ONCE BITTEN

TEN: CAMERON BAY

I

It quickly became clear that Lord and Lady Chandos and their staff had been killed by the Ripper-Werewolf.  Their deaths had been swift and comparatively painless, as usual.  Although the damage to their bodies had been profound, the maniac had killed them all brutally, perhaps to make up for the months he had been absent, his handiwork quite unmistakable.

            Further examination of the bodies back at SID headquarters revealed nothing new.  But the scraps of information were added to Bitten’s ledgers, our knowledge of the friend had increased a little more, and there was a reliable witness.

Two days later, Bitten got another notification of a possibly related murder, and sprang into action.

            Miss Cameron Bay had lived on a comparatively pleasant street to the northerly end of Bethnal Green.  According to the report, the houses on the street were all semi-detached, with small gardens front and rear.  They looked to be in decent repair.  A wide alley separated by a fence ran between the building and its neighbour, and a scrap of flowerbed remained visible behind the house.

            Miss Bay had not previously come to the attention of her local police force, but the report specified that she had shared her home with her cousin, a young lady who claimed that the pair primarily earned money as occasional cleaners, washerwoman, and cooks.

            The cousin, Alexandria Adams, had discovered the murder early that same morning and raised a hue and cry.  Her initial statement to the Bethnal Green constables contained little of coherence in it, and there had been nothing on their own files to add, other than that fifteen years ago the house had belonged to a small time money-lender who had been killed by a group of his clients, on accord of his particularly rapacious rates.

            The house had been sold at auction to a landlord from Chiswick, who, presumably, had rented it to the cousins.

            With little to see on the outside of the building, other than a small crowd of onlookers still milling about the street despite several hours having passed, Bitten and Doctor Loup went inside.  Constable Wilk remained outside, to prevent curiosity getting out of hand on the part of the lollygaggers.

            The general feel of the inside of the house was that of a cozy family abode.  The kitchen small but functional, and contained the usual basic amenities, big sinks, a stove, several cupboards, and a moderate icebox.  There seemed to be no space for a table, and the floor’s tiles were worn, but all seemed clean and in good order.

            The main room turned out to be a combined living and dining room.  A table that could maybe seat as many as six dominated the far end covered by a simple cloth, and with four chairs tucked in neatly. 

            The rest of the room given over to seating space, with several comfortable chairs in non-matching floral prints, as well as a long sofa.  They all centred on a modest fireplace, currently full of ashes.  Bookcases bracketed the sofa, holding a variety of volumes as well as a few assorted knick-knacks.

            The long main window ran behind it, home to a half-dozen potted geraniums, straining their red, orange, and pink faces directly into the room cheerfully.  The carpet had probably once been quite attractive, but now it had faded towards the bland lack of detail.

Alexandria Adams sat in one of the chairs close to the fire, staring down at her feet.  An attractive woman in her early twenties, she had thick blonde hair tied back with a blue ribbon.  She looked to still be suffering the shock of having found her cousin’s remains.

Dr Loup coughed politely and when she did not react, stepped forward.

“Might I trouble you to tell me where I might find…”

“Your cousin.”

Bitten said, firmly over him.

If Loup objected to being interrupted, he hid it well.

Alexandria slowly pointed to a doorway that led deeper into the house.

“Thank you.”

The doctor said, and bustled off.

“My name is Benjamin.”

Bitten told the woman.

“I’m a detective with the police.  I’d like to find the man who hurt your cousin.  May I ask you a few questions?”

Alexandria nodded with reluctance.

“Thank you.”

Bitten said.

“First of all, do you know if Cameron had a particular man-friend.”

A long pause followed.

“She had a few fancy men, sir.  Cam likes her freedom, she does.  Did. If they wasn’t entirely in on all the details, they knew the score.  She wasn’t a one to be put in a display case or anything like that.”

“Were these arrangements…negotiated?”

She shook her head.

