The Samsara Project by David Burgess (romantic books to read .TXT) 📕

man. As an ex bare knuckle fighter, he was not against the odd fight, for him it was just a bit of fun to brighten up his day. At least twice a week he would announce that “Tonight is all comers night,” and anyone who could put him on the floor would have all the ale he could drink free for the night. To date, Flat Nose had a one hindered percent win record. There were times though that Flat Nose was simply outnumbered, especially when pimps were trying to steal girls from their rivals. Pimps never went anywhere on their own, they always travelled with at least three minders whose main job was to ensure punters paid. Their secondary role was to look after their bosses interests and whenever possible increase the number of girls working for him.
Tonight was a quiet night. There had only been two fights and no major injuries which was good news for PC Ernest Thompson and DC George Elliot. The two officers knew each other but were not friends. Tonight both had finished their shifts at the same time and decided to have a couple of ales on the way home. At just after midnight the Red Heart was the only pub open. After half an hour and two pints the atmosphere and smell was almost bearable. “One more drink then George,” said Ernest, “then I’m off home. Back on at ten in the morning.”
Ernest ordered another two pints, and twenty minutes later both officers left the pub and started to walk home.
As the two men walked along Chamber Street they saw a body lying in the road, a figure was crouched over it. They were about seventy five yards away when they first saw the body, PC Thompson shouted, “Stop, Police. Stay where you are.”
The figure looked up and saw the two policemen running towards them. The figure picked up a bag from the road, stood up, looked towards the approaching officers, turned and ran. The figure had an eight second start as the two officers reached the body of Frances Coles. She had severe head injuries and her throat had been cut. To PC Thompson’s amazement she was still alive.
“You do what you can here,” said DC Elliot, “I’ll try and catch whoever ran away.”
DC Elliot started to run after the figure but slipped in Frances Coles blood. He picked himself up and headed off in the direction the figure had run.
Three quarters of a mile away, in Church Road the local blacksmith was shoeing the first horse of a four team. The horse was still attached to the rest of the team and the team were attached to a coal wagon. The horse had thrown a shoe half an hour before and the driver had only found the blacksmith by chance. Despite the time the blacksmith had agreed to re-shoe the horse, but to save time he had not unfastened the horse from the rest of the team. Just as he was hammering in the last of the nails a screaming cat flew out from a side alley chased by three howling dogs. The cat ran underneath the team of horses followed by the dogs. Two of the dogs ran into the horses that then kicked out at the dogs. The blacksmith was thrown of balance and fell hard against the road. The first two horses reared up, their front legs clawing at fresh air. The dogs had spooked the horses and when their feet touched the ground the team bolted. The team of horses and the coal wagon they were pulling was now out of control and starting to build up speed. Despite their best efforts neither the blacksmith nor the driver could catch the fleeing horses.
The figure ran on, not daring to look back but knowing they were being chased by someone much fitter than they. The distance between them started to close. It was now down to six seconds. The figure ran into the narrow, dark passageways that riddled Whitechapel. They knew the area well and hopped their pursuer did not. The gap was now down to four seconds and they could feel the officer’s breath on the back of their neck. By now both should have collapsed on the floor and be fighting for breath but the adrenalin gave both the strength and energy to carry on, thirty yards ahead the figure knew there was a sharp turn to the right that led into Chamberlain Way, off here were any number of small alleys and the figure was certain that so long as they could reach there then they had a good chance of escape.
The team of bolting horses were running blind and wild. With no one to guide them they just ran wherever the roads led them. The horses ran at full speed into Chamberlain Way, twenty yards to go, ten yards then five, turn now thought the figure as they ran out of the alley and into Chamberlain Way. Across the street were the alleys and possible escape.
Not stopping for anyone of anything the team of horses ran towards the alley way the figure was just running out of. The figure did not stop to look if it was clear to cross there was no time for that. Escape was all that was on their mind.
DC Elliot was now only a couple of seconds behind and he could almost touch the figure. That few seconds, he later recalled, was what had saved his life. The figure ran out of the alleyway at exactly the same time as the runaway horses. The figure realised too late that the horses could not stop or avoid them. Within the blink of an eye the figure had been trampled by all four horses and run over by two of the wagons wheels. The body of the figure bounced up against the bottom of the wagon, the flowing cloak then became tangled around the wagons rear axle and the body was dragged over a hundred and twenty yards down the road before the cloth tore away from the wagon and the now lifeless corpse rolled to a stop. DC Elliot had also been running too fast to stop but fortunately, for him, missed the horses by a few feet. Instead he bounced off the rear left hand side overhang of the coal wagon. It was the luckiest day of his life.
