From Hell

Foreword: The following write-up contains limited sensualities, bold language and violence! and be warned its not a short-story.

31-August

He was watching her with an enigmatic smile from the couch on the far corner of the disco. The music was blaring and the people were dancing fervently. Mary was seated in the bar with her drink. She noticed the lone man on the couch watching her with interest. Even though the lighting was dim, she had no doubt that this man was handsome. She could feel his eyes bore into her and play all over her.

He walked towards her snaking his way through the dance floor. He approached her and held out his hand inviting her to dance. Mary met him in his grey eyes and how on earth could she say no!

They grooved to the music and he held her close. Gradually the music gained tempo and got feverish. So did Mary. She could feel his soft sensual touches arousing her. He was damn handsome and seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. She already knew how she would spend the rest of the night after the disc. But, he dint wait till the end. He led her through the crowd to the back-exit.

The night was cold and they were in the dark alley of the Durward Street. He was wearing a white t-shirt beneath a brown party jacket and dark jean trousers. He was also wearing a pair of leather gloves for the cold. She pushed his back to the brick wall and gave a seductive smile.

‘Oh baby, what have I got myself for tonight?’ Mary thought.

He pulled her forward with a beastly passion and kissed her. She had to admit to herself that this man was far better a kisser than many of her customers. May be she would not earn anything tonight, but who cares? He was still kissing her warmly. Mary thanked her luck.

She suddenly felt a searing pain across her abdomen. She instinctively held her stomach feeling a warm liquid wetting her hand. It was her blood! The last thing Mary Ann saw was the evil smile in his grey eyes before her throat was slashed.

1-September

James Kopp shuffled to the living hall and after some effort managed to find the remote. He was still feeling groggy and sleepy. The night’s headache had still not worn out. ‘Bloody hangover.’ He mumbled as he slumped on his couch and switched on his TV.

The news channel was on and the reporter seemed to be standing in an alley and was reporting excitedly. It took some time before he found his bearings to understand what she was saying.

“Mary Nicholson, a 29 year old lady was found murdered in an alley in the Durward Street of the Whitechurch region in a very gruesome fashion. Her throat was found severed deeply and the lower part of her abdomen was ripped open.  The body was discovered around 3.40 AM this early morning. The police arrived at the scene at about 6 AM and have cordoned the area and if the sources are to be believed, the forensic investigation is yet to begin. The inspector informs….. ”

James smiled to himself. How would the investigations have begun when the forensic pathologist of the precinct had just woken up?

‘Your source can be believed dear.’ James thought and smiled.

He had five calls from the inspector and he dint care to check them as he knew what they were for. He showered lazily and set off to work. Just another day at work.

“A perfect start to September.” He told himself and he whistled his way towards Whitechurch.

Dr. James Kopp methodically finished his investigation. He was well known among his colleagues and the police for his acumen in pathological crime scene investigation. He had a good eye and great imagination; primary requisites for his profession. “I think like the murderer and look for what I would have done if I were him. That’s all and I am no Sherlock Holmes!” He often said.

“The murderer might be left-handed.” James told the inspector. “You see, the cut in the abdomen is from left to right. That leads us nowhere. There are many left-handers. Why Freddie, even you are left-handed and so am I.” James smiled at the inspector who smiled back.

“Since the crime scene is close to the notorious pub and given the victim’s known promiscuity and habits, we can assume that the killer was male and we can see faint male shoe marks near the corpse. The killer might be anywhere between twenty and forty. With the marking, we can say he was a normal being ie the height and weight. Nothing notable there and it is very vague.”

Inspector Fredrick Abberline nodded in understanding.

“and the cuts must have been caused by a long bladed knife, moderately sharp and used with great violence. There are too many fingerprints and DNA material like sweat, hair etc on the victim. She was in a crowded pub. We don’t have a list of people in the pub that might have seen whom she was last seen with. It is a known illegal establishment. The staff…”

“The staff was too busy last night and no one paid particular interest to Mary, a regular. So the staff interrogation was fruitless.” Fredrick said.

James nodded knitting his brows and biting his lower lip.

“We can say that there was no struggle between them. You cant find any marks or bruises on the victim. It was quick and planned. Its an execution; a clean job.”

After the preliminary processes, James returned home quite late in the evening. His home was dark, lonely and there was a perpetual air of gloom. It was not so a month ago. It was not so, when Irene was there. Irene… she took away his life along with her.

James had his simple dinner and went to bed. He was reading under the small light; but his mind was not in the book. The images of the murdered girl kept flashing before him. She was so young. She had a life to live.  Some psychotic, scoundrel had stolen away from her, her past, her future! In one moment, all those years were gone. He had robbed her of her life; just like some bastard had robbed Irene of her life and so his. His mind races back to the day his life was shattered forever. As always he longingly saw the ring with a sigh and the past haunted him again.

