Read Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) for Free Online Page B

idiosyncrasies, he was a gem of information who was about to discover how one good turn deserves another.
    “The game pie with mashed potatoes and gravy looks good,” said he.
    Determined, I was happy to oblige his every need, “Order what ever takes your fancy, I am feeling generous today. Game pie it shall be!” I continued, “I will take something lighter, a pork sausage and potatoes will suffice.”
    My metabolism had improved over the centuries, becoming more resilient with time. If I dared to over indulge, there were consequences, mainly nausea and headaches.
    “I need you to obtain copies of the files from Scotland Yard. The Chief Inspector has denied me access,” I said directly.
    “You jest! How on earth do you expect me to gain entry into an office and, steal files under the nose of coppers?”
    “Because you know many people, not all fine upstanding citizens. A little dubious, perhaps a tad shady in character. A policeman who needs a fine bonus for his family, for example?”
    “You mean a bent copper? I have to scout around, it’s a mighty tall order with no guarantee.”
    “If the price is agreeable everyone can be bought, Albert. Time is pressing now, so I need to have the copies quickly and there will be a bonus for you. A finder’s fee. Shall we say two hundred pounds?”
    His face was alight with anticipation for what I considered a generous sum, enough to pay for his enjoyments and indulgences for quite some time. That included Miss Nancy Leigh from Pimlico. He had taken a shine to her and, according to Albert, she possessed a bosom he wanted to hide in. To court her properly he needed more than a meager reporter’s wage. Two hundred pounds would enable him to get the ball into his romantic court. There was, it seemed no more hesitation, the money spoke volumes.
    “Count me in. I will speak with someone at the local police station, a friend. When, exactly, do you need the files?”
    “As soon as possible. The end of the week will do nicely.”
    It was hard to ignore the trepidation in Albert’s face. I was unsure if he could deliver, perhaps biting off more than he could chew. He was right, it was a tall order, stealing from Scotland Yard. Pure insanity or genius?
    “I’ll do my best and a good cigar will set me in the right frame of mind,” he replied.
    If Albert was a book, he would be a simple read. Without complaint, I ordered a fine, fat cigar. It was the least I could do for someone who went so eagerly into the fray.
    I left full of renewed vigor. Having the files in my possession would mean a better understanding of who I was tracking down. I was sure they were full of information not known to the public, even some strong leads? I would send an urgent telegram to Bernie just in case and summon Roderick to explain one can never have enough material. His approval of my underhandedness was not needed. I already surmised his view of stealing confidential police files would be one of horror and would urge me to return to America with him forthwith, lest I find myself locked up in chains. I would dig my heels in and firmly disagree. Jack and I would meet very soon in a dark street or alley, and he will know that in the face of God, he has met his match, even if I failed.
    Upon my return, the house was alive with activity. The housemaid was busy cleaning. Edward took care of a payment for the food delivery and the chimney sweep was cleaning the fireplace in the dining room. All the furniture was carefully covered to protect from the soot. I made my way downstairs, a rare occurrence in a household of this nature, but I often visited Cook and her assistant, a sweet young girl called Peggy, rescued from the workhouse.
    “Good afternoon, sir. I hope you had a fruitful morning,” said Cook. I always thought she imagined my world to be true and my intentions honorable and, after spending enough time in employ, she remained none the wiser.
    “Busy in the office as always, and, Peggy, how are