The London Blitz Murders by Max Allan Collins Page A

and third of the women, by the nature of their professions, would have had sexual intercourse, recently. Quite apart from the crime committed upon them.”
    The inspector also was nodding. “My best guess would be that our Ripper had ‘normal’ relations with victims one and three, after which—perhaps seized with some unnatural rage against women—he strangled them.”
    Could this be , Agatha wondered, an individual who—upon sexual climax—felt guilt, or even revulsion? A sense of uncleanness… either about himself, or his paid partner, that sent him into a misogynistic fury?
    She said, “Then you do think this is the work of a man.”
    “Most likely. But remember, Agatha—one theory about the original, Whitechapel Ripper, never disproven, is that ‘Jack’ was a ‘Jill.’ ”
    Agatha found herself smiling. “Jill the Ripper? Isn’t that absurd on its face?”
    “Not really. The medical skills displayed by the turn-of-the-century Ripper were consistent with those of a midwife.”
    “From what I saw,” Agatha said, and allowed herself a shudder, “our current Ripper, whether Jack or Jill, has no discernible surgical skills.”
    “I would have to agree. One does wonder… why has the killer escalated into mutilation? That is, if we are indeed looking at the same offender.”
    Agatha raised her eyebrows knowingly and sipped her coffee.
    The inspector again leaned forward. “If you’re thinking something, Agatha, please share it. I wouldn’t be sitting here conversing with you in the midst of a murder case if I didn’t take your contribution seriously.”
    “You’re too kind… but I’m afraid my own prejudices would show through all too clearly, if I were to express this particular opinion.”
    “I’ll take that into account.”
    Now Agatha leaned forward. “What has changed since the first two murders?”
    “This one is more barbaric—”
    “No. I didn’t state myself clearly. What has changed between the first two murders and the commission of this third atrocity?”
    The inspector frowned, then shook his head. “Nothing comes to my mind. What comes to yours?”
    “The newspapers. Specifically, the tabloids.”
    The inspector’s eyes flared. “Crikey! You’re right. The press dubbed our boy a new ‘Ripper.’ ”
    “And how does our Ripper respond to this attention? He… or, giving you the benefit of the doubt, Ted, she … decided to live up to the title the press bestowed.”
    The bulldog face paled. “Surely that can’t be…. The killer showed hatred of women in the first two killings, and he’s merely getting bolder, and escalating out of his own mania… not spurred on by his press clippings.”
    Agatha shrugged. “It has been my observation that a certain breed of wrongdoer enjoys the limelight. No doubt this stringof murders is the first ‘important’ thing this unfortunate individual has ever managed to do.”
    “Unfortunate?” His brow was heavily ridged with displeased surprise. “Surely, Agatha, you’re not one of the ‘reforming’ breed, who think villains are pooooor victims of their heredity and environment… ?”
    She took another sip; the coffee was wonderfully bitter. “I’m willing to believe that the likes of our Ripper are ‘made’ that way… born with a kind of disability, as if coming into this world blind.”
    “That hardly justifies—”
    “One should pity them,” she said, interrupting (something she seldom did, but the views she held on this subject were strong within her). “But not spare them.”
    He chuckled; the ridged forehead smoothed itself out. “Well, hearing that from you is a relief. Because if ever a villain needed to swing, this one does.”
    She shrugged. “I’m not against hanging. What else can we do with those who are tainted with hatred and ruthlessness? For whom other people’s lives go for nothing?”
    “Mrs. Mallowan… Mrs. Christie. You are not what I expected.”
    “Have you read Milton,