Woman found dead off of North Pier

Police confirm reports that a woman was found

dead yesterday morning on the beach beside the

North Pier. Police suspect the woman was the

victim of a shark attack. The shark did grievous

injury to the woman making identification

difficult, according to police. Police warn that

while shark attacks are unlikely, people should

avoid swimming at night when sharks prefer to

hunt. Witnesses to the scene question the

police account, claiming it appeared to be foul

play.

July 18, 1864

Mr. Benjamin Granger

Main Office Rm 36, Preston England

Have arrived in Blackpool by morning train.

Meeting with local authorities at one.

Will write with further details soon.

Best regards,

Lord Francis Norbert

Roger placed the yellowing dispatch over the ancient newspaper clipping, both papers now eighteen years old. He stretched his arms out wide, leaning heavily back on the chair. Regaining himself he checked the rat bite on his hand - it was barely more than a darkened spot now. The plot to spoil the ships stores that he might have a word, unsuspected, with the captain had worked, perhaps a little too well. Granger would never forgive him for leaving his posting without permission. But this was not Granger's call. Where Charles Chapman was concerned Granger and duty and even the Queen herself must always come second. He knew this was the break in the case he had been searching for.

This proved what he had suspected all along, what his father had meant when he had written he would be delayed in returning from his posting in Australia, that his father had found Chapman. He had been away on a mission in South Hampton when his mother had received the letter, months after a telegram had arrived with news of his death of a suspected spider bite while out in the Australian bush had reached them. His mother had hidden the contents from he and his sister in hopes that he would not follow his father's footsteps. The dangerous life of a spy was not what she wished for him. She had been furious when she discovered he had contacted Granger to enlist. But there was nothing to be done for it. His mother had never recovered from the loss though she lingered on haunting the halls of their estate for years after until finally death showed mercy on her and took her quietly one Christmas evening as she watched the snow fall outside the window in her rocking chair. She requested the letter be buried with her, that no one be allowed to read it. It had grieved him not to honor either of her requests. But were he right, and it was Chapman who had killed his father, this was the last piece of evidence he left them.

He had poured over his father's notes hundreds of times during the interminably long voyage, going over the details until the words were seared into his brain, until his dreams were filled with images of white paper figures with notes marking where the injuries had been. His companion lay, neglected, in the berth behind him. A vexing little fairy called Jane who was somehow at once too willful and too concerned with propriety. He had become acquainted with her early in the journey by the aide of a missionary schoolteacher and had been at his side ever since to help pass the endless hours. At least, this had been true for the start of the journey. A malarial illness swept the crew and many of the passengers after they had made port off the coast of Africa. At which time Roger, whose time in Algeria left him unaffected, offered his assistance as a shiphand, much to the Captain's shock. He had proved more than equal to the task and had to confess he did prefer the occupation of swinging about the rigging rather than simply trying to while away the days with conversation and meals and staring out at the horizon. And Jane, of course, lying spent, on his pillow.

His eyes burned from reading so late into the night, but just one time more - before the ship made port in Adelaide - in case there was something he had missed. Something that might prove to be important later. He removed a letter from an envelope so worn the edges were beginning to give way into holes. The address was for Benjamin Granger, back when the Agency head had been in charge of the North West England Office. The envelope contained three documents: the first, an illustration; the second, a letter; and the third, and likely most important, the signed statement of the witness who had found the body. He opened the letter and read.

Mr. Benj. Granger,

You were correct in your assessment that the local police might treat our investigation into the death of Melody King with a certain degree of hostility. To say they are unforthcoming would be rather an understatement. Determined to wholly scuttle the investigation is a much more accurate portrayal. When I arrived at police headquarters I was met by the mayor, himself as well as the constable. The mayor shook my hand and promptly informed me that my services were not required, it was a simple case of a woman falling victim to a shark attack. Uncommon? Yes. But hardly unheard of. To continue in this investigation, he claimed, would only be a waste of our valuable resources, not to mention those of his own officers who were already stretched thin enough with the business of the season. I informed him that I understood his position but that, since I was here and our resources already wasted on the train fare, I might as well have a look at the body, for good measure. The mayor was reluctant but, as I forced the issue as one of import to her Majesty, he found he had no recourse and thus allowed me entry into the building. I asked if I might speak with the officer who had been the first on the scene but was told that he was conveniently on leave and thus unavailable for questioning.

