This is a story that's been on my mind forever. I'll be grateful to hear any thoughts and suggestions. This is a WIP and I will try my best not to break your hearts by abandoning this. Also, this is my first attempt at ACD fanfiction, so please bear with me while I indulge Ginny's sleuthing skills.
Here, first meetings happen.
The junkie showed up one day at a crime scene; a drug fight that had resulted in an eighteen year old's murder. He was barefoot, the yellowing white shirt hanging loose off his chest. His mangy black curls had bits of paper and foil in it and his gray eyes were unnaturally bright as he stared at the body. Her startled team thought he was another homeless vagrant who lived and shot up under the bridge, but the grimy albeit expensive coat convinced Ginny otherwise. It was one thing if the entire outfit was cheap and disheveled. But this kid had been well-dressed and groomed at some point. He'd just been living rough. Ginny walked towards him and gripped his arms, trying to ignore the stench of garbage. Where had he been? "Look here, this is a crime scene. You can't be here.", she said. "Let the police do their work." Gray eyes snapped toward her and she scowled at him as he took in her appearance. "I know who killed her", he said, earning suspicious glances from the five coppers.
"How? Did you see him? Did you witness the murder?", Ginny asked, breathless.
A smug smile curled up his mouth as he looked at them. "No. I was not present when he killed her. I was at a drug den in Barking" he drawled. "I inspected the body before you lot got here. I was the one who made the call."
"Right.", Ginny said and gestured to Sally. "I'm bringing you in." The kid huffed and protested, but they stuffed him in a panda car nevertheless. "You know too much for your own good, kid.", Ginny told him as they drove through the rainy ambush of London's streets. In the rear-view mirror, his eyes met hers. She fought the urge to look away, trying to shake off the feeling that he could see right through her. He looked as if he'd seen all that hell had to offer and still chosen to cohabitate with lowly earthlings. "True that, but I have my uses.", he said and settled his head back to nap.
They found no ID, no cell phone or receipts on him. All they got was a sliding magnifying glass. "This is an expensive brand, Ma'am.", said the PC. "You reckon he stole this from someone?" Ginny flipped it over in her hand. It was set in a dark, sturdy metal panel. If you squinted you could barely make out the S.H. scratched into a corner.
Sally came up to her as she was observing the outer case. "Alibi came out watertight, Ma'am.", she said, her mouth twisted in disappointment. A wave of exhaustion swept through Ginny's limbs. In the past five days, three eighteen year old women had disappeared and so far, all they knew was that the killer was probably male, 5' 11" and either dealt drugs to penniless druggie wretches or hated penniless druggie wretches. She patted her pockets for her notebook, but there was no sign of it. Probably forgot it in the squad car. "Fetch my notebook from the car, please, Donovan." she said before shutting the interrogation room door behind her.
"Not a very comprehensive list, is it?", His Smugness proclaimed the moment she sat down.
She could only glare. "What's your name?", she asked, keeping her voice level.
The kid sighed. "Really?", he asked.
"Yes. Really. First and last name, please."
He mulled that over for a second. "Bruce", he said.
Ginny scribbled it down on the form. "Bruce..?" she asked, waiting.
"Wayne."
Ginny grimaced. His laughter morphed into a hacking cough that he muffled with his elbow. "You walked right into that one, Inspector.", he said and wheezed, his eyes wet.
She thought for a moment and crossed out his first name. "Alright, since it's just all fun and games here, I'm going to put you down as Jack the Ripper." She made a show of writing each letter neatly on the form. "First name Jack, last name the Ripper", she said and smiled.
He fixed her with a noxious glare. "How original."
Ginny shrugged. "What do you know about the circumstances of Aurelia Smith's death?"
"More than you lot.", he sneered.
Ginny ran her thumb over her eyebrows, trying to stave off the lingering headache. "What. Do you know. About the circumstances. Of Aurelia Smith's death.", she repeated, her jaw clenched and her fingernails digging into her palms.
His eyes narrowed. "That crime scene", he said, "isn't really your crime scene. The murder was not executed there."
"And how'd you know that?", she asked, scribbling furiously on the scrap of paper.
A shrug of bony shoulders. "There will be more."
Her eyebrows shot up. "How do you know that?"
"You must really revisit this line of questioning", he said as he slumped into the chair. "It is simple, I observe.", he said, enunciating each syllable loud and clear.