7-August

James was waiting for her having made the arrangements for the candle-lit dinner. He had kept it a secret from her. He hoped she would forgive him for his foolish act the previous week in the burst of emotion.

Two months ago, she had told him the news of her pregnancy. They were to have their baby; their first child! James was over the moon. He was elated beyond bounds. He was to be a father; a creator, a giver of life!

But, his happiness and dreams were shattered a week ago when she said she had the child aborted. She said that she was not yet ready; rather they were not yet ready for parenthood. James fell broken. He could not place why he found it impossible to accept the news with her ease. He could not place why he felt so dejected about it. He flew into a rage and slapped her hard, the first time ever that he hurt her; and started breaking the things around him. He behaved like a beast unknown to him. He sulked to a corner of the life and shut himself away from her for two days.

But, slowly he came to terms with it. He realized may be she was right. But there was a perpetual nagging sadness in the back of his mind. He decided to make it up with her and hence came the idea of the candle-lit dinner and the reconciliation.

He took the day off, tidied the house, put up her favorite music and decorated the house for her little surprise. He was sure that she would forget everything when she returned from work and saw it. 

She was unusually late. He was starting to get impatient. He called her many times in vain. He decided to wait for some time and then go in search of her. In the meantime, he opened the bottle of tequila that he had reserved for the post-dinner plays. He drank swig after swig. He could not place his new found addiction to alcohol. Even without his recollection he passed out on the couch.

The next morning Martha, his sister shook him awake. She looked terrified.  James dint come to his senses for a long time. The searing pain in his head and the hangover just made it worse. When he came around, he found that his life was destroyed forever.

The car was in a deserted part of the road between the downtown and the suburbs where they lived. Irene was on the wheel. She still had a faint remainder of a smile. She looked ominously more beautiful. Her throat was slit from right to left. It was a clinical execution. By the looks, the murderer was in the rear seat. She was smiling, so it must have been someone she knew. Irene was not someone who gave lifts to strangers on a late night. She was not molested nor was anything missing. Irene Kopp née Adler was cold bloodedly murdered.

7-September

….

AnnieBunny: so, its 8 PM, Rublin’s… rite?

NotyJackie: yes

AnnieBunny: I caaant waaaaaittttttt…..

NotyJackie: me too J

AnnieBunny: u r a  sweetieeeeeee…. K…. u can rekgnze me frm my DP….. hw can I kno u? u don’t hav a pic put up L

NotyJackie: I will find you. You cant escape. Can you?

AnnieBunny: :D nooooooo I cant…. K….gtg L c ya tonite…. Kissie…kissie….

NotyJackie: J see you. Bye.

As he closed the chat-window, he mused at the stupidity of his prey.

Annie Chapel, 21 was waiting for him in the shopping mall with the humanity busily milling about her; each sunk in his own wonders and fantasies ignorant of the world around.  

She had met NotyJackie in a chat-group a few weeks back. They chatted long hours over the night and she discovered herself falling for him. His words were sensible and sensual. He certainly sounded better than all those morons she had been with. There was a mystery about this guy and she loved it. He should be handsome. She sensed it and kept reassuring herself repeatedly. She was impatiently waiting to see him.

Suddenly someone hugged her from behind and whispered, “Hello, Bunny.”

Who else called her Bunny? There was only one person who knew her by that name. He smelled of the manly cologne. She closed her eyes and praying, she turned in his arms. She slowly opened her eyes with a smile to look into those sharp grey ones. She was left senseless in surprise.  She had got more than what she expected.

They headed to the café. He seemed to be extremely shy and chose the dark corner. He had asked her to order his food while he was away to the men’s. Wow! Which guy gave freedom to his date to choose for him? He was not back before the waitress brought the food. They ate slowly, savoring the meal and each other. When it was well into the night they left.

“I will walk you home.” He said.

“No big deal, it’s quite nearby. I can mange.”

“Wont you please give me the pleasure of spending a little more time with you?”

‘Wow!’ she thought.

“Ya. Sure. Thanks.”

They walked into the cold lone night hand-in-hand onto the Hanbery Alley. But, he dint remove his gloves. In fact, that was their first touch!

“There; just across is my house. Thanks.”

“Oh. Ok. Thanks for the night. It was wonderful.” He said.

“I should thank you.” Annie said and continued in a hesitance of expectancy, “Well… um… why don’t you drop in for a drink? Coffee may be?” She winked.

“No thank you. Its quite late already.”

Annie was amused at this guy! Did he just say No? Ridiculous! All the men she had met so far had pounced on such an invitation.

‘A true gentleman.’ She thought and smiled within. She started to leave hesitantly.

He caught her hand and pulled her to kiss her deep and long on the lips. Annie closed her eyes and was lost in ecstasy. It was slow, gentle and soft. He dint show that greed and over-powering chauvinism. She was lost in his hands. An unknown happiness and warmth spread in her. She felt this was the moment.

