by Alex Acks
The deckhand squirmed and spat as he was dragged away, until the guard struck him again and grabbed him by the hair. Geoff paid scant attention. It made little sense that Lord Caraway’s valuables had been dumped so carelessly; it was becoming obvious that theft had not been the murderer’s true aim, but rather the appearance of it. He dug carefully through the top layer of dirt in the plant’s pot, but found no sign of the man’s wedding band either.
Frowning to himself, he went into the men’s toilet, checking around it thoroughly. The sink and counter had been wiped down recently, showing a smear of dry water spots. Grimacing, he examined the toilet and was gratified to discover a tiny smudge of blood, fresh enough to sparkle for the lorgnette. He compared the mark to those his own hands might make and concluded that the mark had likely been made by the side of a man’s thumb, grasping the chain to flush.
“Unexpected,” he said, straightening up. “That certainly changes everything.” Knowing that the perpetrator had intended murder, not mere thievery, set his sights on a new class of suspects: the passengers, all men of good breeding. That knowledge left him no less determined, but distinctly less comfortable. Why would a murderer immediately feel the need to use the toilet, especially before washing the evidence from his hands?
Frowning to himself in thought, he returned to the bridge and handed the cigar box to Captain MacConnell, thinking it best that it be kept in the ship’s safe until it could be turned over to the regular police force in Denver. The captain eyed the contents of the little box with raised eyebrows, stirring through them with one blunt finger before frowning. “Did you find anything else in the plant?”
“No, nothing.” Geoff frowned, something in the captain’s question rousing his suspicion. “What did you expect me to find?”
“Some sort of clue, I suppose. Nothing in particular.” The captain turned away.
Geoff’s temper, already frayed by a night of stress and little sleep, snapped. He whipped his cane around as if it was his old saber, slamming it into the brass railing to the side of the captain. The railing rang like a bell; as the sound died out, the bridge was silent. “I do not appreciate having my efforts hampered by half-truths. I cannot possibly solve our mutual problem if I am not in full possession of the facts!”
Captain MacConnell turned back toward him, face darkened with anger. “You go too far, Colonel.”
“No, sir, you do. Twice you have asked me if I found something, without specifying what, and were disappointed when I said no.”
“I have done nothing of the sort.” The captain crossed his arms over his chest, face going pale.
Geoff flicked his cane up to point at the man’s nose. No matter how fatigued he felt, his hand was still rock steady. “What is it that you are so desperate for me to find, Captain?”
The captain opened his mouth, but shut it quickly as Geoff’s glare intensified. At last, he looked away. “My master key for the ship. Lord Caraway and I have been friends for quite some time. He asked to borrow it so that he could make use of a few rooms privately. As he is—” he caught himself “—was a trustworthy, dear friend, I allowed him to do so.”
“You allowed someone to borrow the master key for the ship,” Geoff repeated, dumbfounded. It was a breach of security that took his breath away; the master key opened every door on the ship, including the vulnerable engine rooms and the cargo holds. He dropped the tip of the can back down on the floor, needing to lean on it.
“Perhaps now you understand why I was somewhat reticent in sharing that information.”
“Do you realize what risk you’ve put us all at?” Geoff demanded.
“If I had it to do over again, I would certainly make a different decision,” Captain MacConnell snapped.
Geoff passed one hand over his forehead, trying to think. “Did anyone know that Lord Caraway had the key?”
“I doubt it. He gave me his word he would be discreet, and his word has never been broken. Perhaps his wife.”
“Who is an innocent victim in this sordid mess,” Geoff said bitterly. “So the key may be in possession of someone completely unknown. You had better post every guard you have at your disposal, and now.”
“I had hoped it would turn up with Lord Caraway’s missing possessions. I can offer nothing further.”
“I see.” Geoff turned to leave, his back stiff.
“Colonel, I would appreciate it if you could keep my own indiscretion from becoming a matter of public record.”