“No, sir.  No. Not like…that. Gifts, that’s expected, and better when they come with a receipt.  And none of them is poor, like.  But she isn’t one of them.  She found men she likes, and who likes her.  Men always like her.  It’s just natural.  She’s lovely.”

“Anyone here last night?”

“No.  I had a bad…”

She froze for a moment.

“I had a bad feel about yesterday, all day, like a black dog on my shoulder.  So, I stayed in.  Cam came home about six, on her own.  We went to our beds by nine.  I didn’t hear no one knocking on the door or nothing after.  Oh God…it’s my fault she’s dead, isn’t it?”

Bitten shook his head gently.

“I suspect he came through the window here, Alexandria.  It’s not you fault.  Nothing you could have done.”

“But how, sir?  How did he get in?”

“The flowers are turned around to face the room.”

Bitten said, soothingly.

“They naturally grow to face the sunlight, and it doesn’t take long for them to reorient.  The plants must have been moved and most likely by the murderer.”

ii

Alexandria shuddered and tears started rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t move to wipe them away, or make any sounds of grief.

            “Had anything unusual or troubling happened recently, Alexandria?  Did Cameron mention any arguments or other unpleasantness in the last week or two?”

            “No, sir.  Not that we ever talked about our men much, you understand.  We had enough for each of us to keep track of without getting all caught up in each other’s affairs.  We talked about the stuff that matters, like flowers, and family and friends.  But she kept a diary.  We both do.  We agreed to be careful about what was going on back at the beginning, so there’s notes and records in case…”

            She broke off, cradled her face in her hands and started sobbing in earnest.

            “Thank you.”

            Bitten told her.

            “That’s very helpful.”

            He left the woman in her seat and went in the same direction that Loup had done.  I discovered a small stretch of hallway running behind the main room, with several doors off it.  Dimly lit windows were at each end, of a simple wood-floored passage.  Through an open-door midway along its length, he could hear the doctor talking quietly to the victim.  Bracing himself, he went in.

            The bedroom appeared to be quite modest, as he’d expected.  The bed large enough for two, took up most of the space.  Cupboards and vanity ate up all the rest.  Loup looked up and nodded to Bitten.

            “Ah, Inspector.  Our victim is not our quarry’s work, I fear.”

            Past him, a young woman laid naked and gut-ripped on the bed, head to one side as if looking towards the doorway.

            Bitten nodded.

            “So, it would appear, certainly.  Could it be that he’s trying to throw us off the scent?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            Loup intoned.

            “This is very dull butchery, and the killer used her besides.  There is no flair or artistry to this death.  She has tear-tracks on her face, and some bruising to her throat and to one cheek, so there appears to have been some unpleasantness before the murder.”

            “Honestly, I’m not altogether surprised.  Our killer appears to have been careless covering the traces of the entry, and it’s not clear to me that the victim is professional enough regarding the disposition of her affections to fit with the previous victims.  The cousin says that they both kept detailed journals of their exploits as a form of security.  Have you noticed such a volume?”

            “On the vanity.”

            “Excellent.”

            Bitten looked round, spotted a diary and picked it up.  A quick flick through showed extensive daily entries, and he slipped it into his pocket.

            “Anything in here I should, see?”

            “There is a partial footprint in the blood at the side of the bed.”

            Loup said.

            “Footprint or pawprint?”

            “Footprint.”

            Loup repeated.

            “I estimate the wearer requires a size nine or ten shoe.  The bruising on the throat suggests a hand-span of eight or so inches, so he’s on the tall side.  That’s all I can say about him.  Traces of blood on the wall, and on the ceiling, confirm she would have been killed in situ, in case there is any doubt.  Nothing else.  Our victim is a sad case indeed, with her meagre cache of secrets given up, she is ready for the worms.”

            Bitten nodded, his face neutral.

            “Thank you for that, doctor.”

            He spent some minutes examining the corpse and the room anyway.  The window remained partially opened, but whether as a means of egress or to help carry away the stench of blood seemed unclear. 