‘I would be glad even if it were my last kiss.’ She wished.

And so it was.

8- September

“It’s the same M.O. we can assume it’s the same man as in the Mary case.” James said rising up after the inspection of the body. He sighed and looked grave. So did Inspector Fredrick.

“No witnesses, no finger-prints not even a bloody hair.” James snapped. Some mad man was mocking him!

“No signs of struggle or any sexual exploitation. Nothing stolen. These girls are just ordinary women; none with any extraordinary profile. There seems to be no motive or reason.”

“He must be insane.” Inspector Fredrick said.

“A very clever man, Freddie. He is intelligent and shrewd enough not to leave behind any clues. He has not left any finger-prints or DNA material. He takes care that no one notices him and the girl together. He makes the girls stay with him late into the night. He is brilliant. I mean, he is a challenge. He lures girls and kills them for fun! We are dealing with a very dangerous mind here.”

James glumly watched the dead girl for few minutes in deep thoughts.

‘Another life gone. She must be only in her early twenties. She would have just stepped into life.’

He frowned suddenly and bent to examine the body.

“Freddie, the cuts. They seem very precise. Its not something that is done in haste or by an amateur killer. The mutilations to the abdomen seem surgical. See these cuts? They are not of an untrained hand. Freddie, he is either a professional killer or is well versed in surgery and use of knife. His murder is accomplished when he severs the throat. But why mutilate the abdomen? If I am right then, he must be a sadistic maniac on the loose. This is very dangerous. He should be….”

He stopped short and with grit teeth said, “The lower abdomen… the way it is cut… the bastard has taken away her uterus.”

A shuddering resemblance occurred to him. He dint want to jump to that dreadful conclusion yet.

27- September

The case of the crazy killer had subdued a bit. The wave of media sensation had died down. People dint care about the unfortunate girls anymore. The TV channels found other sensational news. The police had relaxed somewhat. May be it was some deranged lunatic or a mafia kingpin eliminating his troublesome mistresses. The night patrol had been beefed up. But, the beats were getting more relaxed by every day. The investigations were on. But whichever route they chased, the investigators only reached dark dead ends. The files were gradually moving towards the archives.

James too had relaxed. The mystery man had troubled him initially. But James was pushing him to the back of his mind with effort. He had resumed his office in St. Isabel’s Hospital where he had not been since Irene’s murder. You don’t get to be a pathologist everyday. James dint want to leave his knowledge of human anatomy and medicine lay dormant and useless. He worked to keep people alive whenever he dint have to deal with the dead ones.  

Things were gradually returning to normal. James was reclaiming his life slowly. First Irene and then the killer, only now did James find some time to breathe. But, how much ever he tried he could not stop thinking of her and him. Irene and the killer were haunting him from time to time.

He had spent the previous evening with his sister Martha and her family. Dr. Martha Newman worked in the hospital as the head of the Department of Psychiatry. She had always been a good elder-sister to James. Now she was all the family that he had. She had invited him over for dinner. She said it would help himself put back in track. It surely did. She was pleasantly surprised when out of the blue, James asked whether he could stay back for the night and play with the kids a little longer.

He started back home early in the morning before the kids had woken up. He sleepily drove back and opened the door. There he found an envelope slipped in underneath the door. Who on earth received mails these days? He picked it up. It had no postmark. Who the hell would write a letter and deliver it by hand when he was not home?

His name was printed; not written. He opened the envelope frowning and found an old piece of paper inside. It was yellow and fading. It looked like a centuries old parchment. He took it out delicately. It was a letter. Certainly not written recently. James could not believe his eyes when saw the date. It was dated 25^th September 1888! It started with Dear Boss,

Chunks of the letter sent chills down his spine.

…..I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track….. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal……….. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff…… The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you…….. Good Luck….. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha

James felt dizzy reading the letter eventhough he was already very familiar with the famous letter. He sat down and read it many times over. The pieces were all falling into place. The man was after promiscuous women. Luring them into his trap and killing them brutally. But, there was no sign of any sexual exploitation of the women. He dint use them and then dispose. He was hunting them for fun.  

James almost fainted when he saw one line in the letter. His worst fears were confirmed. With the modus operandi, he had suspected this and to his horror, it was confirmed now. It was signed,

yours Truly,

Jack the Ripper

“Shit. I feared it.” James said to the shocked Inspector Fredrick.

“I know the myth to every detail. Jack the Ripper. The serial killer of the Whitechapel region of Victorian London. He killed female prostitutes. He slit their throat and slashed the abdomen and removed the internal organs. The murders of five women, dubbed as The Canonical Five made sensation in 1888. The case is still unsolved even to this date. No one knows who the killer or killers is. It is a true mystery in all the senses of the word.”

Fredrick was white with shock. He had surely heard of the myth of Jack the Ripper; but, he never ever imagined it would be born again.

