Chapter Text
"Rise and shine, Jane! Time to greet the day! Or afternoon, in your case."
Jane stirred from her sleep, the afternoon sun blinding her. Stuffing her face into the pillow, she groaned as Vivian marched around the room. Her legs and feet felt sore, and her head pounded dully against her temples. Visions of the previous night slowly floated back to her as she took in her surroundings. She remembered heavy drinking, dancing, and a handsome young fellow in a blue suit. She groaned as she lifted herself into a sitting position. She stretched out her arms and legs, working out the soreness in them. She glanced around for a glimpse of the young man, but he must’ve snuck out whilst she slept. Figures. They all do. Last night must've been rougher than she remembered. She looked to a corner to see a leggy, red-haired woman in a pale pink and beige dress fixing two cups of tea.
“Mornin’ Viv,” she croaked, running her hands through short, raven curls. “How’d you get in?”
“Mrs. Christie let me in,” she explained, stirring a steaming cup in a saucer. “She said you’d gotten home at the crack of dawn, and told me to come up.” She placed the second cup on the night stand within Jane’s reach, “I saw a man in a suit coming down when I arrived. Was he with you?”
She smiled softly, recalling the handsome stranger’s nimble fingers and soft kisses. She took a sip of the herbal tea, letting it warm her before she answered, “He was.”
Vivian smirked, “Naughty.”
“If having a bit of fun is naughty,” she smiled, “Then I’m the worst. It’s the only way I find any entertainment nowadays.” She drank from her cup again, then stood up to grab her dressing gown. Tying the satin robe around her naked body, she said, “What brings you here, Viv? Did that cad Woods let you out early?”
“Actually no,” she answered. “My boss is out of town. I finished typing up a few of his letters, and decided I’d come wake you up.” She examined a box full of letters as Jane picked at a biscuit tin beside the tea tray. “I thought we could get lunch together after I picked up James from my mother’s. She’s more tolerable when you’re there.”
“Glad I’m able to tame the wild beast for you,” Jane joked, nibbling on a cookie while she watched Vivian. She finished the small treat before she said, “Don’t bother. They’re all boring.”
“Oh what nonsense,” Vivian disagreed, “I’m sure at least one of these has to be of interest to you.” She picked up one of the letters and opened it as Jane picked up a second biscuit. "Look at this one," she said, "Mrs. Winston says her husband has gone missing along with some of her heirlooms-"
"-Ran off with the maid; took the jewels with him to pay off loan sharks," Jane answered. “All I had to do was ask Benny.” She picked up a stray elastic band from a table and tied back her messy black hair. Grabbing cold cream, she began rubbing ff the remains of last night’s makeup. Faded red lips and smudged eyeshadow made her look like a raccoon. "That one is pretty obvious, I think."
Vivian opened up another letter, "Ah, Gemma Tildon says she found her cat dead in her backyard. Last time she saw him, she says, he was sitting on the front porch railing. She wants to know what you think-"
"-It was her father," she said. When Vivian stared bemused, she continued, "Cat wandered off into the street and he ran it over. He put it in the backyard to make it seem natural. The poor man was devastated when I questioned him." She finished wiping off the cream, then left the table to her wardrobe, where she slipped on a brassiere and chemise.
"James from Yorkshire says one of his mates went missing after a game of poker at-"
"-He was in debt and he wouldn't pay up," she opened her closet to examine the array of clothes behind the doors. “It was obvious once I spoke to his wife. She sounded glad to be shot of him.” A simple dress would do for the daytime. Perhaps a nice hat too?
"Mira writes that someone has stolen crates of rum and gin from her tavern. She doesn't know who's doing it."
"Montague Boys," she said. She decided on the powder blue and white dress she’d bought in France. Taking out matching stockings from her drawer, she sat down to begin sliding them up her legs. "They steal alcohol from local pubs and sell them overseas. I already contacted Inspector Watson." Slipping on the other one, Jane clipped them to her garter belts. She grunted at Vivian, "These are all boring, Vivian! Boring, boring, boring."
“Oh Janey, you’re far too picky.”
“Am not!”
“Jane,” she said more seriously, “You are a female detective. You solve crimes. This is your job.” She took up a handful of letters and said, “You have to pick at least one. Otherwise, your father will have to pay your rent again, and you know how your father and brother get when you start-”
“-Don’t remind me of Arnold, please. It’ll upset my stomach.”
Jane pulled on her matching white heels while she imagined her older brother, Arnold. A sliver of a man, he had his father’s long narrow nose and dark eyes. Cold as ice, she already could hear him going on about how a woman her age should already be married and raising her children. Jane scoffed. It wasn’t that she disliked children or the idea of marriage. She simply did not want it forced upon her the way it was on upper class ladies. Her mother and father had given up convincing her years ago, but Arnold was always persistent. Especially after the war.
