“Fire!” Jian shouted. I sincerely hoped he was throwing the last of his blades and that I hadn’t magically found a way to self-combust from fright.
Thwack. Thwack.
Two more blades flew by, the slight breeze of them startlingly close to my sleeves. Grateful this so-called lesson was over, I made to remove my blindfold when another knife sailed through the air, pinning itself into the ribbon I held. Warmth dripped down the side of my face, and I ripped the rest of the blindfold off, eyes wide as I lifted a hand to my ear and it came back wet with blood.
Jian shook his head. “I warned you not to move.”
Without so much as an apology, he gathered up his knives and left the practice room, leaving Andreas to fuss over my superficial cut. As he raced around the trunks, searching for a bit of cloth to dab the remaining blood, I couldn’t help but wonder what other messes he might clean up for Jian.
I crossed my arms over my chest and planted my feet solidly. “There is no good reason for you to hold his signet hostage, Cresswell.”
“I disagree. Respectfully so, Wadsworth.” Thomas lifted his chin, stubborn as a mule. “It may be useful as evidence. We cannot simply give it back because he asked nicely.”
I gritted my teeth. “You’re being immature and you know it. This has nothing to do with the case and everything to do with your dislike of Mephistopheles.”
Something that appeared close to annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Is that what you think of me now? That I’d withhold someone’s possessions out of jealousy?”
I lifted a shoulder. “You haven’t given a better reason for keeping the ring.”
“You’re getting too close to this case,” he said, inspecting me. “Whatever bargain you’ve made, it’s time to break it. We’ll solve the murders another way—you needn’t be so involved.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I have to see this through.”
He shook his head. Before he could say anything more, Uncle and Liza hurried around the bend, spotting us near the bow and increasing their pace. Tear streaks glistened down my cousin’s cheeks in the late-morning sun, setting my emotions in a flurry. Abandoning my disagreement with Thomas, I rushed forward, clutching her hands in mine. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“It’s M-Mrs. Harvey,” she half sobbed. “She’s missing.”
“What?” Thomas’s voice rose before he reined it back in. “Have you checked her cabin? She’s always napping.”
Uncle shook his head. “It was the first place we’d looked. We also checked the breakfast room, saloon, women’s parlor, and the starboard promenade.”
Chills whipped down my spine with the breeze. “Surely she must be somewhere.”
“We’ve searched everywhere.” Liza’s lower lip trembled. “She’s simply gone.”
Without a parting word, Thomas took off running down the deck, a hand clutching his hat as he raced toward his chaperone’s cabin. It took every bit of restraint I possessed to not go charging after him. I could not fathom what his emotions were—he’d never said so, but Mrs. Harvey was the closest thing to a mother he’d had, and he would be broken if anything happened to her. My own heart ached at the thought of her meeting a wretched end. I quite loved Mrs. Harvey and her traveling tonic and kindness.
A dark feeling slithered through my core. If Mrs. Harvey was missing… that could mean the murderer had specifically chosen her to inflict the most damage on my friend. If Thomas was rendered unfit to use his skills, whoever killed those young women might go free. While I didn’t want to think Mephistopheles was to blame, it was the sort of cunning plan he’d come up with. He’d already manufactured a lion attack for reasons I still didn’t understand—for all I knew he might have also left his signet in the sword container, hoping Thomas would take it. Was each odd detail something painstakingly thought out, wished for, all leading to emotional entanglements and missed connections?
I held my cloak tighter, and looked around. Hardly anyone was out today—either too afraid of the bodies that kept being found or of the impending storm.
“Let’s hurry.” I clutched Liza’s hand and moved quickly down the promenade, hoping I didn’t sound as scared as I felt. Uncle was two steps behind. “Tell me everything from the beginning. How did you discover she was missing?”
“We were to eat breakfast together.” Liza sniffled. “I promised to give her a tour of Harry’s equipment and introduce them afterward…” Her voice trailed off almost subtly, making me wonder what she wasn’t saying about Houdini. “She was so excited, I cannot imagine her missing it. For some reason she kept asking if he’d be practicing for another aquatic act.”