Nothing seemed broken or out of place.  The victim’s clothes looked reasonably expensive, both her outside garments and her collection netherwear, and she possessed several attractive sets of jewellery in her vanity draws, spread across half-a-dozen different containers.

Finally, Bitten left the room and made his way back to where Alexandria still sat, crying quietly.

“I’ve found your cousin’s diary.”

He told her with gentleness.

“I’ll be taking it with me to begin proper investigation.  I may have further questions for you, but for now, I’ll leave you in peace. Do you have someone to call on you?”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

She managed.

Outside, Bitten found Wilk standing near the front gate, with a somewhat dishevelled-looking young man on the other side.  The constable looked around, and came over.

“There’s a bloke here, sir, what reckons he saw the killer.”

Wilk said.

“He don’t appear particularly trustworthy, but I dare say you’ll want to speak to him, sir.”

“Thank you, Constable Wilk.”

The constable led him over to the fellow.

“Mr Anuszak, this is Detective Inspector Bitten.”

The man held out a slightly shaky hand.

“Detective Inspector.”

His breath smelt thick with old ale, and despite his youth his nose had a tracery of broken blood vessels.

“Sir.”

Bitten said.

“You saw someone here last night?”

“That I did.”

The man said.

“I sat in the Bull and Butcher last night.”

He pointed vaguely up towards the end of the road, where a pub sign was visible at the corner.

“Half eleven I headed home, like, and…”

He gestured at a street lamp across the road.

“The lovely ladies what lives here are a sight and all.  So, I was peering…”

He paused.

“Anyhoo, a window opens round the side, and out climbs a tall, burly man with sailor’s tattoos on his forearms, and real short hair and beard.  Right bruiser.  He looked around all furtive, and then picked his way through the back garden to the alley gate and out.  Then, gone.  I’d know him again, though, I would.”

Bitten pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“Why, mad?  Why do this?”

The man swayed a little, uncertainly.

“Detective Inspector?”

“Yes, there is a side window, but use your eyes, will you?  You can’t even see the back garden from here man, let alone make out details in the middle of the night.”

Bitten shook his head, annoyed.

“Constable Wilk, arrest this blithering i***t for conspiracy to commit murder.”

iii

The dead woman’s diary turned out to be every bit as detailed and important as Inspector Bitten could have hoped.  Within an hour, he had a list of names and both home and work addresses of all the lovers that she had been involved with in the last six months.

Of the eight, fiver were current.  Before that, it had been several months since she had last broken off relations with any man or woman, and it seemed unlikely that anyone vengeful would have waited such an extended period of time.

By the following morning, all eight people on the list, seven men and one woman, had been canvassed by police under Bitten’s direction.  Four of them were within the broad range suggested by the footprint and Loup’s handspan estimate, making reasonable allowances for error.  Those four were waiting in interview rooms on the Inspector’s pleasure.

The first man turned out to be Nigel Burch. A twenty-eight-year-old jeweller who worked in Hatton Gardens.  Expensively dressed, in a suit and tie despite the physical craft that his work involved, and he wore small pince-nez glasses.  His shirt appeared to be made of silk, and his shoes appeared to be reinforced at the tip, but nevertheless looked smart.

“Yes, I had been involved with Cameron Bay.”

He said.

“I’d been seeing her several months now.  It wasn’t anything particularly serious, much as I might preferred otherwise.  I saw her once or twice a week, that’s all.  A free-spirited thing, all flying hair and shining eyes.  A delight, but not one to let you get too close.  She had my heart from the start, but I knew right away that she had no intention of returning the favour. I…well, of course I minded, but I happened to be lost to her anyway.  She remained a glory, and she indulged me form time to time and that had to be enough.  And that turned out to be true because she was worth it.  The night before last, like most nights, I stayed at home. I have a small room not far from the Gardens.  I don’t share it, but my landlady would tell you cheerfully I ate her lovely dinner.  After dinner, I went to my room and read a bit, and then I went to bed.”

