Inspector Abberline and the Just King

  ‘Oh.’ Abberline’s expression said it all.

  Thomas didn’t know what to do about Jo. Yesterday, on the beach, she had kissed him. After that, they’d gone their separate ways. Was the kiss an impulsive gesture? Did the kiss mean anything significant? But aren’t kisses always significant? Thomas Lloyd found the situation confusing. And when he thought about his fiancée, Emma Bright, out in Ceylon, he felt the crushing weight of shame.

  Just then, Ludwig’s strapping son, Richard, strode by and Abberline stopped him.

  ‘Good morning,’ Abberline said. ‘You don’t have a microscope I could borrow, by any chance?’

  ‘A microscope?’ The young man couldn’t have looked any more surprised if Abberline has asked to borrow an elephant. ‘I don’t have one. I have plenty of guns – pistols, shotguns, rifles.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Abberline said politely. ‘It’s a microscope I’ll be needing today. Although the guns might become useful.’

  ‘Just give the word, Inspector. I’ll be delighted to help you track down the fiend that’s been attacking our people.’ The man’s eyes burned. He was clearly eager to hunt game larger than the rats he’d been shooting yesterday.

  Thomas said, ‘You don’t know where we could borrow a microscope?’

  ‘Oh, my brother has that kind of thing. Telescopes, microscopes. If he’s not composing tunes, he’s looking at the stars.’

  Abberline nodded. ‘Do you know where we could find your brother?’

  ‘He’s busy with one of his string quartets. Sulks like fury if he’s disturbed. I’ll tell Wilf to bring a microscope to your cottage.’ At that moment, he saw the boy wheeling the barrow along a path in the distance. ‘Wilf! Wilf! Over here, boy!’

  Wilf left the barrow and obediently ran along the path towards them. There’d be a moment before he arrived so Thomas decided this was a good opportunity to broach a subject that had been on his mind for a while. He approached the matter in a conversational way to make it seem like he wasn’t interrogating what amounted to be a prince of this little kingdom.

  ‘The winds blew hard last night,’ Thomas said, looking at Richard as he spoke.

  ‘The ferry can’t run in this weather. We’ve become Robinson Crusoes, one and all.’

  ‘A fisherman told me that Faxfleet is shrinking.’

  ‘It is, by crikey.’ Richard spoke cheerfully, then shouted at Wilf, who was perhaps fifty paces away. ‘Sprint, lad! Work to be done!’

  Thomas continued, ‘I heard that the river is actually wearing the island away.’

  Richard didn’t seem concerned. ‘Thirty years from now Faxfleet will have vanished.’

  ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’

  ‘Oh, me and my brother have talked about it and we have an answer. When the island has shrunk to the size of this courtyard we’ll build a stone tower. It doesn’t have to be a big one. Thirty feet high will be ample … a sort of lighthouse design. The tower will serve as the kingdom of Faxfleet. The old charter that grants my family kingship of the island states that if the island should disappear then our royal title will disappear with it. But if a tower is built and preserves a bit of ground underneath then Faxfleet will continue to exist forever and a day. Of course, I’ll eventually become king at some point.’

  Richard chatted in a carefree way. He seemed confident, to the point of being blasé, that he and his younger brother had cooked up a nice little scheme to preserve the royal line, which meant that Richard would inherit a great deal of money, too. When Wilf arrived, panting hard from the run, Richard told him to collect a microscope from a storeroom and deliver it in his barrow to Abberline’s cottage.

  Abberline patted Wilf’s head. ‘Are your fingers still sore?’

  ‘I burst the blisters with a pin,’ Wilf announced proudly. ‘You should have seen the stuff that came out.’ He held up his hand, showing them the scabs on his fingertips.

  If anything, Richard was impressed. ‘Who would have thought that electricity could burn skin like that?’

  Thomas said, ‘Electricity is largely the same as lightning. And lightning can knock a house down.’

  ‘Just imagine.’ Richard whistled. ‘It should be possible to hunt animals using electrical power. Beaters could drive deer into wires that contained electricity.’ The notion clearly interested him because he seemed to be visualizing such a thing as he wished them good day and headed towards the stables.