That certainly sounded like Mrs. Harvey. I patted Liza’s arm, trying to steady her without causing further distress. The motion also helped keep me calm and focused. I needed to remain in control if Thomas fell apart. “Were you to meet her at our cabin or hers?”
“We were supposed to meet outside the breakfast room at quarter past eight.” Liza drew in a ragged breath. “I was running a little late myself, but by quarter to nine, I decided to check on her rooms. I wasn’t sure if she’d overslept. When I got to her room and knocked, no one answered.”
“You weren’t in our cabin?” I asked. Liza shot me a look but didn’t elaborate.
Uncle kept pace behind us, remaining silent but watchful. It was impossible to discern what his feelings were—unsurprising, since he was the man who’d taught both Thomas and myself the importance of divorcing emotions from both murder scenes and investigations.
“I went to fetch you, but you were out, so I ran to Uncle.” She glanced over her shoulder, either assuring herself he was still with us or hoping he’d not overheard my earlier question of where she’d been. “I found him en route to the captain and we started searching everywhere.”
I tried not to let my own fear show. It would have taken something extraordinary to keep Mrs. Harvey from being introduced to Harry Houdini. “She’s probably chatting with one of the other ladies. You know how distracted she gets.”
I could no longer tell who was pulling the other down the promenade faster, Liza or myself. We rounded the corner and practically ran to Mrs. Harvey’s cabin. The door was ajar, and Thomas was standing in the center of the room, fists clenched at his sides.
“Have you—”
He held a hand up. “One more moment, please. I’m almost…” He abruptly walked over to her trunk and popped the lid open. “Her cloak is missing, as are her gloves. There’s nothing out of place, which means she was likely interrupted on her way to breakfast.”
“How did you know where she was going?” I asked. He hadn’t been present when Liza offered that information.
“There. The tea in the cup on her nightstand is ice cold to the touch.” He pointed it out. “Under the saucer is a paper with this morning’s date on it, meaning she’d had the tea delivered when she woke up. Since there’s no sign of a meal, it’s not a stretch to assume she was heading to breakfast with your cousin. She is acting as a chaperone, so another easy deduction. Now then”—he spun on his heel, eyes darting over everything once more—“who would have enticed her enough to not send word of her being late?”
I felt Liza’s awe fill the space. Uncle’s was there as well but was a bit more tempered, as he’d witnessed Thomas’s deductions firsthand several times. For Liza it might be akin to seeing a circus monkey speak English. Or perhaps watching a magician who truly could make miracles happen. Thomas was every bit as incredible as the ringmaster, if not more so. Mephistopheles was amazing at engineering tricks, but Thomas unearthed truth by using his intellect.
“Come,” Thomas said, abruptly moving out the door, “let’s pay a visit to Mephisto. Wadsworth? Lead the way to his lair.”
We rushed past third-class passengers who crowded the deck, my pulse galloping faster than any racehorse the closer we drew to the workshop.
There were many more people out than I’d seen on our way to Mrs. Harvey’s cabin. Some of
them appeared stricken, faces pale as the frost creeping up the ship’s railing. My body thrummed with warning—something had happened. Something that created an uncomfortable buzz and a glazed-over look of worry. Or was I simply imagining things? I slipped over a section of slick walkway, and Thomas’s hand shot out, steadying me. I gripped his arm, noticing Uncle had also taken Liza’s as we picked up speed. Each step forward filled me with more dread.
Once at the workshop, I dropped Thomas’s arm and banged on Mephistopheles’s door, the pounding more frantic than my heart. I waited a breath, then knocked again, this time louder. The vibration reverberated up my arm and I felt it deep within my bones, but I couldn’t stop myself from banging again and again. We had to find Mrs. Harvey. I couldn’t imagine—
Thomas carefully wrapped his hand over mine, stilling me. “He’s not here, Audrey Rose. It’s all right.”
