Clinton and some of the staff that she had come to know casually had become a welcome sight to her. It wasn’t a lavish hotel, but compared to the surroundings she was just in, it might have been Buckingham Palace.