“So the killer obliged,” Evelyn guessed.
“We’ll never really know if the original From Hell letter was legitimate.” I scooped the preserved kidney back into the cardboard box. “But this certainly might be. We need to get this to the police.”
“What does this mean?” she asked. “The kidney being sent here?”
The flat’s address was written on the top of the box in the same angled handwriting as the letter. For some reason, I felt like I should have recognized the killer’s flashy script. The police, certainly, would have the means of matching the handwriting to a suspect.
“It means the killer knows I’m tracking him.”
Evelyn and I returned to the police station with the kidney and letter in tow. The constables were in a frenzied state, thrashing about the station like a pack of hungry sharks around a bucket of chum. For all my polite excuse-mes, I could not for the life of me get any of the officers to notice we were standing there.
Evelyn made herself taller, if that was possible, by lifting her chin and broadening her shoulders. She stepped right into the path of a passing officer. When he accidentally bumped into her healing shoulder, she grimaced but held firm.
“Sorry, miss.” The officer, shorter and younger than Evelyn, had to look up to see her. “Didn’t see you there.”
Evelyn blocked him again as he tried to step around her. “We’ve been waiting to talk to someone. Are you free?”
“Decidedly not,” replied the officer. “Perhaps you saw the news this morning. Big robbery not far from here. Everyone’s on it. In fact, I’m late—”
Once more, he tried to step around Evelyn. This time, she planted a heavy boot on the toes of his right foot, clamping him in place. It took him a moment to realize this was intentional, and when he did, he grew indignant.
“Miss, I am an officer of the law!” he said. “Remove your foot at once!”
Evelyn did not oblige his request or bother to hide her amusement at the young copper’s attempt at authority. “My friend received a package last night containing a letter and part of a human kidney,” she said. “We think it has to do with the recent Whitechapel murders. When I remove my boot from your toes, you will scurry off and find whoever is in charge of the investigation and bring that person to us.”
The young officer, red-faced, nodded his assent. Evelyn lifted her foot, and he promptly ran off. I gazed admiringly up at Evelyn.
“What?” she grunted.
“I love you.”
“Be quiet.”
A minute later, the officer returned with none other than Chief Inspector Baker in tow. Like the constables, he had an air of haste about him. He also had crumbs in his mustache. When he saw me, he released a dramatic groan.
“You again?” he said. “Haven’t you asked for enough trouble already? You’re driving my officers mad. I had to suspend Stowick for barking up the wrong tree so many times.”
I offered him the package. “Brought you a present.”
He eyed the box warily. “Is it a bomb?”
“I’m hoping it’s evidence.”
Baker lifted the cardboard flaps and peered inside. His eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?”
“A kidney and a From Hell letter?” I confirmed for him. “You bet. You want it or not?”
He quickly closed the box and tucked it under his arm. “My team tells me you often pose as some kind of amateur investigator. Why didn’t you keep this for yourself?”
“Because as much as I know about the Ripper, I’m not an investigator.” It felt good to say those words out loud, as if I was finally letting myself off the hook for everything I hadn’t been able to figure out yet. “You also need to know that the Ripper probably lives on a houseboat called the Mouse Killer.”
Baker smirked. “The Mouse Killer?”
“I went to where it was moored last night,” I explained. “The boat left the dock as soon as I started walking up to it.”
“And?”
“And I have reason to believe it’s because the owner of said boat didn’t want me to know who they were.”
Baker’s patronizing grin widened as he patted me on the shoulder as if I were a five-year-old in need of praise and a sticker. “Good job, miss. We’ll take it from here and check out this Mouse Killer. Have a nice day.”
“But—”
Baker vanished with my evidence under his arm. We were ushered out of the station by a crowd of officers on their way to the robbery scene. When one of them caught the heel of my shoe and popped it off my foot, the short stop caused me to trip up. Evelyn caught me with one hand and steadied me.
“You did the right thing,” she said, automatically knowing that my long face wasn’t because of the misstep. “The police will take care of it. Put it from your mind.”
For a week, I was determined to take her advice. I spared no thoughts for the Mouse Killer, the Ripper, or the investigation. Evelyn and I went about our daily routines. Since she was bored out of her mind, she began to work from home. The Wagner Company kept her busy behind her laptop. Because of her security clearance, she wasn’t permitted to tell me what kind of things she did on her computer, but I didn’t much care. Though she wasn’t quite back on her feet yet, it was good to see her so excited about work again. Even if she didn’t get all shoulder functionality back, it was a relief to know the Wagner Company would continue to employ her.
Meanwhile, I updated my blog. A good deal of my followers had abandoned me, annoyed I hadn’t posted content in two months. I wrote several long posts on the Ripper case and my time in London then queued them to release one at a time over the next couple of weeks. In a few short days, my admirers returned to catch up on
