The Seventh Canonical

By Herbert Howard Jones

When her dear old aunt Fearn had to go into hospital, Teresa was delighted to look after her flat, which was in Whitechapel, London near where the Ripper murders took place. Teresa had a fascination for dark history; beheadings at the Tower of London; the terrible plight of women accused of witchcraft, and subjects of that unpleasant ilk. The Ripper stories certainly grabbed her attention. But while she was glad to have been born in modern times, her morbid curiosity was strangely about to be fulfilled.

When doing a Ripper Tour in Whitechapel, a local and regular event, Teresa gets to know a local character who lives in a tent on the streets. From appearances he had all the hallmarks of a lonely homeless man, but he spoke with an American accent and sometimes looked quite normal. In fact, he appeared to have financial means but was not above accepting charity.

However, Teresa makes a fatal mistake when she gives him a gift of a couple of pounds as it seemed to create a bond between them which is hard to break. In fact, he appeared to interpret her act of giving as an offering to the malevolent and mysterious force which he was apparently worshiping. Was he in fact a Satanist or a man with a sick mind? And why did he claim to have an intimate knowledge of Jack the Ripper?

One thing was certainly for sure, her life was now in some peril. Her humble gift of two pounds to him was interpreted as an offering and had opened a dark and terrible portal, giving her the dubious honour of being selected as a sacrifice! Naturally, this appalling idea was something she strongly resisted, but soon became witness to a series of weird events. Indeed, she was dumbstruck to personally observe a peculiar and frightening manifestation appear in her aunt’s very own flat. It seemed that the demon was out to get her!

But the most worrying thing of all, was when she discovered that this force of darkness had already entered her aunt’s life. In fact as a result, her aunt Fearn had perpetrated acts which were difficult to believe. And it was now threatening to influence Teresa’s own mind. The entity seemed to have the power to remove the normal moral barriers which govern the conduct of ordinary people. It seemed to have the capacity to turn them into killers! But would Teresa ever cross that irreversible line and follow in her aunt's unfortunate footsteps? Perhaps running away to Portugal was the answer!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Herbert Howard Jones
• Release date: Sep 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463582022

Herbert Howard Jones

HERBERT HOWARD JONES grew up in Notting Hill, London in the sixties. He went to a boarding school in Norfolk and then local schools including Sloane School where crime writer John Creasy attended near the King's Road. When he left school he got numerous jobs, including as a porter at the BBC London, working as a jewellery assembler in a factory in Hatton Garden and also in a number of roles at a showbiz solicitor's office where he was a trainee legal executive and ran errands for a few of the British movie and music names of the time.He is a creative spirit who also likes dabbling in music and art himself. When he was in the jewellery business he personally made over ten thousand 14 carat gold gate bracelets which was a great learning experience for him. However, he was more interested in media and always wanted to write suspense books with a melodramatic element and so spent years reading them and working on various projects. He is also interested in romantic and fantasy fiction.But meeting people has always inspired him the most and he has had the good fortune to meet quite a few interesting people. He was personally friends with horror writer, Denis Wheatley's housekeeper when she lived in Blackheath, and knew poet John Pudney who lived nearby before he passed. One of the most interesting people that he met was the daughter of the Captain of the Titanic with whom he had tea in her cottage up in Suffolk. Miss Smith was a lady with a big personality and a very interesting home. She was surrounded with Titanic memorabilia wherever you looked. Jones was only a boy at the time and didn't appreciate the significance of all this stuff, but regrets not quizzing her on the catastrophic event which has forever featured large in shipping folklore!PERSONAL MESSAGE:I WANT TO EXPRESS my gratitude to readers who have bothered to download my books. I put a lot of effort into them and also design my own covers, and so it is a wonderful reward to get a download. Every author on this platform will be grateful for them because writing can be a lonely and thankless task. It is only the reader who makes it all worth while, and so thanks very much again.HHJ

Book preview

The Seventh Canonical

Herbert Howard Jones

Copyright © Herbert Howard Jones 2021

The right of Herbert Howard Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Opinions expressed in this book do not necessarily reflect the author’s own views.

