Jack The Ripper: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Read Online Free PDF

mother of three grown children who had long since moved on to live their own lives. She was short, about five feet four inches tall, with mousy blond hair; she was 47 years of age. Her husband had been dead for years, and she had never gotten back on her feet financially. John had died from cirrhosis of the liver and Annie, herself, was an alcoholic. It helped to deaden the pain of having no family around. At first, she had taken in needlework to make ends meet—when she still failed to earn enough to live, she turned to prostitution.
    In September 1888, she lived in a lodging house where the boarders paid by the day. She had been down on her luck and did not have the money for even one more night. She told the landlord, as he kicked her out, that she would have the money when she returned; he did not believe her, although she begged him to hold her a room. He waved her off as she drunkenly left the house and stepped out into the streets of Spitalfields.
    She would never need that room—for the next morning she was found murdered in the backyard of a house on Hanbury Street.
    As soon as the police had been notified, Inspector Grant sent a messenger to Holmes and told him the address where the murder had taken place. Holmes immediately dressed and made his way to the scene, a notebook in his breast pocket. Dr. Watson did not come with him this time, being otherwise committed.
    The poor woman lay there with two deep cuts on her throat, both of which reached her spine—exactly as Mary had been mutilated. Annie’s stomach had been ripped wide open and her uterus, upper vagina, and two thirds of her bladder were missing. All of her small intestines had been chopped and removed but remained behind, laid out upon her right shoulder. Portions of her pubic area had been put on her left shoulder. It was a horrid sight, and Holmes had to fight himself not to retch. The officers at the scene were pale and shocked, and the mood was a somber one.
    “I guess this confirms it, Detective,” Holmes told Grant. “We have a serial killer now. These two murders are nothing like the other ones.”
    “Yes, I am afraid you are right, dear Sherlock. The town will go wild when they know we have a monster in our midst,” Grant said. “We will have to post bulletins warning the women in this area—they must stay off the streets. Though I doubt many listen, as they rely heavily on any small daily income they make.”
    “Did the officers touch the victim’s clothing?” Holmes asked. “Has anyone, to your knowledge, touched the body?”
    “My officers swear they have not,” said Grant.
    “Come with me, then,” said Holmes.
    He and Grant knelt by the body, and Holmes took a small, soft brush from his pocket, along with a packet of dark powder.
    “Graphite,” he said by way of explanation. “Though I have been thinking further about fingerprinting, and I doubt we would be able to get any from the body itself; any sweat, hair, or violent movement would interfere with a clear impression.”
    “Will you dust all of her?” said Grant, looking worried. “That seems indecorous. We must respect the dead.”
    “I will just dust the places where the Ripper might have seized her,” answered Holmes. “Her wrists, or her neck. Of course, if she was wearing a brooch or other piece of jewelry on which a fingerprint would show clearly, that would be ideal.”
    Grant watched as Holmes methodically went about dusting the body, and a short time later the detective rose to his feet. “Nothing—this time,” he said. “But perhaps we will still gather important evidence from any witnesses who were nearby.”
    “My officers are preparing a list according to the usual protocol,” said Grant. “Is there anything else we should know?”
    “I have been thinking in depth upon this, yes,” said Holmes. “I suspect this killer has advanced knowledge of human anatomy—a layperson could not have so efficiently removed the missing organs, or even