Druid's Daughter (6 page)

“I know,” he said and continued out the door.

Was the Commissioner jeopardizing his career by his
relationship with Morgan’s mother? Did his parents feel their son should be
wary of a relationship with Morgan solely for her sake? No, they were concerned
for him, too.

How had meeting and knowing one slight girl so thoroughly
upset his deliberately circumscribed existence?

* * * * *

Lance went to Scotland Yard the next day, determined to
attack this personal problem with his significant intelligence. He called in
one of his constables, a lad new to his division. He did not want anyone who
might have seen Morgan to put pieces of a puzzle together. Shriver would catch
on immediately.

He’d just ordered Constable Madison to go to the nearest
library and bring back any books he could find on Druids, when Constable
Rainley burst into the room as Shriver threw the door open for him.

His face white and his eyes staring, Rainley stood just
inside the door, obviously in a state of semi-shock.

Lance immediately rose to his feet.

“What’s happened, Rainley?”

Rainley gulped and then gulped again, an obvious and arduous
effort to keep himself from casting up his accounts on his chief’s valuable
Persian rug.

“I’ve just gone out to see about a note a boy brought into
the office, Sir. It’s horrible, Sir, horrible.”

Rainley shuddered from his tow-blond head to his serviceable
boots and Lance swiftly came around the desk and pushed his constable in the
nearest chair.

Rainley was one of the younger policemen and Lance gave him
time to regain a little color. Still Rainley seemed anxious to get his story
told and blurted out the rest soon enough.

“We got a note brought round by a young boy, Sir, who
scampered before we thought to stop him. It was poorly written but told us to
go to Cow’s Head Alley. Somebody wanted to alert us without getting involved. Of
course we went, Sir. There was a body there, Chief Inspector, a horrible body.
Her throat slit from one side to the other by a big knife. She’d also been
stabbed with a real thin knife in her back. Inspector Davis is with the body, Sir,
waiting for you to come.”

Rainley gulped again and Lance waited until the boy’s
breathing became more normal.

“There is something else bothering you,” he said gently.
“Tell me the rest.”

Seeing the pallor of Rainley’s face, Lance went to his desk
and pulled out a small flask. He strode to Rainley and held the flask to the
boy’s lips.

“Drink a little,” he said. “Your news can wait a moment.”

Rainley took a big swallow and his face flushed as the
powerful liquor hit him. He quivered from head to toe before he recovered
enough to speak.

“The corpse is just horrible, Sir. She was facing away from
her murderer, we think. Facing a wall. Her hands were holding up the back of
her skirts and her bum was bare. We, that is, the Inspector and I, think the
murderer paid her to have sex from behind so she couldn’t see him as he stabbed
her.”

Lance sat motionless and without speaking. A horror story
which left him understanding why the youngster in front of him, actually seeing
the mutilated body, was so distressed.

“Do you think it’s Jack the Ripper again?” burst out the
sergeant.

Jack the Ripper had never been officially charged, but
Scotland Yard felt fairly sure they knew the identity. Most experts in the case
thought the guilty person fled to America. True, the Ripper also killed prostitutes
and speculation was most had their hands busy lifting their skirts when
attacked. But the Ripper killed with his victims facing him. Also, the Ripper
usually carved a grisly piece of female anatomy from the victim, sometimes
leaving the gruesome evidence beside the body and sometimes carrying a bloody
bit away. There was a complete viciousness about the Ripper’s murders just a
little different from this case. This one seemed to Lance just as vicious, but
definitely not the same.

No, he didn’t believe the Ripper was back, although he
couldn’t blame the young sergeant for thinking so.

“I doubt it.” Lance made his voice purposely cool and almost
disinterested. The sergeant must go back with him and sympathy would be the
worst emotion Lance could show.

“Jack didn’t attack from the back, for one thing. And he
never used a thin blade. No, someone is trying to make us think he’s the
Ripper. And if you found her with her hands still lifting her skirts there was
probably no overt sexual act. Merely a ruse to get her to turn her back.”

