In Absinthia

by Alexandra Christian

  “Of course, dear,” she replied, but Phoe didn’t quite believe it. They had been in Absinthia for more than a week now, and in that time Phoe had never seen her new friend when she wasn’t smiling. “I suppose I’m worried about these murders.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Phoe said. “You’re hardly wandering the streets at night.”

  “You know, Alfie and I started coming to Absinthia on the opening weekend.”

  “Really?”

  Eleanor nodded. “I’ve always loved the Victorian Era, as you can tell from my books. This place seemed like a paradise. Perhaps I’m a little sad to see that innocence gone.”

  Phoe nodded. “I guess it was only a matter of time before the problems of Earth came to the colonies.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Eleanor agreed. “For me Absinthia has been the ultimate escape. A place to forget who you are. And your regrets.”

  Phoe got the distinct impression that there was something Eleanor wanted to confide. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

  Eleanor dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and pushed her plate aside. “I didn’t want to say anything. I mean you’re here on your honeymoon. Why should you be interested in my piddling problems?”

  Phoe reached out and clasped Eleanor’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I’m interested.” She was sincere. In their short time together, Phoe had grown close to Eleanor. She reminded her so much of Miss Eva. If there was anything she could do to help her friend, Phoe was willing. “What’s going on?”

  “Alfie and I had a disagreement this morning. He mentioned that he thought it might be a good idea for us to cash in our travel vouchers and cut our vacation short. I explained that I wasn’t finished with my book yet and didn’t want to leave. He flew into a temper and accused me of never being sensitive to his needs, and only thinking of myself. I tried to diffuse the argument. I offered a compromise, but he wouldn’t budge.”

  “Did he give any indication of what prompted him to want to leave?”

  Eleanor shrugged, clearly confused by her husband’s reaction. “He said that the colony has become unsafe, and that he isn’t interested in playing Agatha Christie anymore.” Eleanor took another sip of her tea, and when she looked up, Phoe could see the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m sure it will be all right, El. Couples argue. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

  “I’m not so sure, Phoebe. The truth is, the whole reason we’re on holiday…” Eleanor’s emotions overcame her and she burst into tears. “Oh, Phoe, I’m losing him.”

  Phoebe stood up and went around the table to embrace her friend. Mrs. Brown looked up from her breakfast and started to stand, but Phoe mouthed, “She’s all right.”

  “El, don’t cry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “This is our last chance, Phoebe. This trip was going to make or break our marriage.”

  Phoe looked around. The other guests were starting to stare. “Come on. Let’s go inside so we can talk about this.”

  Eleanor nodded and allowed Phoe to lead her from the patio and into the parlor, away from prying eyes. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe,” Eleanor sniffled. “I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you and ruin our lovely breakfast.”

  “No worries,” Phoe said, closing the door to the parlor. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  Eleanor took a deep breath, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “It all started last summer. It’s true that Alfie and I have been married some time, so it’s been a while since we were lovers frolicking in the fountain of romance, but we’ve always been friends. But since last summer, we’ve been like strangers.”

  “What happened last summer?”

  Eleanor paused. Silent tears rolled over her cheeks and this time she made no move to stop them. Phoe could tell that whatever her friend was about to confess, it was a painful and dark secret that she’d been keeping locked away for so long that it had begun to fester. “We lost our son, Thomas.”

  “Oh, El. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t, dear,” Eleanor said, patting Phoe’s hand and offering a sad smile. “Alfie and I kept it to ourselves. Not even my publisher knew why I kept making up excuses and pushing back deadlines. Thomas was born with a heart defect. Really, it was a miracle he lived as long as he did. Over the years, we accepted that we were living on borrowed time with him and tried to make the best of it.

