Murder on the Titania and Other Steam-Powered Adventures Read online

  As the second course was delivered, Geoff attempted to engage the lady in conversation. “Did you attend university as well?” While it was unusual, it wasn’t unheard of for ladies to take a few classes in the more academically gentle areas to aid them in finding eligible men of their social stratum.

  “I did not, I’m afraid,” Lady Caraway said, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Though I had a bit of private tutoring in literature. Poetry is where I excelled.”

  Dory, listening in, giggled. “Oh, so you did not know what sort of horrid school friends you’d be getting along with your husband?”

  Lady Caraway’s lips went thin, her face pale. “Excuse me,” she said, rising. “I don’t feel well.” The men at the table barely had time to stand before she rushed from the dining room.

  “Will your wife be all right?” Geoff asked as they all sat back down.

  “I think so,” Lord Caraway said. “She sometimes finds air travel disagreeable. My theory is that she’s unusually susceptible to changes in atmospheric pressure.” He inclined his head toward Dr. Lehmacher. “Though sir, if you would be so kind as to look in on her later, we would both be greatly obliged.”

  “Of course. As soon as dinner has finished.”

  “Oh, I hope she’ll be all right,” Dory said quietly. “You don’t think it was what I said, do you?”

  “I’m certain that she will be. And I’m certain not, when it was such a mild joke about merry gentlemen. Though I am sure she appreciates your well wishes. Would you care for some wine?” Soon he had the table drinking a toast to the lady’s good health. Only Geoff wasn’t so certain that it was a question of health; the lady hadn’t looked so much ill as deeply upset.

  Geoff sat up with a gasp, disoriented for a moment in the darkness, recognizing neither the bed nor the thin strip of light leaking in under the door. He heard only snapping tree branches, the crack of distant guns, shouts, and screams as the Infected slammed into his company’s defensive lines.

  No, he realized, those sounds were in his mind, mixed with someone pounding frantically at his door, rescuing him from a thoroughly unpleasant dream. He took three deep breaths to calm himself and then felt along the wall to find the lamp and turn it back on.

  “A moment,” he shouted. “A moment if you please. I’m awake. Let me make myself decent.” He slipped from bed and quickly dressed. His shirt was rumpled, collar and cuffs undone, and his tie nowhere to be found, but he deemed it good enough for the ungodly hour.

  There was a young officer other side of the door, face pale, ginger hair disheveled. His uniform had a lieutenant’s stripes on the shoulder.

  “What is so important that it couldn’t wait for a decent hour?” Geoff demanded.

  “Something awful’s happened, sir. Captain told me to fetch you quick as I could—”

  “Is it my luggage?”

  The lieutenant shook his head, swallowing hard. “No, sir, it isn’t. It’s much worse.”

  Geoff nodded and dug his lorgnette from his traveling case. The little device was rather battered and showing its age, but still serviceable. “Then you’d best show me the way, Lieutenant…?”

  “Collins, sir.”

  Geoff followed Lieutenant Collins along several hallways and down two flights of stairs. Soon they were at the top of another set of stairs, these a plain metal that clearly led down to the crew quarters.

  There was a small crowd gathered at the bottom of the stairs, most of them dressed in the uniforms of the crew or servants. More to Geoff’s interest, there was a body sprawled untidily across the deck plates, a pool of dark red spread out in a halo from the back of its head. The head itself was turned at an unnatural angle, far back and to the side.

  It took only a moment for his sleep-muzzled mind to place who it was at the bottom of the stairs: Lord Caraway. It made little sense for the man to be in this area of the ship, but the truth was inescapable: he was very much there and very much dead.

  “Move away,” Geoff said, carefully descending the stairs without touching the railings, Lieutenant Collins at his heels. “All of you, move. Be about your business.” He used the same tone that had once made hardened soldiers snap to; it had the desired effect and most of the gawkers scattered down the hallway.

  He stepped over the body, carefully skirting the pool of liquid blood, its color still fresh and vibrant, and squatted down painfully to take a better look at what had once been Lord Caraway. The earthy smell was still far too reminiscent of the soup of blood and dirt that he’d waded through in battlefield after battlefield in the wilds of Canada, and it turned his stomach.