“This man is following the myth. The dates, the modus operandi and the mutilations. He has even sent the very letter received by the Central News Agency on this day in 1888!”

“Do you think this is the same letter? All those letters were lost after the investigations. They were never seen again. It can be forged. The content is available on the internet.” Fredrick wondered.

A dark shadow crossed James’ face.

“No. It is the original.” James said in a low mysterious voice.

“How can you be so sure?”

“They were not lost. They were taken by one of the investigators as a souvenir and a reminder of his failure. His name was George Lusk and he is my ancestor.”

“What!”

“It passed through generations. For long, it was a valuable chest of documents. None of my predecessors before my grandfather cared or dared to open it. When he opened, he found these Jack the ripper letters. He left them to my father who decided to keep them as objects of antique interest. Over the years, it lost its importance. He bequeathed it to my sister so as not to break the family tradition. They were put up in the storage chamber in the backyard of her house and forgotten. I immediately called her once I received it and came to know that the room had been broken into and my ancestors’ chest alone was missing. No one in the house actually cares about the storage room and hence it went unnoticed until I called.”

Fredrick frowned. He had questions but dint interrupt James.

 “My dad showed it to me when I was a kid. These letters fascinated me and I learnt more about the case. I researched it, learnt a lot from the first-hand notes of investigation carried out by George Lusk. You can say in a way, this is what inspired me towards medical studies and pathology.”

He looked up at Fredrick who nodded in understanding.

“I never even dreamt in my wildest dreams that it would resurface again. I have to somehow solve it. I can’t let the myth be born again. I have to finish what my ancestor could not.”

He paused a moment too long.

“and Freddie, deep down, I somehow feel that this man has got something to do with the death of Irene.”

Tears flowed down James’ eyes.

1- October

He was startled awake from his nap by the ring of his mobile. Fredrick discovered that he had dozed off on his desk. He dint know when he fell asleep. The golden morning rays were filtering in through his blinds. It was Lucy, his girlfriend who was calling him. He tried to rub off the sleep and answered the call yawning.

“Lucy, its early in the morning and I am already having a hell of a time.”

He regretted blurting out the second part!

“Freddie, come over immediately” said Lucy.

There was something discomforting in the way she told it.

“Why? Is everything alright?”

“Come as soon as you can, Freddie. I am getting nervous.”

She hung up the call.

Fredrick hurried to her apartment.

It was lying on the table; beside it, the coffee that Lucy prepared remained untouched and had gone cold.

“The land-lady gave it to me this morning.” Lucy said frowning, “she said it was on the door the day-before-yesterday evening. When she saw that we had not returned well late into the night, she kept it safe to be given the next day. The next day, that is yesterday, she had to go meet her daughter and came only this morning and gave it to me.”

She looked at it as if it would explode any moment.

She bit her lips and continued, “Freddie, it is addressed to you.”

Fredrick was staring hard at the little antique post-card. He dint need to read it to know what was there. And he knew who the sender was.

He swallowed and picked it up to read it anyway.

I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, you'll hear about Saucy Jacky's work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn't finish straight off. Had not got time to get ears off for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.

Jack the Ripper

The card was placed on Lucy’s door. Why not his home? Who the hell knew he was here?

He was spending the day, 29^th-September, her birthday with her and without a plan they went out for dinner and a movie. They returned very late and he stayed at Lucy’s. Early next morning ie on 30^th, he received the call. The call of the double-murder of Lisbeth Stride and Kate Eddowes!

James sat across him in the office. He had not uttered a word since he arrived. Fredrick could not place the emotion on James’ face. But, unmistakably, there was anger and anguish.

“He is watching us.” Fredrick said after the long ominous silence. He continued, “How else does he know I was at Lucy’s that evening? There is no way anyone outside our circle knew it unless he was following me. He knows our every move.”

He stood from his chair started pacing around. James was placidly watching the postcard unblinking.

“The two murders. Just like in the letter. I don’t know whether he intentionally left her incomplete for the dramatic effect!”

Lisbeth Stride’s abdomen was not mutilated as the others. Part of her ear was found detached at the crime scene as a result of facial mutilations that the killer performed. But, Kate was subjected to the usual treatment and her kidney was missing.

Fredrick placed a file in front of James who dint even look at it.

“They worked for the Imperial Escort Services. We all know what actually escort services are. No surprises there. The manager says, these two women had appointments that day. With two different clients or as it is claimed; with a gap of two hours. The manager is yet to inform us of the names and details of the clients. He is under investigation. Both ladies left for work together and split at the shopping mall as Kate had some shopping to do as there was time left before her appointment. But, curiously, the appointed rendezvous with their respective clients in considerable proximity. No doubt both the clients are none but our lunatic.”

Fredrick took his seat.

“Two women murdered cold blooded in broad daylight! We have already issued warnings to known brothels and sex-workers; increased security at night, what more can we do? We cannot provide security to every fucking whore in this city!”