The sergeant followed his Chief out the door when Lance
beckoned to him. The boy stiffened as rigid as a plank, but forced himself to
move. If his step was halting at first, Lance did not blame him.

They were soon at the scene of the atrocious crime. A young
woman, little more than a girl if one noted the pathetically smooth limbs.
Their thinness also suggested a sparsely fed youth. She was lying on her
stomach. The Inspector in charge must have pulled down her skirts, so she at least
now had a modicum of respectability. Her garish clothing, the blazing red hair
with dark roots, the short length of her dress, all proclaimed her calling.

Lance stayed still for a long moment and then began circling
the body. He bent over twice without touching her, but said nothing. The
Constable had reason to be so revolted. This was a hideous crime, made more so
somehow that a poor and young prostitute agreed to perform what must be a
degrading act. That selling oneself was against the law of man and God made no
difference to Lance. She was a pitiful creature, who’d been savaged.

“Have you touched her?” he asked his Inspector.

The man turned scarlet. “I did, Sir. I know that’s against
the rules but it seemed indecent to leave her with her bottom exposed. I pulled
her skirt down. And I closed her eyes, Sir.”

“Against the rules, Inspector. But well done of you.”

Lance finished circling the body and then squatting beside
the corpse, lifted her head. Her neck gaped in an obscene slash. A well-honed
and large knife, as well as a good deal of strength was necessary to accomplish
this revolting deed. He tried to reconstruct the scene in his mind.

The girl, although her trade made her seem older, must have
faced the wall and leaned over, holding her skirts up and expecting the
purchaser of her favors to penetrate her. Instead, he’d stabbed her in her back
with a long thin knife which left little trace and then turned her enough to
cut her throat with a stronger one. Then he’d flipped her over again on her
stomach, her skirts hiked. He wanted the police to know she’d exposed herself
to him. There was a manic deliberation suggesting to Lance the killer had never
been interested in sex, but chiefly in humiliation.

Where had he seized her? Lance had no way of knowing for
sure, but he’d guess her shoulders. Yes, slight smudges on the left shoulder of
her light blouse made it seem probable. If so, her murderer had at least one
not-too-clean hand. Which meant nothing at all.

After she’d been stabbed she’d fallen forward on her face.
Gruesomely, the face was framed by a puddle of congealing blood. Not nearly so
much as could be expected. Doubtless she was dead before the throat slashing.
Looking at the position of the small tear in the back of her blouse, Lance
wondered if the murderer had studied anatomy. Was he just lucky enough to do
this job so neatly, or had he attended medical school? At least the bastard had
been accurate. The tip probably hit the heart at once. Again the probability
was she died before the monster slit her throat.

Lance also noticed a small stain in her blouse at about her
waistline. He fingered the material for a moment and then leaned over and
sniffed. The murderer had probably ejaculated over her dead body. Not
surprising at all in a crime of this type. But another strong indication the
murderer had never completed sexual intercourse with her, nor had it ever been
his intention.

“Help me, Inspector, I want to turn her over. Gently now.”

Together the two men grasped her and turned her on her back.
The gaping throat was enough to make Sergeant Rainley gulp again. This time he
could no longer control his nausea and went to the side of the alley and
vomited. Neither Lance nor the Inspector paid ostensible notice.

Lance spoke with deliberation. “I’m fairly positive he
didn’t have sex with her, if you want to call this kind of perversion sex. No,
he was trying to humiliate her by exposure and thus outdo the Ripper.”

As they turned the girl over, they found a garish surprise.
What no one could have possibly expected was a large letter “W”, torn out of
cheap paper a child might draw on. The letter had been colored a bright red
with crayons. The clue was positioned under her stomach and untouched by any
real blood.

Not a child’s work, however, but the deliberate and almost
mocking clue left by a murderous villain. He’d wanted them to find the letter
intact. Lance put on a glove from his pocket and picked up the “W”. It would be
nice if they could find a fingerprint on it, but he doubted they would. Sir
Francis Galton had recently published a book on detection by fingerprint
details which at least gave them a little advantage over that lack of knowledge
in the Ripper case.

