Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) (16 page)

lone and with confidence, I returned to my lodgings. The landlady was none too pleased to have such short notice of cancellation for Roderick’s room. As if by prophecy, I found myself once more in a position whereby money became an issue. I did not expect a refund for the night in question. In spite of the fact that she re-let the room with haste, there was strong determination that I was not a penny owed. I had no choice but to relent to her tirade.

“I don’t take kindly to being messed about. If yer don’t like it then find yerself another lodging, there’s plenty chaps wantin’ decent beds fer the night. I ain’t short of punters by any means.” She had the harshness of a typical east-end woman, not one I would wish to take on under any circumstances. I would rather have preferred to face Attila the Hun than evoke the wrath of this fishwife.

“What’s a gent like you doing ‘ere anyways, what’s ‘yer real reason for being in Whitechapel?”

In order to alleviate her suspicions, I concocted a story about setting up a clothing factory in the near vicinity and thought it better to stay a short while in order to immerse myself in business plans. But there appeared to be one small obstacle to my fable.

“I don’t see ‘yer as a factory man, and you ain’t Jewish? All them who make clothes, tailors and the sort are Jews round ‘ere, and you ain’t one of ‘em.”

“I am off the Jewish faith, madam, of that I can assure you.”

“You’re kidding me, matey!”

“I can assure you I am not… I am Jewish by birth.”

“Well, the dark ‘air, could be I suppose, but those blue eyes, I dunno. Me name’s Florence but everyone calls me Flo.”

She proceeded to look me up and down. I had hoped to convince her of what she needed to hear, in spite of her discriminatory remark. I also found myself to be at the receiving end of her unwanted attentions, not pleasurable by any means. I was unable to stop her as she followed me upstairs to my room.

“I ‘ave to say you’re a good looking fella, if I were only twenty years younger!” Her raucous laughter bellowed out, exposing her nearly toothless mouth and bad breath. I was at loss of what to do. Enter my room and close the door in her face, which could risk offending her, or stand my ground and hope it was only to be wishful thinking on her part. She smoothed her apron and informed me she was to return to baking. I was saved! Hastily locking the door to my room, I hoped she was not having second thoughts that may result in a knock on the door with the desire for something else.

There had been many uncompromising situations concerning unsuitable older women. The most taxing was Vibia Sabina, the grand niece of Emperor Trajan. That was a particularly bad year, 136 AD. I had the misfortune to come across one scoundrel after another, each with their own wicked agenda. My search for coins yielded little more than a hint here and there coupled with insurmountable frustration. It seemed that things could not get any worse until Vibia entered my life.

Her loveless marriage had been fraught with problems. Being unable to conceive caused her to seek relations outside of her vows in the hope of a child. There had been many, so I was told. Age did not whither her quest and I was to be unfortunate when, she crossed my path in a weak moment. Twenty years my senior, I carelessly embarked on a liaison that cost me dearly. Her possessive demands not only wore me down, but resulted in my being expelled from Parthia by the Roman court. The reason? On account of a rival suitor who bedded her, and, consumed with jealousy upon hearing of my existence, fabricated a multitude of mistruths.

To succeed in my removal, he accused me of stealing a coin commissioned by Vibia. There had been only twenty coins fashioned in bronze showing her strong but plain features, and I had not laid a hand on one of them. I was put on trial, sadly, he convinced the court of my guilt,
but
due to Vibia’s intervention and pleas for mercy, my punishment was reduced from penalty of death to exile. I was given but four hours to remove myself, two of those were spent in her bed. What I was thinking at the time still eludes me to this day.
Sexual insanity
…

I could no longer think of my checkered past as I negotiated the hard mattress. I was accustomed to my light, feather down pillows. What I now had to lay my head on was filled with rice grains that would surely make a noise every time I dared to move.
This is what I have to look forward to when I return later tonight,
I told myself.

I left, with the key for the door, all monies paid to the landlady and hunger creeping in. The streets took on another persona at night. By early evening there were countless more drunken men on the streets, beggars in rags and small boys, their cloth caps at a tilt, making me cautious to check my pockets each time they passed. “Got a penny, mister?” Was the usual request from their cheeky, unwashed mouths.

I was pleased to find The Bull Inn. Its lounge bar offered a menu, but, as expected, it was basic. There was little on offer to entice me, so I reluctantly went for the stew and devoured it with gusto due to a mixture of nerves and excitement. I told myself that no matter what, I had to stay on the streets for as long as needed in hope of finding important clues. Even one would be a step forward, as I had become more and more convinced Ratibor and Jack the Ripper were one and the same. I had gone from believing it to be nothing more than a notion on my part to his dangerous reappearance being a realistic fact. My heart beat faster at the thought of coming face to face with a murdering demon. Was I capable of such a challenge, or was it utter foolishness on my part to take it into consideration?

I hoped to seek out sweet Mary Kelly, with her blonde curls and cheery smile. Something told me she needed protecting, an instinct.
But what was I doing?
In an instant, I transformed from exhilaration to a panic stricken state of uncertainty. I had orchestrated a theft at Scotland Yard. If I were caught, Albert would be implicated who, like me, would certainly go to prison. Ultimately, he
could
end up in the workhouse as he would be unemployable upon release. I had duped everyone, from my household staff to all my friends and acquaintances, with an outlandish lie I had made my way to York. What of Roderick? Had I not implicated him as well? 

If they were to discover the files in the office, clearly under his supervision, I doubted he would survive prison, anymore than Albert. Would the deception be worth the outcome? If I were to fail and, horror of horrors, there were many more victims, an unspeakable thought and not one I wished to entertain, it would have all been in vain.
Be positive and do not panic
, I told myself.

