Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) (15 page)

“Hold on, dear man. We are nearly at Fleet Street. An ale or brandy will warm you.”

“I am in no mood for ale, but a brandy would do nicely!” he replied with a shiver.

I took off my overcoat and wrapped it around his shaking shoulders. Guilt raged that I had put my proud Celtic warrior friend in such a disposition, a cold dirty place where neither he nor I belonged. In spite of my unyielding quest, the welfare of a good friend was also paramount.

“Sometimes, Manny, you’re not so bad,” he jested. “I’ll even go so far as to say, even having have a heart.”

For my own part, I was trying to put everything right, even when I appeared to be making mistakes. So many countless years were spent living and suffering. I was, at times, simply exhausted and endured moments when I wished to lie down and quietly leave the earth. But my immortality prevented me from doing so, it persisted no matter how many injuries I sustained and close calls I endured. Even when I was fortunate enough three centuries ago not to perish in a fire where an unseen force must have intervened, there was to be no other explanation for my miraculous escape from a burning building. For eons of time others fell and died before me, I remained the same, neither aged nor weary, and fortunate I never suffered the afflictions that had befallen Roderick. I am exactly as I was, whilst Jesus and others I loved turned to dust.

“Manny… can you hear me? We’ve arrived at the Inn,” said he.

“How many times must I ask you not to call me by that shortened travesty? Either it is Judas or Emmanuelle.” My thoughts had been interrupted, causing me to be rather terse.

“Do you really expect me to call you Judas in public? People will think us both eccentric, it may lead to fights and God knows what.”

“Then refer to me as Emmanuel.”

It had become an endless discussion that always went around in circles with no new outcome. Roderick continued to call me Manny and I continued to chastise him for it.

The Inn was packed full as I searched for Albert, hoping he had received the telegram urging him to meet us this day.

“There’s a sight for sore eyes.” It was he who patted me strongly on the back, “Ripper hunting are we, or given up in the face of adversity and languishing back in Belgravia?”

“No, my friend, I have only just started.”

He gave a mildly polite smile in Roderick’s direction, his distaste clearly visible.

“
Where’s the file
?” asked Albert.

“Safe and sound, locked away in the office. Roderick and I are the only ones with a key.”

“I dearly hope so; my nerves are frayed. What if something happens and it leads back to me? This is not something that you or I can buy our way out of.”

I consoled him with more ale, not fearing any consequence. Meanwhile, Roderick was grateful to be warming himself on a brandy, avoiding eye contact with Albert as much as possible. “I see you are very strange in the face today and I always wonder what’s behind those distasteful glasses you never take off,” said Albert bluntly.

“Perhaps your comments are not necessary,” I remarked in the vain hope he would listen. Unfortunately he did not-the ale getting the better of him.

“By the sight of his ghoulish color, the mick looks in need of some lamb’s wool.”

“Albert, you seem to delight in chastising me. I am
not
in need of lamb’s wool and you are taking God’s name in vain. Be damned with you!”

It was a deep insult to Roderick. Lamb’s wool, an Irish drink concocted from apples, spices and milk, must only be served on holy days.

“I don’t bother much with God myself. If I abided with the Ten Commandments I’d be a sinner every day. Cheers, chaps!” said Albert, tipping his glass in a toast.

I was taken by surprise when Roderick aimed a swift punch to the side of Albert’s mouth and had him down to the floor in a split second. He had gone from unobtrusive to aflame with anger in seconds. I had to take control of the situation quickly, before he attacked again.

“Why on earth did you do such a thing? I am shocked at your response,” said I, incensed with the sudden fit of violence. He had also evoked anger in the landlord.

“I won’t have that kind of shenanigans going on in here, take your fight outside or I will summon a bobby forthwith,” he commanded.

“I sincerely apologize, landlord,” I replied in earnest. “My good friend is feeling unwell and not himself today.”

“No bloody excuse, matey, this is a respectable drinking establishment. You’re welcome to go and make trouble in the slum riddled ale houses of the east-end, not in my Inn!”

“There is no need to call for a constable. I will buy everyone a drink on the house, if that will suffice?”

His demeanor changed with the opportunity to fill his coffers. He rang the bell more than once to announce drinks for everyone from a generous customer. Albert had already been picked up off the floor and dusted off by a man standing close and perched unceremoniously onto a chair. He looked decidedly peaky and most upset.

“A strong brandy for my friend, Albert,” I requested, but, it seemed the fight was far over.

“Your unkindness must make it
very
difficult for you to find friendships elsewhere… you stupid cripple,” said Albert.

“So you think I’m stupid and a cripple to boot. What are you? An arrogant man and a sorry excuse for a human being who, I might add, spends most of the day drunk. How you manage to write one word is beyond a miracle!” replied Roderick, pulling no punches.

“Enough, gentleman,” said I, “if you persist with this confrontation, we will all be put out and never allowed to return.”

I had often been witness to the almighty clash of the Irishman and the Englishman, a phenomenon, sadly, history had failed to negate. Tensions between them remained. Albert’s use of the word ‘mick’, a malicious terminology, only served to deepen the divide. An uneasy silence prevailed as Albert drank his brandy and Roderick remained mute. I was left in the middle, the mediator, the one watching them carefully- determined to keep the peace.

“How are things, Albert?” I asked in all sincerity, my displeasure at Roderick apparent.

