Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) (9 page)

True to her word, she was outside with her parcels in a short time. She wanted to return to the George and do her letter writing to her father and in her journal. This was big news, and it would deserve an entire page in her journal. She could not wait to tell Hugh of this recent turn of events. He was so the opposite of Jonathan; it was odd that she should like them both.

“Clinton, hello there, it’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?” she said as he carried her parcels into the George.

“Yes, it is, Mum. The sun is almost visible, and there is not much fog today. I would say that is a good London day, best we can hope for.”

She stopped at the concierge and found that Hugh had left her a message:

Madeline,

I am happy you have chosen to accept my invitation to dine this evening. I will call for you at approximately eight.

Your friend,

Hugh

She would wear black again tonight with her white lace shawl, but soon her new friends would see her wearing something other than that. She reconciled that it was time to repeal some of the strident rules she had given to herself. Perhaps having some color around her face would help with the pervasive depression that sought her out.

She welcomed the comfort of her room and seeing her family’s picture by her bedside. Soaking in her hot bath, she thought of Polly, Hugh, and Jonathan. These people were having the most profound effect on her thought process and possibly how her road forward would go. She would take a nap before her rendezvous with Hugh, and for the first time since the event, she would try to present herself as being among the living.

Clinton had brought her a centerpiece of gardenias from the local florist; she had requested them because the scent from these flowers gave her a feeling of serenity. They were so aromatic; it filled the main room of her suite. She placed one of the flowers in her hair, believing the velvety white leaves were becoming, and the fragrance was like cologne. She wore a diamond broach bequeathed to her by her grandmother that sparkled on the lapel of the maroon waistcoat she wore over her black dress. It was the first time in many months that when she faced the mirror, she saw something of the woman who once was.

Clinton knocked on her door and informed her that Hugh was waiting in the foyer for her. It was a good day, and she would have her new friend to share it with.

“Madeline, you look lovely—the gardenia has a most pleasant aroma,” said Hugh.

“Thank you—you flatter me.”

“I have taken the liberty of choosing The Horseback Inn to dine. They have fine steaks there and some American fare. I hope you will like it.”

“I’m sure I will; besides it has been a day of surprises, and I am looking forward to speaking to you about it.”

“Wonderful, let us go.”

The Horseback Inn was a small inn, but because of its fine food and excellent service, nearly every table was occupied. The candle light’s glow was soothing in its shadowy stance, for it made all things softer and more invisible.

“So tell me, what is this news you seem so anxious to speak about?” asked Hugh.

“It’s Polly; she has come home.”

“No, I don’t believe it. What luck! The aunts must be overjoyed. I say, that’s remarkable to find anything good could come out of that cesspool. It’s remarkable, I had the thought that even if Polly should hear word that her aunts wanted to see her that she might be resistant to returning to normal life again. It gets a hold of you, the addictions, both physical and mental. I’ve known people that have had the opportunity to leave, and they don’t, as strange as that may sound.”

“There is a downside. You are right that it is remarkable that she came home. She does not look well. The doctor has been called to come in this evening. Working with my father, who is a physician, I have seen the ravages of drug addiction. If it is opium, she will have a hard time in her recovery. If she starts to go through withdrawal, she will need sedation and observation. I am worried about that part of it, but at least now she has a chance, a real chance for survival. I have bought her some new apparel. I hope that might bring some joy to her.”

Madeline thought he looked handsome tonight. He put her at ease more than anyone else that she had met. Phillip was once again responsible for bringing her some peace.

“I still want to persist in looking for Jack. It’s just a part of being human to care about each other; it feels like the right thing to do.”

“But it is not safe for you to go there. When you want to go, please contact me, and I will do my best to rearrange my schedule so that I may escort you.”

“I thank you for the offer, but I would rather go in the light of day.  I’m sure you will be busy with your practice. Please, don’t worry about me.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, and I will be only working till noon. Would you like to go tomorrow?”

“Polly’s dress will be ready also. If you wouldn’t mind, we could pick up the clothing and deliver it while we are in Whitechapel?”

“That would be fine.”

When they came to the George on their return, he asked if he could come in for a moment and she agreed. They went into the café on the first floor, and she had her absinthe, and he ordered his Scotch. She spoke of Chicago and her father, and he listened and she, she was grateful.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Madeline.”

“You are too kind, Hugh. I will see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Seven

Saving Polly

August 22, 1888

Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols has come home. Our efforts to bring Anna and Helen’s niece home to safety and back to the love of her family have come to fruition. When I received the news today and met with Polly, I had a great sense of accomplishment. When I was able to witness the joy on Anna and Helen’s face, it made me believe again that good things can happen--that life does not always have to have some tragic end.

I dined with Hugh tonight at a cozy little restaurant, and we had a meaningful conversation about things in our lives, and about my quest to uncover more clues on the Ripper case. He and Jonathan have been most helpful to me in this. Now that Polly is home safe, I will concentrate on obtaining further information on my suspects. I would like to speak to both Rocks and Bob Fielding again.

“Good-night, my dearest ones, it is a tumultuous time here in London. I wish I could hold you and speak to you of my thoughts about everything that has happened. I am thinking of you and carry you with me in my heart, always.”