Geoff had no reply for that. Instead, he gave the captain a long, intense look, and stalked off the bridge. This new problem was almost too much to bear and put his primary mission on this cursed airship in grave danger. It was possible, he thought, that whoever was in possession of the key might not know what he had; in that case, it was imperative to keep that fact quiet while simultaneously leaving no stone unturned in the search. But how to accomplish that particular feat was beyond him, when now even the guards themselves might be suspect; more well-bred men than they had turned to criminal efforts in the past when such a golden opportunity presented itself.
He was so lost in thought as he walked that the ship’s bell ringing to announce breakfast startled him quite badly. Breakfast. He ought to have breakfast. The mind could not operate without fuel.
As he passed by the passenger cabins, following the scent of bacon toward the dining room, he caught sight of Lieutenant Collins and Professor Jefferson. Both were men with whom he’d intended to speak. It seemed both felicitous and suspicious to see them together in urgent conversation.
“Gentlemen?”
“Ah, Colonel, sir. Was the lady all right? She looked a bit under the weather when I woke her up,” Lieutenant Collins said.
“Terrible business,” Professor Jefferson agreed. “Just terrible.” At the narrow-eyed gaze Geoff directed at him, he hastened to add, “Matthew came by my cabin after he’d discharged his duties to you. He was quite distraught, poor man. They were such good friends.”
Geoff frowned. “As all right as can be expected, though no thanks to you, Lieutenant. I told you to breathe not a word of the tragedy to her.”
“But I didn’t, sir!” the lieutenant said, sounding quite affronted.
How then, could the lady have already been acquainted with the tragic events? Perhaps Dr. Lehmacher had seen fit to inform her. The man had seemed quite undone, and some had a sad tendency to share their distress with all around them. Though if that were the case, it was also a sad reflection on the doctor that Lady Caraway had taken her husband’s death with far more poise and grace than he.
“Was she already awake when you went by her cabin?” Geoff asked.
“I should think so, sir. She wasn’t quick to answer the door and looked a frightful mess.”
Geoff nodded, looking at Professor Jefferson. “You seem a bit troubled yourself, sir.”
The professor sighed. “While I shudder to seem too small-minded in the face of such tragedy, I think someone’s gone through my cabin. It’s so subtle I admit that it might all be in my imagination, but I could have sworn that things were a bit rearranged in my absence last night. I thought it best to inform the lieutenant of the possibility, even if it just turns out to be the wandering mind of an old man as the cause.”
“You may not be as out of sorts as you think, Professor. A few hours ago, a thief was caught by the guardsmen aboard and I interviewed him myself. I think it best that you check over your belongings carefully and make certain none are missing. I’ve turned over the property the thief had on him to the captain.” Geoff smiled tightly. “But rest assured, you shan’t be troubled by a thief again this trip.”
“Excellent work, Colonel, and you even out of your home Duchy,” the professor said, clapping Geoff on the back.
“Glad to know it, sir, though a black mark on us that we didn’t catch him before now,” Lieutenant Collins said, looking far less cheerful about the subject.
Geoff then took the opportunity to question the p
rofessor delicately about Lord Caraway’s disposition the previous night, but the gentleman had noticed nothing at all untoward. Satisfied that there was nothing else to be learned, Geoff excused himself when his stomach uttered a rather undignified grumble, one that all three of them were at least able to laugh about.
“Hard work, catching thieves,” Lieutenant Collins said.
“And there seem no end to criminals wanting to be caught.” The work on the Titania would be a mere first act for the greater array of challenges waiting in Denver, including the greatest challenge of capturing Captain Ramos, who had taken down his predecessor. Geoff bowed to the two men and quickly resumed his journey to the dining room.
Breakfast was a much less formal affair, and the passengers had dressed accordingly, in more comfortable suits and dresses that would allow them to stroll around the ship after eating. There were also far fewer people present than there had been for dinner. Geoff looked over the dining room, searching for a familiar face. Unsurprisingly, Lady Caraway was absent; he doubted she would want to be seen in public for the rest of the short journey. Dr. Lehmacher, too, was absent, though as tired and drunk as the man had seemed the night before, Geoff was not surprised.