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Book cover by Herbert Howard Jones

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

About the Author

Chapter One

Pretty auburn haired Teresa Holmes always fancied that it would be interesting to be a sleuth like her fictional Victorian namesake Sherlock Holmes. Instead she became a typist. However, her appetite for historical grisly happenings never waned and had turned her into a bit of a morbid tourist. She even once went to the Tower of London just to see where people used to be beheaded and saw the chopping block itself. It still appeared to be stained with blood.

But among the many historical villains, she had a special interest in Jack the Ripper, of all people.

For years, she had always thought she’d go to Whitechapel one day, where her aunt lived, and explore the backstreets looking for Ripper memorabilia. She doubted she would ever get around to it. Then one day the opportunity just arose.

Her aunt Fearn, who lived in east London, had been taken into the Whitechapel hospital with cancer. It was also known as the Royal London Hospital and famous for the ‘Elephant Man’. A photograph of the character hung on one of the walls but was not a subject of interest to Teresa. For her, the ‘Elephant Man’ was a step too far.

However, her aunt was a funny old stick and ancient too and had an especial liking for her niece and the feeling was mutual. Worried about her council flat, she had asked Teresa to look after it while she was in hospital. It meant Teresa would have to take some compassionate leave from work and her firm agreed. It was the beginning of August and business had fallen off a bit due to the holiday season.

Aunt Fearn even offered to give her a small allowance. In addition, she asked Teresa if she didn’t mind bringing her up up some shopping from time to time. Teresa was happy to help her in any way she could. She liked her aunt’s completely liberal attitude to life and her graphic conversation. The woman didn’t seem to have any boundaries.

On the day she was due to move into her aunt’s flat, Teresa brought along a small suitcase with wheels, that had some clothes in it and a lap top. It was easy enough to pull around with her, but she didn’t yet have the keys to her aunt’s flat. She needed to collect them from her aunt in hospital before she could move in, after lunch. In the morning, her aunt had to see the consultant. So to kill a bit of time, Teresa visited Brick Lane, did some shopping for her aunt and had a lamb samosa.

As she ate it, sitting on a wall, Teresa flicked through a small booklet about the Ripper murders. Apparently, there were a couple of local ‘Jack the Ripper walks’ or tours which she decided to go on at some point. She had an hour before she was due to see her aunt at the hospital and so she took a stroll to Hanbury Street, Spitalfields, which wasn’t far away. It was the site of one of the Rippers’ infamous attacks.

When Teresa arrived, she was struck by the Victorian feel of the place which was still very strong. Of course the area had been cleaned up and gentrified although an aura of the past still remained.

The little booklet indicated where the murders had taken place. Poor prostitutes were the victims and Teresa had images in her mind from watching movies on the subject. She was sure that the actual happenings were probably more grisly than her imagination could conjure.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was time to go to the hospital. She turned to retrace her steps when she noticed a homeless man sitting on a mattress next to a small tent in an alcove. It was on the opposite side of the road. She hadn’t noticed him before and would have given him some change if she been on the same side of the street.

She walked up a bit more passed him, and then hailed a cab and went to see her aunt at the hospital. Her aunt Fearn was sitting up in bed in a private room. The consultant was there and he filled Teresa in on her aunt’s prognosis. Apparently, the cancer hadn’t spread and they were going to surgically remove what was there. The doctor said it would do her aunt good to have visitors.

As soon as the consultant left, her aunt gave Teresa a great big sloppy kiss and whispered, ‘Teresa, darling, come here, let me look at you! Sit down. Did you bring the gin?’

Teresa smiled, took a seat next to the bed and pulled a little green bottle out of her handbag which her aunt quickly grabbed and put under her pillow.

‘Auntie Fearn you’re so bad!’

‘I know!’

‘So how are you auntie?’

‘Quite good and you?’

‘Fine.’

‘So what have you been up to then?’ he aunt asked with genuine interest.

‘Doing this and that,’ Teresa replied. ‘Guess where I went today?’

Her aunt frowned. ‘Surprise me.’

‘I went to Hanbury Street to see where the Ripper murders took place,’ Teresa said.

