Read Aetheric Elements: The Rise of a Steampunk Reality Page 18

  The sun rose over New Sylians as the lamplighters made their rounds to turn the gas off at each post. Morning traffic woke with the light of day and the click of horses’ hooves on cobblestones began to fill the air. The whistle of the train could be heard competing with the steamboat’s clarion call as more guests arrived for the 6524 World’s Fair, as well as the Day of Torgoth, a yearly festival of debauchery. It was three days until Big Bestuf, the day before the holy celebration, and the whole city was ramping up for it. Two men stood in the dawning light at a hotel, two blocks from last night’s incident. As different as night and day, the older one in wrinkled brown tweed and the younger in pressed black silk.

  “I would rather stab you in the face!” Croaker Norge said, turning to the younger man.

  “Come on, just try it.” Phoebus Buckroe held out brass spectacles with various lenses jutting from the frame.

  “No, blast you. I have my magnifying glass; it has worked just fine for thirty years, I don’t need some bloody contraption you found at a junk dealer. You are always looking for an easy way out. Some things just require hard work!” the older man said, taking a swig of whiskey from his flask and wiping a dribble from the stubble on his chin with a sleeve.

  “Lord Remington wants this done quickly and I think this is the right tool for the job.”

  “I have all the tools I need right here.” Croaker patted the hard leather pouch under his jacket with his bare hand. “And his daughter is not the only one that has disappeared. I’ve been asking around. At least four others have disappeared in the same area in the past month - one just last night, not two streets from here.”

  Phoebus smiled as he straightened the fingers on his white gloves, checking his reflection in the silver cap of his walking stick.

  “Well, young Miss Remington is the only one that matters, as she is the one we are being paid to find,” he said, without looking at his companion. “And I told him you were the best around.”

  “You did no such thing, you blasted liar. You told him you were the best around and called me your bleeding manservant.”

  “I wouldn’t have to call you such a thing if you would bathe, shave, and dress properly. You look like a chimney sweep. And besides, I was the one that found us this job. You could try to be grateful. Before I decided to take pity on you, you were scrambling to find two bit jobs, and you could barely cobble together enough coin for a haircut, let alone to pay rent. You were a beggar, hoping someone would have enough to pay you.”

  “I did an honest day’s work for honest folk,” Norge grumbled as he inspected the hotel room with his looking glass.

  “You should at least buy a proper coat and hat when we finish this case. It’s indecent to not have your head covered and besides, you need something to tip when a lady walks past.”

  “Oh, you and the ladies. If you spent half as much time on the case as you spend preening and smiling for the women, you might actually be of some use.”

  Phoebus sniffed at the older man and looked out the window. Staring into the crowd bustling in the street below, he noticed something.

  “Master Norge.”

  “Yes, your Lordship?”

  “Come, look at this.”

  “I already know about ‘that’.”

  “The footprints? Outside on the roof of the porch?”

  “Yes. I also noticed the odd three toed gouge marks in the shingles.”

  “Oh? It has… of course it does. What sort of beast has claws and three toes?” Phoebus asked, pressing his head to the window to look closer.

  “No beast that walks on two legs.” Croaker swatted at the man’s shoulder. “Stop marking up my window with your greasy forehead and breath.”

  “Don’t you think this is important? Perhaps our most important clue?”

  “Yes, it’s important. No, it is not the most important clue. The fact that she met with a young man here is more important. The fact that the window was not forced is more important. The fact that the claw marks outside go to the roof is more important.”

  “You saw all that? But you haven’t even opened the window. How could you know such things?”

  “Because I have eyes and I look beyond my nose. There is a snuff box under the bed - a silver one with the initials ‘CTR’ on it. Her hanky on the dresser has traces of snuff on it, showing her suitor used it to clean himself after taking a snort. Two champagne glasses and only one has her lip rouge on it, the other just has slobber. The window itself was closed by the maid this morning, see the curtain still stuck in it? Look at the window frame; you can see distinctive scratches, showing the intruder went up to make its escape.”

  “How do you know it didn’t climb down from the roof?”

  “Because of the marks from the claws at the edge of the porch, showing where it leapt up to get in the window.”

  “Why would it be able to jump to the porch roof, but not the roof above?”

  “Because it had the girl, you dolt! And see the hand print at the top of the window, on the outside? Those are the slim fingers of a young woman. Don’t you see anything?”

  “Fine work, Master Norge!” Phoebus said, slapping the older man on the shoulder. “We will have this case closed in no time.”

  “Stop touching me,” the older man growled as his companion wiped his hand on the drapes to rid himself of whatever imaginary dust he had picked up in their brief contact. “And stop touching things. You are disturbing the scene of the crime!”

  “I think I shall go speak to young Master Roosevelt,” Buckroe said, as he slipped his high tech spectacles into his coat pocket.

  “Who?”

  “Christopher Thaddeus Roosevelt, the young man that owns the snuff box. He is an eligible bachelor and has been courting young Miss Remington. If you kept up on the social papers, you would know this. May I have it?” Phoebus held out his hand.

  “What?”

  “The snuff box, it is part of our investigation and I may need it when I call upon the gentleman.”

  The older man handed the silver tin to his cohort, grumbling that it would be a waste of time to talk to a society dandy.

  “Perhaps, but we must explore all the leads. Why don’t you do what you do, and scurry along and try and track this thing while I deal with the civilized folk?”