Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3) Page 8

  Uncle shook his head. “I didn’t see him. And Chief Magistrate Prescott didn’t answer the door when I called on him again before supper. In fact, the room sounded empty. No one so much as shifted. Odd if they were both in the room as they’d claimed they’d be.”

  “Well, then”—Thomas grabbed our cloaks—“let’s check on them at once. We’ll fetch the captain on the way.”

  “No need.” Captain Norwood leaned against the doorframe, his face more tired looking than it had been the last time I’d seen him. “I’ve come to give you the news myself.”

  I covered the body with the shroud, hoping to give her as much respect as I could. The captain wrenched his attention away from the corpse, appearing a bit green around the collar. “My crew went to each first-class cabin, hoping to find a witness. But—”

  “We believe we’ve discovered who’s responsible, sir,” I said, not wanting to waste time. We needed to check on the Prescotts; hopefully we weren’t already too late. “You need to locate and apprehend Dr. Arden at once. He was last—”

  “Pardon me, Miss Wadsworth,” he interrupted, “but I’m afraid you all may be wrong.” He glanced at the covered body again, swallowing hard. “You see… we spoke with everyone… and Miss Arden, the doctor’s daughter, is missing.” He removed a photograph from his coat pocket and held it out for us to see. I drew back, stomach sinking. “This is the young woman on your examination table, is it not?”

  I stared mutely at the photograph, mind slowly catching up with the new information and what it meant to our case. If Dr. Arden’s daughter was our victim, and if there was no conflict between them, then that eliminated him from suspicion. We needed to begin again—and the task seemed daunting.

  “But this isn’t all you found out, is it?” Uncle nodded to another sheet of paper the captain had poking out from his coat pocket.

  “I wish it was.” Norwood sighed and withdrew the note. “Another family is demanding we investigate the disappearance of their daughter. I ask that you all come with me straightaway.”

  My knees felt weak. Already… the potential for another body. Thomas caught my eye. He needn’t utter a word—two bodies and a possible third in only two days. What we had now was another career murderer. One who had only just begun his dark acts.

  Crimson fabric spilled like fresh blood over the floor of Miss Crenshaw’s first-class cabin, an unsightly gash in an otherwise well-appointed chamber. I stood over the mess, hands on my hips, studying the silks the way I imagined Thomas was doing beside me, trying to discern order from chaos. It was a monumental task, especially since I was all too aware of the need for discretion as her parents’ gazes seared into my back. I didn’t need to possess Thomas’s uncanny skills with deductions to know they wouldn’t be pleased by my conclusion.

  Honestly, though, hers was a much-better fate than the one I’d originally feared. I stared at the crumpled gown until nearly going cross-eyed, hoping to find some clue as to where its owner disappeared to. One that would not cause a fainting spell or scandal. Lord Crenshaw was a popular figure, and I knew the reputation of his family and their good name was of the utmost importance.

  I refocused on the dress. The fabric was beautiful—some of the finest threads in all of Europe from what I could see. The only conclusion I had was that it was an awful shame to discard it on the floor in such a careless manner.

  Miss Crenshaw might be reckless in personality, but that didn’t mean she’d been murdered. If foul play wasn’t the issue, then that meant she’d run off… and young, unmarried women typically didn’t do so alone. A glance at her parents had me questioning which they’d prefer to be true. A scandal of this nature was a death in itself.

  Two champagne flutes sat on a nightstand along with a half-eaten chocolate cake, furthering my suspicion that she hadn’t been alone.

  I flicked my attention to my uncle, but he was preoccupied with watching crew members scour the bedroom chamber, ensuring they didn’t disturb any potential forensic clues. After the unveiling of Dr. Arden’s daughter earlier, everyone was balanced on a scalpel’s edge.

  I squinted toward the porthole, recalling the constant ebb and flow of people who worked the docks prior to us leaving port yesterday. It would be an ideal place to get lost in a crowd.

  “You claim that your daughter has been missing since yesterday? Before the ship left?” They nodded. “Have you questioned her lady’s maid?” I toed the dress with my own embroidered silk shoes. “Someone had to have helped her out of this garment. The bodice is quite intricate. Look at the stays on the back—there’s no possible way she’d have undone that alone.”

