Coda

Coda

The Ninth of November, 1888

My Dear Netley,
         It is finished, abhorrent though the act may have been. It was indeed an ordeal designed to test my lingering fortitude to the very limit! Be assured this letter will regale you with the events of this abominable eve, yet it shall be the last of our correspondences for time unknown. That blighter Abberline has been sniffing around earlier than per the norm, and if our copper friend decides to so much as glance in my direction, all will be for naught. It is for this reason I am currently hunkered down in some ratty hole in the wall that not even the whores will step their calloused feet. I will be moving on soon Netley and will send for you when Abberline calms down (or when the poppy merchant comes calling to London.)
         But listen to me prattle off on my current woes, you want details yes? Friend Netley, you would vouch for my resolve and stalwart sense of character without pause. It was I after all who needed to convince you to sample Dark Annie's sweetbreads - and you smacked your lips to ensure no juices were lost. We have stood our ground four times, and ensured the bangtails didn't toddle off squawking to the coppers yes? The secret was all but contained, and only that ginger bint Kelly remained to cause trouble. You remember me pointing her out don't you my friend? The young lass from Buck's Row who had her pick of any John in the square? Her one fault though was her gob was always chittering away, and was a well of gossip to the other bangtails. Well fortune smiled upon me Netley, I set my charms to work - and she was mine for the evening; and they say one can not buy anything of worth for tuppence!
         I guided her into the King's Head pub, and like a proper gentleman, offered to quench her thirst with a pint of London's finest. How her eyes lit up at the prospect my friend! The amber liquid was drained in a breath and a heartbeat and her raucous laughter echoed throughout the establishment. There was one horrible moment when her glazed eyes wandered to my valise and curiosity lurched its way past intoxication. I can still her that wretched Cockney accent of hers querulously needling me, "wat'choo got there luv? P'raps a crust of bread from yer lunch mebbe ye kin throw my way?" Imagine my terror Netley when her grimy paws actually began to fumble at the brass clasps! I was almost exposed then and there - yet the drink had robbed the wench of any dexterity she may have possessed, and I was able to gently shoo her away. "Nothing a pretty thing such as yourself need see. Only my medical instruments and leather apron, things much too violent and macabre for the fairer sex." Oh I was a charmer tonight my friend! Her bovine facade gazed on me in a awe to almost count as deification.
         "I didn't know you was a doctor guv!" She slapped one apple colored thigh and let roll with that cackle of hers which was tantamount to a Myna bird being strangled at this stage. "What's your name again dearie? I've just got to tell the other girls I've caught me a real intellectual type!" I didn't see the harm in letting her know my name Netley. I had thought she wouldn't live long enough to appreciate it at any rate. I am a fool my friend! It was the first of many mistakes made, but I implore, stay with me but a while longer and humor my ramblings and I shall make everything clear.
         "Druitt" I whispered softly in her ear, hoping my breath would breach past the blockade of wax . "My name is Montague Druitt, dear Mary." She nestled into the crook of my arm at the sound and laid her lice-ridden head on my lapel. To be true, I was nauseated at her filth, but would accept a keg of parasites for the unforetold terrors to come.
         

         We walked through Whitchapel's shroud of fog, the flickering tongues of flame in the torch lights lending an eldritch glow to the miasma. Mary told me of her life, how she would consider herself  blessed by Fortunata if she should greet the dawn with more than fifty pence in her personal coffers. She told me of how she was even willing to shag the old Juwes who kept shop in the district for a stale loaf of bread. I was content to simply stroll along and listen. Understand Netley, I take no pleasure now or ever in our dark work. It is a necessary evil we do, and her tales of woe managed to keep my mind complacent. I come then to my second mistake of the eve's festivities...I asked the whore why she and her friends seem so complacent with their lot in life and make attempts to drag themselves from the gutter.
         "That musty old bat Victoria likes it this way luv. Someone's got to be on the bottom rung of society in order for the gentry to keep their place." I was just thinking her quite astute, when her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Wanna hear a nasty bit o gossip, my Montague? They say Long Legs Liz herself ended up shagging old Edward hisself not even a fortnight ago. Fancy that! I always thought he was a poofter from the stories that spread. But Liz was just sayin' she hasn't been visited by the curse yet this month and we girls are all thinking the same thing! One of us might just have a key to the good life soon after all!"
         Can you believe the sheer audacity Netley? This silly twit was gassing on about the greatest potential scandal in England's history as if it were as trite as weather patterns? To her executioner no less! Dispatched to silence her quacking tongue once and for all, this only kindled the flames of my wrath and set my resolve to a white-hot blaze. I held no further qualms about doing the deed my friend, and promptly suggested we make haste to her home and consummate our business arrangement.
"Mmm, I thought you'd never ask m'lord" she tittered stupidly, and took position as leader to her awaiting mausoleum.


         Considering she was nothing more than a gossiping whore Ms. Mary Kelly lived in quite the modest home. I assume she had a lover on the side to provide for her, but could not muster the strength to care whether or not he was within.
         Leading me to the master room, I set my valise at the oaken bed's foot and shed my garmants. She lay on display like butterflies from the Orient, azure eyes shut away behind heavy lids. It was time to perform, and how I wished you were at my side like in the beginning Netley, damn your cowardice!
         The valise creaked open at my touch, the knives glinting orange in the light, my implements of Hell. How she did scream when the steel kissed that supple abdomen! Quick as candlelight though I remedied that with a second blade widening those cracked and gin puckered lips into a Gordian smile to be proud of. A quick thrust to the throat cut off the caterwauling just like a gramophone being silenced. The color drained out of her face, transforming it into the waxy, milk cheese color of fresh goat dairy. It was almost beautiful until her croaking started anew.
         "Montague! Montague! You...you" How could this be Netley? Her aqua vitae was spraying in a crimson mist, and the gaping hole was widening out with each bubbly gasp, but her words rang out clear as church bells, tinged with the rusting cough of a revenant though they be.
         Panic overcame my better senses and I succumbed to my lesser being, sad to say. She knew my purpose! Her accusations saturated through the walls and lingered in the air for any to pluck out. I could not allow her to continue. I slashed in a desperate frenzy to end her wails. I hacked and bathed in a hot soup of her vitals before the words died down to naught more than a series of wheezing gasps. Yet this thing which resembled little more than the aftermath of a particularly incompetent butcher's apprentice's first slaughter which lay before me still drew breath! Demons! Witchcraft! Dear God Netley, my image was graven upon her azure eyes! Though the inner light had died out, my mien still stared forth from their depth.

         You will understand Netley if I said I let a wail of utmost disquiet escape my lips. For all our cares to remain obfuscated and dim, to have the solution crumble away due to a vengeful ghoul's machinations! I must have blunted ten knives ensuring the thing's demise. I scooped out the offending eyeballs and threw them in the kettle. I plunged through to the viscera and effluvia and rent both asunder. By all that we hold dear Netley, I did all I could to transmute this nightmare woman down to a steaming harmless mound of flesh and fluid. Was it the triphammer beating of mine own heart, or the life's breath still whistling through her trachea? I did not stay to find out. I fled in the night as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. What had I done? Was it to be only a matter of time before Abberline blessed my doorframe with his warrant?
         So here I sit in my hovel of a room, preparing to seal up this final account. As per the agreement, I will have one of the urchins deliver it to you, and Netley, I trust you will burn this letter upon reading its contents? I do not know when and where I will end up, though the Americas have their temptations.
         What's that?

My God Netley, the scratching at the door is a most inhuman noise. There are some terribly large rats in the walls by the sound of things. In any event, I remain your loyal and dear friend,

"Saucy Jack"
Montague Dru..........