  Alfie went to work at a biomechanics lab for the Interplanetary Union. It was the first time we had real hope. He was convinced that he could fix Thomas’s heart. It became this all-consuming obsession for him, but unfortunately, our son died before the technology could catch up.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Thank you. We were devastated, as you can imagine. Alfie was so depressed. He eventually quit the IU and went to work at the university. Things were bad for a while, but then last summer, I thought things were starting to look up for us. It was like I had my husband back. He came back to life, and I thought we were going to be able to move on. Not forgetting Thomas, of course, but getting on with our lives.”

  “Of course.”

  “I started writing again. Alfie was enjoying teaching. That was when we first began coming to Absinthia. But I don’t know, something changed. And last night—oh, I can’t even say it.”

  “What?” Phoe could feel that familiar tingle that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  “I think there’s someone else,” she spat, finally giving in and sobbing profusely into her hands.

  Phoe put an arm around her friend and tried to soothe her. “There now, El. What makes you think there’s someone else? Alfie doesn’t seem the type to sneak around with other women behind your back.”

  “He never has been before,” she sniffled. “But last night, I found a calling card torn up in the pocket of his trousers when they came back from the laundry.” Eleanor went into the pockets of her skirts and fished out a paper fragment. “See?”

  Phoe examined the scrap of paper. It was an ivory parchment of heavy stock. The name of the place had been obscured by the tearing, but Phoe could make out a D and a wide, lashed eye that could only be a caricature of a woman’s face. “Is this all you found?”

  “There were a couple of other pieces, but they’d been so torn up by Miss Abecrombie’s machine, that even if I’d been able to put them together I couldn’t make out the name.”

  Phoe didn’t want to laugh, but she thought Eleanor was probably making a mountain out of a molehill. “You have no idea what this is, El. It could be anything.”

  “It certainly looks like some kind of…” Eleanor looked around and leaned in to whisper. “Like some kind of gentlemen’s club. There are so many in Absinthia, you know.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that Alfie is frequenting those places.”

  “It doesn’t mean he isn’t,” Eleanor huffed. “Oh, Phoebe.” She sighed, getting up and starting to pace. “That isn’t all. But it was the last straw. Alfie is like a completely different person. He’s out all night. He drinks more than he should. He never talks to me anymore. And we haven’t, you know, in months. And we’re not spring chickens. I know that, but it doesn’t mean our relationship is over. And there are nights, I swear he smells like ladies’ perfume. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know exactly what you’re going to do,” Phoe said, taking Eleanor’s hands. “You’re going to come shopping with me this afternoon and we’re going to buy the most extravagant ball gowns this colony has ever seen.”

  “We are?”

  Phoe nodded. “The Governor’s Masquerade Ball is on Friday. We’re going to find you a gown so scrumptious that Alfie won’t possibly be able to refuse you.”

  Eleanor smirked. “You don’t know Alfie very well.”

  “I know he’s a man,” Phoe argued. “Besides, nothing cures a case of
uncontrollable weeping like spending money.”

  Eighteen

  Cage could tell that Sigerson was bored when he began deducing intimate details of the saleslady’s sex life by examining the sleeve of her blouse. It probably hadn’t been too wise of him to ask Sigerson to come along on this trip, but he wanted the company and couldn’t bring himself to ask anyone else. Besides, who else in the pension would have been falling over themselves to go with Cage on a mission to find the perfect engagement ring?

  “How about this one?” Sigerson asked. He held up a model hand that was wearing a gaudy, square-cut diamond ring that would make Phoe’s hand drag the ground under its weight.

  Cage shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sigerson.”

  As Sigerson turned to put the display down, the saleslady grabbed it and gave him a disapproving glare. “I don’t understand, St. John. What difference does it make?”

  “The difference is,” Cage sighed, “it has to be perfect. Phoe is perfect and this ring has to be worthy of her.”

  “I’ve never particularly understood why men feel the need to buy their intended an over-priced, gaudy piece of jewelry to declare their love. It’s ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t ridiculous, Sigerson.” Cage peered over the case, squinting at the diamond rings lined up. “It’s…tradition.” Deep down, Cage sort of agreed with him. Phoe didn’t need a ring to know how he felt about her. Not to mention that all of these rings seemed identical. They’d been shopping for ages and he could no longer tell one from the next. “I’ve explained this so many times. Weren’t you listening?”