  Thomas lifted his dark brows in appraisal, but didn’t comment. I studied him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the smile he was fighting and wondered what I’d missed that had amused him.

  “Surely this is not an indication of foul play,” said Lord Crenshaw. I noted that he didn’t answer my question. I pried my attention away from his distractingly white mustache. “Our daughter might be visiting another guest. Or perhaps she changed her mind and returned to London prior to sailing.”

  Ready to jump at any lifeline and save his ship’s reputation, Captain Norwood readily agreed. “I can say with authority it wouldn’t be the first time a passenger has decided to disembark from the ship. Ocean travel can be quite daunting to some.”

  “Yes,” Lord Crenshaw said, looking hopeful. “That’s probably it. Elizabeth is deathly afraid of the water. Perhaps she didn’t want to make a fuss and went home. She’d mentioned how nervous she was just yesterday morning. Which was the last time we saw her.”

  “Would she have taken anyone with her? A chaperone?” I asked, seeing the hesitation on Lady Crenshaw’s face. It was a nice story, but most fairy tales had a dark side to them, especially when it came to a princess’s fate. “A footman or maid?”

  “I—I don’t believe anyone else is missing,” Lady Crenshaw said. “But Elizabeth wouldn’t… she’s such a good girl. She probably didn’t wish to ruin our trip. It’s not as if she’s a lower-class trollop.”

  I chomped down on my immediate response, face burning. If she were a he, I doubted they’d call her such names. And her station had nothing to do with the matter whatsoever. Plenty of less fortunate families had more class than Lady Crenshaw had just showed.

  “Have you noticed anything of value missing?” I asked. “Jewelry, trinkets…”

  Lady Crenshaw shook her head. “Only an emerald ring. But Elizabeth never took it off.”

  “You’re quite sure that’s it?” I pressed.

  “I haven’t had anyone go through her things.” Lady Crenshaw flipped open the jewelry box, rifled through it a bit, then drew her brows together. “A strand of pearls is also missing. I-I’m really not sure that that has anything to do with her disappearance, though.”

  Thomas bit his lower lip, an indication he was battling some inner war with himself. “Was she alone? I see two champagne flutes, one of which has lipstick and the other does not,” he said. “Another obvious deduction may be that she was undressed by her lover after they indulged in some spirits.”

  Everyone in the room sucked in a sharp breath. I rolled my eyes skyward, wondering what I’d done to irk any higher power that might exist. It was the one thing we were all supposed to think but not speak aloud. Even Uncle stiffened.

  “That would explain the hasty pile of clothes,” Thomas added, undeterred by the sudden silence, “the crinkled bedding, and the subsequent absence of Miss Crenshaw. Perhaps she’s run off with someone and didn’t wish to tell her parents. If I had to guess, I’d say it was someone below her station. Which is all the more plausible after noticing that ink stain on her pillowcase. Appears as if someone who worked with their hands rested them there. It’s also on the crystal.”

  “How dare you!” Lord Crenshaw said, face reddening by the second. I wondered what had aggravated him more—the thought of Miss Crenshaw running away, or potentially going off with someone
of a lower class. “Our daughter would do no such thing… to even suggest that sort of reprehensible behavior is—”

  “Don’t lose your temper, dear.” Lady Crenshaw laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s leave them to this and retire for bed. Elizabeth is home in London. We’ll write to her when we’re in New York in a week’s time. This was all a silly misunderstanding.”

  Lord Crenshaw nodded stiffly to the captain and gave Thomas a severe glare before leaving the room. Once they were gone, I set my attention back on the cabin. There weren’t any signs of a struggle, and no blood splatter. Judging from the dress left on the floor, I doubted a murderer would have spent time washing the walls of blood only to leave the bed and gown crumpled. Especially given the theatrical nature of the last body we’d found. Though the second champagne flute was a troubling detail. One that didn’t sit right.

  It was likely as Thomas suggested—a young woman who’d chosen a different path for herself. After spending the last half hour with her parents, I’d say it was high time she’d run off. One more hour with them and I’d do the same.

