Ripped (47 page)

Toby saw it in her eyes. The hurt, the anger.

Katie clenched and unclenched her fists. The horror that Toby was Jack the Ripper overwhelmed her. But a burst of outrage, blind and furious, overrode her repulsion. She made a step to fly at him, both fists raised.

Collin lunged toward her and grabbed her wrist. “Have a care, Katie. We can't have him slicing you up as well.” Collin's voice was emotional and passionate, but not altogether convincing.

Katie turned and stared at Collin. An angry flush suffused his blood-smeared face like a crimson mask. Red on red.

She knew. She knew by the sneer broadening his mouth, by the slow shake of his head, by the look in his eyes as cunning and frightening as anything Katie had ever seen there before.

“It was
rawther
ingenious of me, don't you think, Katie, old girl?” Collin's voice rose half an octave as he yanked her to his chest and jabbed the tip of the dagger into her throat. She could feel the twitching pulse of her heartbeat where the blade pressed into her flesh.

“But it can't be you, Collin. It can't be!” Katie wailed, droplets of blood trickling like tears down her neck, wet and warm. “
I was with you at the Ten Bells!
There wasn't time for you to murder two girls.”

“Wrong again. The door was closed. You were outside, listening.
Listening
, mind you. Foolish, foolish girl. You didn't hear Catherine Eddowes singing. You heard Dora Fowler. She's a natural mimic and ventriloquist, remember? When I first met Dora, she made it appear as if one of her parrots was a veritable chatterbox—I told you all about that, Katie. She can manipulate her voice so it sounds as if its coming from her birds. Dora can imitate anything or anyone.”

Katie's mind raced back to the Ten Bells Tavern, and Catherine Eddowes singing a lusty version of the Jack the Ripper song. Then she remembered approaching the hansom cab earlier. Dora was in the carriage singing “Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay!” For a brief, agonizing moment Katie had thought it
was
Catherine Eddowes singing. Dora was more than adept at mimicry, she was a talented ventriloquist. That's how she sold her parrots!

“But the others? How did you do it, Collin? And why?” Katie stopped struggling and began breathing slowly in and out.
Stay calm, stay calm
.

“As to the others,” Collin sputtered, loosening his grip across Katie's collarbone, “Toby can tell you how I pulled it off. You and he will have an eternity to discuss it at hell's gate or heaven's door—doesn't much matter which.”

Toby stepped forward. “I bet she'd rather hear it from you, Collin. Tell Katie how you never meant to kill the first girl, Mary Ann Nichols. Tell Katie what happened. It
was
ingenious of you.”

He wants to keep Collin talking
, Katie thought, catching the cajoling inflection in Toby's voice.

“So . . . ? Toby's not the Ripper?” Katie squeaked out. “He didn't help you?”

“
Pheff
,” Collin sniffed. “Toby could crush a man twice his size and not even break a sweat—everyone knows that. But he'd never lash out at anyone who hadn't lashed out at him first. No. It took someone far less principled and far more cunning than Toby.”

Toby
'
s not the Ripper!
Katie's heart soared, then plummeted as the flat of the blade pressed against her throat.

Toby nodded almost imperceptibly, and Katie continued in a coaxing tone, “And . . . Mary Ann Nichols . . . ?”

“Ah . . . yes. The first girl I ever killed. I almost bungled that one.”

“But why kill her?” Katie persisted, trying not to flinch or squirm under the pressure of the knife. “What did Mary Ann ever do to you?”

Collin shifted the knife closer under Katie's chin, and Toby quickly took up the narrative.

“She double-crossed you, didn't she, Collin?” Toby's voice was low, almost a whisper, but with underlying urgency. “Mary Ann Nichols went back on her word, didn't she? The Duke hatched a plan to discredit Major Brown. He paid Mary Ann a hefty sum to
claim
that she and Major Brown were recently betrothed, thereby invalidating Brown's courtship of your sister. Reverend Pinker introduced Mary Ann to you. She was a regular at his East End Charity Mission. Pinker knew Mary Ann was desperate to get away from Mad Willy. At the inquest we learned that Mad Willy had fisted her in the mouth, loosening several teeth.”

“Precisely,” Collin said, with a flash of excitement. “It was concluded at the inquest that Mary Ann knew her assailant or she would have cried out. Mrs. Green, the owner of a boarding house, stated she was sitting in her front parlor and would easily have heard Mary Ann scream for help.”