  Sigerson crossed his arms over his chest, his nose turned up in a disdainful sneer. “My dear Mr. St. John, I haven’t been listening since we left. I only agreed to come on this trip because you promised to go with me to Scotland Yard to interrogate Wittrock again.”

  “You know that Tuggingham isn’t going to let us in, like he didn’t let us in yesterday. Or the day before. Besides, weren’t you saying that they were going to release Wittrock today?”

  “Of course. They have no reason to hold him any longer, but just because he didn’t kill the girl doesn’t mean that he didn’t see who did.”

  Cage rolled his eyes and went back to the display case. This shopping excursion had been one dead end after another. None of these rings seemed right. A woman like Phoe deserved a ring that conveyed exactly how he felt about her. She’d certainly waited long enough for it. Not to mention that she’d been infinitely patient with him. Their relationship had survived many ups and downs and life-threatening situations, mostly because of Phoe’s steadfast determination to stick by him.

  “I admire you, St. John,” Sigerson said, suddenly appearing over Cage’s shoulder, startling him.

  “Oh?”

  “I was never the marrying kind, myself.”

  “You’re kidding,” Cage quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned over the course of my life, both my life on Earth and here in Absinthia, it’s that the so-called gentle sex are anything but.”

  Cage laughed. “So, you’ve never been in love?”

  “I probably wouldn’t know if I had, to be honest. Women are the one mystery that I’ve never been able to solve.”

  “They are indeed that, my friend. But a mystery worthy of your investigation. It wasn’t so long ago that I felt exactly like you.” Cage thought back to his first meeting with Phoe. “I was broken, angry—I hated the world. I hated myself. My life was an absolute wreck. I had fallen into a downward spiral so deep that I knew I’d never climb out.

  “But then, I met this incredibly kind, generous woman. At first, I found her endearing because she needed me, and at that time, I hadn’t been needed in quite a while. But then I realized I needed her too. She pulled me out of that dark place. Phoe saved my life. And while getting married to her is the most frightening thing I’ve ever done—and believe me, I’ve done some scary shit—I’m going to do it because I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  Sigerson stood there staring at Cage as if he had sprouted antlers. “I suppose you’re waiting for me to strike up the string quartet?”

  “Ugh. You’re a foul git, you know that?”

  Sigerson grinned and turned to the saleslady. “Miss, could you show Mr. St. John the one over there in the vintage case?”

  The woman brought over a small, gilded jewelry case and set it on the counter in front of Cage. This was evidently where all the most expensive pieces were stored as there was an optical lock on the side. “I think this is the one Mr. Sigerson is talking about,” she said.

  The ring she pulled from the case was spectacular. A round-cut garnet set into a gold filigree setting, surrounded by a halo of diamonds. It was a ring that would perfectly complement Phoe. “This piece is a genuine antique from nineteenth-century Earth. A few of the diamonds were replaced when we acquired it, but other than that, it’s a perfect example of Victoriana.”

  This was the one. He’d been all over the colony looking for a ring whose beauty might come close to Phoe’s own. How peculiar that Sigerson had been able to spot it almost as soon as they walked in.

  “It’s perfect,” Cage stated, looking at Sigerson. “How did you know?”

  “Given what I know of you and of the future Mrs. St. John, it wasn’t difficult,” Sigerson said with a smug grin.

  Cage nodded to the saleswoman. “I’ll take it.”

  “Very good, sir,” the woman replied, placing the ring into a velvet box and handing over an eSlate for Cage to scan his hand to pay.

  “Thank God,” Sigerson groaned. “Now maybe we can get on with more important things.”