  He had to remind himself that there should be no possibility of Infection; Dr. Lehmacher had cleared everyone before takeoff. Besides, the fall had clearly destroyed the unfortunate lord’s head. Still, Geoff lifted the lorgnette to his face after snapping the red and blue filters into place. Much to his relief, the blood looked normal, rather than alive with Infection. Unfortunately, anything of use to answering this mystery with ease was merciless in its absence. No stray hairs, odd fingerprints, or otherwise essential pieces of evidence made themselves apparent. The railing for the stairs was a smear of layer upon layer of prints, utterly useless.

  “When was he found?”

  “Just now, sir. Soon as he was seen, they sent a guard to the captain, who sent me to get you. Couldn’t be more than five, perhaps ten minutes.”

  “Has anyone touched him?”

  “Don’t know, sir. It’d be powerful rude, though, wouldn’t it?”

  Geoff shook his head, a wry laugh escaping his lips. “Death often is, Lieutenant Collins.”

  From down the hall, a woman called her own answer. “No sir, he ain’t been touched since I was in the hall at least.”

  “Thank you.” Geoff nodded, not looking up.

  Lord Caraway’s face was fixed in a look of surprise, mouth open and eyes staring. Streaks of blood came from his eyes, but it didn’t look as if anyone had hit him; probably it was from the impact on the unforgiving deck. More interesting was the state of the man’s clothing; while he had his jacket on, his shirt was unbuttoned all the way down the front. Geoff carefully lifted the sides of the coat, checking to see if there was anything in the pockets: nothing. Geoff lifted the man’s hands, first his right and then his left. His fingernails were torn, and on his left hand, a band of slightly lighter colored skin showed where his wedding ring was missing.

  He put the lorgnette away in his coat pocket and turned to the lieutenant. “Go fetch Dr. Lehmacher. Quietly. I wish him to examine the body before it is removed.”

  “Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Collins raced back up the stairs.

  Geoff straightened, rubbing his hands idly on his pants, hoping to scrub away the faintly waxy feel of dead flesh. He walked down the hall to the two women, who on closer observation stood like guards in front of a cabin door. “Did either of you see what transpired?”

  “No sir,” the older of the two women said. “Didn’t see nothing but the poor gentleman already in such a sad state. We was woken up out of a sound sleep by the hue and cry.”

  “What hue and cry?”

  “The lady who found him, sir. She was in quite a bad way, so Mary and I, we decided it best to let her sit in our cabin so she could collect herself. She didn’t want no company, poor lamb.”

  “Very kind of you both. If I might speak with her…?”

  “Of course, sir.” A light tap on the cabin door received and answer, muffled quaver, the sound of a woman badly shaken. A moment later, she opened the door.

  Of all the people Geoff might have expected, Dory was perhaps the last. She was in a terrible state, her hair in complete disarray and her eyes and nose red from crying. She wore a plain, simple dress of cream-colored cotton, suitable for light exercise.

  “Colonel Douglas?” she quavered.

  “Miss Dory, are you quite all right? Here, please take my handkerchief.”

  Dory took the bit of cloth with shaking hands
. Rather than put it to any sort of use, she simply clutched at it as if it were a lifeline. “Is Lord Caraway… Is he…?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Geoff said. “At the risk of causing you further upset, I must ask… Did you see anything?”

  Dory shook her head, covering her face with the handkerchief for a moment. “I was just taking a…a walk, since I’ve never been able to sleep on ships like this. I get too excited! And I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to explore a bit, as long as I was quiet and careful, so I came down the other stairs and walked across the hall and saw…and saw…Oh there was blood! It was so awful!” Her voice rose to a wail and she began crying again.

  That at least explained how she had come to be down in the crew quarters, Geoff thought, even as he squirmed uncomfortably at the sound of her distress. He’d never had cause to deal with many women socially, let alone young, fragile females. He knew he ought to do something but wasn’t quite certain what. “Did you see anyone else?”