Fredrick banged the table in frustration.

James sat unfazed and motionless. Not for a moment taking his grey eyes off the postcard.

He raised and started to leave. When he reached the door, he turned and said, “I will send that bastard back to hell.”

15-October

From hell

Mr Lusk

For
I send you half the Kidne I took from one women prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer

signed
Catch me when you Can Mishter Lusk.

James fell on his knees and was shivering with anger; and fear.

He found the letter along with the preserved half of a kidney, placed on Irene’s grave!

As every Saturday, James visited Irene’s grave. But, that day, he found some flowers and a box placed there. Inside the box, he found the horror.

He felt paralyzed and numb. Gushes of his breath puffed out in rapid succession into the cold air. James no doubt felt a twinge of sweat even in this cold.

This was the very same letter that his ancestor, George Lusk had received from the killer. James dint have any doubt as with whose kidney it was.

The scariest things were those words – From Hell. Not by the literal meaning but, by the fact that no one ever knew what he said to Fredrick the other day as he left his office!

“It is confirmed. It is Eddowes’.” Fredrick said.

James sat head in his hands in Fredrick’s office in the Headquarters. The team of experts was frantically working on the latest artifact.

The double murders were kept from the media’s light lest it spread an endemic of fear and put ideas into criminals. However, the news was situation was let in to some forensic experts and ripperologists – experts in the study of the Ripper cases. A highly qualified team was formed and the investigative work was happening – as Fredrick put it, “under the shroud.”

“Irene…. Irene’s grave. He put it on Irene’s grave.” James clenched. He balled his fists in anguish and continued, “This man is getting into my nerves. He is playing it very personal with me.”

He bit his lips and his eyes got restless and turbulent. His breathing got faster and shallow.

“That son of a bitch is bloody mocking me!”

Fredrick placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder to calm him down. He looked down at him. It was a completely different James that he was looking at. He had changed a lot after Irene’s murder. He was a completely different man. That jolly-lad had died. He had taken up to drinking too-much alcohol. There was a gaunt look on his face. He seemed lost and disconnected. He had become pale like someone who was haunted by ghosts of memories every night. First the tragic loss and now this killer! Who would take this much pressure; all at the same time!

8-November

“You miss me, honey?” she said in between the kiss and continued fervently.

He closed his eyes and felt something cold spread inside him. Was it passion, desire or the beastly craving for physical intimacy? Along with them, he sensed an overwhelming trace of another basic instinct – fear.

He stood immobile in the hands of the woman whom he had lost himself to, in his college teens. What frightened him was that he was letting it happen again.

Jane Kelly – his first love, his first physical mate, his first betrayal!

He could not resist her; neither then, nor now. She was a ‘hot one’ then; but the problem was that, she still was one!  He knew it was wrong, but how could a lonely man resist himself?

They had accidentally met at the coffee shop after almost a decade. A cup of coffee led to a mug of beer which eventually led to a glass of wine in her house; one thing led to another and finally to the inevitable. But, he dint place the blame on the intoxication of the liquids.

“You were such a chicken. So are you now.” She guffawed as she started to undress him.

“hmmm Jane… no… listen… well… may be I am getting late for home….”

“Shhh…. you wont be needing this now.” She removed his wedding ring and flung it.

With a rising burst of anger he saw it clatter and roll down behind the table in the corner. He started to rebuke, but his mouth was sealed again and he found himself getting lost.

They were soon on the couch exploring and excavating the hidden pleasures and secrets buried under layers of time. But, the problem was, they were still there. They found themselves comfortable with each other again. It was a befitting reunion.

He was making love with a beastly passion and force. He wanted to prove himself. His mind kept racing and wandering through time and emotions.

But, one thing kept recurring to him. Those days, when she very openly cheated on him. Guys fell for her and craved for her. Jane loved all the attention. Intercourse was a roller-coster for Jane. It thrilled and excited her. It got her high and she dint care where it came from. He found it outrageous and disproved it. But she merely chided him and continued her way. He could not handle the betrayal. He moved away from her; farther everyday unless she was nothing but a dirty speck afar in his memory.

She was writhing beneath him. The emotions swelled in him. The beast that had the passion also had its brutality.

He felt blood pounding in his head, hammering his skull. He felt the anger rising with every thrust. He was blinded of the reality which alternated with dark and light. He felt himself slipping into an uncanny world of anger, rage and vengeance; something dark and powerful, a monster rising inside him.

“Bitch.” He hissed.

“Yeah, baby… yeah…”

“You fuckin whore…” He slapped her hard.

She was too perplexed to understand what was going on!

“You bloody said you loved me but slept with every mongrel that came your way. You exploited your beauty… you used it like a whore!”

He seemed like a wild animal.

“What… what.. are you saying? You are kidding right…. Tell me you are… you are really scaring me….”

