Mike Resnick: The Other Teddy Roosevelts

“Thank you,” said Hughes.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” asked the officer. “Any reply?”

“No, that will be all.”

The officer saluted, and when he left Hughes turned back to Roosevelt.

“What are your plans now, Theodore?”

“I have two more speeches to give on ornithology,” answered Roosevelt, “and one on naval warfare, and then I board the boat for home on Friday.”

“Let me tell you something about the murder you saw today,” began Hughes.

“Thank you for letting me finish my breakfast first,” said Roosevelt wryly.

“We have a madman loose in Whitechapel, Theodore,” continued Hughes.

“That much is obvious.”

“We knew that before today,” said Hughes.

Roosevelt looked up. “This wasn’t his first victim?”

“It was at least his second.” Hughes paused. “It’s possible that he’s killed as many as five women.”

“How can he still be at large?”

“We can’t watch every Whitechapel prostitute every minute of the day and night.”

“He only kills prostitutes?”

“Thus far.”

“Were they all this brutally mutilated?”

“The last one — a girl named Polly Nichols — was. The first three suffered less grievous damage, which is why we cannot be sure they were all killed by the same hand.”

“Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you,” said Roosevelt. “I certainly don’t envy you.” He paused. “Have you any suspects so far?”

Hughes frowned. “Not really.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

Roosevelt shrugged. “As you wish. But the subject of Saucy Jack is closed. Either you confide in me or I can’t help.”

Hughes looked around the half-empty dining room, then lowered his voice. “All right,” he said in little more than a whisper. “But what I tell you must go no farther than this table. It is for you and you alone.”

Roosevelt stared at him with open curiosity. “All right,” he said. “I can keep a secret as well as the next man.”

“I hope so.”

“You sound like you’re about to name Queen Victoria.”

“This is not a joking matter!” whispered Hughes angrily. “I am convinced that the man who has been implicated is innocent, but if word were to get out…”

Roosevelt waited patiently.

“There are rumors, undoubtedly spread about by anarchists, that are little short of sedition,” continued Hughes. “Scandalous behavior within one’s own class is one thing — but murders such as you witnessed this morning…I simply cannot believe it!” He paused, started to speak, then stopped. Finally he looked around the room to make certain no one was listening. “I can’t give you his name, Theodore. Without proof, that would be tantamount to treason.” He lowered his voice even more. “He is a member of the Royal Family!”

“Every family’s got its black sheep,” said Roosevelt with a shrug.

Hughes stared at him, aghast. “Don’t you understand what I’m telling you?”

“You think royalty can’t go berserk just as easily as common men?”

“It’s unthinkable!” snapped Hughes. He quickly glanced around the room and lowered his voice again. “This is not Rome, and our Royals are not Caligula and Nero.” He struggled to regain his composure. “You simply do not comprehend the gravity of what I am confiding in you. If even a hint that we were investigating this slander were to get out, the government would collapse overnight.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Roosevelt.

“Absolutely.” The small, dapper policeman stared at Roosevelt. “I would like to enlist your aid in uncovering the real murderer before these vile rumors reach a member of the force who cannot keep his mouth shut.”

“I don’t believe you were listening to me,” said Roosevelt. “My ship leaves on Friday morning.”

“Without you, I’m afraid.”

Roosevelt frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Hughes handed the envelope he’d been given across the table to Roosevelt.

“What is this?” demanded Roosevelt, reaching for his glasses.

“A telegram from your President Cleveland, offering us your services in the hunt for the madman.”

Roosevelt read the telegram twice, then crumpled it up in a powerful fist and hurled it to the floor.

“Grover Cleveland doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about your murderer!” he exploded.

Hughes looked nervously around the room and gestured the American to keep his voice down.

“He just wants to keep me from campaigning for his Republican opponent!”

“Surely you will not disobey the request of your president!”

“I can if I choose to!” thundered Roosevelt. “He’s my president, not my king, a difference that I gather was lost on you when you manipulated him into sending this!” He glowered at the telegram that lay on the floor. “I knew he was worried about Harrison, but this is beyond the pale!”

“I apologize,” said Hughes. “I wanted a fresh outlook so badly, I seem to have overstepped my…”

“Oh, be quiet,” Roosevelt interrupted him. “I’m staying.”

“But I thought you said — ”

“Americans rise to challenges. I’ll rise to this one. I’m just annoyed at the way you went about securing my services.” He frowned again. “I’ll show that corrupt fool in the White House! I’ll solve your murder and get back to the States in time to help Ben Harrison defeat him in the election!”

“You’ll stay?” said Hughes. “I can’t tell you what this means! And of course, I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“You can start by checking me out of this palace and finding me a room in Whitechapel.”

“In Whitechapel ?” repeated Hughes with obvious distaste. “My dear Theodore, it simply isn’t done.”

“Well, it’s about to get done,” said Roosevelt. “I saw the way the onlookers stared at you, as if you were the enemy, or at least a foreign power. If they’re going learn to trust me, then I’ve got to live like they do. I can’t look for a killer until dinnertime, then come back to the Savoy, don a tuxedo, and mingle with the rich and the powerful until the next morning.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. I just want time to send a wire to my wife Edith, explaining why I won’t be on the ship when it docks.”

“We can send for her, if — ”

“American men do not put their wives in harm’s way,” said Roosevelt severely.

“No, of course not,” said Hughes, getting hastily to his feet. “I’ll send my carriage by for you in an hour. Is there any other way I can assist you?”

“Yes. Gather all the newspaper articles and anything else you have on these murders. Once I’ve got a room in Whitechapel, I’ll want all the material sent there.”

“You can have everything we’ve got on Saucy Jack.”

“Some name!” snorted Roosevelt contemptuously.

“Well, he does seem to have acquired another one, though it’s not clear yet whether he chose it himself or the press gave it to him.”

“Oh?”

“Jack the Ripper.”

“Much more fitting,” said Roosevelt, nodding his head vigorously.

My Dearest Edith:

I’m having Mr. Carlson hand-deliver this letter to you, to explain why I’m not aboard the ship.

Let me first assure you that I’m in perfect health. My extended stay here is due to a pair of conscienceless culprits — the President of the United States and someone known only as Jack the Ripper.

The latter has embarked on a rampage of murder that would shock even our own Western shootists such as Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo. You do not need to know the details, but believe me when I say that this fiend must be brought to justice.