But Jane would rather not think about the war.
Vivian held back her laugh. She picked up the newspaper from the table and began reading out events for Jane to hear as she dressed. Jane knew she’d need a case soon, but it was hard to find anything exciting. She would do a few simple ones for a quick payment, but she lived for the thrill. The thrill of the chase, of the hunt, is what drove her. She loved sitting at her desk and solving puzzles laid out for her. She enjoyed putting pieces of a picture together to find that outcome, and then share it. It kept her busy in a world where everything felt so plain.
Being from a wealthy family, her life had been reduced to social gatherings, charity boards, gossip circles, and tea time. Everyone expected her to marry, have children and be the perfect, compliant wife. Her mother told her it was a woman’s duty to keep the family going.
“Men might plant the seed, but it is us women who make the flowers grow.”
Jane hated being compared to a plant. As much as she enjoyed the parties, dinners with friends and family, life did not feel as filling when there was no case. It was why she went to university. It was why she started her own private-eye business and lived alone in her London apartment. She did not know exactly what the universe had planned for her, but it wasn’t what her mother or Arnold wanted. The fact that she ended up helping others in the process made it more worthwhile.
The two women finally made their way out the door once Jane finished dressing and repainting her lips. On the curb outside, Jane spotted a black motorcar. She recognized the vehicle as belonging to the Woods Taxi Company.
“Does Woods know you’re using company cars for your own personal usage?” Jane smiled at Vivian as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said, starting up the vehicle. “Besides, I’m a company employee. I can use these too.”
Jane sighed, "Vivian, seriously, when are you going to see that you can be more than some slimy prat's secretary? You're an intelligent, clever woman. You should strive for something greater." Vivian paused as she drove off the curb. "You always wanted to be a doctor like your dad," Jane continued, "Why not go for it? You're not too old. You could get into any medical school you wanted and become the best in whatever field you chose."
"How very modern of you to think," Vivian said, the car’s engine perking up in a low rumble. "Not all of us can be private detectives, Jane. Some of us have people to feed."
"James would be proud that his mother became a doctor," Jane said.
"Jane," she then paused. “Let’s just go get James, yeah? My mother will be livid if I’m even a minute late.”
Jane didn’t push the subject further. Her best friend had done the ‘right’ thing in their social circle. She’d finished her education, married a doctor of high standing, and had a son. Then, that doctor went to war and died in an ambush, leaving Vivian to settle for meager wages and raise her son alone. Well, not completely. Jane was more than happy to look after him when she could, but child care was not her forte. Vivian still had not forgiven her for showing four-year-old James how a gun works. They arrived at Vivian’s mother’s house where the elderly woman stood, holding the small boy’s hand. His hair was a mop of auburn curls, big brown eyes looked happily at the women coming up the stairs. Jane watched from the bottom stair, keeping the old crone busy with local gossip while Vivian hugged and kissed her son. Like all women, she wondered what it might be like having a small human who loved you unconditionally.
But she needed a man for that, and she’d never find one she liked enough to bother with.
Jane treated Vivian and James to lunch at a nearby cafe, then took him for a walk in the park. Spending small moments with her loved ones pushed away the memories that crept back into her mind. It had been these moments, walking in the sunshine holding little James’s hand, that she’d pictured down in the bunker two years ago. She’d thought about her mother’s laugh after a good joke and her father’s cigar smoke when the German officers dumped her into her cell. After hours of torture and beatings, Jane thought about the chess games she played with Arnold, or Vivian’s girlish giggles when she told a god joke. Those small things kept her from breaking. They kept her from spiraling into the misery and pain that she received day after day. Watching James eat an ice lollie, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
It was a nice afternoon that was followed by a quiet night at home. Mrs. Christie offered to make her a proper dinner, but Jane could care for herself well enough. She didn’t like the old woman constantly fussing over her; she had her own troubles downstairs. Jane rifled through some of the letters at her armchair as the night crawled over day. Most of them involved missing pets or stolen jewelry. She occasionally caught one that might be of interest but ended up solving it by the end of the letter. She wrote replies to most of them before dinner. Jane didn't understand why people didn't go to the police with their petty problems. The police might blunder through their cases, but they could at least get the job done. She ached for something more challenging.
'I think my husband is cheating on me.' "He is."
'My dad went missing and I don't know where he's gone.' "He left your family."
