"There's nobody I trust more than you, Viv," she said into the phone. "The doctor is a dim-witted drunk whose reports are subpar. All he told me was 'things were missing' and 'they were cut'. I need someone who knows what to look for."

"I have James," Vivian said. "I can't just leave him. Can't you call anyone else?"

"No," she said. "I don't trust Arnold's doctor and no one takes me seriously like you do. Please, Vivian. You can leave James with your mum. It'd only be a day or two."

"Jane, the last time you told me 'it'd only be a day or two'," Vivian said, "I was stuck in the countryside for two weeks."

"It'll be different this time," she said.

"You said that too."

"Vivian," Jane said, "Please. I need you here."

There was silence on the other end. "How many bodies am I looking at?"

"I can only get one," she answered. "The most recent victim wasn't claimed by anyone. If you take the train tonight, you can be here in the morning. You can leave the moment you're finished. I promise."

"Fine," she said. "I'll need to get some things in order first. Tell me where you're staying at and I'll come when I can."

She gave her The Garrison's address and they hung up. Jane hadn't wasn't pleased when she heard Dr. Lester's report. The old man was more concerned about his hangover than her. His assistant recommended she return later. Jane asked if she could use their phone instead. Vivian was more than capable of inspecting the body. She called Moss about the mortuary next. Nobody claimed Kelly Chapman, which means they'd cremate her when they concluded the paperwork. He said he'd help as best he could. He told her Campbell kept him busy planning a raid in the next week. It left him with little time for investigating.

"Unfortunately," he said, "I can only investigate when a murder happens."

"I know, Sergeant," she said. "He'll be striking soon."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

She thanked him and hung up. Smoking her last cigarette, she made for Terrance Street. Lizzie Stark was her only lead at the moment. Her run-in with Copycat might give some light to who he is. Tommy said she didn't see his face. How could she not see his face if she willingly went with him? She might have thought she'd be sparing his life by not telling Tommy. She couldn't have known. Mary-Anne, Elizabeth, and Kelly hadn't known either. Copycat might've assaulted women before, but never went beyond a punch or kick. The murder was the ultimate high for him. Beating and raping women didn't please his hatred. He needed their blood on his hands. He needed to take away the "best parts" of them. She wondered what he did once he had them. Did he preserve them? Put them on ice? Did he eat them? Copycat wouldn't go through all that trouble to then throw them out. He kept them. Jack kept his.

She found #4 Terrance Street right away. An old woman answered the door. When Jane asked to see Lizzie Stark, the landlady showed her upstairs. Jane knocked on the door and waited.

"Can I help you, Miss?" Lizzie Stark was a pale, leggy woman with brown hair tied behind her head. She dressed modestly compared to other girls Jane saw. She stared at Jane curiously, and then said, "You're that detective, aren't you?"

"I am. I'm Jane Dawes," she said. "I'm investigating those alley way murders. Someone told me you might have information."

She sighed, "He told you?"

"If you mean Tommy Shelby, then yes he did."

"Come in then," Lizzie said reluctantly. Jane walked into the small lodging, taking a seat on the sofa. Lizzie walked over to a kitchenette and prepared a kettle. "I've never seen Tommy so determined to catch someone before."

"He didn't send me and he doesn't care about that man," she said. "I need information on Copycat and you might be able to help."

She put the kettle on the stove. "Is that what they're calling him?"

"That's what I call him," she said. "His killings are a lot like Jack the Ripper's. He doesn't try making it his own in any way. I'd say he's a fan."

"Some fan…"

"Tommy told me something interesting when I visited him the other day," she began. "He said you came to him about a man who beat you."

"I didn't go to him," she said. "He came to me."

"What for?"

"What do you think?"

Jane nodded in understanding. "So, he saw the bruises and asked about them?"

"He did. Why does he think I can help you?"

"For starters," Jane said, "You can tell me where it happened."

Lizzie stayed by the stove, arms crossed. "Garrison Court," she said.

"Garrison Court is busy at night. Did anybody else see you?"

