Authors: Andrew Bishop
“
What are you doing?” I managed to cough out in a crazed panic, for I saw little else I could do. My legs failed me and my mind was incoherent.
“
Business,” he said. “Business as usual, Mr Godwin.” And with that he ran from the room, leaving me to find my own way from the murder scene.
Following the ordeal at Arthur Shaw’s house I did the only thing I could think to do; I fled. I was too afraid to be found near the murder scene so immediately ran home. It was early morning when I finally reached my front door, having ducked and weaved through the streets in avoidance of the shadows of officers and strangers. I was cold and damp from the twilight rain. I turned out all the lights and slumped in a mess in the hallway of my home. The events were a haze of confusion and horror, and I had little desire to recall them, but I knew far too well that I would have to face it eventually. Even if I wished to turn a blind eye to the occurrence, my heart still acknowledged that there was an evil beyond my door that was getting ever closer.
Perhaps a stronger man may have done something, but I was too exhausted. I removed my shirt, throwing it out of sight,
and went to my chamber to attempt to sleep, to little success. Despite what should have been a heavy and exhausted sleep, I awoke not long after. I drifted in and out, awaking at odd hours of the morning, but occasionally managing to catch several hours of sleep. Eventually, I managed to drift off into a long doze and did not awake until early afternoon, having missed work. No matter.
What the hell had gone on last night? Arthur Shaw, who revealed that the meeti
ngs were of his own creation, suddenly killed by his own assassin? It made little sense, and that worried me even further. Were we now in the hands of a madman who could kill any of us for any given reason? Although the situation had not been ideal, at least there was some logic behind the operations. But now, with Shaw dead, all logic had collapsed and replaced with horror. I kept thinking to myself: what was the motive? Why? Perhaps Shaw had been killed for no reason at all? Perhaps we were finally dealing with the madman himself.
I spent the remainder of my day merely existing. I drew the curtains to brood in the confines of my own home, away from the bustle of the outside world, but neither warmth nor realisation came to me. Should I tell the others i
n the meeting? Perhaps they could help, or perhaps they would be privy to additional knowledge that could resolve this entire thing. In the end I decided against it: a madman controlled those meetings, and I still was unsure if I could trust all within that room. I would not be willing to stick my neck on the line to find out. I knew I could not trust Lucius, for Arthur referenced him directly, and that was enough for me to know to keep quiet.
And should I return to the meetings? The previous night had l
eft me confused as to what I should do, but those words resonated inside me.
"Business as usual."
He wanted us to continue as if nothing had happened. And so, without any real choice in the matter, that is what I decided to do: I would walk to The Flying Knave the following week as if nothing has occurred. I would pour myself a drink and sit in my seat in silence. I would obey.
It was the only option I felt that I was left with. I felt defeated. I was cornered, and the hunter knew it. Any direction I too
k to flee would result in my demise. I was resigned to this, and knew that I had few choices: wait until an opportunity to escape presented itself, which seemed unlikely, or proceed to aid James with his investigation. The hunting of Jack appeared to be the only way I could end this thing.
With that in mind I posted a letter to James, telling him that I missed our conversations and would like to see him again, when his schedule permitted. Not two days later he called round and I welcomed him with open ar
ms, although he was not mutual in his greeting.
“
You look worn,” I said as I lead him to the living room. “Is it the work?”
“
Yes, but not like that. Sorry, a lot on my mind at the moment. I am glad that you contacted me, though. I am sorry that I have not been too attentive to your cause since your return.”
I poured tea and served it to him. “
Nonsense. You are not my carer, James, and you have your own life. I just miss the old days when you used to visit with some strange case and we talk about it for hours on end.”
James smiled. “
We are not entirely ourselves anymore, I suppose. Besides, I have been on just the one case since your return. I wish I could see the end of it.”
“
Perhaps you would wish to talk about it? It may help. You do look strained.”
“
Yes, perhaps, although I fear that you will be as confused by recent news as I.”
“
And perhaps, as an outsider, it may make perfect sense.”
James let out a chuckle. “
True, true. You were always good for that. Whenever I had my head far too deep in a case, you could offer a subjective view. You should have joined me as an officer, Eric. I think you would have liked it.”
“
Perhaps, but I have chosen my own path. Besides, you did well enough in my absence. That whole business with the wife killer.”
“
Yes.”
“
So, about this current case.”
“
Yes, yes of course. Well – you must keep this to yourself, although I know you would, only the newspapers have not to catch wind of this. A few days ago a chap called Arthur Shaw was murdered.”
“
Yes, I know. It is already in the newspapers, James.”
“
No – I mean, yes. I know
that
much is known. Shaw was a crook, hands in many pockets, but he operated as a businessman and knew many contacts. He was always known, but untouched, by the law as he made donations to the right places.”
“
Does not seem like such a thing to need to keep quiet.”
“
Listen
, Eric, and shush! A full day after the murder a man entered the station and turned himself in. Said
he
killed Arthur Shaw. And the others. All the Spring-heeled Jack murders. Admitted to them all.”
I paused. It could not be Him, surely? Why would He suddenly do it? Perhaps guilt over Shaw
’s death? No, of course not. I said, “Well, who was it?”