“Do you think I am still a chicken?” He smashed the wine-glass.

“Come on! That happened ages ago. It all happens in the college. But, how does it bother you now? You are not my fucking husband.”

“It bothered me… it bothers me… You knew I was serious about you; but, you went about fucking like a bloody dog ‘cos you are pretty.”

“So, what are you gonna do about that now? Revenge? Don’t be a fool. I thought you had grown up….. listen… seriously, at that age, all that was for fun…. You took it very seriously….. but I did like you…..”

“tch… tch…tch… its too late for that darling.”

He reached for his coat and took it out. She gasped at the look of it. A cold sweat broke out on her, this time, it was of mortal fear.

“No… no…. stop your joke…. Please….. Enough…. Listen… really, I loved you… you know that… I am your first love…. I was a bit social like anyone else. But you know that I loved you truly….I gave you my heart….”

“Oh! Yes. So are you gonna give it now.” He growled.

9-November

James instinctively closed his eyes in dismay. It was gory to say the least. The blood was splashed on the walls. On the couch laid a human body hacked with an inhumanly brutality.

The apartment was already bustling with activities.

“So whats gone this time?” James asked Fredrick.

“A hell lot!” Fredrick raised his brows and sighed, “he has practically mauled her; disfigured her. He has removed the organs and strewn around! The face is gone beyond recognition. The neck is deeply, very deeply cut and her heart is gone.”

James looked at the torn out remains of the lady with a placid expression but an unnoticed tear trickled down.

“He is not a human. He is demon. Devil himself.” Fredrick burst out.

“Prints?”

“None, as usual. Nothing comprehensible yet. There are shards of broken glass. This must be that of the wine-glass that he used. See, there is one intact and it has the lady’s prints. And he also lit a fire and burnt her dress.”

James nodded and methodically started looking around.

‘One mistake…. You would have made one silly mistake….’

Four hours had passed. The primary investigation was coming to a close. James had recorded his findings and was waiting for Fredrick to finish his job.

James was perched on the table in the corner. He solemnly looked at the lifeless form on the couch amid the bustling life around her.

It was an otherwise fine morning. The sun was pouring in through the open window. A butterfly fluttered in and James inadvertently followed it. It flew around, sat on the flower in the vase for a while and then resumed its nonchalant errand again. It flew in his direction. He held out his hand and it sat there for a moment and took off again and flew towards the window behind him. He instinctively turned to look at it. But, something else caught his eye. There was something glinting in the crevice between the table and the wall. He bent down to take it. He took it out with his hand trembling. He looked at his other hand and only then did he realize that his wedding ring was missing!  

He felt the world closing in. he was sweating all over and felt demented. His ring in the crime scene? How on earth was that possible! James could not fathom the least bit how his ring got there! There was only one explanation to it. The killer should have stolen it from him and dropped it there to frame him and create confusion and havoc within the police.

 It was becoming clear to him now. The bloody killer always knew that James was an important part of the investigative team. He should have also known that James had an obsession with the Ripper case owing to his family’s history. At some point of time he was sure to crack the case. The killer provoked him by playing it personal with him so that he would get involved with it obsessively. And when the person showing the greatest interest in the case was shown to have some link with it by placing irrefutable evidence in the crime-scene, there would be confusion and chaos in the office. James would be removed from the team; it would slow down the process and with the strongest man framed and under suspicion, the team and the case would crumble.

‘He is bloody brilliant! He is not a lunatic out on sadistic murders! He is planning well. Really well.’

But, James felt incredibly lucky that none else happened to find the ring. If anything else had happened, the implications would have been unimaginably catastrophic!

He reached home and dumped himself on his couch. He still felt shaken. He closed his eyes and tried let it all evaporate.

But, suddenly he heard a sound; the opening of drawers and movement upstairs. There was someone else in the house. The adrenaline rushed and he was on his feet fully alert and ready. He armed himself with the knife in the kitchen and prowled upstairs. His bedroom door was slightly open. He took a deep breath and kicked it open hard ready to pounce on anything or anyone there. He stopped mid-stab. The person looked back with surprised and horror-struck eyes. It relaxed immediately and the shock was replaced by a smile. It was Martha, his sister.

“Phew! It is you!” James exhaled.

“Wow! Now you welcome your guests with a knife in hand?” Martha asked laughing.

“No! I thought it was someone else. Just inform be beforehand when you will be visiting next time.”

“You look edgy these days. Almost paranoiac.”  She said with serious concern.

He waved his hand in dismissal and put down the knife.

“and hey, how come this is in your house?” she pointed at the file in her hand and asked with a serious look, “James, are you alright? What is wrong with you these days? You can tell me anything. I am your sister and a qualified psychiatrist.”

He sat down on the bed leaning on his knees and holding his head. He told her everything; Irene, the case, the letters, the ring. He was sweating all over and looked torn. Tears flowed down his cheeks unchecked. He lay down on his sister’s lap weeping like a kid.