  Cage dropped the box into his coat pocket and tipped his hat to the saleslady as Sigerson pulled him from the jewelry store. He supposed he shouldn’t be too annoyed. The old boy had come through for him. Cage had been looking for a ring worthy of Phoe for days with little success. Now that he’d finally bought the ring he was both elated and terrified. Once you spent the money, you had to at least ask if she’d marry you. That being said, it felt good to finally make the decision to take the leap.

  “So, this is what we know,” Sigerson started. “One. All of the victims have some kind of biomechanical enhancement. Two. The killer is probably not a tourist given the spread between the murders. Three. He has medical knowledge and biomechanical knowledge. Four. His movements are random, but deliberately so.”

  “Five. We, like the police, have nothing,” Cage quipped. “Our big point of interest is that all of the victims have mech. Who cares? Everyone in this colony probably has mech.”

  “You’re right,” Sigerson replied with a miserable sigh. “We’re missing something.”

  “The question is why. Why is the killer targeting these people? If we can figure that out, then we can find him.”

  “Quite right,” Sigerson agreed.

  Cage stopped, trying to hail a hansom with a sharp whistle. Several passed by but no takers. The streets around the shopping district were unusually busy for this time of day. He supposed it had something to do with tonight’s Governor’s Ball. Every couple of weeks, the Governor of the colony gave a grand masquerade ball for the tourists at the opulent Victoria Grand Hotel in the center of the colony. Cage and Phoe, along with the other guests at the Alice & Ludwig, had planned to attend as sort of a last hurrah of their Victorian holiday. Phoe and Eleanor had been shopping all week for the perfect gowns and jeweled masks. Phoe assured him that she had found the one, but he wasn’t allowed to see it until the night of the ball, citing that it was more fun that way. Cage had decided that tonight would be the perfect night to propose.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Sigerson queried.

  “Of course I was,” Cage lied. “You were droning on about Wittrock seeing…” His voice trailed off as he heard a high-pitched squeal over the din of the crowded streets.

  “I said nothing—”

  “Shush,” Cage hissed. Th
e noise sounded again. A police whistle. Somewhere up ahead of them. “You heard that too, right?” he asked Sigerson.

  Without answering, Sigerson took off through the crowd with Cage close on his heels. The throngs of people in the street seemed to thicken as they tried to get through. Cage tipped his hat over and over, trying to apologize to the people as Sigerson barreled through, mowing them down two at a time.

  “Hurry, St. John,” Sigerson called. Cage prided himself on being faster and more agile than most, but the hybrid was almost his equal.

  When they made it to the end of the street, the crowd broke where the police were pushing them back. Sigerson tried to burst through, but two of the Bobbies held him. “Stay back, sir.”

  This time the victim hadn’t been slaughtered in an alley, hidden from view. This one was lying in front of the fountain at Trafalgar Square. From the looks of it, her body had been broken, lying half in the water and half out of it. There were police everywhere, desperately trying to create a barrier between the onlookers and this new corpse.

  “A motorcarriage just threw her out.”

  “Do you think it could be the Ripper?”

  “I didn’t see any plates, did you?”

  “You must let us in there,” Sigerson was saying to the young policeman that held him. “We’re with the police.”

  “We know who you are, Mr. Sigerson,” the cop was saying. “Detective Inspector Tuggingham told us that you were not allowed anywhere near one of our crime scenes.”

  “Tuggingham’s an idiot. He’s been bungling this investigation from the beginning.”

  “Sir, you need to back off or I’m going to have to arrest you.”

  Cage looked past where Sigerson was struggling with the cop to the body. The coroner’s wagon had arrived, and someone was covering her with a sheet. He couldn’t see much, but Cage noticed that the lady’s voluminous skirt had been hiked over her knees, revealing a bright red petticoat underneath.

  Cage shoved past Sigerson, pulling a wallet from his lapel.

  “Sir, I’m afraid I can’t accept…”

  But Cage wasn’t going to offer cash. He flipped over his badge emblazoned with the Interplanetary Union shield. “Out of my way, kid.”