Her aunt laughed. ‘I could tell you a story or two about Jack the Ripper,’ her aunt said.

Teresa moved closer to the bed. ‘Oh? Do tell!’

‘Apparently my grandmother had a close encounter,’ her aunt told her. ‘Great Granny Alma who lived in the area around eighteen ninety!’

Teresa was fascinated to hear this. ‘So what happened?’

Aunt Fearn looked at her. ‘Well, a man with a handlebar moustache approached her when she was coming home from the local pub.’

‘Was it late at night then?’

‘Yes, as it happened it was,’ Fearn said. ‘She was on her own. Apparently the man was quite charming. He was asking for directions.’

‘Where to?’

‘Oh, I can’t remember,’ Fearn said. ‘But I remember granny saying that the man had an American accent.’

Teresa frowned. ‘Then it couldn’t have been the Ripper then? He wasn’t American was he?’

‘Well, of course I don’t know too much about the subject, but I read somewhere that he might have been American or even Russian.’

Teresa pulled a face. ‘Doesn’t sound like the Ripper to me.’

‘Well it probably wasn’t, I mean Granny Alma was still alive to tell the tale,’ Fearn laughed.

‘It was just some man who took a fancy to her I expect.’

Her aunt nodded but she was looking tired. ‘You couldn’t be a love and get me a sandwich from the cafeteria? I’ve had lunch but I’m still starving, and no more talk about the Ripper please. It gives me the creeps. Actually, there are more Rippers walking around today than there has even been!’

Teresa laughed and stood up. ‘There’s one now,’ she said as a sinister-looking man walked passed the glass door.

‘That’s actually the radiologist,’ her aunt said.

Teresa chortled and then went to find the hospital shop which was in the foyer on the ground floor. She brought back several items including sandwiches, coffees, salad, potato crisps and a big bottle of Pepsi.

Her aunt’s eyes lit up when Teresa came back into the room and presented the tray on her aunt’s lap. ‘Oh, lovely,’ her aunt said. ‘But you’ve forgotten one thing.’

‘What?’

‘Cigarettes,’ her aunt said. ‘But never mind, next time.’

Teresa thought this was hilarious. ‘You’ll get me banned from here. Now about the keys to your flat…’

‘Yes, if you could pass me my handbag,’ her aunt said pointing to the little cupboard next to the bed.

Teresa reached down and pulled out a very out of style handbag which her aunt must have had for years. Her aunt smiled and then rummaged through it and pulled out three little keys on a ring. ‘Here dear, now could you possibly get a copy of these cut for me? And then you can have the copy yourself and return the originals back to me. There’s a shop in Brick Lane which does them. Now my address is…’

‘I know your address auntie!’ Teresa said with a frown. ‘You’re in that great big block – Mordant House, just off Brick Lane, you’re number fifty-seven. I’ve only ever been there once I think but I do remember the address. Anyway, you always used to visit us!’

‘True,’ her aunt said. ‘But as my flat is right up at the top of the building, sometimes the frigging lift doesn’t work so you might have to walk up all those flights of stairs!’

‘I don’t mind,’ Teresa replied with a shrug. ‘I probably need the exercise!’

Her aunt laughed and looked down at the tray. ‘Right, I’ll start with a sandwich I think, what are they?’

‘One’s chicken and salad and the other’s cheese and mustard.’

Her aunt nodded and unwrapped a sandwich. ‘Could I have the chicken?’

‘Of course,’ Teresa said. ‘I’m trying to give up meat anyway!’

* * *

It was easy to find Mordant House, a tower block that was so tall it could be seen for miles around. The taxi driver drove her right up to the building, took his fare and then said. ‘Are you a stranger to this area?’

‘Sort of,’ Teresa replied as she passed over a five pound note.

‘Then a word of advice,’ the driver volunteered as he gave her some change and helped her with her suitcase. ‘Don’t go out on your own after eight o’clock.’

‘I won’t,’ she replied.

