The Dark Mass
The truth, what makes it what it is? Is it proof that makes the truth? Aw, but this is easily manipulated. Tis the very reason why innocence dies every day. I curse my dreams when I think about the pain, horror, and terror I could have prevented had one saving thought come to me.
This story is not about me though. No, that accolade belongs to one Francis E. Finrald and this story follows the deeds of a scientist ahead of his time. Nearly every hour of every day was spent in the laboratory under his house creating, inventing, and concocting. He was a man of great genius but, an awful dresser. When he did venture out, he was predictably clad in his white lab coat and glasses. Finrald was a prisoner to his puzzles which lured him to endlessly search for the truth.
It was late autumn of 1888. The streets of London were foggy, dark, and at that time, full of danger. The alleyways slicing in and out were ruled by a mad murderer branded Jack the Ripper. I waited for the shrill alarms to pierce the dark knowing that Francis E. Finrald would be coming out tonight for the fright of his life. The sooner he got there, the better. The obnoxious sound of whistles shrieked from the corners and alleyways as I arrived to the grizzly scene.
Mayor Durkey had already arrived, as a proper mayor must. Dressed in a blue suit and collar, he indeed appeared a man of power. Now if only his belly did not protrude to where you felt you were talking to an upside-down frog, I might have actually voted for him.
Moving on, he man was standing next to most recent victim of a terrible murder. The lady looked as if she had no chance of surviving such a slaughter. Her neck had nearly been sliced right off her body, but left on just enough for the murderer to reach his hand into her throat and pull it out. It had been stuffed into her mouth and her eye sockets-with her eyes still in them. Her blouse had been ripped open to reveal her chest, only for an unfortunate soul to see the right breast had been cut off. The other was covered with razors. The right hand was put over the breast wound. The left arm, cut into three sections, was laid about the crime scene. Her legs were crossed, and her feet broken and twisted to look almost inhuman. The scene was inhuman, and the man who caused it, demonic.
"Well, this certainly isn't a pretty sight," I said while looking down at the body with Mayor Dirkley
"That be number six sir," replied the bobby. For those uncultured peoples reading this document, a bobby is an enforcer of the law. Basically, what the Americans would call a policeman.
"What a bloody mess!" exclaimed Dirkley, "Why did this have to happen when I was put into office?"
"Yes, tragic," I said, trying my best to ignore Dirkley, "This has to be the most gruesome one yet."
"That's a fact sir. I've never seen anything like this before," replied the bobby.
When the lamp flickered I recognized the chief bobby from Pemberton Station, Captain Clare. As usual, he was dressed in the average attire of a chief of police. His red coat stood out in the foggy, black night, to where it looked like the soul was drenched in dried blood.
I must apologize for my descriptions thus far. I'm afraid they have been…more grotesque than many would prefer. Your warning comes now: if you are not an individual whom can stand the sight if blood, stop reading, NOW. On with the story—.
"Was it your men guarding this post, Captain?" I asked Clare.
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me, what pre tell happened to them?"
"The same lot sir."
"Really? I have always found sleeping guards to be so reassuring."
Clare bristled, "I beg your pardon, Jacky! I won't have you criticizing me men… just look at them, they're sick with grief."
I looked toward Clare's men, all of them still blowing their whistles and getting people out of the area. They seemed to have had energy poured into them compared to how drowsy they usually looked. I suppose that is how someone who has seen a murder victim as terrible as this would look. I wasn't impressed when I first saw them. Nothing has changed.
I redirected my attention toward Captain Clare, "That's Detective Rickords to you Captain. Now can we get things moving along before the panic sets in?"
"Fine, Detective Rickords, you're absolutely right. The whole city is going to be in an uproar, all because of this 'Jack the Ripper' business."
"Indeed. We're going to need more men over here before daylight. I'll see if I can find a photographer before they take the body out Captain. And please, tell your men not to talk to any reporters."
"I suppose you're right detective."
"Alright then Captain, I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Wait. What about me?" asked Mayor Durkey. I had completely forgotten he was still with the Captain and me.
"What about you." I said, "Do what a mayor is supposed to do in a situation like this."
Durkey looked at me in surprise, "Which is?
I was too annoyed to bother and even answer his idiotic question. I left in the opposite direction toward the Market Place. Why Finrald hadn't shown up at the crime scene was not my concern. All I needed was for him to be out in the open. I took the shortcut through the market and into Charles Avenue.
Things were not going as I had thought they might on the streets. I had thought all this noise would have spurred quite a few of her neighbors to come out and see what was going on. I was entirely wrong… quite the opposite; once they found out who was responsible for the murder, they went to their doors to check the bolts and dared not come out. So there was no sign of Finrald, but I had an idea of another way to get his attention. Around 2:00, I arrived at his door. I knocked on his door about four times before he finally arrived at the door, still in his lab coat.