Being strong of mind meant there was no room for melancholy or dark thoughts. I walked the streets praying to God to give me strength and asked to guide me to Jack and Mary. Maybe God and I did not always see eye to eye but, one topic we agreed. ‘Thou shall not kill.’

I passed the sewage filled gutters holding my nose in disgust, the dark alleyways home to desperate women and young girls knowing no other life. They plied their trade with sexual innuendos or begging. One poor soul, a girl of around sixteen years, touted her body for almost nothing.

“Special tonight. Just fer an ‘andsome gent like you, a penny,” she called to me.

“Ere, you’re a proper nice and ‘andsome… I’ll do it fer free!” said another.

“Tuppence an’ yer got me all night”

Within moments I was besieged with prostitutes who appeared to come from nowhere. No matter that I declined each one, they pushed and pushed in the hope I weakened. It was a matter of walking by with firm intentions of ignoring them. To say even one word would be foolish, they would take it as a sign of encouragement.

Each countless and decrepit house or tenement told a story. One had a rag on the window for privacy, another, an old torn blanket or two. I spotted a man standing outside the open door of his house, slouched against the wall, smoking heavily on a pipe. A child came out onto the step, a little girl with a dirty face, who was to feel the sharp slap of her father’s drunken hand. The force knocked her down, but with little effect. She was up and back inside before he had the opportunity to strike her again. “Stay indoors, yer stupid little mare!” he called out as he struggled to stand straight. My displeasure at what I saw could not become anything other than a thought. It would have been foolhardy to get involved. Family dysfunctions were rife in this part of London, drink and poverty being the main contributing factors. A child suffered beyond what was acceptable in my eyes, but what could I do? Charitable people were doing their best to take care of families like this. I was not one of them, and not on this night.

As luck would have it through the dark uneasy shadows I stumbled by chance on Rosie’s brothel. The light was on, and I hoped against hope Mary was there. I
had
to see her.

“Yeah?” The door opened by less than a crack as two large, dark eyes peered through.

“Good evening, Rosie. I am seeking Mary.”

“Ah, you were the gent that was ‘ere the other night, weren’t ya?”

“Yes, can I please enter?” I was decidedly uncomfortable, being outside an obvious den of iniquity. The door opened and there in front of me, standing on the last stair is Mary, in her familiar white dress.

“’Allo, me old mate, ‘Ow are yer?” she asked with a beaming smile.

“I’m in good health, Mary, and you?”

Rosie was not interested in idle chit-chat. She was in the business of making money and time was exactly that to her. Wasted minutes meant less coffers to push in-between her oversized breasts that preened out from her bodice.

“Are yer aving’ ‘er or what?” she asked bluntly.

Without further delay I handed over the same amount as the previous visit in hope it was agreeable and she would not attempt to push for more.

“That’ll do just fine, Mister. Off yer go then.”

As I dutifully followed Mary up to her room, I noticed she smelled of lavender. It was a refreshing change to know someone in the area took time to wash and apply a fragrance. I complimented her on the delightful smell and she laughed. “It’s the cheapest Lavender I could afford, naff it is!”

“I will pay you extra so that you can buy a better fragrance, something special that you deserve,” I replied, but she became wary of my motives.

“What’s yer game, Mister? I suppose it’s all talk again and now yer wanna give me extra? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always interested in money, that’s why I bloody do this, but what do yer really want?”

“Mary, I am concerned about your well being and want to help. I fear you may come to harm, that is why I do not want you to spend too much time out on the cold dark streets.”

She looked at me with her sweet smile and I noticed the worry lines had already formed around her eyes giving the appearance of an older age.

“Extra money always comes in ‘andy. I ain’t got much choice but to keep working. Yer see I’m… I’m gonna ‘ave a baby.”

I was speechless. How on earth would she manage her life with a child in tow? I tried not to imagine what would happen when it came to feeding and clothing the poor mite. The mortality rate for expectant Mothers was high; Mary could die giving birth. My mind was racing with possible scenarios, each dramatic in ending.

“Please let me help you,” I pleaded. “I can arrange for you to go somewhere out of London, a place for women who are carrying a child out of wedlock. I will pay all expenses and after the child is born I will find you suitable accommodation, if you wish to keep it, that is.”

“What a decent gent you are. No one’s ever ‘elped me before. I’ve been alone a long time see, me mum and dad’s far away. I got no other family to speak of. I’ll think on yer kind offer.”

“Please do and I will tell Rosie you were most delightful. I have lodgings in Whitechapel for the moment Mary. I’m going to give you the address. If you need me I will be at your disposal.”

“What an angel. I must thank yer properly.” She leaned toward me and planted a kiss ever so lightly on my cheek. I knew from that instant, Mary had a heart that had not become cold and shriveled by her painful life. She still retained the ability to feel and I prayed for her to find herself on a better path in life. It is hard to see it happening when I am surrounded by vermin and misery, streets covered in slime and women who are pallid and expressionless. On gas lit corners stand men whose rages fuelled by alcohol spoil for a nightly fight. In the midst of rotting houses and degradation I find Mary Jane Kelly. I, Judas Iscariot, accomplished liar, fighting warrior, selfish and guilt ridden, has been humbled and astonished. She had unknowingly touched my heart; there were so few who
ever
accomplished that.

I left her to sit on a worn out bed, waiting for the next man to come up the stairs, whilst I kept up the charade with Rosie, who was not aware she was done out of an extra three shillings. ‘What the eye don’t see the ‘eart don’t grieve,’ Mary had said tucking the money safely away in her boot.

Upon my exit, an older gentleman of some standing came through the door. Our eyes met, knowing we both harbored a wish to avoid each other. Embarrassment had taken over on my part as I knew why he was there
and
certain he thought the same of me. Rosie called at the top of her voice for Mary to come down and my heart sunk. I did not want to think too much about what she did, I could not close the door behind me quickly enough.