The door swung open and Sally stuck her head in. "Ma'am, his bail's been posted.", she said.
Of course. Ginny's shoulders slumped. They'd continue blundering through for yet another day, with no new information. Three young women had disappeared in the past five days and only one had been found, dead on a dirt-ridden bank of the Thames. Aurelia Smith was likely an anomaly, but her gut told her that the Winchester girls had suffered a similar fate and that they were all linked. There was no vital clue that revealed a motive, no witness, no secret informant tipping them off. For all she knew, the murderer could be killing someone right now.
"No, not now. The murderer kills them at night and then the bodies disappear. Your intuitions do you well, Lestrade.", Jack said, his voice almost gentle.
"Why and how do you have that information?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.
He dug into his pockets and threw a black notebook at her. Ginny caught it in her left hand and her head snapped back to him.
"Hmm. Good reflexes. A pity you're so slow otherwise."
"Where the hell did you find this?" she snarled at him.
"In your pocket, of course.", he said, his face innocent.
Ginny stood up and leaned toward him, her hands itching to handcuff the brat. "Listen to me, you snotty little git. You will not pickpocket an officer of the law. I can still keep you in here on that charge-"
"And I will get bailed out again.", he said. He squinted at her as he stood up. "You're wondering why you should believe anything I say." His fingers steepled under his chin, he took her in head to toe. "Let's see, married for three years, intuitive and highly emotional, caffeine addict, heavy smoker, insulin resistant, untidy, drives a 2007 Honda Civic with one hand, has an egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast every day in the car .", he paused, his nose wrinkling. "One younger brother, absent father, disgustingly close relationship with your mother. I don't even want to start on the endless marital problems and low self esteem issues."
Ginny and Sally gawked at him. "Need I go on? There's lots more", he said, smiling at her.
"No", she said, regretting the quiver in her voice. "Get out."
He frowned, confusion evident on the knotted brow. "I will be in touch." he said, before twirling around and leaving the room, garbage-scented coat and all.
True to his word, he did. The very next morning, in fact. "I found your crime scene, Lestrade. And the bodies.", the voice said, before the thought of saying hello had even crossed her groggy mind.
"Bodies?", she rasped, sitting upright.
There was a moment of hesitation. "The Winchester girls. Be there in half an hour." The call went dead a second later, followed by two texts in quick succession.
Cannon Street Rail Bridge on the London side.
Do NOT bring Anderson.
Like hell I won't, thought Ginny. Her phone screen showed it was 5.55 am. She jumped off the couch, threw water on her face, grabbed her keys and the cold brew from the refrigerator and stepped out the front door, only to come trotting back inside a second later to grab the nearest coat and gloves. She shot off texts to Anderson and Sally one-handed as she reversed out of the driveway and pulled onto the street. She called the railway services office and cajoled, exaggerated and mad threats at various points in the ten minute conversation until finally, they agreed to give her half an hour with no rail traffic.
She had no reason to rely on the junkie's conviction, but right now, she'd take any lead. Besides, he'd been right about most of the things he'd spat at her the other day. All of the things, her mind supplied ungratefully. She gritted her teeth and flipped off a cab driver as she cut past him, ignoring his angry shouts. On some mornings, she would greet a phone call by howling into it, throwing it at the nightstand and going back to sleep. On most mornings, she'd return home at 3 am and eat cereal on her living room couch, hearing Andrew's snores and stifling her urge to kick him in the shins and make space for herself to drop into bed. She'd fall asleep on the couch, watching Doctor Who , waiting for an update, a new lead, any good news.
There were no parking spots to be found, but then that was the advantage of having a police car. She had no regrets as she double-parked and put her lights on before killing the engine. She snatched her coffee mug out of its holder and gritted her teeth when her jacket sleeve got stuck around the handbrake lever. The resultant jerk caused some coffee to splash over the console and her coat, leading to another stream of curses. She could grab paper towels from her glovebox and blot at the coat, but she didn't. Instead, she watched as the stain spread wide on the tan fabric. "Your car is a sty, Gin.", Andrew had said, multiple times. Far be it for him to drive, he would refuse to enter it. "I would rather take a cab than sit in this death trap.", he'd say, his nose upturned in disgust at the piles of papers on the back seat, the garment bag with the one good suit that lived on the passenger seat, the Ziploc bag of cat litter and the ubiquitous coffee stains on both the front seat and his wife's left knee.