“Apart from being attacked by a mad Irishman, I am okay. Do you have any leads?”

I explained everything that had happened so far and I was proposing to go later in the night in search of the man in the overcoat. Albert excused himself and made his way to a colleague who sat the other end of the Inn. His departure gave me the opportunity to question.

“
Why
did you commit such an irresponsible act of violence?” I asked Roderick.

“Because the man irritates me beyond belief, his arrogance is intolerable and I won’t change my view nor feel any sympathy for my actions. I am settling this dispute with the greatest of composure. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

I had known Roderick long enough to accept his stubbornness and anger. The tensions had indeed been building up between them and it was only a matter of time before it reached boiling point. But, for now, the atmosphere appeared to be back to normal. It cost me dear to buy a round of drinks for all but I had managed to redeem the conflict. There was to be no barring from the Inn, an acute embarrassment indeed. My displeasure with Roderick remained as I was forced to watch his amusement and satisfaction as he observed Albert’s rapidly swelling face. Fortunately, Albert ignored the taunting; there were other things on his mind when he returned to speak with me.

“I wish you good luck with your hunt tonight. If anyone can catch him it’s you, the immortal. I am feeling quite hungry, the smell of sausages frying is enticing. Have you eaten?”

I had been waiting for Albert’s usual ploy to gain a free meal. He did not disappoint.

“Order what you want, it’s my pleasure,” was my reply.

What began as a quick meeting to discuss current events evolved into a costly expense far greater than anticipated, for which I blamed Roderick wholeheartedly. It was not that I was unable to pay, there were funds enough. But, from the moment I stepped into playing the role of detective, I had not stopped paying out monies in all directions. I was hopeful the bill for everyone’s drinks, even those who did not take the trouble to say thank you, was not too exorbitant, resulting in a trip to the bank.

“I will pay for all the drinks, Manny. Don’t get yourself in a mire over it. But, I’m telling you now, I refuse to pay for that idiot’s sausages!” Roderick’s offer was noble, I knew deep down he’d regretted his actions, more for himself and I than for Albert.

I was respectful enough to go and sit with the man, relieved he had not heard Roderick, who, as expected, declined to join us. He remained at the bar, drinking brandy, head held high with cane in hand.

“Roderick’s character is far from that of decency,” commented Albert. “He is mean spirited and loud at times. His demeanor toward me has always been that of sullenness and provocation. I have little sympathy for his demise in a watery bog centuries ago. What a shame he didn’t stay there, it would have been better for humanity if he had.”

“We are no angels, Albert, which includes you. Sometimes your arrogance is of little difference to Roderick’s or mine; I see it as we all are cut from the same cloth. Alike in nature, three bulls in the ring… on occasion, unable to tolerate each other.”

“As I said, his character does not give one act of kindness!”

I refrained from comment. Albert had his own selfish ways, unlike Roderick. There was not one act he would perform without reward. If there were to be no financial or opportunistic gain, Albert would walk the other way. The opposite of Roderick; a person he despised with great intensity.

“I think it best we leave now. I’m sure you must return to the newspaper and my being on the case has its insecurities. Please, Albert, I urge you put this unfortunate incident behind you. I appreciate your friendship. Even though, at times, a little one-sided.”

Once outside, I’d assumed Roderick had calmed. I was wrong; he was filled with agitation.

“Perhaps now would be a good moment to put this incident behind you and speak.”

I waited in silence for a response.

“I have little to say… gan tracht ar!”

“For goodness sake, Roderick, I am in no mood for Gaelic.”

“I’m telling you to let me be, Manny. I’m not interested in forming a conversation about what occurred in there or explain myself to you. Nor do I wish to put it behind me as you so wish.”

“Are you certain you desire to be with me here in Whitechapel? If it pains you too much then you can take your leave back to Hyde Park and resume work. I have no issue with you changing your mind. Please, my good friend, I
can
be alone without fear.”

“What if Jack is Ratibor? He will make an attempt to carve you into small pieces, then what? When your head is off your immortality is over?”

“I will take the risk. Remember, I am a keen adversary, strong with many fighting skills.”

“Then I will take my leave, reluctantly, for now. The bad air and night fog here is damaging to my skin and health. But if you need me then you must contact me immediately.”

I had made a mistake encouraging Roderick to where he didn’t belong. The filth and disease would only further his condition to deteriorate and his mood to darken even further. In fact, one more sight of Albert could be catastrophic.

“It will be for the best. Besides, someone must hold the fort while I am away. Let me obtain a carriage. It would be the least I can do.”

I walked with Roderick hoping he would sleep this night free from anger and fear of something untoward happening. I needed him to forget thoughts of my possible demise.

‘If Jesus has forgiven you then he must be protecting you from harm,” said he.

“I would like to think so,
if
he has forgiven my sin that is. I do not have the answer. I can only live in hope and pray for God’s guidance and compassion.”

“I know you’re man enough to keep your wits about you and there’s strength in your being. God and Jesus will protect you against this demon, I’m as sure as the day is long.”

Having helped Roderick to the safety of a carriage, I was certain he would recover quickly in the cleaner air of Mayfair. He would undoubtedly stroll in Hyde Park to clear his lungs, before returning to the office to perform his duties. In those matters he was a perfectionist, even when it came to the regular opium deliveries, something he abhorred, he was a master.