The constable called over an Officer Jones to escort me to the morgue. He was a man of similar age to myself and of such a tight lipped mien I knew I should not gain further information from him - I am not certain he would have given me his name had the constable not said it first. I cannot imagine why they thought such tactics might result in doing anything more than to alert me that there might be something more to the case than a dead girl - as you were similarly alerted when you received that newspaper clipping in your mail without envelope or address.

I dismissed my escort at the entry to the morgue. He was adamant that he had orders to follow me inside but it was quite clear to us both that such orders were agreeable to neither of us (from the particular shade of green he was displaying at the entrance I did not expect he had the ability to follow me even had he been permitted and was glad of the excuse – the constable really ought to make a greater effort to be aware of his men's weaknesses as well as their strengths). I entered the morgue to be greeted by Doctor Holden who escorted me to the metal shelves where the bodies were stored. I shall relay to you now what transpired in full.

"You are here to see Melody King?"

"Yes."

"One moment." He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a metal cabinet drawer. Pulling the handle, the drawer opened revealing to me the corpse of Melody King. It was immediately clear why they had not wished for me to see the body. The doctor clicked his tongue, "Such a pity."

"They claim it was a shark that removed her hands and abused her body?"

"That is what they say," Dr. Holden said.

Noticing something about the unnaturally hollow shape of the left cheek I probed my fingers between her blue lips, careful to avoid a line of scabbed over blood where they had been split. Drawing my finger down the inner line of her jaw I felt her front teeth and then nothing. With both my hands I gently pried open her mouth to find the molars missing. On the right, two more molars were missing as well.

"I believe he knocked them out with a blow from a blunt object or his fist. You can see the shape of the bruising on the cheek is round, like a fist." The doctor curled his own fist into a tight ball to demonstrate. "But the two missing teeth on the right appear to have been yanked out."

"How can you tell?"

"You can see on the left most of the tooth sockets are open, but here and here," he pointed to a number of white circles within the pale gum, "you can clearly see portions of the root where the tooth fractured from the force of the blow. You can also see where the flesh of the gum has been lacerated on the side of the cheek, but it appears it was healing at the time of her death. Whereas with the teeth on the right he ripped out part of the bone with the tooth leaving these jagged holes. The knocked out teeth I've seen, but the others… Well, he's never done that before."

"What do you mean, before?"

Dr. Holden did not answer my question but unlocked four more drawers, pulling out four more women, each with blonde hair and none older than twenty. All of the women were missing their hands.

"Faye Donnelley, Jessica Lynch, Merinda Rigby, and this one we just call "Mary.""

"Five victims?"

He nodded.

"Tell me about them."

"Mary was the first we found, she had been placed in a confessional at the Catholic Church, the one by the pier, sometime during the night and the Priest found her after morning Mass. From what I can tell, he beat her, cut her," he pointed to a number of cut marks that had been made on her arms and legs. Each mark was short, no longer than three inches, and placed at a slight diagonal just less than an inch apart in an almost herringform design. "and finally, stabbed her," he pulled the young woman up that I might see her back upon which was a large stab wound. I opened the wound slightly with my fingers to see the through the white of where the knife had glanced her ribcage into the darkness beyond.

"A hunting knife?"

"A butcher knife, I think. You see where the edge is thinner than a hunting knife."

"Did he rape her?"

"I cannot say for certain."

"Why not?"

I will spare you the specific detail only to say that the doctor lifted up the woman's dress and I saw that her feminine parts had been repeatedly stabbed.

"Before or after she died?"

"Before. And not all at the same time. A few of the injuries had begun to heal. They were not as deep. They would have been excruciatingly painful but not lethal. But the last few… if he had not stabbed her through the back, they would have killed her in short order."

"What about the hands?"

"Those were removed after death with, what I'm fairly confident from the tooth marks on the flesh and bone, was a hacksaw."