And I would rather run you over with this death trap, dear husband. Now, as the gust from the opened car door hit her in the face, Ginny dug into the passenger door's magazine holder and found a scarf. Sniffing at it revealed that it didn't smell like cigarette smoke or coffee. She got out of the car and shut the door, watching her coat get stuck in the gap. One hand pulled at the fabric at a rather unfortunate angle that triggered a slow, satisfying rip and the clatter of three mother-of-pearl hand-sewn buttons to the pavement. She admired her handiwork, hugged the remainder of the coat tightly to herself and took a swig of coffee as she strode toward Cannon Street Bridge. The constable manning the entry to the narrow walkway let her in as she continued to ignore his pointed look at her attire. She looked out at the grey expanse of the Thames to the left and the partition dividing the walkway from the live rail tracks to her right. An involuntary shudder passed through her. They had a narrow window of thirty minutes to examine the scene, for the rail service would be restarted sharp at 7.00 am.
The usual huddle of police personnel was now transformed into a tight line in front of the junkie, who was perched on the railing separating bridge from the thin air right above the river. One leg dangled at each side of the broad plank of steel as he bent forwards and to his left, his magnifying glass focused on something on the outside of the railing. Ginny stared at them, speechless. Sally was scowling at his head, her eyes narrowing as his neck rotated outwards in a slow, torturous pace. To her side, Anderson's hands twitched, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes alight with fury. Jesus, how long had it taken her to get here? Jack couldn't have insulted her entire team in five minutes.. Oh, wait. "This is how we found him." Sally muttered. Ginny sighed and made her way through the formation to reach the kid. Putting her coffee cup on the plank of steel, she used both hands to clamp the bony ankle on her side of the railing. "Now.", she said, "Get down from there and tell me what you have found.", ignoring the yelp from the leg's owner. He sat upright and struggled to get free, but she had the advantage of being ten pounds heavier in body mass and two grams lighter in cocaine. Or whatever he'd taken this time.
"Let me go, Lestrade. You're impeding my ability to observe the blood stains.", he said, his voice no more than a croak. Ginny swatted away his hands and took in the pale, sickly skin and sweaty palms with growing dread. Then he stopped struggling. Looked her over and grinned, his teeth surprisingly white. "But of course, Lestrade. You'll want to see them for yourself.", he said and swung his other leg over to their side. He landed between her and Sally, earning a shriek of disgust from the PC. Ginny let go of his ankle, surprised. That was easier than expected.
"The girls accompanied him here, for the view and a quick smoke. He knocked them unconscious, then threw them off the bridge and jumped in himself.", said Jack. Ginny frowned at him. "Wait, so you're confirming that this is the same guy from the Smith murder?", she asked.
"Yes", he drawled, like he was talking to a five year old.
"We've been looking for the Winchester girls for the past three days. Granted, they were last seen near a pub in Gravesend by the water, but we've scoured most of the river and there's been no update. There was no history of drug use either. Why do you think they're related?", she asked. "Also, did you just say the murderer jumped in after them ? Does that mean he's dead?".
"No", he said, his eyes scanning the river bank in the alcove in front of them. "But he's practically showing you his hand"
Ginny gaped at him. "And why would he do that?"
The kid turned to her and screamed with barely repressed rage. "Because he got tired of waiting for you dim lot to figure it out, Lestrade."
Ginny exhaled slowly and took a step toward him. "Watch your mouth, Jack.", she said, her voice low.
"Or what?", he said and sneered at her.
"Or you'll be one of many who disappear over this railing and remain lost and forgotten", she said. The words were out before she could stop herself. She could feel her team's stares and the regret that coursed through her, but she held on all the same.
Jack stared at her. "You wouldn't.", he said, the arrogant smile still on his face, but she noticed how his stomach clenched in and his spine bowed slightly toward the tracks.
"Try me", she said, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth as they locked gazes. Finally, a twitch of his right eye confirmed her suspicions. "I followed them.", he said. "The Winchester girls." He looked at the ground.
"You what?", said Ginny, all bravado gone.
"They looked like his next target, so I followed them. Until..", he hesitated. "Until I lost them. He got them to accompany him and they disappeared without a trace."
Ginny stared at his clenched fists. "Alright. How'd you know they were thrown off from here?"
