Chapter 5 - I Like Killing so Much, I Decided to Do It Again
Roger woke the next morning, Memorial Day Monday, and felt the repercussions of sleeping in a Barcalounger. He couldn't move his head up and down without a pain severe enough to convince him to stay still and allow it to subside.
This made for an interesting morning of drinking coffee without tilting his head back. Roger swallowed a couple of Excedrin by sucking them through a narrow slit between his upper and lower teeth. He followed that action by inhaling some coffee. He moved out of the kitchen.
The pain got his attention again when he sat down in the now upright Barcalounger to read his news feeds. The reborn headache and neck ache also reminded him of what he saw on Google Earth the night before.
On nytimes.com in the local tab.
Body Discovered on Theater Alley
Roger couldn’t tilt his head enough to read the article. He put the laptop down on top of one of the boxes in the living room. He held his head perfectly still as he got out of the chair.
He walked into the bathroom; leaned over a single small box marked ‘Meds,’ and with a grunt tore open the flaps on top. Roger looked in. His eyes were drawn to a white and blue bottle, which advertised ‘Ibuprofen.’
"Might as well complete the cocktail,” he said.
He continued his ‘Frankenstein’ walk to the kitchen where he located an opened bottle of bourbon. He slugged down three capsules with a full swallow of the alcohol.
“Aaaaaaah,” he exhaled, which hurt his neck. “Old Kentucky, best muscle relaxer on the planet.”
He leaned against the counter and set the kitchen timer for ten minutes. When the alarm sounded, he walked a little more fluidly back to the Barcalounger. Roger picked up the laptop and forced his head down to read the article.
Body Discovered on Theater Alley
The body of a young woman was discovered by the NYPD early this morning. The police came across it during standard patrol.
The young woman, whose identity is being withheld pending notification of next of kin, had been stabbed multiple times.
Anyone with any information should contact the NYPD immediately.
“I did contact you, NYPD,” said Roger. “I did.”
Roger reached behind his head and massaged his neck. After two minutes he felt much better, at least physically.
“But what do I do now, besides talking to myself, which is a sign of insanity? I have no evidence of the Google Earth image. It wasn’t clear enough to give the police a description.”
He heads back to the kitchen for another drink. He lifted the bottle of bourbon off the counter and unscrewed the cap. Roger brought the opening to his lips.
“It’s a National Holiday and my Wedding Anniversary. Cheers!”
Roger returned to work on Tuesday. The week passed without incident, as did the entire month of June. The divorce, or at the least the possibility of it, and his job occupied him as the murder, and his conversations with the police, faded.
Chapter 5 – Victim #2 Annie Chapman, 9/8/1888
The Autopsy Report on Jack the Ripper’s Second Victim, Annie Chapman:
The throat was dissevered deeply with a very sharp knife with a thin narrow blade, and must have been at least 6 in. to 8 in. in length, as such an instrument as a medical man used. The incisions into the skin indicated that they had been made from the left side of the neck. There are indications of anatomical knowledge. There was no evidence of a struggle taken place. A handkerchief was round the throat tied, but cut when the incisions made.
He noticed a protrusion of the tongue. There was a bruise over the right temple, on the upper eyelid there and on the forepart of the top of the chest perhaps delivered by a blow. However, the bruises on the face are recent, especially about the chin and side of the jaw. Therefore the person who cut the deceased throat took hold of her by the chin, and then commenced the incision from left to right.
There were two distinct clean cuts on the left side of the spine. They were parallel with each other and separated by about half an inch. The muscular structures appeared as though an attempt had made to separate the bones of the neck.
The abdomen had been entirely laid open: the intestines, severed from their mesenteric attachments, had been lifted out of the body and placed on the shoulder of the corpse. From the pelvis, the uterus and its appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and the posterior two thirds of the bladder, had been entirely removed. No trace of these parts could be found and the incisions were cleanly cut, avoiding the rectum, and dividing the vagina low enough to avoid injury to the cervix uteri. Obviously the work was that of an expert -- of one, at least, who had such knowledge of anatomical or pathological examinations as to be enabled to secure the pelvic organs with one sweep of the knife.
The appearance of the cuts confirmed that the instrument, like the one which divided the neck, had been of a very sharp character. The mode in which the knife had been used seemed to indicate great anatomical knowledge.
Chapter 5A – Victim #2 Nickie Walsh, Independence Day
Ruben disliked this murder site. He disliked it a lot. It gave very little cover. The place where the thing is supposed to happen is too open. He did not like this at all.
At least when he first saw it.
Now, here early in the morning of July 4th, he liked it. It looked different from just a week ago. Yes. A week ago, there were people all over the place and nowhere to hide. A week ago there were bright lights and cars and other traffic and those pesky kids with their Ubers and stuff.
But there would be one less of them soon.
And now the place had big orange barriers to hide behind, and scaffolding with its opaque blue plastic cover which ran along one side of Maiden Lane, and all the way up to the weird statue where the thing would happen. There were rows and rows of police barricades and metal dividers that looked like bike racks.
The place had very little room for anything or anybody else, and the weird statue, well, that just looked darker than ever. He needed that right person to come along and walk the wrong way.
Nickie Walsh, a beautiful bottle-blond intern at Goldman-Sachs in her first summer between semesters at Georgetown, walked down Maiden Lane. She had fallen asleep on the 2 train and ended up in Brooklyn after missing the last stop in Manhattan.
She waited an hour on an empty platform for another train to take her back into Manhattan. She shot out of the train when it stopped at Wall Street and flew up Pine Street to get to the apartment she shared with three other interns. It sat at the intersection of William and Platt Streets.
She turned the wrong way on Pine Street, walking east as opposed to west. She stood at Pearl Street and screamed; stopped; composed herself and ran back up Pearl to Maiden Lane, which would save her a quarter of a block once she got to William.
She hustled down Maiden Lane in the direction of William. She approached the point where Maiden forked. Liberty to the left and Maiden continued to the right.
“No more wrong turns,” she said.
The steel chisel crashed against her right cheek and orbit bone. She went down in a broken and bloody heap.
Once more the hand reached into the jacket pocket.
Sever the throat deeply with a very sharp knife with a thin narrow blade. It must have been at least 6 in. to 8 in. in length. Use the medical saw if you have to.
And the instructions continued.