"Hello, Mr. Finrald, I'm Detective Jackson Theodore Rickords. I'm the lead investigator assigned to the Ripper cases. I had sent for a carriage to bring you and your photography equipment to the murder scene."
"Well, I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm currently working on something right now," aid Finrald.
"Come now, Mr. Finrald. You of all people should know that something like a mass murderer murdering people is more important that some science experiment."
"Excuse me?" exclaimed Finrald, "My experimentations make an important contribution to the modern scientific community."
"Look, we don't have time to bicker over something as idiotic as this. All we need is your photography equipment."
"Well, I don't know, Detective. My cameras haven't been used in a couple of months—"
"You know," I began, "many of the ladies in town are quite frightened over this whole thing. I'm sure they would greatly appreciate your contribution."
Finrald looked startled, "Wh-What?"
"Yes, Mr. Finrald, the ladies. I'm sure they would all love to hear about your dramatic battle against the forces of evil and how you brought Jack the Ripper to his knees before you single handedly arrested him."
"But, I-I didn't do any of those things."
"You don't get it do you? You help me out with this case, and I'll personally make sure that every lady in London would kill to sleep with you."
And that was how I convinced Finrald to come along. He insisted the camera required his expertise to make it work right. Next thing you know there he was, at the gruesome site of Mayor Durkey's demise. I expected the rest to go smooth as pudding. He took all the photographs needed for the case. He was even able to find a solid witness from the other night. Well, not so much find as more along the lines of threatened and dragged to the scene.
"Well, I think this woman may have been the last one to see the miss alone with some shadowy figure. Most likely Jack the Ripper," he said as he handed me his notes.
I looked over the notes that Finrald had given me. Overall, the notes were of no natural, unnatural, or any decent use to me or anyone at all. However, the one thing that seemed to be consistent about all the killings was that they occurred during 1 and 3 in the morning.
"Alright, let's set up a stake-out for tonight. Captain, don't be bringing your men. I feel that a small team of people would be better off catching the Ripper in the act."
"That sounds like it could actually work, Rickords."
"Right. We'll also be needing you too, Finrald. Of course, we can be expecting you to show up, right?"
"Err, yes, Detective. I'll…make it," said Finrald.
"Very well, then. We will all be meeting here at 1:30 sharp. I'll be seeing the both of you tomorrow night.
***
"Francis you're late," I stated.
"Sorry," he gasped for air, "I needed to get a clean lab coat for tonight. So, where will we be searching?"
"Ah, an interesting place, Mr. Finrald," said Captain Clare as he pointed to St. Paul's Cathedral. It was indeed a lovely place, filled with architectural wonder. It was one of the few places that Jack the Ripper had yet to terrorize any unfortunate people. The Captain and I both suspected this place to be the next target.
"I hope you're not afraid of the dark, Mr. Finrald," said Clare with a smile on his face.
"Of course not, Captain!" said Finrald, "Shall we be going, then?"
As we began walking I could hear Francis mumbling something under his breath.
"This place sure is creepy." I did not need him to tell me that, since I could hear his legs shaking and his teeth chattering.
"I thought you said you weren't afraid of the dark," I said.
"I'm not! I'm just a little anxious is all."
"Of course you are," said Clare. I could tell that Finrald was getting very annoyed with the Captain and I.
"Are you calling me a liar, Captain?"
"Just stay calm, Finrald," I began, "We don't need to be at each other's throats with a murderer wanting to get at ours."
"Huh…you're right, Detective," stated Finrald.
And almost like clockwork, the sound of feet began to fill the corridors. All around us, as if 20 men had all of the sudden filled the room. We all stood silent, looking for Jack the Ripper at all angles. But just as soon as it began, it stopped.
"What was that?" screeched Francis.
"Our murderer! Split up, everyone. Captain, search the front door. Francis, the churchyard. I'll take the back. Now let us give Jack a night Jack will never forget."
"Wait," started Finrald, "What if he kills one of us."
The captain turned his head to look at Finrald. He looked at him with a devilish smile on his face. He began to walk toward Finrald, standing fear-struck. The Captain stood face to face with him.
The Captain said, "Then you're dead, my good man."
***
It is lucky for me that while Francis walked further and further into the night he did not expect to find Jack the Ripper or else he might not have come with us. I was able to stay close and never be seen. He looked like the perfect bait. Oh, did I forget to mention I persuaded Finrald to help by dressing like the other victims? Yes, I figured that would be a nice touch, if I don't say so myself. Off he went down the path heading straight toward the fountain. From the nearby shrubs I could hear his nervous chatter which made him look similar to a drunken man who had far too many brouskies. I thought that it might of actually help lure out Jack the Ripper; except Francis was not disguising his deep voice.