She ignored Anderson's whine of protest. Jack looked up, a proud grin on his face.
"I have sources", he said.
"Okay..", she said. Their narrow window was closing soon and they had yet to confirm if this was indeed a crime scene. "Let's discuss that later in my office. You said this is from where he threw them off?", she asked as she knelt down to examine the scene at her feet. The dirt line in front of them was uneven compared to that all over the rest of the walkway, but she could not say for sure that there was a trace of a footprint. If the murderer had dragged the victims from where they'd found the tire tracks near the walkway entrance, why wasn't all of the dirt disturbed? She would hope that dragging a body would create a large disturbance and leave a trail. Unless Jack was right.. She thought and her head snapped towards the kid.
He smiled, his chin jutting out. "Clever girl.", he muttered, but gave nothing else away. Ginny looked back at the railing, the rusted inside edge that gleamed. If she peered closely, there was one, shining scratch but no blood stains. "Why are there bloodstains on the outside but not the inside of the railing?", she asked no-one in particular. Anderson scoffed. "We don't even know that that's true. I'm not listening to what he says and I'm not going to let anyone tamper with evidence until my team is here", he snapped.
"We don't have time for that, you idiot!", the kid hissed at him.
"Don't call him that!", Ginny and Sally snapped together. Ginny looked at her in surprise. Sally avoided her gaze. "Ma'am, we.. we should get a proper forensics team with a safety harness to examine this", she stammered.
The junkie ignored her. "Lestrade, he might kill his next target tonight. There is no time." he said, his eyes alight and wide.
"How do you even know that? Where are the bodies?" said Anderson, bolstered by the support. "How do we know you didn't drag us out here for a joke?", he went on, his voice grating on Ginny's nerves.
"Anderson", she warned, but it was too late.
"You freak!", he spat at the boy. The latter's face was an icy mask of derision, but Ginny didn't miss how his bottom lip twitched.
"That's enough out of you!", she barked at them.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "Why isn't your team already here, Anderson? You've been here for the past ten minutes. Are they so busy having a morning fuck that they failed to pick up your phone calls?"
Anderson looked sufficiently embarrassed. "They will be here in an hour, Detective Inspector. There was a logistical issue."
The kid snorted. Ginny frowned. "What logistical issue?", she asked.
"Their cars won't start." Anderson said, now staring directly at the ground.
Her mouth hung open. "Their cars won't start? How can four cars belonging to people working on the same team not start on the same morning? Were they working yesterday? Or did lightning strike down the automobiles of only these four cretins last night?" She regretted her volume the moment she'd finished, but it didn't help that the hillside echoed her words back at them. To her right, the kid rubbed his nose and hid a grin.
Ginny turned to Sally. "Any updates from the diving team overnight?"
Sally shook her head. "They'll be here in two hours too, Ma'am. They had too much exposure yesterday; it was bitterly cold."
Ginny shook her head. "Right", she said. "That won't do. We don't have two hours. The bastard's already stalking his next victim by now. I'm going to confirm if there are stains on the outside. If there are, you will take samples and photographs, I do not care how , and process them today. Today, you hear me?" she said to Anderson's bowed head. Sighing, she hesitated for a second before planting her palms on the cold steel surface and hauling her arse up to perch on the edge. She took a deep breath, swung her left leg slowly and inched forward to the area where Jack's head had been. An involuntary twitch of her inner thigh muscles caused her to clutch the railing with all four limbs in a death grip. "Hold my leg.", she said to them. A clammy, long-fingered hand clutched her ankle as she twisted to the left and lower, trying to reach the exact spot on the rusted surface where there was a dark, dried smudge of what could only be blood. She scrunched up her eyes at the circular smudge. No drops or splatters, except directly below the smudge. Her eyes flew wide open and she struggled to sit upright. "There's blood here, alright. But the bodies..", she said and frowned. How could no-one have found them yet? None had floated ashore anywhere, none found in the three mile radius around the pub that the divers had searched.
She looked at Jack, who nodded. "That", he said, "is where you come in." Ginny stared at him in confusion, clamping her ankle closer to the metal railing a moment too late, for the kid turned her right leg upwards in a surprise maneuver that left her breathless, snatched her fingertips away from the steel and left her clawing at thin air, screaming blue murder as she hurtled towards the foamy gray water.
