In fog-shrouded Victorian London, a ruthless serial killer is on the loose.
The population of London is horrified by the murder spree conducted by Jack the Ripper. While Police Commissioner Charles Warren investigates the Ripper murders, another, less publicized killer is at large. Tucked away on the inner pages of the daily press, a few articles tell of the strange murders taking place on board the carriages of the much-heralded London Metropolitan Railway. Each murder takes place the day after the Ripper killings, as the murderer appears to be taking advantage of the lack of police resources to tackle two major investigations simultaneously.
Inspector Albert Norris is charged with bringing the railway killer to justice, but clues are few and the killer's motive unclear. He is forced to carry out his investigation 'quietly and without causing a public panic' as the authorities try to maintain confidence in the railway system's safety. The press knows even less, and Norris can count on little help from above as he attempts to solve the inexplicable series of murders.
Brian L. Porter's Behind Closed Doors is a gripping Victorian thriller set in the Autumn of Terror.
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“Albert, the dog.”
“Eh, what?” came the muffled response from a sleepy Albert Norris, his head tucked away, under his pillow, as the first wash of morning light encroached through the curtained window into the bedroom.
“I said, the dog needs to go out. He’s scratching at the door.”
Norris emerged from under the pillow; his hair tousled from a night’s tossing and turning, and looked at his wife as she nudged him forcibly in the ribs with her elbow.
“Okay, Betty, I’m going,” he replied, as he slowly extricated himself from the warmth of his bed, his feet slipping almost as if by magic, into the carpet slippers which sat in their usual place beside the bed. Norris trudged sleepily across the room, stopping only to pick up and pull on his plaid patterned dressing gown, a Christmas gift from his wife the previous year, and then opened the door, allowing the entry of a scruffy black terrier of indeterminate parentage, which immediately bypassed Norris and jumped on the bed, smothering his mistress’s face with affectionate licks as his tail wagged non-stop with excitement.
“Bert!” she shouted at her husband, who, as was usual upon Billy the dog’s daily entrance to their room, stood watching the performance with a huge grin on his face.