The taxi drove off and fortunately Teresa found that the lift of Mordant House was working perfectly. But it was slow and annoyingly stopped on every floor. As soon as she arrived on her aunt’s floor, she had a flashback to the time she had come visiting with her parents all those years ago. There was an odour of cabbage on the balcony which reminded her of the visit. It was not an unpleasant smell. Actually it put her in the mind to have some bubble and squeak herself.

Her aunt’s flat was bang in the middle of the balcony and using the yale and mortice key she entered the flat. She had not yet had the keys copied yet. That was a job for tomorrow. As she entered the accommodation, her immediate neighbour, a dark unshaven man in a vest, partially opened the door next to hers. He glanced at her with a frown, not showing his full face and then quickly closed it.

Teresa blinked and then went into the flat, turned on the light and expected to encounter slightly off odours, but the place smelled of disinfectant. She parked her suitcase in the hall and did a three minute tour of the place and realised that she would have to use her aunt’s bedding. Her aunt had not talked about it.

The flat was exactly as she remembered it except there was now a bigger tv. But all the furnishings were more or less the same as before except for a newish sofa.

Going into the main bedroom, she found that her aunt had a double bed that had been stripped. Teresa had to forage in the chest of drawers for any clean bedding and found some straightaway. She sniffed it suspiciously but it smelled perfectly fresh, thank heavens. Then she remembered that her aunt had a cleaner paid for by the council to help around the house. Obviously, she had stripped the bed and done the laundry. No doubt she would meet her in due course.

Teresa went into the kitchen and opened the fridge and found a liter of fresh milk sitting in the door. Familiarising herself with the cupboards, she soon found some coffee, sugar, mugs etc and made herself a brew. There was also a packet of unopened biscuits.

She made herself a coffee and sat at the small blue kitchen table and noticed a pile of old newspapers sitting on the floor in the corner next to the foot-operated bin. There was a paperback book sticking out several inches down. Teresa went over and pulled it out. She was surprised at the title, ‘Human Experiments of the Third Reich.’ She flicked through it and was appalled at some of the graphic photographs in it. Teresa literally shook her head and wondered why on earth her aunt Fearn had such an awful book.

* * *

Teresa unpacked her clothes and put them away in the wardrobe and the chest of drawers. As she was doing this she realised that simply looking after her aunt’s flat would leave her with a lot of time on her hands. Certainly, she could go on the Ripper tour and go out to lunch and shop and go and see her aunt in the hospital, but there was the whole day to fill.

She decided that it would be a good idea to contact her boss and see if she could do some office work on her laptop remotely. Her boss had kindly given her compassionate leave of absence although the understanding was that this would be negotiated against her two weeks’ holiday. However, if Teresa did some work from ‘home’ then perhaps she could get to retain the entirety of her holiday time.

Night had fallen, but because she’d had a snack earlier that day she was content with what she could find in the cupboards for supper. There were some tins of custard and other stuff, although nothing appealed. There was just basically milk and breakfast cereal. But this would tie her over until the next day. But before relaxing in the lounge, she checked the central heating system and put it on, as it was getting a bit chilly.

She also noted that her aunt had given her three keys but what the third little key was for wasn’t clear. She had assumed it was for a small cupboard or even a window lock. But looking around she found that the windows didn’t require any keys.

It was now getting on for ten pm and so feeling quite tired, she had her cereal watching the news, cleared it away and then made up her bed. The thought that it was her aunt’s bed slightly put her off but she had no choice unless she slept on the sofa. She checked her phone again for some messages, replied to a couple from her mother and some friends and then turned off the bedside light. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep and the night sped by before she knew it. She awoke in the morning to a thudding on the front door.

Going to the door she checked the spy hole door viewer and saw that it was a man standing there with a disagreeable look on his face. It looked like the man next door that she had seen previously, only shaven. She decided not to respond and watched him move away and go into the flat next door. He was obviously the neighbour. Teresa immediately felt that her aunt might not be on the best of terms with this man and would ask her about him when she saw her aunt again.

* * *

‘Did you get the cigarettes I asked for?’ her aunt enquired practically the moment Teresa walked into the hospital room.

‘I did, but where are you going to smoke them?’ Teresa asked taking them out of her handbag and quickly passing them to her aunt.