I stared at the closed door, jaw clenched against the tears that were threatening. Mrs. Harvey needed to be all right. I sucked in a deep breath, composing myself once again. The cool air helped soothe the rising panic.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s head down to the carnival cargo area, Mephistopheles—”
“Dr. Wadsworth!” We all jerked our attention toward the sound of the ringmaster’s voice. I wasn’t comforted by the expression on his face—it was more wild and frenzied than I’d ever before seen, even half hidden by a mask. “Please, come quickly.”
Mephistopheles skidded to a halt, then swung back in the direction he’d come from, not waiting to see if we followed. Thomas looked half mad with worry, but kept whatever he was thinking to himself, guiding me into the stairwell after Mephistopheles as quickly as my bulky skirts allowed. Instead of descending into the belly of the ship, we climbed the stairs up and up, the sounds of our shoes clomping over the metal and ringing both above and below.
Uncle and Liza brought up the rear, while Thomas and I practically clutched at Mephistopheles’s scarlet coattails. I’d ceased to be surprised when we reemerged on the first-class promenade and headed straight toward the music room. Mephistopheles had addressed my uncle rather than me, which wasn’t promising.
Without preamble, he threw the door open, thankfully revealing a sobbing Mrs. Harvey in the corner, hanging tightly to a very pale Andreas. Jian loomed behind them, his expression as stormy as the churning sea. If he were a god, he’d be wrath incarnate.
“Mrs. Harvey.” Thomas rushed to her side, dropping down to his knees, examining her for any wounds or trauma. Liza let go of our uncle and assisted Thomas.
My own emotions calmed at seeing Mrs. Harvey alive, though terribly shaken, her whole body vibrating with tremors and her lips moving silently in either prayer or comfort.
I immediately switched into scientist mode, attention falling over every object in the room while Thomas tended to his chaperone. The tarot cards Mephistopheles had painted, the Cirque d’Eclipse, were scattered across the floor. The magic looking glass lay propped against the wall where I’d seen it last, appearing no worse for the wear.
“There.” Mephistopheles told my uncle and me. “In the trunk.”
Uncle pushed his spectacles up his nose, his expression harder than the polished wooden planks we stood upon. I steeled myself as well; coming upon a body any place other than in a sterile laboratory was always a challenge. We were scientists, not monsters. I crept over to where the trunk sat alone behind a tower of tasseled pillows, fine silks and scarves spilling from its sides as if it’d been disemboweled. Andreas shut his eyes tightly, looking as though he wished he could conjure up another fate.
Uncle reached the trunk first, halting ever so slightly before bending in for a closer look. My pulse quickened with each step I took; I knew there was a body, but the discovery of who was a wretched thing. Finally, I stood over the trunk and peered down, stomach churning.
“Mrs. Prescott.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. The mother who had seemed so devastated and lost after her daughter had been killed at our table, always staring out at the endless sea. Part of me longed to sink to my knees, trying to search for a pulse that I knew had long since ceased. I could not fathom telling the chief magistrate that not only had this cruise ship taken his daughter but now his wife. The invitation he’d received swam through the forefront of my mind. The murderer clearly wanted the Prescott women aboard this ship in order to kill them. Though why he’d kill Mrs. Prescott quietly and leave her in a trunk seemed to differ from his normal theatrics. Perhaps he was desperate to lay the blame on someone else. Maybe planting her body here would lead us to investigate Andreas—he was, after all, well versed in tarot meanings.
Instead of falling apart, I inhaled deeply. “We need to notify her husband at once.” I barely recognized my voice—it was cool and unwavering. So unlike my churning emotions. Mephistopheles stared at me a moment before nodding. I faced my uncle. “Let’s get her decent for his identification. You take her arms; I’ll get her legs. We’ll place her on that settee in the corner.”
Ten phunny phools
THIRTY-TWO
FIVE OF HEARTS
MUSIC ROOM
RMS ETRURIA
7 JANUARY 1889
“Come. Let’s get you settled with some brandy.” Captain Norwood extended an arm toward the chief magistrate. “If there’s anything else you need…”
Chief Magistrate Prescott stared, unblinking, at his wife. I could not fathom his thoughts.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Uncle said, “I have a few questions for Cheif Magistrate Prescott first.”
