Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  I darted around the cage, fastened the lock, and dragged the ringmaster to safety. He cringed at my rough handling, but didn’t cry out. I had no idea if that was a good sign or not. Perhaps he’d been injured so badly he was going into shock. Corpses were one thing; nursing a living body back to health was not my area of expertise.

  “Are you hurt?” I ripped my gloves off, running swift hands over the front of him, searching for any obvious wounds. His clothing was tattered in the front, but I didn’t see any blood. Yet. “Any pain you’re aware of at all? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  I couldn’t remember much else to ask, the dead didn’t usually tell me what had hurt until I cut them open and rooted around for clues.

  He blinked slowly from behind his signature mask, seeming to consider this. I had no idea if he was thinking about potential pain or if he was about to pass out. “It’s… difficult… to tell. Perhaps my back?”

  He struggled to sit up, then winced. With swift medical efficiency, I propped him up against the wall and wrestled his coat and waistcoat off. I knelt beside him and tugged his cravat away in a brisk motion even I was impressed by. My bare fingers were already undoing the buttons at his collar when I paused, suddenly aware of our position and what I was doing—if anyone caught us alone down here with his clothes half off, I’d be in a world of scandal.

  Mephistopheles blinked at me. “This isn’t the first time you’ve removed a cravat, is it?”

  “It would be the first time I used it to strangle someone, though.”

  “So violent.” His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned. I shoved my worries aside. If anyone came down here they’d see an injured man and someone capable of offering medical assistance. Nothing more.

  I finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it open, quickly inspecting his torso for any signs of damage. There was nothing but unblemished bronze skin. I ran my eyes over him twice to be certain, ignoring the sense of wrongness at his state of undress. I shook my head. He might have internal injuries that would be more worrisome than if his flesh had been torn. Prodding his torso for tenderness might be the best thing to do, though I wasn’t sure if it would hurt.

  “You haven’t sustained any outward injuries to your person.” I lifted my gaze to his; we now were very close. Too close. He stared at me, unblinking. “Perhaps you have a concussion. You appear a bit—”

  He toppled forward, nearly burying his head in my chest. “Please.” The word was a plea in itself. Arms gently came around my waist. “Please accept my apology.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” I embraced him back a moment, worried over how hard he’d hit his head. “Come. Let’s stand up, shall we?”

  After a wobbly attempt, I finally managed to get him on his feet. I held on to him, afraid he’d stumble back down and do more damage to his brain. I was about to offer him his jacket when he staggered into me, pressing us both into the wall as he stopped himself from falling. At this rate, it would take a lifetime to get him to a real physician. Dr. Arden had refused to leave his chambers, and I wasn’t sure if there was another doctor aboard the ship.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. “If we’re moving too fast, then you ought to sit.”

  His hands slowly came up to cradle my face and he leaned his forehead against mine. Clearly he was having a delusion. “Remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “Our bargain, Miss Wadsworth.” He slumped against me and I worried there was some injury to his back that I’d missed. Before I could help stand him upright again, the sound of shoes hitting the stairs two at a time reached us. My first thought was elation that someone else would be able to help with the disoriented ringmaster in my arms. But when I saw it was Thomas who skidded around the corner and stopped short, I could have sworn my heart sank down to my toes.

  The ringmaster leisurely pushed himself back, attention torn between me and Thomas. His odd insistence that I remember our bargain suddenly made sense. He’d manufactured this. All of it. I gripped my fists as he stood straighter and began buttoning up his shirt, completely and utterly stable on his feet.

  “Mr. Cresswell, I assure you things aren’t what they appear,” he said, not sounding at all convincing as he donned his tattered jacket. He indicated the tears. “I was under attack and Miss Wadsworth rescued me. It was terribly valiant on her part and quite embarrassing on mine.”

  Thomas didn’t so much as breathe from what I could see, but his sharp gaze was falling all over the room, likely reconstructing the scenario in that astounding way of his. With sadness, I realized he’d looked at everything in the room except for me. My uncle and the captain rounded the doorway a moment later with Cassie and halted.

  “What on earth is going on?” the captain asked. “You have a performance to give. And this one”—he jabbed a thumb in Cassie’s direction—“wouldn’t say what the urgency was about. Only that you needed us straightaway.”

  Mephistopheles stepped away from me and nodded toward the cage. “Miss Wadsworth and I were investigating the mystery of the severed arm. But you’re right—the show must go on. At least this murder won’t be the main attraction tonight.”

  With that, he offered a mock bow, signaled to Cassie to follow, and disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone to deal with the chaos he’d unleashed. I took a deep breath and met Uncle’s furious glare. Facing the lion in its cage would be mildly less intimidating, even after its attack.

  “I can explain everything, Uncle.”

  TWENTY

  A FINE DEDUCTION

  ANIMAL CARGO HOLD

  RMS ETRURIA

  5 JANUARY 1889

  “What in ten hells does he mean by ‘mystery of the severed arm’?” Captain Norwood’s voice was a boom of thunder in the tense quiet. A monkey near the end of the cargo hold screeched, and I did my best not to flinch from either outburst. The captain was as temperamental as the sea he navigated. “Tell me it’s not an actual human arm.”

