by Alex P. Berg
The agitator rose inside my head. I downed him with a swift elbow to the face. “Absolutely.”
I waited for the beat of the music to repeat and launched into the steps, leading Steele with a firm hand. Forward and right, close step, back and left, repeat, twirling a quarter turn with each movement. It took a fair mental effort to maintain, but only for three or four repetitions of the whole. At that point, the cycle became routine, and my mind and body alike relaxed. I forced my frame rigid as mandated by the dance, but I began to enjoy it, feel the bouncing rhythm of the waltz and the flow of the quintet’s strings and so much more. My handhold with Shay became more than a point of contact, and with each full rotation, our bodies moved together in greater sync.
Steele kept her head titled slightly to the side, as was the style, but I noticed her glancing at me.
“Can’t keep your eyes off me, can you?” I said. “Is it the tuxedo or the shave? Because I could ramp up my self-grooming regimen without too much pain. The clothes on the other hand…”
Shay turned her head and smiled. “You’re a far better dancer than I expected.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment without knowing your expectations.”
“It’s a compliment.”
Shay turned her head back, and I dared to be brave. I led her into a spin turn. Shay took it without missing a step, her dress whipping around and slapping me on the shins. Thanks to my success, I tried my hand at a double reverse spin, which proceeded with similar results.
Round and round we danced, Shay spinning and twirling and showing me an enticing stretch of bare back with each turn. Her arms lengthened and became more elegant. The music flowed through us, and our bodies grew closer with every rotation. Sweat beaded at my temples and at the small of my back. Shay’s lilac perfume swirled around me, a musky, heady scent, and when I caught them, her eyes sparkled as brightly as her earrings.
The music stopped, and I brought us to a halt. Breath ran heavy through my nostrils, and I could tell Shay’s did, too. Her mouth hung open by a sliver, and her bosom rose and fell rhythmically, a bosom that I had great difficulty keeping my eyes off of. Sweat kissed her skin like morning dew, and she looked at me with soulful eyes.
I wasn’t sure what else she expected of me, but then I remembered my manners. I gave her a short bow. “Thank you for the dance, my lady.”
“I, ah…” Shay swallowed. “My pleasure. Although…perhaps you’d accompany me to the deck? Suddenly I find myself quite warm, and some fresh air could do me good.”
She wasn’t the only one. My shirt stuck to my chest, and my heart beat like a drum, though not necessarily from physical exertion.
I nodded dumbly and held out my arm.
10
A cold breeze hit us the moment I cracked the door to the Prodigious’s exterior, which was barren thanks to the wind’s efforts.
Shay shivered. “Well, this isn’t going to take as long as I thought.”
I stripped my coat off and offered it. “Here.”
Shay eyed it. “You sure?”
“I’m tough and thick-skinned.”
“Liar. You hate winter.”
“I’m also still warm from dancing. Maybe even more so than you.”
Shay didn’t respond to that. She presented me her back, and I helped her slip into the jacket. She crossed to the ship’s railing, leaned over, and rested her elbows against the polished wood.
I took a place at her left. The moon shone high in the sky, probably three or four days shy of full, surrounded by a sea of stars that glimmered palely in the bright moonlight. In the distance, behind the ship’s stern, New Welwic’s lights burned like a second sky. Waves slapped the ship’s hull, playing out a steady beat. Behind the melody of the ocean, I detected a low murmur, deep and muffled and distant. The roar of the ship’s engines, perhaps.
I tilted my head toward the city lights. “Hard to believe we’re so far away already. I can’t even tell we’re moving, and my stomach is usually finely tuned to that sort of thing.”
“You suffer from seasickness?” asked Shay.
“Depends on the size of the boat,” I said. “This is more of a small island, though.”
“Apparently, I don’t either.”
“Apparently?” I said.
Shay turned her head toward me and sighed. “Alright. Confession time. I’d never been on a ship until today.”
“Really?” I said. “That can’t be true. We were on that skiff together when we dove into New Welwic’s underbelly.”
“A skiff is not a ship,” said Shay. “It’s a boat.”
“Correct you are, my nautically-informed dance partner,” I said. “But small vessels are worse than big ones when it comes to sea sickness.”
“We weren’t at sea,” said Shay. “We were in a cistern. My point is, I’d never set sail before today. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve travelled, but it was always via land.”