The second man on the list, Alistair Joyce, appeared to be a little taller and a fair bit bulkier than Nigel Burch had been.  In his early thirties, he had made a career out of being an architect, currently working for a firm in the City.  He had very fashionable hair and a well waxed moustache, a watch on a chain that he made sure to extract and glance at every now and again, apparently wanted to make sure that Inspector Bitten did not think it to be just window dressing.

“Miss Bay had been a lover of mine, yes.  Vivacious perhaps, but I wasn’t tupping her for her conversation.  I kept her in baubles and trinkets, which I’m sure she immediately sold, and in return provided me with willing spot.  We had been fooling around with her for most of the year, I suppose, but I started to get a little weary, to tell the truth, so I don’t think I’d have wasted much more time on her anyway…Two nights ago?  I dined at the Connaught with a pair of colleagues until nine or so.  After that, I went home.  My wife would have been already in bed, and do try not to wake her when I return.  It’s much more pleasant that way.”

Stephen Goddard showed to be tallest of the bunch, at six-foot-two, but he had a comparatively thin frame for his height.  In his early forties, he owned a number of bars and other commercial properties in the East End.  He had an extensive file, but no criminality had ever been proven. Extremely recognizable in his flamboyant clothes, and today wore a long red-coat over an ash-grey suit, along with a pair of peacock blue cowboy boots, that he was rarely seen without, allegedly imported all the way from America.

“Yeah, I knew Cameron.  A shame.  A real shame.  She really could be a good time girl.  She enjoyed partying and enjoyed being enjoyed.  Lovely girl.  About as open and empathic as a python with her gents, but she never pretended otherwise.  Very much a fair-weather friend.  I’m built the same way myself private.  I always understood the core reality of our relationship.  You know the truth, Inspector.  Transaction is a human way, as much as our idealists try to deny it.  Cameron and I, we’re just more honest.  I kept her and her cousin in pocket money, helped them with the rent in thin months, and they ate and drank free at my establishments.  In return we spent time together.  I’ll miss Cameron.  But I will continue to see Alexandria if she doesn’t flee homewards after this.  Two nights ago, I was in The Hand and Flower, one of my places.  I went upstairs to me rooms with London River, another of my special friends, and we spent the night together.  She’ll happily confirm that there wasn’t a lot of sleeping going on.”

The last fellow, Graham Brown, turned out to be the twenty-five-year-old son of the industrialist Robert Brown.  Dressed tip to toes in bespoke clothing in bespoke clothing from top-end tailors, Saville Row by the cut of the cloth, with a pair of gleaming Italian shoes, his soft face bore a perpetual sneer.

“I knew the girl, Detective Inspector.  Diverting enough, I suppose.  She entertained me on occasion…Hm? A cousin?  No, I didn’t know…She might serve until I find better…The night before last?  I attended a gala in Bury St Edmunds.  I spent the night there with…Oh, I forgot her name.  West’s middle daughter.  Jodie, maybe? Lord Samuel West, man.  Who else?”

Back as his desk a short time later, Bitten went through his notes, but Wilk interrupted him about halfway through his second reading of them.

“Sorry to intrude, sir.  Are we done with the gentlemen, sir?”

“You can let most of them go for now, Wilk.”

Bitten said.

“I want to pick away at the suspicious one for a while longer, though.”

“The suspicious one, sir?”

“Yes, Constable.”

Bitten replied.

“Although all the men are cleanly dresses, only Alistair Joyce is wearing new shoes and clothing.  Since the killer got blood on his shoes and probably on his clothing, it would have been wise to replace them.”

“Very good, sir.  I’ll let all the other’s go except Mr Joyce.”

After several hours of questioning, Alistair Joyce confessed to his fury at what he perceived as Cameron’s faithlessness.  When he realized what he said he clammed up, but his wife later confirmed that he’d not returned home until after 1 a.m., and that she found traces of burnt fabric in the fireplace the next morning. 

Alistair Joyce was convicted of Cameron Bay’s murder two months later.