Holding his right shoulder, DC Elliot ran up to what was left of the lifeless body lying on the road. He looked down at the bloody and battered mess, then, took out his police whistle and started blowing for assistance.
At the original crime scene PC Thompson had held Francis Coles as her life finally slipped away. Despite all of his training and listening to the tales of the more experienced beat officers in the station PC Thompson still found the experience to be very traumatic. He had been a police officer for only two weeks prior to tonight. He had regular nightmares until he died fifty seven years later.
At that moment every policeman in Whitechapel was convinced that DC Elliot and PC Thompson had caught ‘Jack the Ripper’ and that the terrible murders that had plagued Whitechapel over the past couple of years were now finally over. The mood was high and then, as now, good news travels fast. News of their success arrived back at their police station long before they did. Everyone from the Station Commander down to the cleaners wanted to shake their hands. The two men were heroes. The two officers gave their statement of events to their senior officers, all required paperwork was completed. At last the final chapter about Jack the Ripper had been written, and it was a fitting end.
When it came in, the news that Jack the Ripper was still alive resulted in police morale hitting rock bottom. Whispers started to be heard within the senior ranks about an hour before it was confirmed to the beat officers and those who had been investigating the Ripper murders. The accident victim’s body had been taken from the scene to the local mortuary. Despite the cause of death being obvious to everyone the law required an autopsy be performed. This was not only to officially record the cause of death but to confirm the victim was actually dead. It became clear almost from the start of the autopsy that the victim could not be Jack the Ripper. The accident victim was a woman.
Police now had the job of identifying who the victim was. There was nothing to identify the victim in her clothes nor did she carry any purse, handbag or anything with a name on it or in it. DC Elliot was certain she had picked up a bag when she fled the crime scene but no bag had been found around the scene of the accident. He could not remember her throwing a bag away while he was chasing her. The coroner, Dr. Stephen Clarke, did note one thing he thought unusual, and this had added to the original confusion over her identity, the victim was wearing male clothes.
It was the following morning when the victim was identified. Her name was Jacqueline Dupree. Jacqueline came from a wealthy middle class family who lived on the outskirts of London. Jacqueline worked as a nurse in the Whitechapel Free Hospital. Colleagues told the police how highly respected she was. That she was an excellent nurse who had a natural ability to work with the sick and injured. Many of her colleagues commented that, in their opinion, Jacqueline would have made an excellent doctor. Had it not been for the intransigence of the British Medical Association, she may well have done. Jacqueline had made three applications to be accepted into medical school and solely on the grounds of her being a woman, had been turned down on each occasion.
Jacqueline did not make a fourth application, instead she concentrated on nursing. For the past two years she had been a theatre nurse working with some of the country’s top surgeons. Even they had to acknowledge that Jacqueline had a natural ability in the theatre. Despite working under intense pressure, her manner was always calm and cool. Many a surgical patient would not have survived had it not been for Jacqueline’s nursing and medical skills and more than one newly qualified surgeon had Jacqueline to thank for guiding them through some of the more complicated problems they came across.
On the night of the accident Jacqueline had been on her way to a fancy dress party, which explained why she was dressed on male clothes. Her family were convinced that Jacqueline came across Francis Coles after she had been attacked and being a nurse her first concern would have been for her patient. While trying to treat Francis Coles, Jacqueline would have looked up and seen two men running towards her, shouting. It was obvious to her family that she was afraid that one of the two men was the murderer. Jack the Ripper had returned to the crime scene, with someone else, to make sure his victim was dead. Scared she would be his next victim Jacqueline ran off. It was also said and reported in the local papers that she would not have known the man chasing her was a police man. It was all a tragic mistake. The police thought they were chasing Jack the Ripper, Jacqueline thought she was being chased by Jack the Ripper.
The Dupree family were very private and not much was known about them. Three generations ago Alexander Dupree came over to England from France. Here he met and married Margaret Constance. Alexander was a milliner and he set up a clothing factory in the east end of London. Over the years the business grew