She ran her fingers through his hair affectionately.

“I will help you James. I know what is happening with you. I can understand it. Leave your worries with me and sleep. Sleep like a baby. Here, take this. It will help.” She held out a tablet. He swallowed it and did sleep like a baby.

When he woke up, the evening sun was filtering in through the windows. He was in a state of semi-consciousness.

“… yes… slowly… wake up… slowly… open your eyes… you are perfectly fine… very slowly wake up….” Martha was whispering softly.

He woke up and yelled, “What the hell are doing to me? I need answers.”

“Yes. Me too. Come, let’s go out and get some fresh air.” She led him to the picnic table in the backyard under the great oak tree.

They sat silent for a long time. James was staring intently at his shoes and Martha was observing him, not as a sister but as a professional psychiatrist.

She sighed and asked, “Ok, James, if you are ready, shall I ask you some questions?”

“Yes. You did a SCID on me dint you?” He mumbled almost inaudible.

“Where were you last evening James?”

“I went out shopping. Got groceries and stuff. Wandered about in the city and that’s all.” He said frowning.

“Good. What is the last thing you remember doing yesterday?”

“well… just went to the grocer’s… bought bread, vegetables, cheese and other things… just browsed through in Gotham’s book store… just roamed about in the Chester street, just looking around….. had a sandwich and a coffee in Bristo’s…” he stopped abruptly and began thinking hard.

“Yes… you had a coffee and….”

“That’s all…. That’s all… nothing worthy…”

“Fine. Where were you this morning?”

“Out on work. Investigating the murder.” He said as-a-matter-of-fact.

“Whose? Whose murder?”

“Jane.”

“The same Jane? Your college-crush?”

He dint speak for a while. He kept looking at his shoes.

“Yes. The same Jane.” He said finally.

“But, you dint tell anyone in your team that you already knew her I suppose?”

“No. I dint want it to be prejudiced. I dint want to be in any way personally associated with it. Don’t know… I just felt that I should not tell.”

“hmmm. The last thing you remember from yesterday is from Bristo’s?”

“Yes.”

“Does this happen often? This black-out of memory? I know you that you are not a forgetful man.”

“Dunno. Its been happening quite often of late. May be that’s because of me taking to liquor these days.”

“Ok. Lets leave it there.” She leaned forward and looked into his eyes and asked, “James, the victims… the other four girls… do you know them before their death?”

“What? No… no… I don’t know any of the victims except Jane!”

“Are you sure James? See, there is no point in hiding the truth from me. I know more than you think I know.”

He looked at her in shock and disbelief.

“What do you know about me that I don’t?”

She took his hands in her hands.

“You are a doctor yourself James. So I believe I need not go with the usual bush-beat and let me tell you the facts straight. It is dissociative identity disorder.”

Suddenly he laughed aloud as if she just told a funny joke. But there was a pain in it inaudible to lay ears.

“You mean… you mean… multiple personality disorder?”

“In layman terms. Yes.”

“Oh come on, Martha! It’s a huge cliché. All this happens only in Sidney Sheldon novels and cheesy B-grade thrillers and movies!”

“Fact inspires fiction.”

“You mean to say that I am the serial killer who hunted down innocent girls, seduced them and killed them?”

Martha dint speak.

“You mean to say that I have been investigating my own crime? I am the killer and I am the detective? Am I in search of myself?”

He was unnaturally calm.

“You are the detective and the killer is your alter-ego. But, speaking in raw terms, yes. You are investigating your own case.”

He fell back heavily onto his chair. He was immobile and his face impassive, but his eyes were restless.

“Why? WHY DAMN IT?” he stood up yelling. “Why did I have to kill people? Why did I get this alter-ego? Why am I a demon?”

“Do you recognize this?” She pointed at the file on the table.

He looked at it for a long time. “No. No. I don’t know what this is.”

“See. This is from our hospital.” It had the logo on it and the paper inside was stamped confidential. “As you can see, this is from the department of Gynecology and Pediatrics. This is the list of girls who had abortions in our hospital in recent times.”

He took the file apprehensively and looked at it. It had a list of names, addresses and details. He felt dizzy as he read it. He saw the names – Mary Nicholson, Annie Chapel, Lisbeth Stride, Kate Eddowes. These were the names of the victims. They were all promiscuous women by habit or by profession, got themselves impregnated carelessly and had abortions. But, more than all this, there was something else in the list that sent chills all over him. The first name in the list – Irene Kopp.

He groaned like a wild man and tore the paper to bits. He was wet with sweat and panting in irregular chunks. He felt the whole world spinning and melting around him.