The captain’s face turned crimson. “Not now, Doctor. Can’t you see he’s a wreck?”
Chief Magistrate Prescott didn’t even respond to his name. He was most decidedly in shock, but Uncle was correct. We needed to press him for information that would be useful immediately. Time had a strange way of distorting facts.
However, Uncle relented. “All right. We’ll call on him later.”
Once the captain had led the stricken man out of the room, I turned back to the body of Mrs. Prescott, doing my best to divorce myself from memories of her in life. We’d laid her across a settee and propped her head up on an embroidered pillow, giving her the appearance of a peaceful rest, albeit an eternal one.
“Close and latch the door,” Uncle said, directing his attention to Thomas, then inspected Mephistopheles as if he were a new brand of mold that we needed to be rid of. “Take your fortune-teller and swordsman and leave us. We’ll speak more later.”
Jian’s eyes flashed. “What else is there to say? Andreas came here to divine Mrs. Harvey’s future with the magic looking glass. That’s when he—” He shook his head. “Forget it. I’ll be in my cabin. Come on, Andreas.”
The fortune-teller glanced toward the looking glass, biting his lip. “No harm will come to—”
“I’ll make sure none of your belongings are ruined,” I said. I knew how valuable the looking glass was, and not simply because of its supposed ability to see into the future.
With that, both he and Jian left, the ringmaster giving us a curt nod before following them out.
“I’ll escort Mrs. Harvey back to her rooms,” Liza offered. “Don’t worry,” she added when Thomas looked ready to protest, “I’ll stay with her until you return.”
I clutched my cousin’s hands once. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
As Liza guided a still-muttering Mrs. Harvey out the door, the first mate came in with Uncle’s medical bag. Uncle motioned to the foot of the settee. “There is fine. Now, then. Audrey Rose, come inspect the body. Tell me what you notice. Thomas, are you ready?”
My friend removed the journal and pen from his inner jacket pocket, a grim set to his lips. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Audrey Rose? Do as we’ve practiced.”
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, forcing myself to see only this new case. I walked around the body, trying to locate any clue before picking up the measurin
g tape as Uncle had done earlier. “Victim is one hundred and fifty-seven centimeters. Reddish-brown hair, neatly maintained. Though there are some bits of gray near her temples.” I steeled myself and peeled back her eyelid. “Eye color is brown.” I held in my gasp. “Petechial hemorrhaging is present in the whites of her eyes.”
At this Uncle stepped forward and peered into her unseeing eyes. “Excellent, Niece. We have the likely cause of death—suffocation.”
I nodded, slowly seeing her last moments unfold in my mind. There were no signs of strangulation on her throat, no abrasions or contusions on her flesh; however, her lipstick was smeared, leading me to believe she’d been smothered by something. A glance around the room showed plenty of potential murder weapons. Pillows, silks, and fabrics—any one of them could have been the object that ended her life. I leaned over and lifted her hand, noting the body was warm to the touch. She’d been slain very recently. Andreas had apparently entered the cabin with Mrs. Harvey, but I’d no idea when Jian had arrived. I’d need to investigate his whereabouts more.
I pointed out the pillows and fabrics to Uncle. “If this is the murder scene—which I believe it is, since I cannot imagine someone dragging her body here without witnesses—then I’d wager we’ll find a bit of her lipstick on whatever was used to smother her.”
“Yes. What else?”
I slowly walked from her feet to her head and back again, taking in every outer detail I could. “Part of her skirts were cut… there. See? The fabric was snipped away in a line—too neat to have been torn in a struggle. I believe it happened after she’d been murdered.”
Thomas stood, lifting the edge of her outer skirts to better inspect the missing fabric length. It was a beautiful garment—pale as freshly fallen snow with bits of silver threaded through. The contrast of the purity of color against her sudden death seemed gruesome. She appeared ready for a wedding, not a funeral.