  “I’m afraid there is a human specimen in the lion’s cage,” I said, never imagining I’d be stringing those words together. I tore my gaze from the captain and focused on Thomas, hoping to do my best to explain to him—as well as the captain and my uncle—what had just transpired… aside from me wrapped in the arms of an undressed man.

  “Mephistopheles was trying to remove the lion when it attacked him,” I said. “I haven’t been able to fully inspect the scene yet, so I’ve no further details. From first glance, however, someone has changed out the hay. It’s possible it was done in an attempt to tidy up the murder scene, but I won’t know for certain until I’m able to get into the cage and have a proper look.”

  Thomas strode toward the cage and severed limb in question, his focus moving from the large cat to the gnawed arm to God only knew what. He strummed his fingers along the metal bars, the sound dulled thanks to the leather gloves he wore. The captain opened his mouth, but my uncle silenced him with a raised hand. No one ought to interrupt Thomas while he lost himself in those equations only he could see. Not for the first time did I wish to possess a fragment of that particular skill of his.

  “This isn’t the murder scene,” he said, and I knew him enough by this point to not doubt his deduction. “This is simply where the body was left. In fact, I don’t believe the rest of the body was ever here. It’s likely overboard by now, or the murderer is planning on dumping it soon. Robbery or theft wasn’t the motive—see the ring? This crime was either premeditated or done out of convenience.”

  “You seem mighty confident,” the captain muttered. “Perhaps you ought to let Dr. Wadsworth speak, boy.”

  Thomas closed his eyes, and I could only imagine the sort of things he might be stopping himself from saying aloud. It was incredible, truly, that he’d harnessed himself. A breath later, he pulled his shoulders back and affected a tone that brooked no arguments to his authority on the matter. Despite the current circumstances, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Thomas was magnifi
cent when he used his talents on a case, his confidence well earned. He was maturing from the arrogant young man I’d met last summer.

  “Thomas?” Uncle asked. “Care to elaborate for the captain?”

  He nodded. “Note the shade of the blood smear on the padlock and the bit of rust color on the keys.”

  “Get on with it, then,” the captain said. Clearly he was in no mood for pleasantries this evening. “Why should I care about the color of blood?”

  “Mephistopheles wasn’t bleeding, so the smearing on the padlock and the keys did not come from him.” Thomas paused a moment and walked around the cage, but I swore I heard an accusation in the silence.

  “From that alone it’s safe to assume that the blood is either the murderer’s or victim’s,” he continued. His tone was professional, cool, perhaps I’d imagined the tinge of agitation. “It’s dark, indicating it wasn’t fresh when it was transferred to the lock. I imagine it was almost dried when the murderer touched those things. If this had been the scene of the crime, then there would be blood splatter and massive stains present on the floor. A limb was removed from a person—it would have been a nasty affair. Even with the straw changed, there would be blood on the floors, walls, and ceiling. Have you been to a slaughterhouse, Captain? Messy business, that is. As for the ring? If that was the motive behind the attack, then that would have been the first thing to go.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t get it off her finger,” the captain said.

  “Then he would have cut it off,” I said, earning a disgusted look from the man. As if I were the one who’d shorn the arm off. “And it’s not a woman’s arm. Our victim is a male. And the ring is a wedding band.”

  Thomas wound his way between each cage, kicking stray bits of hay as he went. He knelt down, then gazed up, searching the ceiling for blood splatter, I assumed. I followed where his attention landed and blinked. A torn bit of cobalt fabric was caught on something in the low ceiling. It appeared to be silk. I squinted and just made out the outline of a panel. An idea clicked at once. “Where does that access panel lead, Captain?”

  “It’s simply a maintenance portal connecting this room to the crew corridors.” The captain waved it off. “No one aside from select members of the crew has access. And they must first ask me for the key.”

  “What’s it used for?” Thomas prodded. “How large is the compartment?”

  “It’s mostly for electrical matters,” Captain Norwood said. “A man would need to crouch and fold himself over to pass through it. Not an ideal way to transport a body, if that’s what you’re getting at with this theory of yours.”

  I mulled that information over. Given our experience with murderers as of late, I was only too aware that a killer didn’t have to be a man. “A woman wouldn’t have much trouble. It would be unwise to discredit anyone at this point, sir.” Another more obvious suspect leapt out at me. “Sebastián might also be capable of fitting through there.” When they all stared at me blankly, I added, “The contortionist. I’ve seen him fold himself into knots.”

  Thomas’s expression was carefully blank. I would have much to explain once we were off the ship.

  “Miss Wadsworth, I beg your pardon, but allow me to speak plainly—there’s no possible way it was used,” the captain argued. “As I have just stated, the only set of keys is in my possession in my quarters. No one has been in there for two days. I’m sure of it. Unless you’d like to accuse me of depositing this limb, that panel is out of the question. You must come up with a better theory of how it came to be here.”

  I mentally counted to ten. Keys could be lifted, locks picked, and with an entire ship full of carnival performers who made the impossible possible, I felt the captain wasn’t being realistic. Houdini was known in both England and America as the King of Handcuffs. He alone was gifted with lock picking, squeezing into tight spaces, and making a swift escape.