"If he is anywhere, I would bet he's here," Francis tried to whisper to himself.
How unfortunate that he was right…sort of. I began to wonder where the oaf had gone and if he was not coming back. I had not decided what to do if this fell apart.
Crash.
"What was that? No, Francis. It is alright, Francis! It's all in your head."
I saw him nearly fall over when a voice from the dark said, "You sure are dumb for a genius".
He tried to whirl around blurting out, "Who are you?"
"If you want to know, follow me."
Just then, Francis saw exactly what I saw, a great dark mass jumping over the guardrail of the fountain, and heading north.
"Why did I have to find him?" moaned Francis as he began to yelp and swing his arms trying to attract our attention. I saw him hobble after the dark mass. He went through North Passage to New Gate Street. Watching him run was almost more fun than I expected it would be. Almost. Moving on, the chase wore on until he finally came out at the cross of New Gate and Winterbread. There, he found the mass getting into a carriage.
"Stay where you are, demon," Francis yelled in his real voice throwing a rock at the mass's head. I heard a loud thud when the rock hit the carriage. Then I saw the tall stovetop hat roll toward Francis's feet. The huge dark mass came out of the shadows to claim the hat revealing a lumpy, deformed head. Skin was hanging over skin and lumps made his head appear twice the size of a normal head. The face resembled the soul.
"What are you!?" Francis screamed.
"A monster," it bellowed swinging a bronze handled cane right at him before it limped back to the carriage. Its smile was gruesome and beady eyes full of satisfaction. "Till another day, Mr. Finrald!" and it drove away. Francis had ducked the cane ramming his own head against a lamp post. He tried to get up, only to fall back down, unconscious. And there I was, standing with the body of Francis. The plan had failed.
***
"Francis, Francis, are you alright?" Captain Clare asked struggling to lift his shoulders up while I baled water from the fountain and poured it over his head. I blew my whistle thinking we would need someone to bring a wagon.
Two bobbies came across the churchyard wagging their lanterns. Just as their lights fell on us I heard one exclaim, "Oh dear God not another one sir?"
Francis gasped, "What happened? Where is Jack the Ripper?"
"No, you see he's coming around now," I exclaimed.
"No detective I meant this one over here draped across the guardrail…."
Captain Clare asked "Are you serious man? Let me have that lantern."
I waited to hear the Captain confirm the discovery. I lifted Francis to his feet. "Let's go see what this is all about." As we crossed behind the shrubs next to the guardrail we found Captain Clare on his knees and we knew. The tears flowed down his face until finally the words came "That's me sister! That's me bloody sister!" he wailed. "What did you do to my sister?" Captain Clare's face became twisted with anger as he looked at Francis.
"It was Jack the Ripper. I saw him by the fountain and went after him, but he got away-" However, the Captain's anger was faster than Finrald's tongue. Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, the Captain punched him, right between the eyes. The force flung him a good yard as he landed on the ground. He staggered to his knees, blood trickling down his forehead. His eyes looked different.
"What in God's name is wrong with you?" yelled Finrald.
"You are, Finrald." I'll kill you!" The Captain began to go after Finrald. Myself and the two bobbies did our best to hold him back. Alas, the fury of the Captain could withstand entire mobs, let alone three gentlemen. He broke through all of us and headed toward Finrald. But Finrald saw it coming and punched him in the stomach. The Captain stood astonished. Finrald got up and punched him yet again in the stomach, causing the Captain to loose his footing. Staggering, he looked Finrald right in the eyes. Then, after what seemed like hours, started at him again. This time, I was faster than both of them
"STOP," I screamed, jumping in front of both of them, "Control yourselves, both of you."
"Shut your mouth, boy," said the Captain, "This man is the murderer. He has got to die."
I pushed the Captain to the ground, hoping that this would help calm him down. By some miracle, it did seem to put him back to senses. Finrald stepped back, looking at all of us: the Captain, the bobbies, and myself.
After a long silence he began to speak, "I never killed anyone before in my life. I wouldn't think of harming another soul. I am just a scientist. Or at lease…was. I'll kill you. I'll kill every last one of you!!"
"Not likely, Finrald, your days are numbered," said the Captain.
"Oh, I will. And by the way, Captain, not only did I kill your sister, I FUCKED her too."
The Captain turned into something I don't think I will ever see again in my life. He charged, screaming in fury, fists in the air, ready to kill. Francis, however, had an ace in the hole. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a 9-millimeter pistol.
"I have enough bullets in this gun to kill every last one of you bustards. Now, I'm going to walk away, and if any of you think of following me." He pulled off the safety to make his point. He began to walk into the fog, and as he did, I wondered what would become of him. A scientist turned mad on a crime he never would think of committing. Why didn't I say anything, I will never know. What I do know is that after that day, no one ever saw dear Francis Finrald again.