Simon Read - In the Dark: The True Story of the Blackout Ripper

Table of Contents

There was little affection to be found in the company Evelyn now kept. But she tried to get her clients to spend the night. She was scared to sleep alone. The barmans shout of Last call! derailed her thoughts. She finished her drink and stepped outside in search of business. Some of the other girls were there, including Marjorie and Big Violet. She joined them for a cigarette.

A couple of Canadian soldiers hovered nearby, checking out the selection. One of them gave Evelyn a salacious look of approval. She liked the way he looked. He was handsome with an accent that hinted at weekends in the country and afternoon drives in the Rolls. He had a slim but powerful build. His smile dazzled, even in the darkness. Although he was younger than Evelyn preferred, she found him charming.

When she inquired as to his likes, he responded: I like blondes....

ON THE HOUSE
IN THE DARK

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IN THE DARK

A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley mass-market edition / November 2006

Copyright 2006 by Simon Read

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eISBN : 978-0-425-21283-7

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This is my third book, yet repetition does not make the task of putting words on paper any easier. Its often said that no one writes a book alone, and its very trueso many thanks to all the usual suspects for your friendship and support. Special mention goes to Danny Hoffman, Simon and Jessica Blint, Brian Reiser, and Ryan Sawyer. In England, much love and thanks to my family. My parents, Bill and Susan, have always been amazingly supportive. For this book, I drafted my father as a research assistant. Over Christmas 2004, he accompanied me to the British Public Records Office in Kew, London, and helped me wade through mountains of official documents. Research aside, hes always fun to grab a few pints with. A big thank-you goes out to my sister, Sarah, because shes become quite the cheerleader. Naturally, I have to thank Steve and his wife, Chris, who own and operate the Fish and Anchor pub in Evesham. If you ever get the chance, swing by for a visit. The food is great, the beer is strong, and the scotch is smooth. In the States, my agent, Ed Knappman, is always worthy of a hearty thank-you. Thanks to Samantha Mandor, my editor at Berkley, for her great assistance. If you ever visit Pleasanton, California, swing by Towne Centre Books on Main Street. Owner Judy Wheeler was wonderful helping spread the word about my first book, On the House: The Bizarre Killing of Michael Malloy. In that same regard, I want to thank Jim Ott and Kathy Cordova for having me on their show... twice. And, of course, theres Katie, who endured with amazing patience my endless fretting and fussing over the manuscript. Shes fantastic.

Mike Brooks, a wonderful person, passed away while this book was in the editing phase. I feel very lucky to have had him as a close friend. Hell always be missed.

Scotland Yard Chief Superintendent Fred Cherrill

A dark, cramped space of stagnant air, the bomb shelters interior smelled of cold mortar and stale sweat. A stone seat ran the length of one inner wall, while, on the floor, an electric lantern cast a pallid circle of light across the morbid discovery made earlier that morning. The brick-built shelter was one of several on Montague Place, Marylebonenear Regents Park in Central Londonand one of countless similar structures that lined the streets of the capital. It was just shy of nine oclock, and a harsh winters sun backlit the citys shattered skyline. Daybreak came hard to London, a metropolis whose landscape had forever been altered by incendiary and high-explosivebut the air-raid sirens had remained silent the night before. The shelter that was the focus of attention was the center one in a grouping of three. Divisional Detective Inspector Leonard Clare of Albany Street Police Station, D Division, squinted against the cold. He knelt and stared into the shelters entrance. An electrician, one Harold Batchelor, had found the body at 8:40 a.m. as he walked to work. Batchelors calls for help had summoned Police Constable John Miles at 8:51 a.m. Senior officers were on the scene within four minutes. Batchelor gave his statement to a trench-coated detective. Clare straightened himself and stepped closer to hear what the man said.

I was with my mate and I was walking through Dorset Street, across into Montague Street, and along Montague on the left-hand side going to Edgware Road, Batchelor said. In between two of the shelters I saw the top of an electric torch. My mate went toward it and showed me something inside the shelter. I saw the body of a woman lying on her back.

Clare returned his attention to the shelter and the dead woman within. She lay on her back in the gutter, which cut through the shelters center. Her feet pointed toward Gloucester Place, her right leg slightly raised and resting on an outcropping of brick in one corner of the shelter. She wore a fawn camel-hair coat and a green jumper. The right pocket of her overcoat held a sixpence. Her left leg was lying on the ground with her foot in the entrance. Her head was turned to the left, and her scarf was lying loosely over her face. Her skirt had been hiked up to her thighs. In the dim light, Clare could see the pale skin of the womans exposed right breast where her white undershirt had been ripped away. Her underwear was stained with blood, as was the top of one stocking. Her gloves had been placed on top of her body, palms facing upward with the fingers pointing toward her face. Her tongue protruded between her teeth, slightly swollen. Lying near the body were a box of Masters safety matches and a tin of Ovaltine tablets. Her wristwatch had stopped at one oclock, but started ticking again when Clare removed it from her wrist. A green woolen cap lay across the shelters threshold. Clare ordered that loose scrapings of mortar both inside and outside the shelters entrance be collected as evidence. Sergeant Percy Law from the Photograph Branch took pictures of the crime scene.