  Dory gulped loudly, still hiding her face in the handkerchief. “No. No one at all. I just…I screamed, and I woke everyone up, and I feel awful about that, but I didn’t know what else to do!”

  “You did nothing wrong, Miss Dory. It’s a good thing you raised the alert. We wouldn’t want to leave poor Lord Caraway just lying there any longer than necessary.”

  Dory sniffled, nodding her head. “He’s in such a state,” she wailed. “Has someone covered him up, at least?”

  “We will soon.” That the girl hadn’t seen anyone near the felled lord told him little, other than that the perpetrator had likely escaped before she happened across the terrible scene. Of more interest was how the man had come to be in such a state of undress. It was possible he had been carrying on some sort of clandestine, dishonorable affair with one of the servants—that could explain Lady Caraway’s upset at his inattention—but it seemed just as obvious that he had been robbed, either pre- or postmortem. Either way, it was at least a starting point for an investigation. And since the captain had specifically sent for him, it seemed obvious that the investigation was indeed his to conduct.

  More footsteps sounded on the metal deck plates. Geoff leaned back to glance out of the room, catching sight of Lieutenant Collins with Dr. Lehmacher in tow. The doctor’s face was pale. He looked shaken, even a little ill—as one might expect a man to look upon receiving news of the sudden and violent death of an acquaintance. “I brought him, sir,” Lieutenant Collins called.

  “Good man. I’ve got another errand for you now. Go check up on Lady Caraway. I’m afraid that you will have to wake her, but it’s quite urgent. Let her know that I will be up shortly to see her. And breathe not a word of this affair.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Collins hurried away again.

  “Dr. Lehmacher, are you quite all right?” Geoff asked.

  “As well as can be expected, under the circumstances,” the doctor assured him, though his voice was as wan as his face. He had changed his clothes since dinner, but was in as similar a state of disarray as Geoff.

  “As the only doctor aboard, I’m afraid this sad duty falls to you. I need you to examine the body and see if there is anything to be found regarding the cause of Lord Caraway’s death…beyond the obvious.”

  The doctor nodded. “I will endeavor to do my best,” he said, his voice catching. “Though it shall break my heart as I do.”

  “Carry on.” Geoff looked away, not wanting to see another man so undone by grief. “Miss Dory, will you be quite all right if I leave you alone for a few minutes?”

  She nodded, sniffling into the handkerchief. “I think so, Colonel.”

  “Brave girl.” Geoff headed back in to the hall. He gave the women whose room Dory was using a somewhat flat smile. “May I trouble you for some paper?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.” The woman went into her room, murmured something to Dory, and then returned with a few pieces of cheap, plain stationary. “Will these do?”

  “Yes, perfectly.” He pulled his pen from the inner pocket of his coat. “If I could trouble you for your name…?” He took down her name, and that of her friend, and made note that they’d noticed nothing untoward. He then asked the older woman—Mrs. Ivers—to take him up and down the hall, letting him know who lived in each of the small cabins. He knocked on each door, but most were deserted; the occupants had either been awoken and taken themselves elsewhere when Geoff had shown up, or were already at work. He would have the guards find those people later.

  Those that were still in their cabins, muzzy from interrupted sleep, and many in something of a temper because of it, were not terribly helpful. Most had heard nothing until Dory screamed. A few recalled perhaps hearing a few people out in the hallway in the hours before that, but considered it nothing unusual, since the running of an airship was a twenty-four-hour operation, and crew members sometimes returned to their quarters at odd hours.

  The man nearest to the fateful set of stairs, an old cook’s assistant who was obviously hard of hearing, thought he might have heard someone drop something on the floor a few minutes before Dory’s scream, but hadn’t thought anything of it. The stairs, he said with no small degree of bitterness, were far too steep and narrow to be safe, and he’d lost his baggage down them a few times in the past.

  Opposite the cabin of the cook’s assistant, Geoff was about to knock on the door when Mrs. Ivers said, “That one’s empty, sir. Normally where the third cook’s assistant hangs his hat, but they got in to an awful row before we left New York and he cleared out. I heard there weren’t time to hire a new one, since the chef’s a bit fussy about his help.” She shrugged one shoulder slightly. “A locked and empty room’s no consequence, right?”