  Uncle poked his head into the water closet, looked around, then pushed his spectacles up his nose. “All seems in order, Captain. From the preliminary inspection, I don’t believe there were foul intentions at play here. Seems like a young girl who’s maybe a bit”—his eyes moved to mine—“spirited for her family’s tastes.”

  Captain Norwood visibly sank with relief. If one more body turned up this evening, I imagined he’d row himself back to England. “Very good, then. The remainder of this voyage must go smoothly. Much is at stake for it and myself.” He exhaled. “Come. Let’s get you three to your cabins. Have you had time to tour the auxiliary sails yet?” He placed a hand on Uncle’s shoulder, guiding him toward the promenade. “Truly remarkable. When powered with the steam stacks, this ship can carve through the ocean like it’s a Christmas ham.”

  “How festive,” Thomas uttered as we fell into step behind them. “An ocean liner that’s akin to a knife carving salted meat. If that doesn’t suggest luxury, I’m not sure what does.”

  I took one more look around the cabin, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, my stomach clenched a bit. I ignored it. A third young woman hadn’t been murdered the second night aboard this ship. That was thankfully too terrible even for the murderer who’d run through a corpse with seven blades and posed her like a tarot card. Thomas offered his arm and I accepted it, leaving the empty cabin behind, though worry wedged itself in like a splinter and lingered just below the surface.

  Victorian contortionist

  EIGHT

  WHAT’S IN A NAME?

  UNCLE JONATHAN’S CABIN

  RMS ETRURIA

  3 JANUARY 1889

  Liza crossed her arms over her chest, expression carefully controlled. If this were a game of chess, she seemed determined to win. Though one glance at Uncle showed he felt the same. The Wadsworths were a stubborn lot. This posturing might drag on for hours.

  “I cannot possibly back out of the performance tonight,” she said. “We’ve been practicing all week. It would be in poor taste to simply retract my word after I’ve given it.”

  “Your word?” Uncle drew in a deep breath as if to keep from exploding like a firecracker. “If, by your ‘word,’ you mean agreeing to assist a young man after you ran off, potentially destroyed our good name, and nearly broke your mother’s heart, then pardon me if I fail to see the honor in that. You will either send a note to this Houdini, or I shall keep you locked up in your cabin until we arrive in New York. As it stands we’ll have to turn right back around so I can escort you to London. Do not make this worse on yourself by aggravating me further.”

  Liza shot me a pleading look, but there was little I could do. When she batted her lashes, I relented. I turned to Uncle, hoping to find some thread of reason to tug on. “Sir, if I may?”

  He raised his brows. “Audrey Rose, I’d caution you to not try my patience, else you’ll end up with your cousin’s fate of being locked in your chambers.”

  I blew out a breath, feeling a bit like a tightrope walker as I navigated Uncle’s foul mood. One small misstep and my hard-fought freedom would come crashing down. “I understand, sir. I was… what I mean to say is… the performers wear masks.”

  “A very astute observation.”

  I gritted my teeth. Snapping at Uncle wouldn’t be beneficial to either Liza or myself. Though it would be immensely satisfying. “The point being, if you were to graciously permit Liza to complete her performance this evening, no one would be any the wiser. Her identity would remain safe, along with our family name.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with what I’d hoped was the winning hand. “Then she’ll promise to never step foot onstage thereafter. Won’t you, Liza?”

  She shot me an incredulous look, as if I’d betrayed her after saving her. I held her gaze until she finally sighed. “I promise, Uncle. After this evening, I shan’t agree to any more performances. I will only finish what I’ve committed to.”

  Uncle paced around the small cabin, pausing to stare out the porthole. “Need I remind you both that thus far two young women have been murdered on this voyage?” Liza and I exchanged glances. “And now you’d like for me to condone reckless behavior. Does that seem wise to either of you?” He faced us again, hands clasped behind his back. “After tonight’s performance, you are to obey each and every rule I lay out until we’re back in London. Do you understand?”

  Liza slowly nodded, eyes fixed on her gem-encrusted shoes. “Yes, sir.”