"No. I was on my own that night. He…" she stopped. "I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't mean anything. It wasn't him anyways."

"How would you know?"

"Because he didn't cut me up," she said. "He didn't even have a knife."

"Not all killers kill right away. They build up to it," Jane explained. "It's minor offenses or little run-ins with the law. They act out. They repress their fantasies so much that it kills them. It leads to them killing others. It could have been him. We won't know until you tell me everything."

"Why should I tell you? I don't have to."

"You're right, you don't," she said. "Do you still work, Lizzie?"

She shifted her weight to one side, "I might."

"Do you have friends that work?"

"I did."

"If you had the opportunity to protect them from harm, would you?" She took a long drag from her cigarette and blew sideways.

"Of course." Lizzie realized what she'd said, and then added, "Trust me. The man who did it isn't capable of that sort of thing."

The tea kettle whistled softly. Jane said, "So you do know who attacked you."

"I do," she said. "I didn't tell Tommy because, well…"

"What?"

"Look, it wasn't anything serious. He didn't rape me or anything. He only hit me," she defended. "I didn't want Tommy cutting someone's throat over a few bruises. I can handle that much myself."

"Why did he hit you? Did you refuse him at some point?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm used to them hitting me and taking it anyway. It only stopped when Tommy started seeing me. He doesn't like people hurting me."

"What a humanitarian," Jane scoffed.

The kettle shrieked and Lizzie picked it up off the stove. She put tea bags into two cups and poured the water over them. "This man was…" she stopped pouring, "He was different."

"How?"

She came to her with both cups, "Ms. Dawes-"

"-Jane-"

"-Jane, he's not always like that. He's always kind to me. He even bought me a new hat. He was only drunk that night."

"So that excuses what he did?"

Lizzie shook her head, "No, but I couldn't afford to lose a customer." She gave a shaky breath and brought the tea cups to the lounge. "He came to me one night and asked me if we could go somewhere private. I asked him where he wanted me, and he took me to an alley. That wasn't the odd part."

"What was the odd part?"

"He-He handcuffed me. He pushed me to the wall and cuffed me. I thought it all pretended. He sometimes liked playing rough with me, but he never took it too far. I wasn't scared until he pulled out a knife." She gripped the sides of her cup and looked away. "He put it to my throat and said if I screamed, he'd cut me. He said I'd pay for hurting him. He said me and all my friends would pay for what we did to him. I thought he was going to kill me." She squeezed her eyes shut, "He hit me a few times, screaming and shouting things at me. Then he left. Just like that. He walked away as if he'd dumped garbage on his front porch. He threw money at me and told me if I told anyone, I'd regret it."

"Have you seen him since?" Jane sipped her tea, putting out her cigarette in an ash tray.

"Not since he apologized," she said. "I think he's afraid I told Tommy. I should have told him. Mary might still be here if I'd said something. Tommy would've gotten him. Those coppers don't know left from right. They're letting that murderer step all over us, but not Tommy. Tommy would've stopped him."

"You knew Mary-Anne then?" she asked.

"She was my friend. I worked with her," she said. "We both thought it was good to stick together. I'd gone home early the night she died. I was feeling a bit ill from some snow a man gave me, so I left."

"Snow? Cocaine?"

"Yes," she nodded. "There was a man giving it out. He gave a little packet to Mary and we shared it. I thought it was a bit reckless, but Mary-Anne liked playing with fire. It made me a bit woozy. I told her I'd sleep it off at home. She stayed out because she needed the money for her little girl. I-I could have stopped it if I was with her. She's dead because I was stupid and scared."

"She's dead because a maniac went out that night and decided he'd kill her. It wasn't because of you."

She couldn't tell Lizzie that it would've helped if she'd spoken up. If Tommy does delivers justice, Copycat would be dead. But, Jane needed his name first. "What is his name? I'll talk to him."

Lizzie gave a breathy laugh. "You? What makes you think he won't do the same to you?"

"He won't."

"His name is Malacki Byrne. He's usually at the Black Swan Pub. It's in Sparkbrook."