"Do we know anything about the girl?"

"No. No one has come forward to identify her. Judging by her general health and dress, I believe she may have been a prostitute."

"And the others?"

"The same general wounds. He started breaking bones with Miss Lynch and went so far as to fracture Miss Donnelley's skull. He's experimented with the time of cutting the limbs: for Mary he cut her before he killed her, but Miss Lynch and Miss Rigby he cut after they were dead, and for Miss Donnelley and Miss King he appears to have returned to cutting before death. It is strange because he washes the bodies clean before he leaves them. We are certain that they were all prostitutes by trade."

"What are these marks on Miss Lynch's wrists?"

"Those are from her hands being tied. They are deeper and go down the wrist further because she must have struggled against them."

"It appears as though they were tied with a knotted cord."

"I thought the same," Dr. Holden said.

"You said Mary was found in a church, where were the others found?"

"Miss Rigby was found under a pile of straw in a back alley a month and a half ago, only a week after Mary. Miss Lynch the week following that buried in a manure pit. Miss Donnelley we found in a gutter just off of Talbot by the train station last week."

"He made no attempt to conceal her?"

"No."

"Then we can assume he wanted her to be found quickly, something he accomplished more effectively with Miss King. Though at greater risk. I wonder why he would take such a chance knowing he might be caught. You were right to contact Mr. Granger about this case."

"I'm sorry? I don't know who Mr. Granger is."

"It is no matter. You say he is taking a new victim every week?"

"That is how it appears."

"Then that would mean he likely is torturing a new victim at this very moment."

I will confess I was very surprised to learn this as I had interpreted his willingness to speak on the matter as an indication that he must have been the one who made contact. I am still, at this moment, uncertain of who sent you that newspaper clipping though I am sure I will uncover their identity. When pressed as to why they had not reported the murders, Dr. Holden said it was done on orders of the mayor, himself, who wished not to make a fuss regarding the death of a few prostitutes at the risk the information might find its way to the papers and forever ruin their bid to become a tourist destination.

I returned to the Police Station and requested, in the politest possible terms given their attempt to cover up that a madman was murdering the Queen's subjects, that I would like to interview the man who found Miss King's body on the beach in hopes I might glean more information. It seemed I was in luck, for the man had just happened to arrive only a few minutes before to inquire about the girl and whether her family had been found. Apparently, he is a man of some means and interested in taking care of the funeral arrangements if they cannot be located.

I have included his written statement as well as a chart of the injuries to the woman.

Best Regards,

Agent Frank Norbert

Witness Statement taken at 3:45 pm on July 18, 1864 by Agent Francis Norbert

I was woken up early on the morning of July 15 by a seagull on my windowsill. It had been hot so I left my window open all night, but I left it open too wide and I suppose the bird took it as an invitation. By the time I had chased the misguided creature off I was wide awake so I thought I might take an early morning constitutional along the promenade to the pier. There weren't many people about, I suppose it was too early; but it didn't seem like there was anything out of the ordinary. Just an average, sunny Friday morning.

Anyway, so I was standing on the pier, just watching the waves come in against the shore when I saw something strange sticking out from under the shadow of the pier, looked like maybe part of a dress or something. Not having anything better to do, I decided to investigate. I do not know what possessed me to do such a thing, perhaps it was merely boredom, or something of a supernatural nature that wished her to be found.

I knew there was something wrong the moment I saw her lying there. She was far too still. I don't know what it was precisely, but it were as though a chill went through me at the sight of her. When I approached her I saw that her hands were missing and she looked very bad off. She was covered in cuts and bruises. I suppose I knew she was dead, but I shook her anyway to try and wake her. I suppose I just could not accept that someone such as myself had stumbled on such a thing.

That was when a man called out to me from the promenade. That Catholic Priest from The Sacred Hearts Church... Father... sorry, I don't recall his name. He always takes a walk early in the morning before daily mass. He asked me if everything were all right. I shouted for him to get help, that a woman had been hurt. He returned a short time later with a doctor and the police. The doctor declared her dead at the scene and the police took her away.

Charles Chapman