We step out of the carriage and onto the street, in front of a wide alley between two buildings. At least twelve men were in the alley, investigating and sharing clues. The only people I recognize are Freddie and Mr. Roth. I don't think I like Mr. Roth very much.

     We stroll down the stone road into the alley. Further down there is a yard, with a broken down carriage and a flight of stairs leading into the back of the building that was facing us. We were stopped before we could actually reach the dead body.

     "This area is closed off to citizens," a mustached-man in a blue police uniform stands in front of us.

     "They're not just citizens," Freddie interrupts. "They are detectives and have full access to the scene," the policeman nods and steps out of the way, allowing us through. "Mary, I'm glad you're here."

     Mr. Roth's eyes widen. "Mrs. Styles! Your attire is completely inappropriate for a woman!"

     I look down at my outfit, and back at Roth. "You know what, Roth? I want you to try wearing a tight corset and a dress as heavy as yourself all day without any problems. And maybe you could also try thinking before you speak."

    That shut him up quickly, and he walks away with a sour face. Freddie sighs, "Sorry about him. Don't know how the idiot got a job with us in the first place. Anyways, let me introduce you to the team."

     "I'd rather just get to the investigating, Freddie," I reply. "I'd like to catch the Ripper before he strikes again."

     Freddie nods. "Then the only man you need to know is him," he guides me to a blue-eyed young man dressed in a black police uniform with a red and white striped pin that resembles a shield on the collar, and a black hat with a golden sigil. "Mary, this is Chief Inspector Louis Tomlinson. He's in charge of this investigation."

     Chief Inspector Tomlinson turns to me with a bright smile, "Hello, and you are?"

     I get a good look at his face, the face of a man no older than twenty-five, meaning he must have been very bright to have been made Chief Inspector at such a young age. Or he merely has a relative who helped him get the job. He has light brown hair, from the look of his sideburns. He's obviously only started growing facial hair no more than a year ago, the multiple tiny cuts on the lower half of his face tell me he's not used to shaving.

     "I'm Detective Mary Styles," I introduce myself. "And this is Harry, my assistant."

     "Yeah, I'm actually kind of her husband," I hear Harry say.

     "And this is Detective Niall Horan," I introduce Niall to Chief Inspector Tomlinson, who nods. "May we please see the body now, Chief Inspector?"

     He clears his throat, "Of c-course, right this way. And please feel free to call me Louis."

     I smile, "Thank you, Louis," the poor man fancies me. Someone of such a high status would rarely be referred to by his first name, especially at his age. If I were a young man and was given so much power, I'd want everyone to call me Chief Inspector.

     He guides us to the middle of the yard, where the victim's body is lying on the ground, covered by a large, bloody cloth. "The victim's name was Elizabeth Stride. Occupation: prostitute. It seems as though the Ripper only goes after prostitutes, not sure why."

     "Remove the cloth, please," I say. A policeman slowly removes the cloth from the body, and I gasp, screwing my eyes shut. It really is a gruesome sight. After a few moments, I open my eyes again. She was lying on her side, faced towards the nearby wall, with her feet outstretched in the direction of the street. She has a handkerchief around her neck, but it looks torn, revealing a large, deep cut through her throat.

     I take a pair of gloves out of my coat pocket and slip them on my hands. I bend down to analyze the poor woman's body. She had mud on the side of her face. There was a skin discoloration over both shoulders and under the collarbone but, oddly enough, nowhere else. The cut on her neck was suspiciously clean, though. It was too clean, especially taking into consideration the length and depth of the gash. It must have cut though an artery, yet there is barely any blood. Her skin was already beginning to decompose, I notice some dark brown spots on her chin, and her left earlobe was slightly torn. I take a look at her clothes and check inside the pockets of her black jacket. I stand up and remove my gloves, handing them to Harry.

     "What have you got, Mary?" Harry asks.

     I think for a moment before informing Harry, Niall, and Louis about everything I learned. Freddie walks closer, ready to hear what I have to say. "She is in her mid-forties. She was murdered early this morning, possibly around midnight, maybe even one. There aren't any signs of a struggle, no bruises or cuts other than from her neck. The gash is clean, meaning not only did she bleed out, but for some reason, the murderer wiped the blood off. Knowing a little about the murderer, he probably saved the blood. He did say in the letter that he wanted to use it as ink to write with, although he couldn't. There's no doubt he's going to try again, so expect another letter soon. Although, we can't be sure this is the work of the Ripper. Her earlobe is torn, but both of her ears are still attached. In the Ripper's letter, he said he was going to cut off the ear of his next victim. Unless he was discovered before he had a chance to sever her ear, it should have been cut off completely."

     "What about the deformity in her right leg? Doesn't that indicate a struggle between the murderer and the victim?" Mr. Roth's voice surprises me, and I gasp.

     "Mr. Roth," I breathe. "Wow, you just popped out of nowhere, like a weasel. A weasel who thinks a woman can't be smart enough to solve a mystery, and who leaves a nearly untouched cup of tea in a stranger's home, which was an incredible waste of quality tea, by the way. And about the leg deformity, that is irrelevant. The bones in her right leg bow forwards, but that's something that is acquired over a number of years, not from one struggle. Nice try, though."

     Freddie clears his throat, "Is that all? You usually can tell much more."

     "Well," I continue. "Unlike most women in her business, she didn't fall into it because of poverty. She's been doing this for many years, even in the years she was married."

