very strange man whose career had been extraordinary. He had been an officer in a cavalry regiment, a doctor, and I know not how many other things in his time.: He was now in desperate poverty and depended entirely on Mabel Collins for his daily bread. The man claimed to be an advanced Magician, boasting of many mysterious powers and even occasionally demonstrating the same.
At this time London was agog with the exploits of Jack the Ripper. One theory of the motive of the murderer was that he was performing an Operation to obtain the Supreme Black Magical Power. The seven women had to be killed so that their seven bodies formed a "Calvary cross of seven points" with its head to the west. The theory was that after killing the third or the fourth, I forget which, the murderer acquired the power of invisibility, and this was confirmed by the fact that in one case a policeman heard the shrieks of the dying woman and reached her before life was extinct, yet she lay in a cul-de-sac, with no possible exit save to the street; and the policeman saw no signs of the assassin, though he was patrolling outside, expressly on the lookout.
Miss Collins's friend took great interest in these murders. He discussed them with her and Cremers on several occasions. He gave them intimations of how the murderer might have accomplished his task without arousing the suspicion of his victims until the last moment. Cremers objected that his escape must have been a risky matter, because of his habit of devouring certain portions of the ladies before leaving them. What about the blood on his collar and shirt? The lecturer demonstrated that any gentleman in evening dress had merely to turn up the collar of a light overcoat to conceal any traces of his supper.
Time passed! Mabel tired of her friend, but did not dare to get rid of him because he had a packet of compromising letters written by her. Cremers offered to steal these from him. In the man's bedroom was a tin uniform case which he kept under the bed to which he attached it by cords. Neither of the women had ever seen this open and Cremers suspected that he kept these letters in it. She got him out of the way for a day by a forged telegram, entered the room, untied the cords and drew the box from under the bed. To her surprise it was very light, as if empty. She proceeded nevertheless to pick the lock and open it. There were no letters; there was nothing in the box, but seven white evening dress ties, all stiff and black with clotted blood!
You ask how it began?
Now you know.
Chapter Two
Hangman
I hung the first body from a suspension bridge. Here's how I skinned her . . .
The rest of Jolly Roger was a splatterpunk's gourmet feast. The city in which it unfolded wasn't identified. The excerpt in Chapter One was never attributed, leaving whose Confessions an unsolved mystery. The murders—four of women, the fifth of a cop—were described in so much detail they rivaled American Psycho. The author, however, didn't have Bret Easton Ellis's style. Jolly Roger was bloodletting for bloodletting's sake.
The ending baffled DeClercq:
. . . the ax hit the cop before he turned. The thick V-blade cleaved his skull like a soft-boiled egg. His arms shot up as if he were a Sunday-morning preacher, all hallelujah and sucking brain. First came the blood, then pink tissue, ballooning around the ax-head like bubble gum. "Take that, fucker!"
His legs did a spastic jig as his ass hit the ground, then his entire body went into convulsions. The steel squeaked on bone when I wrenched it from his skull.
One of his eyes kept blinking like the guy was flirting with me. "Take this, fucker." I hit him again. This time the ax-blade caved in his face.
The cop stopped dancing.
Well, there you have it. So ends the beginning. One thing you can't accuse me of is not playing fair. Other cops will find the bitch and their nosy buddy, so that's why
One.
Two.
Three.
I'm laying out the cards.
THIS IS AN
At this time London was agog with the exploits of Jack the Ripper. One theory of the motive of the murderer was that he was performing an Operation to obtain the Supreme Black Magical Power. The seven women had to be killed so that their seven bodies formed a "Calvary cross of seven points" with its head to the west. The theory was that after killing the third or the fourth, I forget which, the murderer acquired the power of invisibility, and this was confirmed by the fact that in one case a policeman heard the shrieks of the dying woman and reached her before life was extinct, yet she lay in a cul-de-sac, with no possible exit save to the street; and the policeman saw no signs of the assassin, though he was patrolling outside, expressly on the lookout.
Miss Collins's friend took great interest in these murders. He discussed them with her and Cremers on several occasions. He gave them intimations of how the murderer might have accomplished his task without arousing the suspicion of his victims until the last moment. Cremers objected that his escape must have been a risky matter, because of his habit of devouring certain portions of the ladies before leaving them. What about the blood on his collar and shirt? The lecturer demonstrated that any gentleman in evening dress had merely to turn up the collar of a light overcoat to conceal any traces of his supper.
Time passed! Mabel tired of her friend, but did not dare to get rid of him because he had a packet of compromising letters written by her. Cremers offered to steal these from him. In the man's bedroom was a tin uniform case which he kept under the bed to which he attached it by cords. Neither of the women had ever seen this open and Cremers suspected that he kept these letters in it. She got him out of the way for a day by a forged telegram, entered the room, untied the cords and drew the box from under the bed. To her surprise it was very light, as if empty. She proceeded nevertheless to pick the lock and open it. There were no letters; there was nothing in the box, but seven white evening dress ties, all stiff and black with clotted blood!
You ask how it began?
Now you know.
Chapter Two
Hangman
I hung the first body from a suspension bridge. Here's how I skinned her . . .
The rest of Jolly Roger was a splatterpunk's gourmet feast. The city in which it unfolded wasn't identified. The excerpt in Chapter One was never attributed, leaving whose Confessions an unsolved mystery. The murders—four of women, the fifth of a cop—were described in so much detail they rivaled American Psycho. The author, however, didn't have Bret Easton Ellis's style. Jolly Roger was bloodletting for bloodletting's sake.
The ending baffled DeClercq:
. . . the ax hit the cop before he turned. The thick V-blade cleaved his skull like a soft-boiled egg. His arms shot up as if he were a Sunday-morning preacher, all hallelujah and sucking brain. First came the blood, then pink tissue, ballooning around the ax-head like bubble gum. "Take that, fucker!"
His legs did a spastic jig as his ass hit the ground, then his entire body went into convulsions. The steel squeaked on bone when I wrenched it from his skull.
One of his eyes kept blinking like the guy was flirting with me. "Take this, fucker." I hit him again. This time the ax-blade caved in his face.
The cop stopped dancing.
Well, there you have it. So ends the beginning. One thing you can't accuse me of is not playing fair. Other cops will find the bitch and their nosy buddy, so that's why
One.
Two.
Three.
I'm laying out the cards.
THIS IS AN
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