  “Let me make this perfectly clear,” Uncle continued, “should you even think of doing anything you’re not supposed to, I will recommend you live out your days in the asylum for girls. I have an inkling your mother will listen to any diagnosis made.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. It was one of the worst punishments I’d ever heard, especially coming from Uncle. I stole a glance at my cousin, but she seemed more relieved than disturbed. Apparently the lecture wasn’t yet over. Uncle addressed me.

  “I will hold you responsible for anything that might happen,” he said. I held his gaze, though I longed to sink to the floor. “I suggest you both leave my sight at once before I change my mind.”

  I grabbed Liza’s hand and quickly obliged. Once we were out on the promenade, she clutched my other hand and spun me around. “That was brilliant! I cannot believe he listened to you. I must learn your secrets! I was near certain he’d lock us both up right then and there.”

  I gently pulled my hands from Liza’s grasp and stared out at the ocean. It was the first sunny morning we’d had and the light was nearly blinding when it bounced off the waves.

  “Liza…” I ran a gloved hand over my face. “Perhaps you ought to cancel. Uncle’s brash, but he’s right. Two girls have been murdered. And I—well, to be perfectly frank, I’m worried someone from the carnival might be responsible. Who else would stage a crime like a tarot card?”

  Liza studied me for a moment, then reached out and drew me into a hug. “You worry too much, Cousin. And I think—well, I know if you met the other performers you’d not be suspicious of them. They’re really quite sweet.” She stepped back, still holding on to my shoulders. Her face lit up like the sun was gilding her. “I have the perfect solution. You must meet them! Come. We’ll go say hello and then you will see for yourself. They’re harmless.”

  “I don’t think…” I took in the hopeful expression on my cousin’s face and relented. “Very well. Introduce me to your new friends.”

  My attention steadily moved around the chaotic room. Captain Norwood had given the carnival an empty cargo hold, and they’d put nearly every inch of it to use. Women balanced on tightropes, clowns practiced jumping over barrels and drums, a girl near our age was covered in tattoos of animals, mostly of the lions and tigers she urged to jump through hoops, and a woman took a ball of fire and swallowed it as if it were a dinner roll. I gasped. “What in the name of the queen…�
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  “Anishaa the Ace of Wands. Each performer’s act is based on the tarot card they represent.” Liza watched the girl gulp down another flaming stick. “The girl on the trapeze is Cassiopeia. We call her the Empress. She’s favored by Mephistopheles and is quite stuck up about it.”

  At the mention of his name, I inadvertently searched him out, curious as to what his practices might look like. I imagined a lot of strutting and chest puffing.

  “He’s not here,” Liza added, brow raised. “He spends his time locked away in a cabin working on his mechanical inventions.”

  “Oh.” I turned my attention on Cassiopeia. She somersaulted from one trapeze to another, rolling gracefully through the air as if she were a comet. Her hair fell in long platinum layers, adding to her etherealness. She was stunning. I watched the other aerial performers tumble down ropes, then swing back up them. It appeared as if gravity was under their spell as much as I was. “How do they manipulate the ropes and silks?”

  “Body weight and lots of practice. Don’t let their small statures fool you,” Liza added. “They’re stronger than most men.”

  A man in a black-and-white-striped leotard brought his arm round his head, laying it flat over his shoulder. I froze, heart pounding, as I took in the mechanics of it.

  “He’s dislocated his shoulder joint!” I whispered to Liza. The contortionist did the same move on the opposite side, then sank down, turning himself into a pretzel. My lip curled involuntarily. “That cannot be good for his health. The wear and tear on his ligaments…”

  I glanced at a bemused Liza, shaking her head. “That’s Sebastián Cruz. His performances are quite popular.” She leaned close. “I’ve heard he’s put his talent to good use, hiding in trunks when unsuspecting husbands come home.”

  I lightly slapped her arm. “That’s horrible.”

  “Horribly scandalous.” Liza grinned. “Rumors claim he’s gotten into some trouble on the ship. That’s why he’s called the Hierophant—he must be favored by God to get out of such unholy predicaments all the time.”