Michael White - The Art of Murder

‘And what about the newspaper editor? Archibald Thomson, wasn’t it?’

‘He really did exist, and was abducted in late 1888. He was traumatised by the experience and died in Bedlam Hospital soon after.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘Well, it was actually thanks to one of the most puzzling questions about all this — how did the letters get into Juliette Kinnear’s hands?’

‘Her father had them in his library.’

‘But how did he get them?’

Turner shrugged. ‘He collected books and manuscripts. I assumed he must have picked them up at an auction or a second-hand book shop.’

Pendragon gave his sergeant a sceptical look. ‘Much more interesting, actually. I’d had them for at least a day before I noticed a very faint paragraph of writing on the bottom of one of them. It was written in a different hand from the author of the letters. It said, something like: “I cannot think what to do with these horrible things. I cannot destroy them, for that would somehow feel wrong. So I entrust them to you”. It was signed by Sonia Thomson.’

‘Archibald’s wife, the woman The Ripper was writing to?’

‘Yes. I then traced back the Kinnear family tree. Turns out Juliette’s great-grandfather, David Kinnear, had been the Warden of Bedlam Hospital between 1911 and 1914. Sonia Thomson must have left the letters at the hospital with one of David Kinnear’s predecessors, and somehow they surfaced during his tenure. It seems it was David Kinnear who started the family library and sparked the bibliophilia in his grandson, Juliette’s father John.’

They had reached the door to the pub and Turner held it open for his boss. They walked through the public bar, along a narrow corridor and emerged into the lounge bar. As Pendragon stepped into the room, a loud cheer went up followed by a tumultuous: ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’

Stunned for a second, he surveyed their faces — the entire team from the station were there as well as Colette Newman and Neil Jones. Behind them hung a paper banner with: MANY HAPPY RETURNS, JACK written on it. Jimmy Thatcher stepped forward, blowing a party whistle and holding out a pint of bitter.

Pendragon was so surprised he just stared at the gathering open-mouthed before grasping the glass of beer automatically. No one had ever thrown him a surprise party before and he could barely believe that it was happening now. He had not realised how much he had settled here, become part of the team. For a second he felt almost overwhelmed with emotion. Then he raised the glass and grinned from ear to ear.

Superintendent Hughes stepped forward with a gift wrapped in bright orange and red paper.

‘For you, Jack.

Pendragon looked at the gift and then back at the gathering.

‘Come on, guv. Open it then,’ Inspector Grant shouted from the back of the group, and they moved forward to surround him.

He looked around at all the smiling faces. ‘Thanks,’ he said, blushing. ‘I didn’t expect …’ He pulled the ribbon and carefully peeled apart the edges of the paper. Inside it was a large coffee-table book with a blaringly colourful cover. He read the title aloud: THE SURREALISTS . Then he burst out laughing.