Geoff did spot Dory, seated at a mostly empty table, wearing a dress in a nearly flattering shade of lilac. She met his gaze, which really gave him no choice but to sit with her and make inconsequential small talk until the waiters had brought their breakfast plates and they’d begun eating.
“I am surprised to see you up and about, Miss Dory,” he said, “rather than sleeping late after your adventures last night.”
“It seems like a great many people have chosen to sleep in. But…if I’m already too nervous to sleep much to begin with, I can hardly bring myself to even lie down again after such events.”
He kept his voice low. “Is Lady Caraway all right?”
“As well as can be expected. I sat with her for quite some time before she said she was feeling unwell again and wished to be alone.” She sighed. “I am planning to look in on her again after we finish eating. I’m rather worried.”
He nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind my presence, I should like to come along. I’ve recovered Lord Caraway’s pocket watch and lapel pin; I thought perhaps she might like them back.” It would also afford him the opportunity to ask her about the key, though he doubted she would be of any help. Lord Caraway had used a room in the crew quarters that was supposed to be locked; there was little doubt that he’d had the key with him at the time of his death.
“Oh!” Dory exclaimed, and then quickly quieted as some of the other diners glanced toward her. “Did you find the horrible person that…you know?”
“We apprehended the thief,” Geoff said, after a moment of consideration. “I think that the man who committed the act is a different person, however. So you must remain cautious.”
“Oh my…” Dory covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, her eyes wide with shock. “How terrible.”
But she rallied and continued,, “I…Well, don’t tell anyone this, but I did a bit of eavesdropping before you arrived to entertain me. No one’s talking about the incident. I think, perhaps, it has been kept under wraps?”
“If the captain has managed to do so, he deserves a medal.” Geoff allowed himself a bitter smile; he had little doubt the captain was frantically doing damage control behind the scenes, considering his personal, if peripheral, involvement.
“But I’m sure Lady Caraway will be much relieved. She was most concerned last night that this terrible business would reflect badly on her family. She made me promise three times that I would not tell a soul.”
“You’re telling me.”
Dory laughed. “Don’t be silly. Since you already no doubt know far more than I, speaking with you isn’t breaking her confidence.”
Geoff couldn’t help but laugh at that. “If only I did know far more than you. I’m afraid that we’re both still equally in the dark.”
“I’m certain that you shall prevail,” Dory said, setting her teacup down quite firmly.
They finished their breakfast with less heavy conversation. Geoff offered Dory his arm and escorted her from the dining room. Together, they went down the hallway to Lady Caraway’s suite. Geoff knocked on the door, again, a third time. There was no answer.
“Maybe she’s still resting,” Dory said.
“Perhaps. Though if she said she was feeling unwell…I find that a bit worrying.”
Dory nodded. For a moment, she contemplated the door, her expression suspiciously like a pout. “Well, there can’t be any harm in trying the doorknob. I don’t recall hearing her lock up after me, so she may have forgotten.” The knob turned under her hand and she opened the door slowly, calling, “Lady Caraway? I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but we’re a bit worried about you…”
The sitting room was as it had been the night before, the tea tray still on the table and the curtains drawn back. Geoff followed Dory inside, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness and closing the door behind them. He felt cold, the skin of his forehead prickling; there was another possible explanation for the door being unlocked, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Now I’m very worried.” Dory hesitated. “Do you think perhaps I should…” She pointed toward the bedroom.
“I think that would be a very good idea. In case she has taken ill.”
“And the worst she can do is shout at me, I suppose. Please stay back. I don’t want to cause her more embarrassment.”
“Of course.” Geoff edged back toward the door, averting his eyes for good measure. He swallowed against a throat gone suddenly dry.
Dory tapped on the bedroom door. When there was no response, she opened the door a crack, and then more fully. “Lady Caraway? Lady…Colonel, I think something is wrong, she—Oh no!”