“Well then, you hit the jackpot,” I said. “Because I have set foot on ships before, and this is by far the largest, nicest, most modern one I’ve ever seen. And it may be the first one in history with a ballroom in it.”
“Jackpot…” said Shay. “Intended or unintended gambling metaphor?”
“Subliminal, perhaps?” I said. “It’s hard to stop thinking about the poker tournament entirely, although…I did. During our dance.”
Shay emitted something between a hum and a purr. “Likewise.”
I felt myself drifting toward her, my elbows gliding across the railing and my shoulder closing on hers. Maybe the breeze pushed me.
Shay tucked her left hand under my right, and the clasped pair hung over the ship’s lip. “So what is it about the tournament that preys on your mind?”
At the moment, nothing about the competition preyed on me. Shay did, though, with the breeze pressing the tail of her dress against her legs and pushing her hair over to the side, exposing the long, smooth lines of her neck. She sucked her lower lip in through her teeth and let it back out, succulent and wet.
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were alone. “Well, I suppose there are any number of things that concern me. Despite my braggadocio in Theo’s presence, I’m not entirely sure how I’ll place my bets with such a rich prize on the line, or if I’ll be able to bluff properly. I’m concerned about our overall performance, and who’ll come out on top. And I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep my wits about me if things go as I hope they do.”
Shay did the thing with her lip again. “Are we still talking about card games?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to sell you a fine leather jacket.”
Shay smiled and squeezed my hand. “You rouge.”
The door behind us creaked, and we both turned. Out of it emerged a young man in one of the ship’s navy and white sailor’s uniforms. He took a look around and quickly locked onto Shay and me.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Mr. and Mrs.…Waters?”
He hadn’t come from the ball. His clothing made that obvious.
“Yes,” I said. “What is it?”
He shifted his feet and glanced up and down the deck again, all while playing with his hands. “I’m, uh…sorry to interrupt. But Boatswain Olaugh instructed me to come get you. It’s urgent. Could you follow me?”
“What’s this about?” asked Steele.
He couldn’t keep his hands still. “I really can’t talk about it. But you’re needed in one of the ship’s luggage compartments. Please?”
I forced my annoyance down under my vestments. Shay wasn’t going anywhere, after all. “Fine. Lead the way.”
11
Shay and I trudged deep into the Prodigious’s belly, following the sailor down several flights of stairs into darkened corridors. The smooth wood floors of the promenade deck were replaced by bare metal, and the paint on the walls transitioned from a gentle cream to a flat white. The air became
musty, and instead of cigar smoke and hints of potpourri, it held traces of coal ash and salt. It left an iron tang on my tongue.
While revelers packed the halls of the first couple floors, well-dressed and cheerful and inebriated, they disappeared the further we went. We passed a few of the ships’ crew, and then none at all for almost a minute. Given our escort’s demeanor, I started to get a feeling of unease—why had I let Shay convince me to leave Daisy behind?—but then we turned a corner to find Boatswain Olaugh standing in front of a closed bulkhead door, just as the sailor had promised.
He didn’t look happy, and I didn’t drop my guard.
“So,” I said as we walked up. “Can I ask what’s going on now?”
“Almost. Steck’s inside. He can explain better than I can.” Olaugh cranked on the door handle and opened it.
Steele glanced at the crewman but stayed true to character. “Steck? Who’s that?”
Olaugh nodded at the sailor. “He knows.”
“He knows?” I said.
“I, uh…know,” said the sailor. “Names. Occupations. Everything.”
“How does he know?” I asked. “Why does he know?”
Olaugh clenched his teeth. “If you’d go through the door, I think you’d figure out why pretty darn quickly. Or you should if you’re any good at what you do.”
Any good at what we do? I stepped through the portal, and the sailor hadn’t sold it short. It was a luggage compartment, though only moderately filled. There were a few stacks of suitcases and trunks and carpet bags, loosely tied down with rope to keep from shifting, but most of the space remained unused, which made sense. The Prodigious was large enough to undertake a lengthy journey, but her maiden voyage consisted of a quick jaunt around the Wel Sea. I couldn’t imagine many of the ship’s guests had packed heavy.
I spotted Steck’s head past one of the stacks and called out to him. “Steck. What’s going on? Why in the world—”
I cut myself off as fate gave me the answer to my own question. A broad-shouldered guy in a light gray suit jacket and matching slacks lay face down in a pile of suitcases and trunks that had come loose. An incision about an inch wide cut through the back of his jacket, just underneath his left shoulder blade, but that wasn’t what drew my attention. The blood that soaked the entire back of his coat was.