At a quarter past the noon hour, Hugh arrived at the Hotel George to find Madeline waiting for him, reading the London Times and the latest Ripper news. The hotel did not provide The New York Times. There were few places to find a paper from the states. She had to rely on Jonathan bringing her a copy of the paper to be able to read his articles.

“Good afternoon Madeline, our carriage awaits us. Shall we go?”

She took his arm and ascended into the fine Hansom that he had secured for their afternoon outing.

“There seems to be no noticeable progress in finding any murder suspects. Still it is a good sign that there has not been another occurrence,” said Madeline. “I met a lady butcher that I would like to see again. She works in the market, a short distance from the Bells.”

“Good, we will begin there. What is it you are hoping to achieve?”

“Catch the Ripper, of course.”

He smiled and said, “You are not serious, of course?”

“No, sir, I am indeed in earnest. Have you not read
A Study in Scarlet
? There is a way through deduction and reasoning that one might be able to find a murderer. Do you not think it possible?”

“Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, yes, they have provided us all with an entertaining story, but that is all it is. It is a matter for the police.”

“Yes, but sometimes people are more likely to talk to a civilian rather than a constable, especially in Whitechapel.”

They were let off a few blocks from their destination as Madeline wished to talk with anyone in the crowd that was willing to talk to her. A young boy hawking newspapers proclaimed to her, “I knows who’s done it, Miss. It’s old surly Mr. Motts. He be a retired copper who hates the ladies here, he says they brought down Whitechapel and done in many a good man. He says when he was still patrolling; he’d like to have locked up the lot of them, but no jail being big enough for the likes of them, all the coppers gave up.”

“Thank you, Tommy, do you know where we might find Mr. Motts?” said Madeline.

“He done go to the Queens Head almost every day I sees him there when I’m selling me papers.”

“Perhaps we can look into that also before we leave for Wickham’s,” said Hugh.

“We’re near the market where Roxanne works.”

As they approached, Hugh said, “There is a client of mine at that fruit stand. I have been trying to contact him for several days. Would you mind waiting for me while I speak with him?”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to continue to the butcher’s, it just a block down this way. Could you meet me there when you finish?”

“That would be fine. I don’t imagine anything could happen to you within that short distance.”

“Hugh, you are kind to worry so after me, but I am a grown woman, and I can manage these things. Please, do not concern yourself over me.”

“That will be difficult because…let’s just say, I’ll try.”

Madeline was within a short distance from the market when she saw Rocks on a side street, yelling loudly at a scrawny young girl with red hair. She hurried her steps to see what was happening. Rocks had the girl’s arms pinned behind her, calling out that the girl was a thief. She and another gentleman momentarily collided, and he said, “Beg your pardon, Miss, I’m trying to get to that lady, she seems to be in distress.”

“Yes, let’s go,” Madeline said.

As they arrived, Rocks had her butcher knife gripped in her hand and was holding it near the girl’s throat. The stranger beside her grabbed the knife while Rocks struck him in the face and began cursing at him. Madeline restrained Rocks grip on the girl, and she ran screaming away.

Rocks yelled after her, “You dirty, thieving whore, you not be seeing the last of me!”

So angry, she was spitting out her words, she said to Madeline, “You, you’re the one asking me all those questions.”

She pulled away from the man she struck and said, “Leave me alone, you dirty mongrel. Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, or I’ll call the constable.”

“Roxanne, what happened, what did she do?” asked Madeline.

“She done stole a package of good meat, my best cuts I had wrapped for one of my customers. I seen it in her bag.”

“What is the cost to reimburse you for it? I will pay for it; the poor girl looked as if she hadn’t eaten for a while.”

“Them whores, they gots money to eat all right. They gets enough money from their whoring, but they use it to buy the liquor and the drugs.”

“I’m sure you know more about that than me, but I will pay for what she stole.”

Rocks held out her hand as Madeline put the coins in it to cover the theft of her food.

“Maybe you ain’t so bad,” Rocks said to her with a feeble half smile. “I wasn’t going to cut her, just threaten her,” she then continued speaking to the man who had taken her knife.

“Beg your pardon, Mum, but you looked serious about it and I was worried,” he said as he handed her back her knife.

“My name is Harry, Harry Nelson.”

“I’m Mrs. Donovan, and this is Mrs. Thompson.”

“How do you do? I’m sorry for interfering Mrs. Thompson; please accept my apology.”

“It’s all right governor; things gets rough ‘round here all the time. Most people here that knows me would know better than to steal from me,” she said with a laugh.

“Mr. Nelson, you seem to be flushed. Are you well? Please have a seat,” said Madeline.

He sat down on a hard wooden chair outside one of the storefronts.

“I think you are right. Maybe it is just the work on my farm. It is long hours I keep, and it is hard on the body.”

Hugh was approaching them with a quizzical look on his face and said, ““Madeline, what’s happened?”

“I’ll explain later, but this gentleman, Mr. Nelson, seems to be in need of some rest and some fluids.”