Toby nodded. “Witnesses claimed that on several occasions preceding her death they saw Mary Ann stepping out with someone who appeared to be a toff—that was you, Collin. Am I right?”

“Of course it was!” A superior smile twisted on Collin's lips. “Even her own father testified that his girl had foolish pride, thinking she was above her class. Mad Willy had popped her a good one more than once, so she wanted a hundred quid to get out of London and start a new life.

“The plan was for Mary Ann to arrive at the theater the night we all saw
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
. As we were leaving the Lyceum, Mary Ann was
supposed
to make a scene on the steps outside the theater, insisting that Lady Beatrix stay away from Major Brown. Mary Ann was to present Beatrix with the opera glasses and tell her that Major Brown had given them to her that very day as a token of his affection. Beatrix would recognize the man she loved as a liar, cheat, and thief, and break off all ties with him.”

“But Mary Ann Nichols never arrived at the theater. What happened?” Katie sputtered, squirming ever so slightly from the pressure of the cold steel at her throat.

“The stupid strumpet had a change of heart. She sent a note to her friend, Molly Potter, the orange seller at the theater, to tell Reverend Pinker to meet her at Buck's Row. Pinker showed me the note. I thought the silly chit was holding out for more money. So when Pinker exited the theater and hailed a cab, I took the underground railway. It's quicker than a cab through traffic, as you discovered Katie when you rode on the underground train with Toby. You said yourself how much
faster
it was below ground than above. So I beat Pinker to the punch,
so to speak
.” Collin began to laugh maniacally. “I didn't punch her—a gentleman doesn't hit a lady. I slit her throat.” More echoing, crazy-sounding laughter.

Collin
'
s insane
, Katie thought.

Collin stopped laughing, his voice a low snarl. “When I arrived in Buck's Row, Mary Ann told me she didn't want more money. She tried to give back the opera glasses. Claimed she couldn't undermine Major Brown because he was a fellow Cockney and a hero in the East End, having risen so high in the ranks of Scotland Yard. I would never have killed her had she not praised Major Brown to the heavens. Ballyhooed his name as if he were a veritable god! It was too much.
Too much
, I tell you! I lost my temper. Who wouldn't have?” Again the low, hissing snarl. “Ah, yes . . . my famous temper that you keep hearing about, Katie.
And that you
'
ve seen first hand
. I used my pocketknife to slit her throat—but like a fool I made a mistake. In my haste, I forgot Beatrix's opera glasses. I knew Reverend Pinker would arrive any minute, so I raced down the street to the underground railway on Tower Hill, and arrived back in the West End at the Lyceum Theatre, where I slipped quietly into my seat and resumed watching the play. But you noticed my absence, Katie. It was
almost
my undoing.”

Katie shuddered. Waves sloshed and sucked against the pilings below the pier. “And Reverend Pinker?” Katie prompted, feeling the pulse in her neck quicken from the downward force of the blade.

“Hah!” Collin snorted like a horse at a starting gate. “Good old Stink-Pink arrived in Buck's Row, but never saw me. He inspected the girl, got scared, and returned to the theater believing it was some random act of violence. Blood must have transferred to his sleeves —
blood you saw,
Katie, and commented on, drawing attention to the good Reverend. Stinker hasn't an ounce of intelligence. He never thought for a moment I'd done the deed. Why would he? And later, when we left the theater, that stupid, pregnant orange seller, Molly Potter, almost brought me down low. She asked Reverend Pinker if he'd received the note from her friend, Mary Ann Nichols. I shoved her hard to shut her up. You saw that, Katie, but didn't put two and two together. It all might have ended there. Gone no further, but for Georgie Cross who pilfered the opera glasses. My
sister
'
s
opera glasses. The only tangible thing that could link Mary Ann's death to me and my family, and that sorry excuse of a porter lad stole them off a dead girl! The vile, despicable, thieving fool.”

“So Major Brown had nothing to do with any of the deaths?” Katie asked.
Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

“Major Brown?” Collin sneered. “With all his militarism and sanctimonious sense of superiority he couldn't gut a fish, let alone a flesh-and-blood girl. But Brown eventually figured it out. He was on to me at Dark Annie's house when I suffocated Georgie Cross. Oh, how he was on to me! But being a Cockney, he couldn't hand me over to the authorities because he believed I would soon be his brother-in-law! The blighter wasn't good enough to lick my boots, let alone my sister's, yet he
dared
to presume he could ask for her hand in marriage! My sister is the great-great-grandniece of a king! And Major Brown—a mere commoner from the lowest of tenement slums.”

