'Now on Chat Radio, home of nighttime talk throughout Liverpool and the Northwest, a very special guest, local boy turned bestselling author – Mister James Riding!'

Riding flinched at the totally unnecessary canned applause, but leaned into the mic smiling.

'Always great to be home Gary, thanks for having me on!'

'Before we open the phone lines – and, obviously, talk about I See You Jack!   – I think the folks out there would love to know more about the man that is James Riding. You know, mate, a bit of background, how you got to be where you are today from your roots in Liverpool?'

'OK, but first off, Gaz, I'm originally from Wallasey, the other side of the water, a woolly-back from the Wirral, I'm afraid!'

Comic booing as Gary pressed his sound desk effects.

'Promise we won't hold that against you! So, Wirral lad. Posh grammar school education, I take it?'

Riding bristled at this remark. Why did everyone think you were a rich kid just because you became a successful writer?

'On the contrary, Gary, normal comprehensive. I actually bombed my eleven plus! And only just scraped a few O Levels. Didn't get the writing bug 'til way after I left school. And NO, I didn't go to Oxbridge, either. Birkenhead Tech, trained as a plumber.'

'Wow! The things you learn on Chat Radio, home of nighttime talk throughout Liverpool and the Northwest, eh? So, Jimmy, can I call you Jimmy?'

'James, please.'

'Ooh, touchy!' another stupid sound effect. 'Only kidding, only kidding. So. . . James, I'm sure your mum and dad were proud of you anyway. No matter how thick you were at school!'

James paused, expecting a comical rimshot punchline effect, but surprisingly none came. Maybe Gaz didn't have a drum button for that?

'Actually, I never knew my parents, so I can't say whether they were or not. My foster family are very supportive though. Thanks, Mum and Dad Riding, if you're listening!'

'So, tell me, James, if you will, how you came to be adopted? Unwanted pregnancy? Rife back then? Teenagers tended. . . '

Riding snapped.

'No, not at all. At least, I don't think so, not from the bits and pieces I was told. . . erm, my dad, my biological father that is, no clue about him, but my mother, birth mother, died when I was a toddler. I've been. . . '

'Oh dear, hold that thought, Jim!' Gary ignored the frosty look as the music swelled in his cans. 'You're listening to Chat Radio, home of nighttime talk throughout Liverpool and the Northwest, it's eleven o'clock, over to Jaqui for the latest local and national news. . . '

Riding sat pulling off the headphones, wishing he hadn't agreed to the interview, wishing he had a drink, half aware of the news reports dimly playing on the studio speakers.

'. . . prompting Liverpool Detectives to take the unusual step of issuing a public warning to those involved in the sex trade to avoid walking alone, advice coming after the brutal murder of a local woman found earlier in the Duke Street area. . . '

'Can you turn that up?' Riding gestured to the speakers.

Gary gestured to the headphones, pushing a lever, the tinny sound increasing from Riding's cans. James placed them over his ears, keen to be rid of the DJ, keener still to hear the breaking news.

'. . . obviously this is an ongoing, fast paced enquiry so I can't speculate on that, but we can assure the public that police patrols have been increased in the area.

The victim has not yet been identified, but we believe she may have been involved in the sex trade and may have been working on Duke Street.

She is a white female, early twenties, with blonde hair. She was wearing a black top, leather-look miniskirt and black shoes. Anyone recognising this description please contact us, I stress that the Police, at this point, do not care if you were a customer, or are involved in prostitution, we are just seeking to identify the victim.

Enquiries continue, and we also urge anyone who may have been in Duke Street between 3 and 4 am to please contact the incident room with any information, or dashcam footage, or you can call Crime Stoppers anonymously on 0800 555 111. Thank you.'

'That was Detective Meredith, one of the officers investigating the brutal killing of what has been reported as a female street sex worker last night. We'll keep you posted as we get more on that dreadful story. Your next update on the hour, every hour, here on Chat Radio, home of nighttime talk throughout Liverpool and the North West. Now the latest weather with Heather. . . '

'Snooze you lose, babe!'

'Pardon?'

Riding was unaware he'd spoken the words out loud, the cans drowning out his own voice as the station's jingle started up.

'Nothing, just something someone. . . '

Gaz held a finger up.

'Welcome back, folks! For those who have just tuned in, (tsk tsk, where have you been?) we have in the studio, the one, the only, James Riding!'

Red text on the screen, Gaz touched the text.

'Henry from West Derby, what's your question for James?'