The possibility of fingerprints would have to be checked.
Much detective work would now be required to find out who the victim was, if
she had any enemies, or even if she knew anyone with violent tendencies.
Besides the usual canvassing of the neighborhood for clues, his men must now
visit stores selling stationery.

He patted at her skirt pockets, but felt no money. So the
wretch had retrieved whatever he’d paid her to turn her back to him. Too bad,
they might possibly have found fingerprints on coins.

Lance sighed. He stared at the paper initial in his hand and
then carefully inserted it in an envelope he took from his pocket. Probably
impossible to trace the paper, but still they must try.

Well, he’d chosen this life. Still, scenes like this made
him wonder. With his background and intelligence he could have taken many
paths. But then, how could anything be more worthwhile than finding justice for
this poor, pitiful corpse of a girl?

He thought of William Gladstone, who twenty-five years ago
as Prime Minister, had walked the streets at night seeking prostitutes to
rehabilitate. If only someone similar to Gladstone had found this girl and
saved her from the vocation that probably contributed to her gruesome death.
Not likely when there were thousands of young whores just like her.

“Cover her, Inspector, until the medical men get here.”

Dellafield took off his jacket and tossed it to his officer,
who laid it with care over the stiffening corpse.

Then the Chief Inspector turned and walked slowly away.

Chapter Six

Lance and Morgan were settled in the tenth row of the
orchestra seats at Covent Garden. Although Morgan frequented the opera, she
loved the lavish decorations and always viewed them with delight.

“Don’t you relish these last minutes before the opera
starts?”

Lance smiled down at her. “I’d like to know why it’s so
special to you.”

“Oh, many reasons.” Morgan smiled up at him, delighted to be
here with this handsome escort and about to enjoy one of her favorite operas.
“For one thing, the very vastness of the concert hall always awes me. The
gorgeous décor produces a mood of wondrous anticipation.”

Lance looked around trying to see it through her sparkling
eyes. Chandeliers of impressive beauty hung throughout the huge main chamber,
winking and dazzling with their sparkling prisms. He smiled down at her.

“Are the seats satisfactory, my dear?”

Morgan snorted. A ladylike snort, but still a snort.

“You know they are. They are beyond good, they’re
excellent.”

She beamed at him and leaned back to enjoy an evening of
marvelous music.

The glittering jewels of women and their luxurious dresses
added to the glamour of the scene. To Morgan’s sensitive nose, there was too
much scent in the air, both from corsages and private perfumes. Still she could
will herself to conquer her distaste. The entire scene was fascinating. With a
contented sigh, she settled in.

At the end of the second act Morgan turned to her escort
with a melting smile.

“What excellent voices. I’ve always thought if Germont does
not possess a deep and resonant baritone, it matters little how good the other
leads are. This time Violetta, Alfredo and Germont are all wonderfully
talented. We’re so fortunate.”

Her enthusiasm snatched at Lance’s heart. This beautiful
girl sat next to him, thrilled by the marvelous music, looking at him with
elation. He could not resist. He picked up one hand and kissed her fingers.

She snatched them back, blushing gloriously.

“Lord Lance, we’re in the most public of places. The people
in the boxes can see you.”

“I think I must have intended them to,” Lance mused. “If you
will look up and to your right, you will see three people well known to me.”

Morgan glanced up, startled at his words and saw an older
couple and a young man. The men were grinning, while the woman smiled
pleasantly. The younger man gave a mock salute before leaning back to speak to
the woman.

“My father and mother and my next older brother,” Lance
murmured. “I chose to sit down here so we could have some privacy, but if you
care to we can join them in our family box. It’s quite comfortable and I’m sure
they’d all like to meet you.”

He’d caught her hand again and held it tightly as he felt
her stiffen and try to draw away.

She looked at him directly for a long moment.

“I see no artifice in you at this time,” she said. “But I
don’t care to meet members of your family. And I cannot believe you would want
me to.”