“But why,” asked Toby, inching closer, “kill Georgie Cross?”

In the distance a five-mast schooner swayed on the waves like a ship on the open sea.

“Ah, there's the rub, Toby!” Collin chuckled, shifting his weight. “You might have saved Georgie Cross. Yes,
you
. If you hadn't left me alone with the addle-brained nincompoop when we first entered his sickroom at Dark Annie's house. So you can chalk up Georgie's death to your own incompetence.”

“How . . . so . . . Collin?” Toby asked between clenched teeth.

Toby was having trouble keeping his voice steady, Katie could tell. She swiveled her eyes and tried to focus her gaze along the shoreline below, silvery white and speckled with seaweed and rocks.

Collin, one arm wrapped around Katie's waist, the other gripping the dagger at her throat, shouted at Toby not to come any closer, and resumed his narration as if talking to Katie alone.

“Here's what happened, Katie,” Collin hissed, his breath prickly against her ear as he tugged her tight against his chest. “When Toby and I entered Georgie's sick room—which smelled like the bloody plague—Georgie was asleep. His breathing was regular. He might have lived to a ripe old age, if not for Toby. I turned my back in case the young fool woke up and recognized me. But the idiot porter boy must have sensed we were there in the room because he became agitated, half-mumbling a French song and muttering about a girl named Cecilia. Toby told me to stay put, then he stole back into the hallway to eavesdrop on Major Brown who was shouting at Dark Annie, telling her she had no business hiding a witness from the crown.”

“But why smother Georgie?” Katie cried.

“It was the opera glasses! After the inquest I went to Georgie's grandmother's house—I knew the address because they read it off at the inquest. Mrs. Richardson told Toby that one of her tenants had overheard Georgie arguing with someone who had a Cockney accent, but who sounded like a
toff
. That was
me
. You've heard me imitate Toby's rhyming slang a hundred times. And as you so aptly pointed out, Katie, I sound like an aristocrat pretending to be a Cockney. That's exactly how Mrs. Richardson's neighbor described the person who attacked her grandson. You and Toby thought the description fit Major Brown. But he's a Cockney pretending to be an aristocrat. There's a big difference.

“Georgie Cross refused to give me the opera glasses. Disavowed all knowledge of them. But since Mary Ann had them on her when I'd killed her—and it was a fair bet Reverend Pinker didn't nick them—it had to be Georgie. We argued. I smashed his head against the kitchen wall so hard it addled his wits, concussed his brain.”

Katie swallowed hard, squirming ever so slightly. “Go on,” she said in an urging tone.

“I'm growing weary of talking.”

Katie glanced at Toby standing several feet away. She saw in his face that he was as repelled as she by Collin's confession, but was trying with great effort not to let on.

“So,” Toby continued. “When Mrs. Richardson learned that the police were looking for her grandson because he hadn't shown up at the inquest, she spirited him away to Dark Annie's house. In his stricken condition, Mrs. Richardson was afraid that the peelers would put Georgie in Bedlam Hospital and he might never come out.” Toby took a deep breath and went on.

“At Annie Chapman's house Collin stayed with Georgie while I went into the hall to eavesdrop on Major Brown. But Georgie sensed Collin was there in the room and became increasingly agitated. Collin didn't want Georgie to regain consciousness and spill the beans. Isn't that right, Collin?”

“Precisely,” Collin sneered, “Georgie started to wake up and was mumbling some silly French song. Any minute he'd have recognized me as his attacker—the one who'd given him that thumping crack on the head.”

Toby nodded. “Georgie had been given laudanum, so it was nothing short of child's play for you to take a pillow, place it over his face, and smother him. Later, when Major Brown stormed into Georgie's sickroom, leaving us all out in the hall, Brown saw the pillow and hid it in the corner cupboard, where I found it much later. He concealed it because it had Georgie's teeth marks embedded in it. Even with all the laudanum, Georgie struggled for his life, didn't he, Collin? Which is why Major Brown realized it had to be you. He knew I wouldn't hurt Georgie. As you just said, Collin, I wouldn't lash out at anyone who hadn't lashed out at me first. Major Brown knew I'd never hurt a defenseless boy, and never in a million years would I hurt Georgie Cross, a lad I'd known since my youth. So Major Brown rightly assumed that it was you.”