The Other Teddy Roosevelts Read Online Free

fool in the White House! I’ll solve your murder and get back to the States in time to help Ben Harrison defeat him in the election!”
    “You’ll stay?” said Hughes. “I can’t tell you what this means! And of course, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
    “You can start by checking me out of this palace and finding me a room in Whitechapel.”
    “In Whitechapel ?” repeated Hughes with obvious distaste. “My dear Theodore, it simply isn’t done.”
    “Well, it’s about to get done,” said Roosevelt. “I saw the way the onlookers stared at you, as if you were the enemy, or at least a foreign power. If they’re going learn to trust me, then I’ve got to live like they do. I can’t look for a killer until dinnertime, then come back to the Savoy, don a tuxedo, and mingle with the rich and the powerful until the next morning.”
    “If you insist.”
    “I do. I just want time to send a wire to my wife Edith, explaining why I won’t be on the ship when it docks.”
    “We can send for her, if—”
    “American men do not put their wives in harm’s way,” said Roosevelt severely.
    “No, of course not,” said Hughes, getting hastily to his feet. “I’ll send my carriage by for you in an hour. Is there any other way I can assist you?”
    “Yes. Gather all the newspaper articles and anything else you have on these murders. Once I’ve got a room in Whitechapel, I’ll want all the material sent there.”
    “You can have everything we’ve got on Saucy Jack.”
    “Some name!” snorted Roosevelt contemptuously.
    “Well, he does seem to have acquired another one, though it’s not clear yet whether he chose it himself or the press gave it to him.”
    “Oh?”
    “Jack the Ripper.”
    “Much more fitting,” said Roosevelt, nodding his head vigorously.

    ***

    My Dearest Edith:

    I’m having Mr. Carlson hand-deliver this letter to you, to explain why I’m not aboard the ship.
    Let me first assure you that I’m in perfect health. My extended stay here is due to a pair of conscienceless culprits—the President of the United States and someone known only as Jack the Ripper.
    The latter has embarked on a rampage of murder that would shock even our own Western shootists such as Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo. You do not need to know the details, but believe me when I say that this fiend must be brought to justice.
    An officer from Scotland Yard has read of my experiences in the Dakota Bad Lands and asked Grover Cleveland to “loan” me to the British until these murders have been solved—and Cleveland pounced on such an excuse to remove me from the upcoming campaign.
    With luck, I’ll have things sorted out and solved in time to see Ben Harrison give his victory speech in a little less than two months.
    My best to Alice and little Ted.

    Your Theodore
    ***
    Roosevelt sat on a rickety wooden chair, his back to the window, thumbing through Hughes’ files.
    It was clear that Polly Nichols was a Ripper victim. He doubted that the three who preceded her—Emma Smith, Ada Wilson, and Martha Tabram—were. They’d been brutally murdered, but the modus operandi differed appreciably from the two most recent killings.
    The files were very circumspect about the Royal who had come under suspicion, but Roosevelt deduced that it was Prince Eddy, more formally Albert Victor, son of the Prince of Wales and, quite possibly, the future King of England.
    Roosevelt put the papers down, leaned back on his chair, and closed his eyes. It just didn’t make any sense. It would be as if Grover Cleveland had walked into a Washington slum and killed a pair of women and no one had recognized him. It was true that Prince Eddy was a dissolute and depraved man, and Roosevelt held him in total contempt—but there was just no way he could walk fifty yards in any direction, in or out of Whitechapel, without being recognized.
    He removed his spectacles, rubbed his eyes, and then stood up. It was time to stop hypothesizing and go out