“James…. James…. Calm down and listen to what I have to say.” She calmed down her brother with some effort and spoke softly, “You were deranged at Irene’s abortion. You kept massive anger and dismay to yourself. You could not vent it out on her. You loved her too much to hurt her in any way. You kept it all to yourself. You put a lid on the volcano of emotions. Your brain did its damage-control. It created an alternative man. A James who vented out his emotions, his brutal anger. The alter ego set out to revenge Irene and women like her who had abortions. It’s normal for the alter egos to be of extreme philosophies. They are born out of desperation and anguish. They don’t reason or empathize.”

James was still breathing hard. His head bowed, tears and sweat dripping.

“Even from your childhood, you have been interested in the Ripper case. You did your research. You were obsessed with it. So, it was obvious for your mind to pick up such a personality which suited the situation. That’s how; you could counter your own actions of the detective as the killer and vice versa. Your alter-ego knows you as a different man. You are familiar with the facts. He saw you as his enemy, the investigator of his crime. He provoked his enemy. He knew about the existence of the letters from James’ memory. Such overlapping of memories and knowledge does happen. As the killer, you knew how James would investigate and as James, you knew how the killer would behave.”

He looked up; but his eyes were still dropped and the fluid still dripped.

“If you don’t mind me saying, it’s like the dog going round, chasing his own tail.”

After a long time, he asked, “Jane. Jane’s name is not in this list of abortions. But why did I… why did he kill her?”

“I cant say that James. But, given that I know what happened between you two in college, I can guess that you met her in the coffee shop, went to her home and at some point of time, the past troubled you and the violent self in you took over. The mind stores the memory. It can delete the information as it wishes. So, it deleted the whole episode starting from the coffee shop. This is what causes the memory black-outs in these cases. But, it is not proven yet; this is what I and my colleagues are researching on.”

“Now, don’t worry James. The past is gone. Now, that it is diagnosed, we can take care of it. You have me. We will play it confidential. No one needs to know. You are my brother and it is my duty to see you well. For today, I will give you some sedatives.”

James sat there beneath the great oak tree long after Martha and the sun left their places.

James woke up to the chirp of the birds and a bright streak of sun. The sedatives that Martha had given were still lying on his bedside. He dint neither need them nor sleep. He still could not grasp or make sense of the whole thing. It was all nonsense and unbelievable. It all made sense but yet I dint. He felt torn between two realities. One of which he knew was a lie. But, which one? That was the question.

He slowly walked down, made coffee and sandwich. He called Martha, but she dint answer it. He left a message that he was alright. There were few other messages that he dint care to check. He switched on his TV and as usual the news was on.

“… was found this morning. As usual the throat was slit. But, strangely, there are no other disfigurations visible. The body is laid to rest neatly with the hands over the chest. Experts say, it doesn’t fall in line with the recent murders by the suspected serial-killer. The victim was alone since her children and husband were out on vacation. No signs of theft. The investigations are going on in full spree. The dreaded killer has added one more name to his list. We mourn the demise of another respected woman, Dr. Martha Newman…”

James sat stunned like a stone.

The legend of Jack the Ripper was born again.

Facts and Fiction:

·        As you might be aware, Jack the Ripper was the infamous Victorian serial killer who killed prostitutes in the Whitechapel district of London in 1888. The case is unsolved even to this day. The true killer is not known and probably will never be!

·        The five famous murders called the Canonical Five is of – Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, Mary Jane Kelly. I used the names as it is or with little modifications.

·        The exact date of respective murders and receival of the letters is used.

·        There were strong suspicions and beliefs that the killer could be a surgeon given the acumen of the cuts. I have tried to stick close to the casualities inflicted and the organs missing from the victims.

·       James Kopp – the name is of a real person. James Charles Kopp is an American citizen who was convicted in 2003 for the 1998 sniper-style murder of Dr. Barnett Slepian, an American physician from Amherst, New York who performed abortions. He was affiliated with militant Roman Catholic anti-abortion group known as "The Lambs of Christ". I used it indicate that there are people really, who are against abortions and go to extent of murders.

·       Fredrick Abberline is the name of an Inspector who investigated the Ripper case in 1888.

·       George Lusk was the leader of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee in 1888.

·       Irene Kopp nee Adler, the name was inspired from Sherlock Holmes (A Scandal in Bohemia)

·       Of all the letters received the three letters are famous and are to some extent believed to be authentic. They are – Dear Boss letter, Saucy Jacky letter and From Hell letter.

·       All the three letters went missing after the investigations.

·       Use of foul language. I feel its needed. It makes the narration natural I feel. We don’t swear ‘dog’ and ‘pig’ when we are in such a situation! Apologies if it made you uncomfortable.

·       And, I believe you cant tell Ripper’s story without sensuality.

·       Ok, as of the Multiple Personality Disorder. I know, it is cliché. But, see, for example, Love is one concept; have we not seen a million stories with it! Ha ha there is no justification if the concept of MPD was boring to you, I could not think of anything else to present the concept that the Killer and Investigator were both the same person and hence the case will remain unsolved for eternity, again!