Free Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) by Aiden James, Michelle Wright Page B

composure. I needed the encounter to be favorable, a friendly anticipation and healthy curiosity as to his reason for calling. His appearance gave nothing away- I greeted him cordially.
    “Good morning, Chief Inspector, and what a fine winter morning it is.”
    “Yes, it’s temperate weather for the time of year, and I hope all is well with you, Emmanuel.”
    “Very well indeed, and may I introduce Roderick Cooley, my business associate.”
    “An Irish name, Cooley. Are you a Dublin man?”
    I noticed Swanson perusing Roderick carefully, unsure of his appearance.
    “I am now an American residing in Virginia.”
    The flat dismissal, bordered on rudeness, did not fare well with me. I needed Roderick to leave, as soon as possible.
    “It is a busy working day today, Chief Inspector, and Roderick must away to the office. Will you please excuse him?”
    “Of course, my dear man. We all have busy lives to attend to.”
    It was a relief to see him go, I hoped, with another century or two under his belt, he will be more confident and adaptable to all predicaments.
    “What do I owe this visit Chief Inspector? Would you care for some tea?”
    “A cup of tea would do nicely, thank you.”
    I rang the bell for Edward to bring a pot of tea whilst I encouraged the Inspector to make himself comfortable. He appeared impressed with my surroundings, admiring some rare antique pieces and enquiring of their history. With the files safely under lock and key, I had nothing to fear.
    While we waited there was idle talk of the weather, current politics and the state of English cricket. The longer we discussed trivial matters the more relaxed I felt, unlike Roderick who was more than likely in a high state of anxiety, brought on by not knowing the outcome.
    With the tea poured and a cake in his hand, he spoke in earnest.
    “I am at a loss with this case. In my entire career I have never had so many false leads, countless witnesses with a different description and too many murders in a short space of time. It has become a chaos at the Yard. Resignations, heated arguments, complications and now to make matters worse, heads will roll on account of missing or stolen files.”
    “Missing or stolen files? How can that be, who was in charge of their security? I hope it was not you, good sir.”
    “No, they were last in the possession of one of the junior detectives, who had been recently assigned to the case. Not a good start to his promotion, I think.”
    “As you say, there is much chaos. I expect they have gone missing rather than stolen, certain to reappear when you are better organized.”
    “I trust your confidence in this matter, Mister Ortiz. Any leakages to the newspapers will be very damaging, as our popularity with the people is at its lowest since we are yet to bring forward an arrest.”
    “You have my word as a gentleman that our conversations remain between us,” said I, without a flinch. My villainous nature I tried so hard to suppress and change was in play. I would make good eye contact with the Inspector, keep my body language in order, so as not to give any clues away and act with sympathy. He would not suspect me for one second; I would be on his side.
    “I received a telegram from your colleague in New York confirming your stature and I was wondering if you had yet been to Whitechapel in your capacity? If so, did you manage to find any new witnesses?”
    “I plan to venture back soon. Your constable did take me to the crime scenes and I will return and report any snippet of information I find directly to you.”
    Seemingly content with my blatantly dishonest answer, I could not help but notice his extreme concern about the ever growing failure to catch Jack eating away at his very being. If it is Ratibor, then Scotland Yard would be an ill fated match indeed.
    “I am asking you to please be careful. Whitechapel is an area that is unfamiliar to you. Thieves and vagabonds abound in those streets and do watch out for the