“
None other than our old friend, Lucius.”
Lucius
? Why would Lucius suddenly accept all responsibility for the murders? What the devil was he up to. He could not be Jack… no. The voice, the height, the build.
None
of that was Lucius in disguise. So what did he think he was up to?
James continued, “Eric..?”
“
I cannot believe it.”
“
No, me either. Nor any of the other officers at the station.”
“
What?”
“
Well, he admitted to the murders. Said he killed the lot of them, but when we interrogated him, his story was… well, fantastical. He said they were all killed by a hired assassin who operated over a – get this –
a card game
.”
“
A… what?”
“
A card game. Apparently, he would sit down and play cards, and somebody would die. Like some sort of witchcraft! Nonsense.”
“
Nonsense… indeed. So, what has become of him?”
“
We locked him up for a few days and were then forced to charge him on wasting police time. I do not know what the man was up to. He admitted to the murders, but on many of the nights when they occurred he was with company at local clubs, definitely not as home summoning demons with cards. Fool.”
“
So, he is free?”
“
Yes. Free to go daydream. Anyway, the official line is that he was simply wasting our time, but Lucius seemed genuinely concerned. Whilst I do not believe his reasoning’s, I do believe some truth behind it. Perhaps he is the victim in this, and someone is killing and intends to use him as a scapegoat.”
“
Lucius, the victim?”
“
Yes, I know. Ludicrous. Even I hate to admit it. But we must explore all options, am I correct?”
I nodded. “
Yes, yes you are.”
James and I sat and talked for a while longer, but had nothing much further on the case to speak about. Instead we talked idly of life, but my mind remained with the thoughts of Lucius. When the
y would not vanish I wished James a good day and, once he had wandered from my street, set out to Lucius’ house.
It was a house I only knew from vague memory, but I managed to find it easy enough. I knocked on the door and waited until I heard the delic
ate tapping of the maids feet as she approached. The door opened to reveal none other than the very same maid who served Lucius’ parents years back, a middle aged woman who brimmed with joy as she opened the door, remaking on how long it had been since she had seen me last and lamenting over the death of my Father.
“
I am sorry, Sir,” she spoke. “But Master Lucius is not taking visitors as of present.”
“
Tell him it is I, I feel that he may change his mind.”
She nodded and excused herself as she disa
ppeared back into the house. She returned several moments later and led me into the smart, if not sparsely decorated, main hall. We walked through it and she opened the door to the living room where I found Lucius slouched in his armchair, smoking and drinking and staring idly into the raging fireplace. He made a lazy gesture in acknowledgement, and the maid bowed and left the room. I stood in silence, waiting for some sort of nod, but Lucius remained slumped in his chair, glass of wine in hand. Behind him was a grand portrait of himself. The grand of noble splendour; fictitious, presumably at his request.
Lucius finally croaked. “
I suppose you heard.”
“
What were you thinking?”
Lucius beckoned for me to join him in a seat, but I walked over to him a
nd remained stood, understanding from his demeanour that this would be a brief meeting. “The same as you, Eric, although I admit my attempts were potentially a bit short sighted.”
“
The devil are you on about?”
Lucius beckoned again to the chair, and
I sat. He offered me drink and cigars, but I passed.
He continued, “
It is only a matter of time before He kills us, I am sure you know this. We cannot escape, He will find and kill us. I felt as if I were safer behind bars than anywhere else in the world.”
“
If they convicted you, you would have gone to the gallows.”
“
A more fitting end than to be killed by Him, I feel.”
“
Why is He doing this?”
“
In the last meeting you requested the death of Arthur Shaw, which was granted.”
“
And Arthur Shaw was behind this entire thing,” I cut in. “At least, that is what I understand.”
“
You knew?”
“
No, not then. It was only after I visited him in an attempt to reverse the entire thing that I learned. From what he said I assume he held some sort of control over you, as he did over my business in the form of blackmail, and used you to give life to this entire thing.”
“
Yes.”
“
Well, spit it out. Tell me your side of the story.”
Lucius looked over his shoulder, but the room was empty. “
I would prefer not to.”
“
I did not visit for you to remain tight lipped. You have dragged me into this thing, Lucius, and now your position has been revealed. You owe the truth to me, now.
Especially
now, with us all in the same boat.”
Lucius
’s eyes seemed to sink. “It started several years back, although I do not know the exact date. Well, it probably started many, many years before that, although I can only speculate. Shaw operated by planting the seed in the mind of one person. He told them that if they started up a group and paid his fees, then he could arrange the death of anyone. All they would have to do is bring people, and their money, to the table, and the deal is on. Once the pot grew too large, Shaw would kill the members at the table. He would liquidise their companies, pocket all money, and step away. To the police it just looked like some sort of corporate spat.”
“
Did nobody trace the company that bought them all out?”
“
It was a front. Is that not always the case? Shaw had enough control to be able to fix up fake companies, and to have paperwork conveniently disappear.”
“
And the police never caught onto this?”
“Think about how long we have been going on now. About a year? It happens so sporadically that the police just never made the link.”
“
So, your involvement. Shaw approached you?”
“
Yes, he asked the exact same thing.”