  Wilf saluted Abberline and Thomas and returned to where he’d left his barrow.

  Abberline said, ‘Does it strike you that Richard is far more interested in preserving the monarchy’s cash income rather than preserving the island and its way of life?’

  ‘A pragmatic young man.’

  Abberline headed across the courtyard. ‘I think it’s time to ask the king to invite the island’s population into the palace until they can be evacuated to the mainland.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that the building is turned into a fortress?’

  ‘It will be safer. Mr Kolbaire was at home when he was attacked. As you yourself told me, the killer will need to become even more inventive if they’re going to steal the public’s attention back from the latest Jack the Ripper murder.’

  ‘Then we’ll be under siege?’

  ‘And possibly besieged by a single individual. But they are very dangerous. I dread what the killer will do next.’

  They were greeted by the butler with an apology – in fact, two apologies.

  ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen.’ The butler was a red-faced man with black hair that had been oiled flat to his head. ‘The king is interviewing members of the academy. It is the annual assessment.’

  ‘I must see King Ludwig,’ Abberline insisted. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘His royal highness will speak to you at eleven o’clock. I am also to apologize for the fact that you did not receive your mail yesterday. What with the injury to the Emsall boy, our cherished routines were disrupted.’ The butler picked up a silver tray on which were a number of envelopes. He held the tray out to Inspector Abberline. ‘Will that be all, gentlemen?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Abberline scooped the envelopes from the tray. ‘Will you inform the king that we shall return at eleven?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Thomas and Abberline stepped back out into the blustery courtyard.

  Thomas frowned. ‘Couldn’t you have demanded to see Ludwig? After all, you’re a senior Scotland Yard detective.’

  ‘I’m also a foreigner in another country. Due to the whimsical shenanigans of an English king over a hundred years ago, who decided to give one of his friends sovereignty of an island, I’m limited in what I can demand. The only authority I have here is what is granted to me by Ludwig. My hands are tied.’

  ‘If the butler delivered a note written by … What’s the matter?’ Thomas had seen Abberline’s expression turn grim.

  Abberline held up a small white envelope. ‘Recognize the writing?’

  ‘Good God, it’s from him.’

  Abberline slipped the other envelopes into his pocket. He then carefully opened the small envelope that bore reddish marks, blood perhaps. He read the letter aloud. ‘“Dear boss, Whitechapel got too hot for you, my lad? Did you like the neat blade-work I did on the Missus? Dame Verity never looked so pretty. Did you find her tongue in the kettle by the fire? Ho! Picture me laughing out loud as I pen this merry little note to you. I shall get to work again in Whitechapel, boss. Next time I will double up. Start shedding tears, cos you will never catch me. Yours, from hell, Jack.”’

  Abberline’s eyes burned as he stared at the piece of paper in his hand. Thomas realized that he was focusing all of his hatred on the writer of that vicious note.

  At last, Thomas broke the silence. ‘It is from him, isn’t it? I recognize the Ripper’s handwriting from two years ago.’

  ‘He’s promising to kill again. There’s nothing I can do to stop him.’

  Thomas caught sight of the words written by a profoun
dly evil man. ‘Next time I will double up. He’s intending to kill two women next time, isn’t he?’

  Abberline sighed with regret. ‘Yes. And I’m two hundred miles away.’

  ‘Will you return to Scotland Yard?’

  ‘Until the weather improves I can’t even reach the mainland, let alone go back to London.’

  ‘If the winds blow themselves out, the ferry will start running again, then you can catch an express train from Hull.’

  ‘No. I won’t.’ Abberline spoke with absolute certainty. ‘My duty lies here. As soon as I can, I’ll send a telegram to Scotland Yard about this.’ He held up the letter. ‘There are plenty of policemen who can guard Whitechapel. It’s on this island where people are most vulnerable. Come on, Thomas, we have a killer to catch. And they are probably closer than we think.’