"Thank you, Lizzie."

The Black Swan Pub was a dingy little place a train ride away from Small Heath. She guessed they called it 'Black Swan' on the count of the black walls. All the men watched her come down the stairs and approach the bar. She noticed a group of them eyeing her from afar. Jane didn't mind. The only thing men ever did was look at her. It was becoming quite bothersome. Lizzie mentioned they wouldn't welcome her in the pub. Normally women weren't allowed there unless they came for their husband. Jane told her she can't get her answers if she waited outside a pub all day.

"Excuse me," she asked the barkeep, a large man with auburn hair, "Do you know where I can find Malacki Byrne?"

"Who's asking?"

The question didn't come from the bartender. It came from one of the men in the corner. Jane faced him and answered, "I only have a few questions for him."

Broad and blond, the man moved a little closer to her. His dusty jacket and worn hands said factory worker. His Irish dialect put him from Dublin. He then said, "Like I said, who's asking?"

"Jane Dawes," she replied. "I'm investigating some murders in Small Heath. I learned he frequents a particular area there. I wanted to ask him some questions about his ventures. He attacked a woman a few months ago in Small Heath. Do you know him, sir?"

"I do," he nodded. He surveyed her and then said, "You're a detective, eh? That's a funny sight. Does Small Heath have lady detectives?"

"It does for the time being," she said. "Where can I find Malacki Byrne?"

"You're from London. You're too pretty to be from Small Heath."

"That's a bit exaggerated, isn't it? I'm sure there are lots of beautiful women in Small Heath. You're just separating me from them because you think it'll flatter me. Now, back to Malacki Byrne-"

"-Does your husband know you're here? Does he let you go wandering about pubs and asking for other men?"

"I'm not married and if I was, why would that be your concern? About Malacki-"

"-It's a shame you're not," he said. "If you were my wife, I'd handcuff you to our marriage bed."

"If I were your wife, I'd chew my own arm off to get out of it," she snapped. She suddenly understood what Lizzie meant. Irish men weren't always so vulgar. This one was. "Now, if you're done, I'd like to know where Malacki Bryne is."

"He's busy, little lady," he said. "But, you're always free to stay with me and my friends."

She scoffed in disgust. She couldn't believe the nerve of some men. They all had one-track minds. "I'll go ask at another pub," she said.

When she tried leaving, the man grabbed her arm. "Come on, love, stay a while. It's rare I get to stare at pretty things."

"I'm not a 'thing'," she wiggled herself from his grasp and stepped away. "I'm a woman. Good day, sir."

"You can leave when I say so!"

The man made for her again and this time she swung her bag at him. The pistol within slammed into his cheek and he went against the bar. Some of the men stood, but did not intervene. "I leave when I want. Tell me where Malacki Byrne is or I'm gone."

She heard him break for her when she turned her back. This time, she dropped her bag and swiped her palm up across his nose. Blood spurted over his upper lip. He clutched the injury and looked at her angrily. "You bitch!"

"You can either tell me where Malacki Byrne is or I can do that again," she said. "Choice is yours."

"Brassy little one, aren't you?" he chuckled.

He took a swing at her, but she dodged it. Jane gave him a straight shot to his solar plexus, which made him double over. She smacked him in the back of the head which caused him to turn around. He aimed at her face again, yet missed when she blocked it with both arms and backhanded him. His head went sideways. The rude man punched her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her a moment. She kept herself up. She removed her coat.

The men didn't aid their friend. They didn't dare. Instead, they fixed the tables into a ring and began placing bets. Even the bartender participated. People from upstairs heard the commotion and came down. She didn't care. She only came for a name but received a fight instead. The man charged at her, but she only moved away and directed him to the bar instead. He hit it with a thud. He lunged at her, lifting her off the floor and onto a table. Between her legs, he punched her square in the mouth. The iron taste touched her tongue and followed by another. Jane shielded her face and gave him a few punches to his stomach and chest. She pushed him off her when he paused for a split second. The people around them cheered for one fighter or the other. It felt like home.