Her aunt stuck them under her pillow. ‘I’ll have a smoke when I go for a walk around the hospital grounds. I’m not stuck in this room all day. Did you get any matches?’

Teresa pulled a face as she sat down in the chair next to the bed. ‘Oh, no, sorry…’

‘No matter,’ her aunt said. ‘Mr Stigmore will light me up.’

‘Oh will he?’ Teresa said. ‘Which reminds me. Do you get on with your next door neighbour?’

‘Which side? Left or right?’

‘On your left facing your flat door.’ Teresa said.

‘Oh that’s Farouk. No, I don’t actually, he’s a pain in the you know what!’

‘Well, he knocked on the door this morning,’ Teresa told her. ‘But I didn’t open it.’

‘No don’t,’ her aunt said. ‘He’s a ponce and he plays his music really loudly. I’ve had to complain about him to the council before now.’

Teresa frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think he sells drugs and I think he might be running some women!’

‘What do you mean?’

Her aunt bent forward and whispered. ‘I think he’s running a brothel!’

‘From his council flat?’

‘Oh yes, you’d be surprised what goes on in that block!’

‘You need to get a transfer,’ Teresa suggested feeling concerned.

‘Oh, I’ve already put in for one, don’t you worry about that,’ her aunt said. ‘But the man in the rent office said I really need to go into a home because of my age. But I haven’t got money for a home. You have to own your own house before they’ll even think about taking you on.’

‘So what are you going to do then?’

‘There’s nothing I can do,’ her aunt said. ‘I’m stuck. Hey, let’s go for a walk! I’m dying for a fag!’

‘Alright,’ Teresa said glad of a change of scenery as she got up and grabbed her aunt’s coat which was on a peg on the wall. ‘By the way, what’s that little key for? On the key ring?’

‘Little key?’ her aunt replied looking puzzled. ‘Oh that. I’ve never use it.’

* * *

Teresa was in half a mind to go on a Ripper tour. There was a website address given in the little booklet which she had, but it was back at the flat. However, there were more pressing things to do. She needed to do a little shopping for herself and wanted to speak to her boss as soon as she could, to organise some work. Her wages were still being paid, but it would help with the passage of time. She wasn’t sure how long her aunt would be in hospital although she had the notion that she would be out in the next three weeks.

Teresa had noticed a small supermarket opposite the estate where her aunt lived and went in and made a few purchases, deciding to cook something for tonight. Her aunt had not yet given her any money yet, although this wasn’t a problem. Teresa bought some chicken thighs, vegetables, a big bottle of wine and a few cans of lager. If she was going to be kicking her heels she may as well be doing it in style, she thought.

When she got back to the flat, she phoned her boss on her mobile about some work. He was grateful for her call and said he would organise something for her and phone her back. He asked politely about her aunt and then they hung up.

She then checked her phone for messages for the umpteenth time, briefly sending texts when required. Her mother was particularly interested in what she was getting up to. She said to tell aunt Fearn that she would be coming down soon to see her soon. But Teresa knew this would never happen. Aunt Fearn and her mother were sisters, but it was an odd and quite cold relationship that they had.

Teresa decided to start preparing dinner for later. She usually liked to marinate ingredients for a couple of hours. But just as she put the carrots on the chopping board to slice up, someone knocked on the front door. She wondered if it was Farouk again and decided to heed her aunt’s advice and not answer it. Still, out of curiosity she went and checked the spyhole, but there was nobody there. Teresa then cautiously opened the door and went out onto the balcony. All was quiet with not a soul around.

With a frown, Teresa walked to the parapet at the edge of the balcony and looked down and caught sight of a cat sitting on the bonnet of a car. Then as she was about to turn away, she saw a thin disheveled man walk across the estate parking area from Mordant House heading towards the main road. But his back was to her and she couldn’t see his face. She watched him for a second as he appeared familiar. Had he knocked on the door?

Returning to the flat she then pressed on with her dinner preparations. Her aunt had one of those electrical slow cooking crock-pots. It allowed users to stick everything in it to