“Go inside,” said Rocks, “I’ll get you all a nice cup of hot tea.”

“That would be lovely, Mrs. Thompson, and greatly appreciated,” said Madeline.

“Thank you—I believe all the excitement must have weakened me. I have of late had the consumption and have not had proper rest. I had come to buy grain for my sheep and a few other sundries when I happened to see the woman with the knife. The aggressive way she had the other woman’s arm pinned back, and her angry words made me believe she had truly meant her harm,” said Harry.

“I had come down here to speak to her as I heard she might be considered a person of interest in the Ripper case. Several people mentioned her quick temper and strong arm.  She told me she had contempt for the ladies that solicited men in Whitechapel. I am happy you were here to deter her,” said Madeline.

“You are looking for the Ripper, Mrs. Donovan? Are you in some way connected to the police?”

“No—no, I’ve just taken an interest in it and have just recently attempted to save one poor girl from these streets. We must stop the person committing these crimes before there is another murder. These people suffer enough.”

“I agree—there is suffering to go around for everyone. There is no one who escapes it. It is not just the Ripper who brings terror to Whitechapel. Look at this place, filth, disease, and every sort of affliction imaginable is here,” said Harry.

“The
pea soupers
alone, the air thick with gaseous odor and pollution, are enough to try and endure. When I am here, I find it difficult to breathe,” said Hugh.

“It is a hard time for people to be at peace with this world. Everywhere you look, there is more bad than good, more sadness than happiness,” said Harry.

“I agree with you. I suppose that is why it is so necessary to celebrate the small victories. If you are all right now, Mr. Nelson, we will take our leave as we are looking to speak with someone who we believe might shed some light on the Ripper,” said Madeline.

“I will be all right. I wish you success in your quest and a good day.”

They left Harry and discussed what had just occurred. Madeline told Hugh the events that involved Mr. Nelson and Rocks.

“She was one of the people you thought might have motive and opportunity? She is a woman, though, and generally speaking, women do not commit murder. Murder seems to be a man’s job,” said Hugh.

“I have not discounted her. She is large enough to be a force against these women; most are in a state of inebriation, or under the influence of drugs, that gives them a slowness of mind. Do we ever know what goes on beneath the surface of people who have perceived life to be against them and that they have borne injury they feel they cannot endure?”

“These are savage crimes, committed by someone who has revenge and hatred of some kind, at least, those are my views.”

“On to the Queen’s Head then and hopefully, we will meet Mr. Motts,” said Madeline.

All of the pubs existed within a fifteen or twenty-minute walk. Hugh, being a resident of London, could attest that consumers knew the Queen’s Head leniency towards the practice of solicitation and the selling of substances within its walls. If a person had a drug addiction, they could most likely purchase their drug of choice at the Queens Head. Besides alcohol, opium was widely used by the patrons of Whitechapel. It was just steps from the Ten Bells. There were so many pubs and such debauchery present it was no wonder it was called the
wicked quarter mile.

It was only two, but at the Queen’s Head, it may as well have been ten at night. Crowds of people pushed up against the bar and openly traded substances wrapped in a waxy looking paper. There were
bobbies
that walked openly outside but did not interfere unless a brawl began. Crime existed within Whitechapel as a virus that just intensified and gathered momentum.

“We are looking for a retired policeman, so let’s say maybe fifty years of age or perhaps late forties. Tommy said he was big as thunder so to a child that might translate to about 6 foot. He also said he had a handlebar mustache, so those factors narrow the field a little,” said Madeline.

They walked through the bar that was no more than long tables filled with mostly drunken men with a few ladies seated atop their laps.  Most people did not respond to their questions regarding Mr. Motts, but one person said she thought she knew the
old copper,
and when he wasn’t here, he was likely to be at Kings Row. It was yet another pub she had not heard of; she wondered that anyone did anything in Whitechapel but drink.

While walking to the Kings Row, they saw Tommy again diligently selling his papers, “Miss, Miss, I seen ‘em, the bad man with the mustache. He done just walk into Kings.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Madeline said and gave Tommy the rest of the few coins she had in her bag.

They spotted him easily, for his voice was loud, and he was regaling a few men with tales of his arrests and life as a constable. The men listened intently while he talked. They took a seat not far from him so they could overhear him speak.

“I hauled her pretty little arse in, and she tried to slap me, and I gave her what for,” said Mr. Motts.

“Did you hit her?” asked one of the men.

“I hit her straight away in the jaw and pushed her into the cell. I’s got not use for them. I’d be liken to lock every one of them up if I could.”

“But hitting a woman, governor—that ain’t right,” the man continued.

“It’s right as rain, I tell you when they got its coming to ‘em, a woman should be home having babies not pulling up her drawers in the backs of alleys.”

Hugh took his cue from Mr. Motts, “I couldn’t agree with you more, sir, a woman who takes to the streets should be locked up.”

Hugh squeezed her hand, and Madeline knew he was attempting to allow himself entrance into the conversation and get Mr. Motts to talk.

“A fellow after me own heart. I’m Frank Motts, and you, sir?”

“Hugh Scott… and this is my friend, Mrs. Donovan.”