     Weasel Roth scoffs, "How could you possibly know that?"

     "You see," I begin, "Unlike others, she doesn't keep a pouch of money on her from her earnings, mostly because she's learned that the sort of low-life men she has to deal with are the kind to try to steal the extra money as they leave. As for knowing about her marriage, she has a tan on her left ring finger. The sun in Whitechapel isn't bright enough to create a tan quickly, so she must have been married for a long time. But she's not wearing a ring. If it was taken off of her after she died, the tan would be more prominent, but it's a bit faded, meaning she took it off herself some time ago. This is basic level deducing, Mr. Weasel, a detective such as yourself should have been able to figure that out."

     "Brilliant as usual," Harry says from my side. I can practically hear his smirk.

     "Did-Did you just call me Mr. Weasel?!" He exclaims. "The name's Wesley Roth."

     "I know what your name is," I retort. Then, I turn to Louis. "Did I provide enough information? I could go on, but the rest of what I learned doesn't have anything to do with the crime itself."

     Louis shakes his head, "No, that's actually perfect. That's more than what any of my men got."

     "Well then, you might need to rethink your choice next time you put together an investigative team," I reply. "May I check around this area a bit more? I want to see if there are any more clues."

     "Be my guest," he smiles. I smile in return, and begin looking around. I spot Niall, who's speaking to one of the detectives, and Harry, who's merely standing around.

     I begin looking for clues on the ground near her body, but don't find anything useful. Then, something catches my eye. I lean down to Ms. Stride's body once more and, sure enough, there's a bit of paper sticking out of her skirt pocket. How could I have missed the skirt pocket? I take the scrap of paper out of her pocket. On it, was a list of names.

     "Clever woman," I smirk. She wrote down the names of every one of her customers from last night. "Harry, would you mind helping me, please?" I ask. I don't want him to seem useless.

     Harry grins. "Of course, dear. What do you need?"

     "I need you to hold onto something important for me," I whisper, handing him the scrap of paper. "It's imperative that nobody knows you have this. These detectives are going about this investigation the wrong way, and I just know that if they saw this list, they'll try to interfere. I'm conducting my own investigation, not helping them with theirs."

     "We're going to hide evidence from the police?" Harry whispers back, concerned. Then, he smirks. "Alright, then. I'll make sure this list stays a secret. What is it, anyways?"

     "Thank you, darling," I smile, giving him a quick kiss. "It's a list of all of Ms. Stride's customers from last night. She obviously knew about the previous killings, so she was smart enough to write down the name of each customer before she walked off with him, in case he would murder her. It's unlikely that the Ripper gave her a fake name, he's not that clever."

     "So, the last name on this list must be the man who killed her?" Harry asks.

     "Exactly," I nod. "But, he's not the only suspect. I'm going to ask around to see if I can find out who discovered her body and if anyone had witnessed anything. We need to determine all of the suspects, and then we can finally start unravelling this mystery."

     "Do you think we'll catch the Ripper soon?" Harry wonders.

     I shrug. "We have to, I need to stop him before any more innocent women are murdered."

     I walk away from Harry, who folds the paper and sticks it in his pocket, and I am about to ask Louis about who discovered Ms. Stride's body, when we were all interrupted.

     "Chief Inspector!" A policeman who wasn't here before yelled. He runs up to us, out of breath. "A body has been discovered in the South Corner of Mitre Square!"

     Louis's eyes widen, "What? When?"

     "Early this morning, about an hour or two after Ms. Stride's body was found. The policeman who found her had reported it, but the word didn't reach our team until recently. She's identified as Catherine Eddowes," the man explains. "Sir, this woman was also a prostitute, and was murdered in the same manner as Jack the Ripper's previous victims. Her time of murder was only an hour after Ms. Stride's."

     "Two murders in the same night?" I state. "And they were both victims of the Ripper...why would he murder two women at almost the same time but in different locations?"

     "Half of you, go with this man," Louis commanded the detectives. "I need you to begin another investigation on Ms. Eddowes," then, he turns to me. "Mrs. Styles, would you mind going with them? I have no doubt you'll discover what we need."

     I nod. "Of course. Harry, Niall, are you coming with me?"

     "Definitely," Harry confirms.

     "Actually, I think I should stay," Niall answers. "I'll find out as much as I can over here, and we'll swap clues when we meet back at the house."

     "Sounds alright," I say. "We'd better get going."

     I, along with Harry and six other detectives, make our way out of the yard and through the alley. Each carriage can seat four, so Harry and I are stuck riding in a carriage with two detectives we don't know, and don't bother getting to know. Needless to say, the ride was silent and uncomfortable.

     I let my mind wander as the carriage drives down the bumpy road. Why did the Ripper murder two women in the same night? Maybe he murdered one of them, and the other one was killed by someone else. Maybe the Ripper is more than just one man. Ms. Stride and Ms. Eddowes must have some sort of connection to the Ripper other than their occupation. Whatever is going on, I will figure it out. I must take the Ripper down before he hurts any more women.

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So this is basically an introduction of what Mary can do, she's about a level below Sherlock Holmes. The only reason she's not exactly as smart as Sherlock is because I'm not as smart as Sherlock so there's no way I can write a character who's that much smarter than me, lol.

That reminds me, there will be some Sherlock references since the first book was actually published a year before this stuff happens. 

Hope you liked this chapter, there are many more exciting things to come! Vote and comment if you want :)

Love, Tori