'I met this wonderful bloke a few days ago and things got intimate between us. My friends say he ditched me, but I don't think that's true.' "It is and you're stupid for thinking otherwise."
She played Beethoven to keep her mind from the boredom, yet that failed. Mrs. Christie assured her the rut would end soon. Murders and disappearances happen in London every day. One could even be happening as they spoke, she said. She’d even asked if Jane could go to her father, the police commissioner, and inquire about any unsolved matters. Jane told her it’d be a waste of time. Her father did not deny his daughter’s skills, but he refused to help in her endeavors. He’d told her lovingly that if she ended up murdered or hurt from a case he gave her, he’d never forgive himself; what happened in France solidified this for him. Jane refused to let him feel that way. She knew she was bound to find one soon. Jane wished that were true as she read a book by the window. She considered an early night when a knock came at her door. She looked at the clock on her mantle, reading eight o’clock. Who would be calling at this hour? She walked over to the door, and opened it cautiously.
At the doorway stood a stocky man in a blue suit. From his well groomed hair and professional attire, she could tell he kept himself put together even out of the office. Scuffed boots suggested a working man, however, who didn’t make enough to wear more than one pair of shoes. He nervously hung his hat in his hands, tapping his foot in place as he looked at her. He was a client with another problem.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, ma’am" he said, his Birmingham accent giving away his hometown, "Forgive me for coming at such a late hour, but I have nobody else and I’m at the end of my rope. May I come in?”
“Yes, please.” She let him through, and said, “I’m assuming you already know me, but I’m Jane Dawes. Who might you be, sir?” She offered him a seat across from her armchair, and a drink of brandy.
“My name's Anthony Moss,” he took it gratefully, and nearly gulped it down. “I'm a Sergeant over in Birmingham. I got it from a friend that you're the one to see about, um, difficult cases."
"How difficult?"
"Baffling."
The word intrigued her. She sat back at her armchair, nursing her own scotch in her hand. "Tell me about your case, Sergeant."
"Before I begin, I want you to know I work in Small Heath. I don't know if you've ever heard of its reputation-"
"-I did hear it’s quite unsavory.”
"It can be," he said. He took another pour of scotch she offered, hoping the drink would calm his nerves. "So, it's not uncommon to see beatings, rapings, disappearances, robberies and murders. We even have a gang problem. There isn't much in Small Heath that surprises me, Ms. Dawes."
"Well, something must've happened if it brought you here."
"Indeed.” He took a deep breath, then said, “It's this string of murders that have been going on. We've found three different women found in back alleys around town. Their bodies cut open, parts of them missing, and no evidence to go on," he shuddered. "It's unnatural, ma’am. Like I said, murder isn't new to me, but I've never seen anything like this. Alright, we sometimes find a prostitute who displeased a customer or didn't pay her pimp. But, it was never this terrible."
"If your town is so used to crime, haven't you considered that it could be one of the regular criminals?"
"No," he shook his head. "They don't do things like this. They might beat or cut people, but if they kill someone it's direct. This isn't direct. I even asked Tommy Shelby if he had an idea, but he said it had nothing to do with him or the Peaky Blinders."
"Peaky Blinders," she said, nodding, "I've heard of them."
"Then you know they aren't insane. Whoever is doing this is insane, ma’am. We have no real leads. We aren't well equipped like other police stations. If I want any chance at stopping this, I need someone like you. The only links I can find is their profession and how he killed them. It reminds me of Jack the Ripper, but it can't be. That was ages ago. He'd be dead by now, wouldn't he?"
"He would," she said. "He definitely would."
A copycat serial killer lurking about in a slum? It piqued her interest for sure. Serial criminals always made the chase fun. She asked him a few more questions about the case in general: who were the victims, if there are any connections between them, and if there are any special areas she should investigate. Moss was more than willing to tell her about them all. She could hear the desperation in his voice. Someone was mutilating women in his district, and he seemed to be the only person who cared. Not even the men underneath him put much effort into finding the killer. Thinking about it more, the intrigue grew. It turned the dusty wheels in her mind, and built up the excitement.
“I’ll take a glance at your case, Sergeant,” she told him once she knew everything, “If this butcher has killed as often as you said he has, it won’t be long until he does it again.”
“Oh, that’s good news to hear, ma’am! Very good news!”
They agreed on a time to meet in two days, and Jane led him out the door. Once he left, a rush of adrenaline ran through her body. She grabbed her notepad and put everything down, knowing she’d need it later. A madman on the loose in the seedy neighborhood of Small Heath? It gave her plenty to keep herself occupied. It wasn’t the first time she’d come across someone reenacting murders from the past, but she sensed something different with this one.
Very different.