For some reason, a dark figure caught the corner of her eye. She panted, turning to the staircase where she saw Tommy. He'd come looking for Malacki too. What else would he be doing here? This distraction costs a jab to the jaw. Jane held onto the bar and looked back at her opponent.

"Where's Malacki Byrne? He must be bad if you're protecting him," she said.

"I'm not protecting anyone, Princess. I'm only teaching you a lesson."

She scoffed, "Let me teach you one then."

She grabbed a glass off the table and threw its contents at him. The whiskey inside blinded him, but he threw a punch anyways. Jane blocked it easily and countered by hitting his cheek. She head butted him when he drew near, making him stagger slightly. He attempted another hit, but she blocked again. The next swing met with her temple. She lost focus a second. He punched her stomach again, and she grunted out the pain. Doubled over, he gave her one hit to the left and to the right of her abdomen. Jane took the opportunity of her position and rammed him into the bar. She slammed her other elbow into his jaw which generated a soft crack. She then hit the other side perfectly with her fist. The man grabbed a bottle, but she grabbed his wrist in time. She slammed it onto the counter a few times before he let go. He pushed her off him and she fell back against a chair. She leaned her weight on it and kicked him in the middle of his chest.

The man fell to the ground, groaning and cursing her. Blood in her mouth, soreness in her stomach, she knew she'll be getting an earful from Vivian. Her eyes cast back to Tommy, watching him light a cigarette and go back up the stairs.

"Where is he?" she asked around the room.

The man coughed, "At a meeting."

"What meeting?"

"An Irish one."

'Damn,' she thought. 'He's bloody IRA.'

"Well, when he gets back," she said, "Tell him to come to the Garrison Pub in Small Heath. Tell him to ask for Jane Dawes. I have questions and I'm getting answers."

She picked up her coat and purse, ignoring all the stares as she left. Coming outside, she put her hand to a wall and breathed in deep. She spat the blood pooled in her mouth and wiped it with her handkerchief. She coughed. Her ribs ached as she felt them. They weren't broken, not by a long shot, but Vivian will insist an examination.

"Never seen a woman fight like that," Tommy said as he approached.

She looked over at him, "Then I hope you enjoyed your first time. Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Do you rub everyone the wrong way or is it just men?"

"Only when they're rude," she readjusted herself, fixing her blouse and coat. She touched the handkerchief to her bleeding lips. Thankfully it matched her lipstick. "What were you doing here? Don't you have business elsewhere?"

"I came looking for Malacki Byrne," he said. "Lizzie came clean about who attacked her."

"And you've come to disperse justice, eh?" she laughed softly. She began walking down the street, getting looks as she passed people. Tommy followed her.

"No," he said, "I came because of you."

She stopped in her tracks, looking over at him. "What?"

"Black Swan Pub isn't known for its hospitality," he said. "I thought you might've needed someone with you."

"You mean you think I need protecting?" she said. "I can handle my own, thanks." She continued walking. The train back to Small Heath leaves in half an hour. She'd make it on time. Unfortunately, this meant Tommy would be coming with her.

"You're not always going to run into people who will use their fists." He took her arm. It wasn't a rough or demanding gesture. She didn't mind it. "I don't doubt you have a pistol in that purse of yours," he said, "Or a knife hidden under your skirt. But you won't win every fight on your own, and you will cross a lot of them around here."

"And you care?"

"I don't," he said, "I care about protecting my investment. A lot of people think what you do is a joke. I don't. I've put much more faith in you than I should because I've seen what you're capable of. Who do you think put Moss up to hiring you?"

She scowled. He outwitted her again. "You did."

"He wanted to ask The Inspector for help," he admitted, "But I told him he had a better chance with you."

"He said a colleague suggested me."

"Well, he couldn't well say a criminal put him up to it, could he?"

She slipped her arm out from his hand. She gripped the handle of her bag. Jane should have seen this coming. She spotted things like this a mile away. "I have a car. We could drive back together."

"Not interested," she said.

Jane walked away from him and this time he didn't pursue her. She decided then that she hated him.