What Alice Knew by Paula Marantz Cohen Page B

provided the commentary. “That was also sent to Central News and was postmarked October 1. The reference is to the double murder of September 30. Elizabeth Stride, throat cut, but no further violence done her, followed a few hours later by the extensive stabbings to Catherine Eddowes. It is true that one of the latter’s ears was partially severed, suggesting that the murderer was attempting to follow his intention in the former letter.”
    Alice had taken up a third letter on a larger sheet and scrutinized it, with Henry leaning over her shoulder.
    From hell,
    Mr. Lusk
    Sor
    I send you half the
    Kidne I took from one women
    prasarved it for you tother piece I
    fried and ate it was very nise I
    may send you the bloody knif that
    took it out if you only wate a whil
    longer
    signed Catch me when
    you can
    Mishter Lusk
    “The man certainly could use a spelling primer,” noted Henry. “Who is this Mishter Lusk?”
    “Mr. George Lusk,” explained William, “president of the community’s Vigilance Committee, whose assistance to the police the murderer was apparently very proud to thwart. The letter was received only a few days ago, along with a small parcel containing half of a left kidney. Catherine Eddowes’s left kidney was indeed missing. There is no proof, given the timing of these letters, that they could not have been written based on newspaper accounts, hearsay, or even presence near the scene upon the discovery of the bodies. The organ too could have been obtained from another source. Still, the handwriting in these letters shows marks of similarity which, though hardly definitive, are noteworthy.”
    “I see no consistency in the misspellings and punctuation,” noted Alice. “It looks like someone making up the mistakes as he goes along.”
    William nodded. “They’re erratic, extravagant sorts of mistakes: ‘sor’ for ‘sir’; ‘knif’ for ‘knife.’ He drops the e but keeps the silent k . It’s what I call ‘disingenuous illiteracy,’ the spelling and syntax errors of someone who knows language but wants to appear ignorant.”
    Alice had been fingering the letters ruminatively. “This one is on good vellum,” she noted. “Is there a stationer’s mark?”
    “What?” asked William.
    “The imprint that they put on stationery of a particular brand. It’s not readily perceptible, but held to the light, you can see it.”
    William looked interested, if slightly annoyed. “I don’t know that either Abberline or I took note of that. It would be hard to trace a piece of vellum in London.”
    “That depends on the quality. And certainly, if it’s good quality, it would help locate the killer as someone who circulates outside the East End.” She held the paper up to the light on her bed table and pointed to a mark that read “Pirie and Sons.” “It would be worth finding out how much of this paper they sell and the nature of their clientele. And if you had a suspect, you could check to see if his other correspondence comes from this particular stationer.”
    “Good point,” said William, a touch sheepishly. “Are you going to illuminate anything else?”
    “It seems interesting that the pens are different colors.”
    “As the first letter said, he tried to use blood but substituted red ink instead.”
    “True, but this ink on the postcard appears to be purple or brown. More than one colored ink was used, it would seem.”
    “Part of the fantastic nature of the creature,” said William.
    “Yes, but the inks themselves. Where did he get them?”
    “I don’t believe that they’re hard to find.”
    “But not in a cheap stationer’s.”
    “It supports my theory that the man is not a poor illiterate,” said William a bit smugly. “I’ve already suggested as much. The handwriting, even when it seems to be primitive, is too good. And the spelling seems too mannered in its inaccuracy to be genuine.”
    “Hmm,” said Alice. “What’s this?”
    “What?” William asked. He had