  That thought froze all others, my heart icing over with it. I would need to make it my business to seek Houdini out next to inquire after his whereabouts all afternoon. Preferably before Uncle beat me to the task and set Liza off in a cold fury.

  “Mmm.” Uncle twisted his mustache, purposely not glancing in my direction. I couldn’t deny the sting I felt. He’d been upset with me plenty of times before, but he’d never ignored me while we were investigating a crime scene. “Why do you believe it was the access point for our murderer, Thomas?”

  I pressed my lips together, annoyed to be overlooked when I was the first on the scene. Thomas turned his attention to me. There was only a serious steadiness in his gaze when he replied. “Wadsworth? What are your thoughts?”

  For a moment, I said nothing. I appreciated Thomas redirecting their attention back to me, but was perturbed I required assistance in the matter at all. Setting those emotions aside for the sake of staying on task, I pointed to the bit of silk.

  “The torn silk is one indication that someone passed through there,” I said. “The second is the promenade deck has been a flurry of activity all afternoon and evening. Between the crew setting the tents up, and the performers and passengers milling about all night, I don’t see how anyone might have smuggled a body or body parts down here without drawing some attention. Unless they used a means other than the main stairwell to come down here.”

  “Good.” Uncle motioned to the lion, which had taken to pacing around his enclosure. “Once the cage is empty, we’ll know more.” He faced the captain, gaze hard. “It’s your boat, Captain, but I suggest posting crew members on every deck overnight. If the murderer is still in possession of the rest of the body, he’ll be desperate to rid himself of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried tossing it overboard in the hours before sunrise.”

  The captain rubbed his temples with enough force to probably give himself a headache if he wasn’t already suffering from one. “I cannot have men stationed outside the first-class promenade. How will that look to well-paying passengers? This is not a workhouse and I will not treat my passengers like prisoners. They’re not being terrorized with a theatrical murder tonight and I intend to keep it that way. I will not make them suffer.”

  I physically had to check to see if my head had exploded from such a ridiculous statement. Gentle prodding of my hair proved my skull was still intact, miracle of all miracles.

  “You cannot be serious.” Thomas tossed his hands in the air. “It would seem an awful lot better to have crew members posted along the decks than to see dismembered body parts floating about while first-class patrons made their way to breakfast and tea. ‘Oh, look, Miss Eldridge, there’s a mauled torso. Won’t you pass the cream and sugar?’”

  “Don’t be absurd,” the captain said, aghast.

  “Apologies,” Thomas said, not sounding at all sorry, “I’m only following your lead.”

  Uncle took his spectacles off and rubbed out imaginary smudges. “I beg your pardon, Captain. My assistants and I mean no disrespect, but you cannot pretend as if something sinister isn’t happening. Station crew outside as a precaution, or this won’t be the last time we’re having this conversation before reaching New York. How many bodies must we discover before some safety measures are enacted?”

  Captain Norwood gripped his hands tightly at his sides. “You are one of the most sought-after men in your field, Doctor. Show me what you and your assistants can do. I will post crew on the second- and third-class decks. You want to put your fellow gentlemen and ladies under the microscope? Then do so on your own. I will not give the command to insult them, especially not after the horrors they’ve been subjected to this week. There are only two days left at sea.”

  The captain turned to go, then glared over his shoulder. “After midnight—once the carnival is closed—I’ll have the lion removed. Then you’ll be free to investigate as you see fit. Until I send word, which may be after midnight or in the morning, you’re to do as you like. So long as you don’t mention this unfortunate event to anyone. I will have an evening free of murder and terror, and
I will send each of you to the brig should you incite any panic.”

  Captain Norwood ushered us back up to the carnival and posted a guard outside the stairwell, allowing no one entry to the animal cargo. We were to wait until the show was over, heaven forbid we disrupt the entertainment of the rich and powerful. At least I hoped he’d send word for us after midnight; there was still a possibility he’d change his mind and not allow us back down in the crime scene until the early morning hours.

  “You and I will be having a serious discussion,” Uncle said, expression icy as the arctic wind blasting around us. “Until then, you are to remain with Thomas. Do we understand one another?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

  Without acknowledging me further, Uncle marched off toward his chambers.

  Thomas remained silent beside me, though I could tell he was battling his own feelings. I rubbed my arms, watching a crew member hoist a carrying bag up and hold it to his chest. He’d been the lucky one tasked with transporting the severed limb to the icebox. I tried not to cringe as I thought of all the ways the scene and limb had now been contaminated. Our job had just gotten that much harder.

  “I cannot fathom why Captain Norwood is so opposed to setting out a few night watchmen in first class,” I said as we stood at the far end of the promenade. Revelers were still enchanted by the carnival tents that had been set up bazaar-style down the deck, laughing and milling about from one billowing striped stall to the next. Though I also noticed quite a few people who glanced over their shoulders or didn’t quite laugh as hard or smile as widely as their companions. The atmosphere was muted, almost as if it was the calm before the storm. “You don’t believe he’s covering up for someone, do you? It’s quite odd that he’s less concerned over another murder.”