  “I would agree, Mrs. Ivers, but these are quite unusual circumstances.” Geoff tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned easily under his hand, and he pushed the door open.

  “Well, that can’t be right at all. ’Twas supposed to be locked. Maybe the steward forgot.”

  “Perhaps.” Geoff stepped in the doorway, wrinkling his nose at the sour tang of sweat, and something much saltier and muskier, which he recognized courtesy of the few brushes he’d had with houses of ill repute during his time in the Expeditionary Forces. “It appears to have seen recent use.” While the room was for the most part bare, containing no personal effects and only the most basic of furniture, the narrow bed was in disarray.

  “What is it? Have you found a clue?” Dory called from out in the hallway, sounding much recovered. Geoff turned to look at Mrs. Ivers, doing his best to fill the doorway and block the view of what was inside.

  “If you please, Mrs. Ivers,” he murmured. “I hardly think this is a suitable sight for a young lady of good breeding.”

  She made a sound suspiciously like a snort, though she covered it with one hand. “As you say, sir. Been a lot of unsuitable things going on recently.” But she did back away and take gentle charge of Dory, moving her farther down the hall.

  Geoff gave the room a more thorough examination, but there was little to see. There was no blood apparent when he checked the area through the filtered lenses of the lorgnette, and he stopped short of pawing through the rumpled sheets, not wanting to touch them. He turned the lamp back down and shut the door behind him. By now there were a few guardsmen loitering in the hall. “I want this door locked now and the room left undisturbed,” he told the nearest.

  A picture of the events began to form in his mind. That Lord Caraway had been involved in some sort of affair seemed obvious. That he had been robbed seemed also obvious. It was possible, he thought, that the man had given chase to his robber and gotten pushed down the stairs for his trouble. That meant the person he most wanted to talk to was whatever woman had been with Lord Caraway at the time, either one of the crew or passengers.

  Still deep in thought, he moved back down the hallway, to where Caraway had met his end. The doctor stood to one side now; two rather broad young men were lifting the unfortunate lord onto a
set of canvas sheets.

  “Did you find anything, Doctor?” Geoff asked.

  The man stood stock-still, face white, one hand curled over his mouth. He did not seem to hear.

  “Dr. Lehmacher?” Geoff gently touched his elbow.

  “What? Oh.” Dr. Lehmacher blinked watery eyes. “I am sorry, Colonel. Just…I…oh, this is terrible. Seeing it…seeing it has left me quite unmanned, I’m afraid.”

  “I can only imagine, knowing of your friendship. But for the sake of that friendship, Doctor, you must offer me your best work and observation on this topic.”

  “Yes. You are right. I must…I owe it to him.” Dr. Lehmacher nodded and cleared his throat, visibly struggling to regain control of his expression. His throat worked uselessly for a moment before he spoke, words barely above a whisper but at the least steady and clinical. “He fell down the stairs backward and snapped his neck cleanly, opening three fractures in his skull as well. I don’t think he had time even to suffer.” His voice shook as he said the last word and he took a moment to compose himself, his lips setting in a thin line. “I think he must have been grasping the railings, and quite tightly, when he was pushed.”

  “Then you do not think it was a simple fall.”

  The doctor paled, licking his lips. “I can think of no other reason for the state of his fingernails.” He took a deep breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, Colonel, I think there’s a decanter of brandy in my room calling my name.”

  “I understand, Doctor. As much as it pains me to say, have care to not make yourself insensible.”

  “Oh, I shall,” the doctor said. “I only wish to be somewhat…numb.”

  Geoff nodded, watching Dr. Lehmacher turn and walk slowly down to the other end of the hall, shoulders hunched and footsteps heavy. Such obvious grief was too painful to watch, and he owed it to the doctor to avert his eyes. Geoff himself had lost so many dear friends during the battles in Canada that he wondered if perhaps he’d become a bit numb to it. Or perhaps it was that an officer had to maintain his stiff upper lip at all costs, while a civilian doctor could afford to be a bit softer about such things. Geoff shook his head and returned to Mrs. Ivers’s room.