Geoff hurried inside the doorway to the sound of Dory’s shriek. He had just enough time to take in the scene—Lady Caraway curled up among a nest of bedcovers, hands knotted into claws at her chest, Dory backing away in horror—before Dory collapsed down into a swoon.
Geoff tried to catch her, but his hold wasn’t secure and she was heavier than expected. He almost fell down himself, and ended up having to lower her to the floor in an undignified jumble. Her skirts were in disarray, and he caught a flash of a surprisingly shapely leg before he realized that he really ought to look away.
“Miss Dory? Miss Dory?” He bent to pat her face, but there was no response. He hurried from the room as quickly as his leg would allow, and burst into the hallway. He dimly remembered which room he’d seen Dr. Lehmacher near; he half ran down the hall to it and pounded on the door.
There was a muffled crash inside, followed by a curse. The doctor jerked the door open. He looked worse than he had the night before, if it was possible, his eyes sunk deeply into his skull. For a moment, the doctor gaped at him before stammering, “Colonel?”
“Get your medical bag. Something’s happened to Lady Caraway, and Miss Dory has collapsed.”
To his credit, the doctor didn’t pause to ask any more questions. He ducked back in to his room—another crash, as if he’d tripped over something, followed by a curse—and reappeared a moment later with a black leather bag in his hands.
Dory was sprawled on the floor where he’d left her, insensible. Dr. Lehmacher hesitated a moment, looking at the girl, and Geoff impatiently waved him toward Lady Caraway, who appeared to be in a much more dire condition. He knelt down by Dory and felt her forehead—cool and perhaps a little clammy—and then, trying not to look, twitched the corner of her skirt back down to cover her legs properly. “How is she?” he asked the doctor.
Lehmacher straightened up, his expression blank. “Beyond my help, I’m afraid. It appears that the lady passed away during the night.” He left the bedside and knelt on the carpet next to Dory, checking her pulse. “At least our friend, here, I can help.” He reached into his black leather bag and drew out a small vial of smelling s
alts. Waving that near Dory’s nose had the desired effect. She jerked into wakefulness, sneezing in a most undignified manner.
“Colonel? Doctor?” she asked, bewildered.
“Here, come along,” Geoff said, taking her arm to help her up. “I’m afraid you’ve had another nasty shock.”
Dory struggled to her feet. Upon looking at poor Lady Caraway, curled up in her bed, and she began to cry. “I must be cursed,” she wailed. “I must be.”
“Now, no need for that,” Geoff said. “Come along.” He gently led her from the room and helped her to one of the couches in the sitting room. Once she was settled, though still crying disconsolately, he took a moment to use the telephone to call for the guards. He checked the bottles that sat in the room’s small cabinet, selected the brandy, and poured a small glass for Dory. “Here, drink this. Will you be all right if I step into the other room?”
She nodded, sniffling.
When he returned to Lady Caraway’s bedroom, Dr. Lehmacher had rolled her onto her back and was looking into her eyes. Geoff sniffed delicately at the air; along with the smells that invariably accompanied death, he caught a hint of cloying sweetness. The top of the room’s chest of drawers was in disarray. He delicately picked up a perfume bottle and sniffed at it, but the odor wasn’t quite the same. “What killed her?”
“I think she suffered some sort of nervous attack. Or perhaps her heart gave out. See how even in death she clutches at her chest?” Dr. Lehmacher shook his head. “Perhaps the death of her husband was too much for her; her health has always been a bit tenuous.” He took a moment to button the cuffs of his shirt; he hadn’t grabbed a jacket in the rush out of his room, though he wore his gloves.
Geoff came to the doctor’s side for a closer look. She showed none of the signs that he associated with violent death; her eyes were unblemished, and there were no obvious bruises. “A true tragedy for her family.” He had seen someone suffering a heart palpitation once; they had tripped and stumbled, and he supposed that could account for the mess on top of the chest of drawers, though that seemed too easy—just like assuming that she’d simply forgotten to lock her cabin’s door. As he leaned over her, he caught another whiff of that cloying sweetness, but it was gone quickly. “Can you tell how long she’s been dead?”