  Kolbaire was awake when they returned to the cottage. One of his neighbours had sat with him while Abberline and Thomas had been absent. The neighbour politely bade them good day and left as soon as Thomas and Abberline entered.

  ‘I will play the violin again,’ Kolbaire announced grandly. ‘If I form a strong enough desire in my mind to do so I will play. I have two fingers remaining and a thumb. They will be sufficient.’

  ‘I’m pleased you are looking to the future,’ Abberline told him.

  ‘My hand hurts as if Satan himself chews my flesh.’ He laughed. The sound was a shrill one, and his eyes darted nervously to the window as if expecting his attacker to return in order to chop off his remaining fingers.

  Thomas said, ‘Try and rest. We intend to move all the islanders into the palace until the danger is past.’

  ‘Gathering lambs into the barn before the storm comes. Ha!’ Kolbaire’s eyes glittered. ‘My hand burns. Give me laudanum.’ He rubbed his forehead with his good hand. ‘Yes, sir, I should say “please” but there is no please about it. I must have laudanum. I need to kill the pain.’ He raised the bandaged hand.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Abberline took the bottle of laudanum from the cupboard and poured some into a glass. ‘The pain will soon pass.’

  Kolbaire drained the glass in one massive swallow.

  Abberline spoke gently. ‘Mr Kolbaire, I need to ask you what happened last night.’

  ‘You already did. Another glass.’

  ‘No, that wouldn’t be wise.’

  ‘My hand still hurts.’

  ‘The laudanum will take a minute or two to dull the pain.’

  ‘Damn you.’ A tear rolled down Kolbaire’s cheek.

  ‘I am going to ask a number of questions because you might remember something else. A small detail could be of vital importance in discovering who hurt you.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Did anyone leave the palace refectory at the same time as you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you notice anyone follow you back to your cottage?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t see anyone outside the palace when you left?’

  ‘Jo, the firebrand lady.’

  ‘What was the lady doing?’

  ‘Jo stood at the far side of the courtyard. She was with Prince Richard. You’ve seen the way she dresses so provocatively.’ He gave a sly glance. ‘They are sweethearts. Sometimes he calls at her cottage. You know, she lives alone. Quite alone. And the young prince? Well … he comes calling.’

  ‘Tell me what happened when you arrived at the refectory last night.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Yes, again. It is important.’

  Kolbaire described his arrival. How the diners listened to a piano recital before the footmen brought in the soup and so on. Abberline didn’t mention Professor Giddings’ confession: that he’d poured an exotic drug of some sort into Kolbaire’s wine. Kolbaire told them what happened right up until he realized that his fingers had been hacked away. His account of events did not differ from the one he gave earlier. All apart, that is, from him glimpsing Jo with Richard as he left the palace.

  The clock struck eleven in the palace hallway. Thomas and Abberline sat waiting for the king.

  Thomas placed his hands on his lap. His fingers locked and unlocked. He wanted to walk along the beach in the fresh air, not sit here in the stuffy, airless building.

  Abberline said, ‘You’re not happy.’

  Thomas looked sharply at the man. For a moment, he thought he’d been speaking his worries aloud.

  He sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I have things on my mind.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Thomas intended to keep quiet about what troubled him. The next second the words came tumbling out. ‘It’s about Jo. Josephine. I think she’s fond of me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I like the woman. It’s pleasant to spend time with her.’

  ‘There’s no doubting her charisma.’

  ‘And her charms, her intelligence, her talent to make people laugh. She’s extraordinary.’

  ‘Do you wish she was not extraordinary?’

  ‘I do, because I’m …’ Thomas clenched his fists. The words that came next were awful to say. ‘I’m really having doubts about Emma.’

  ‘You’re engaged to Emma Bright.’

  ‘Yes, but she won’t come back from Ceylon and marry me.’

  ‘Emma is helping her father with important work. Cultivating tea plants that are resistant to disease, isn’t that the case?’

  ‘Yes. It’s vital work. Nevertheless, it’s important that we have a life together. Will I be an old man before she comes back?’

  ‘You told me it might be in the next year or so.’