'Evenin', Gaz, my question for James is, given the sad bit on the news about that prosser. . . '

'Ay, come on, Henry lad, bit of respect, eh lad! Street sex worker. I won't have it, not here, not on Chat Radio, home of nighttime talk throughout Liverpool and the Northwest, so, less of the name calling and give us your question!'

'Calm down, Gaz, no offence meant, kidder! Anyway, James, this erm, girl, what do you think happened? I mean you are the expert on all these kinds of things.'

'James?'

'Erm, sorry, Henry, is it? Henry, sorry, my friend, but I'm no expert on crime. Well, not modern crimes. I'll leave this to the real experts, I'm sure the police will find out who. . . '

'Yeah, but the bizzies probably don't care, do they, just another. . . '

The line went dead. Gaz, finger still hovering on the dump button, smiled over the mic.

'Just a reminder, folks, although this is a live show, there is a delay, and anyone using disrespectful language or naughty words will be dumped off. You can say things like that on telly, but not on the radio! Not my rules, but we can't get into trouble with Ofcom!

Sorry, Henry, you were warned! Next up, Cherri. . . Sherry. . . Hope I pronounced that right. . . Sherry from Bootle. . . '

'It's Chyree, thanks, Gazza, love the show, hi, James, loved the book, too. My question, who will play Jack in the film? Got to be someone dishy. Any thoughts?'

'Great question, Chi. James, any Hollywood gossip?'

'I've not really given a movie any real thought,' James lied, 'But I'll keep 'dishy' in mind, if it ever comes to casting!'

He winced at the wolf-whistle sound effect.

'Derek from Thingwall, you're on the air!'

'Hi, Gaz, hi, James. How did you link the Ripper, obviously a famous London-centric killer, to Merseyside?'

'Good question, Derek, where do I start? Well, there's been loads of conjecture about the origins and identity of Jack down the years. One thread I picked at was the idea that he could possibly have been a sailor, or a deckhand. Maybe he was travelling across the Channel from Europe, found himself in the Big Smoke and committed the five reported acts.

I did a hell of a lot of research, tracking down old maritime records, cross referencing the ships' logs to any unsolved murders in London at the time, then I thought: why not expand the parameters? Do a deep trawl of suspected or known murders of prostitutes in and around the Victorian docklands. Liverpool was a recurrent hit – obviously one of the greatest ports of the era, also one of the largest reported populations of known working girls.

I ruled out Europe, sadly due to the fact my schoolboy French wasn't up to much, and settled on a twenty year timeframe around the ports of England, the rest is just lots and lots of reading and collating the facts, you should see my spreadsheets. . . '

'Boooooooring!' Gaz hit the snoring effect button and added, 'So the life of a best-selling author isn't all that cool after all, eh? Should've stayed at plumbing school, Jimmy. And a European sailor, you say? Another benefit of Brexit, wouldn't get no foreign bloody serial killers coming over here nowadays!!'

He winked at Riding's obvious discomfort before hitting the next number on his screen.

'Colin from Calderstones, you're on with James Rider!'

'Evening Gary, evening James, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this murder that's been all over the TV and radio, poor girl, do you think working girls walking the streets are as vulnerable today as they were in the times of Jack the Ripper?

'I mean, CCTV, doorbell cams, mobile phones and the like, I'm sure Jack would've been nabbed in an instant nowadays?'

'If you've read the book – and I hope you have, Colin! – Chapter Seven touches on the efforts the police used to try and track him back then, my conjecture is that the Ar. . . '

Riding caught the word, swapped Architect for '. . . arching theme was his ability to avoid being observed, he knew which shadows to hide in, where he would blend in, where he would stick out.

'The very few alleged sightings have all proven to be lies or exaggerated tales, offered to the papers for a few pennies!

'The legend of the Ripper, the Whitechapel Killer, or the Torso Murderer, whatever label the media have pinned on this fascinating character, proves he had the ability to blend in, avoid capture. The lies told by so-called witnesses just added to his mythical. . . '

'Ah, but how can you prove they were lies? How can anyone know who he was – unless you have a time machine in the garage!'

This time Riding welcomed the stupid sci-fi music effects, and laughed along with Gaz and his inane caller. A caller who had planted the seed of an idea.

The girl in the skirt? Losing, and now snoozing, eternally. A modern Ritual?

Curiosity piqued.

Why not use the watch? Go back a few hours instead of a few centuries?

Wondering if she was a screamer?

Riding shook off the idea, shocked he was becoming aroused at the thought. Jeez, he was a researcher, a Witness to the Divine, not some bloody tuppenny Tom!

He adjusted the headphones and checked the studio clock. Another fifteen minutes and he was done. Straight home and a very stiff drink was in order.

FWR

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