  ‘Unless she finds another reason to stay in Ceylon.’ Thomas dug his fingernails into the palm of his own hand. ‘Should I keep waiting for a wedding that will never come? Or should I seize the chance of happiness now?’

  ‘With Jo? Isn’t she a close friend of the king’s son?’

  Before Thomas had a chance to answer, the butler glided from the shadows. ‘His royal highness will see you now, gentlemen.’

  Inspector Abberline didn’t hesitate. The time had come to act decisively. When he spoke to King Ludwig in his office, it was with urgency and absolute seriousness.

  ‘Sir,’ Abberline said. ‘I cannot guarantee the safety of your people on the island. Not if they remain in their homes. The cottages are isolated and they all can’t be guarded at the same time. I believe the killer struck again last night when he cut off the fingers of Mr Kolbaire.’

  ‘Then the killer is losing his nerve.’ Ludwig sat at his desk, gazing out of the window. ‘The man daren’t commit another murder.’

  Abberline’s fist crashed down on the desk so loudly Ludwig jumped in shock.

  ‘More people will die.’ Abberline wasn’t intimidated by the king. ‘The killer is creating stunts that will draw the attention of the newspapers. He, or she, wants their crimes to be known throughout Britain.’

  ‘You believe he will kill again?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  Thomas added, ‘The killer is clearly resourceful and intelligent. They built an electric battery that was powerful enough to render the boy unconscious when he touched the gate.’

  ‘He must be in league with the very devil.’ Ludwig clenched his fists in anger. ‘So, Abberline, you told me that my people are not safe. What shall we do to protect them?’

  ‘Bring them into the palace.’

  ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Either that, or evacuate them to the mainland.’

  ‘But it’s the time of year when I evaluate the work of academy members. They must remain here in order to submit their papers. This is crucial to the conduct of the academy.’

  ‘Then send out an order, telling everyone to come here at once.’

  ‘But dash it all, Abberline, the place will be full to the rafters! And what about the fishermen and their families?’

  ‘Everyone must be housed here. The palace will become a fortress.’

  ‘Sir, you wish to turn my home into an armed ca
mp?’ Ludwig shook his head as the reality of the situation sank in. ‘How long will the islanders remain here? Six hours, six days, six months?’

  ‘For as long as it takes to catch the killer.’

  Ludwig’s eyes darted in Abberline’s direction. ‘Ha. You’re forgetting something. If the killer is here on the island, and if everyone is brought to the palace, then surely the killer will be in this very building. He will move among us. He can strike while we sleep.’

  ‘If the killer does come to the palace, they will, as likely as not, quickly give themselves away. We’ll discover their identity and they will be arrested.’

  ‘I must ask this question, Abberline, even though it’s painful to put it into words: do you suspect a member of my academy?’

  ‘There are intense rivalries. We know that academy members have fought duels in the past.’

  Ludwig rolled his eyes in despair. ‘No one was ever killed.’

  ‘Not until now,’ Thomas pointed out.

  ‘The academy must not be brought into disrepute.’ Ludwig scowled angrily. ‘I have invested a fortune in this venture. All my adult life has been devoted to enabling gifted men and women, whom would otherwise be overlooked, the opportunity to conduct important research and create great works of art.’ The man’s eyes glittered. Clearly, his academy meant an enormous amount to him. It was as if its strands were interwoven with the fabric of his life and very soul. ‘The academy must not fail. It must not.’ He pounded his fist on the desk. ‘I will hang the rogue myself.’ Ludwig slammed his fist down on the desk again.

  This time a terrific bang echoed through the house. Windows rattled. A picture fell from the wall with a crash. Ludwig stared at his fist in surprise as if it had caused the tremendous noise.

  Another loud bang thundered across the island.

  Thomas ran to the window. ‘That sounds like cannon.’

  ‘Someone’s firing cannon at the palace?’ Ludwig appeared dazed with shock. ‘How could they bring artillery onto the island without it being seen?’

  Abberline pointed. ‘Over there … smoke above the trees.’

  Thomas stared in shock. ‘There’s an –’

  The third blast of sound came like thunder, drowning what he’d said.