“Gods, Steck,” I said. “What the hell happened?”
“I…don’t know,” he said as he scratched his thin hair. “I…guess someone stabbed him, and he fell into these suitcases, knocking them over.”
Steele joined me at my side, followed closely by Boatswain Olaugh and the crewman. She glanced at the dead body. “That’s not what Daggers meant and you know it. You told us this was a vice and fraud case. That we were here to ferret out a card cheat or two. So what exactly did you fail to mention in the briefing this morning? What are we actually doing aboard this ship?”
“What? I don’t know,” said Steck. “I mean, I didn’t keep anything from you in the briefing. This was supposed to be a vice case. Or a fraud case. However you want to label it. Nobody was supposed to die. I have no idea what happened, or why, or even who this is. I swear!”
Steck gestured as he talked, tucking his hands under his armpits, wiping them on his pants, tucking them into his pockets, but never letting them stay still for more than a second. He made the crewman seem calm.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s settle down and tackle this like professionals. Steck, what happened? What do we know?”
He shook his head. “Ask James here. He found the body.”
I turned to the sailor. “That’s you?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. James Willis.”
“Tell me how you found this man.”
James rubbed his hands together nervously. “I came down here in search of a bag for Mr. Tallsdale. He’s one of the ship’s passengers, up on the B deck. He meant to bring the bag with him, but it was put in storage by mistake. So I came down to retrieve it, and when I entered, I found this.” He pointed at the dead body.
“And then what happened?” I asked.
“Nothing,” said James. “I ran to the bridge to inform the Boatswain. He summoned Mr. Steck here, and he told me to get you and Mrs. Waters—er, I mean, Detective Steele. Whichever.”
“No one else has been by in your absence?” I asked. “Nobody else knows?”
“Just the five of us, to my knowledge, sir.”
“And did you touch anything?” I asked. “Has the scene changed in any way since you first arrived?”
“No, sir,” he said. “Not to my knowledge.”
I turned to Olaugh, who stood at attention with his hands behind his back. “Who has access to the luggage compartment?”
“Any of the crew, in theory,” rumbled the half-orc. “All the Prodigious’s interior doors that are capable of locking use the same key, apart from the staterooms, of course. Those have separate keys, for guest security.”
“I assume the luggage compartment locks,” I said.
“Yes,” said Olaugh.
“And was it locked?” I asked James.
“Ah…” He scrunched his brow. “No, actually. I turned my key, but the latch didn’t click. It was open already.”
“How often is this area patrolled?” I asked Olaugh.
“Not often, during a regular trip,” he said. “Even less so now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The short answer is our staff is busy attending to the opening night festivities,” Olaugh said. “The longer answer is we didn’t think there would be a need. As you can see, the space is largely bare. We have storage to accommodate long trips, but this maiden voyage is quite short due to the poker tournament you’ll be competing in. After we complete that, we’ll dock and head on a longer voyage. Only a few of the guests are staying with us for that longer voyage. This is largely their luggage.”
“So, basically, pretty much anyone on board could’ve gotten in here, and no one was likely to have seen who actually did.” I sighed. “Wonderful.”
I turned back to the body. Given the disorderly pile of luggage and Shay’s restrictive dress, she couldn’t kneel next to the body, so she’d settled for seating herself on a nearby trunk, her legs pressed together and folded off to the side. The pose helped bring the dress’s mermaid inspiration to life, though I had a hard time imagining a mermaid in such a brilliant scarlet.
I waded into the suitcases beside her. “Well at least somebody picked the right color to wear tonight.”
“As if you had any choice,” said Shay. “But blood will stain this dress as easily as your shirt. They’re completely different shades.”
I took her word for it. “Find anything?”
Shay brushed back some of the stiff’s hair. “Look familiar?”
“Sure does,” I said. “Unless I’m suffering from premature Alzheimer’s, that’s Lumpy.”
“Lumpy?”
“Yeah,” I said. “One of Johann’s three thugs. Humpty, Dumpty, and Lumpy.”
“I’m not surprised you already named them,” said Shay, “but I am surprised with your choice of monikers. Especially since there were three of them and only two names from that nursery rhyme to go around.”
“Hence, Lumpy,” I said.
“If anything, it should be Lumpty.”
“Lumpty? That’s not even a word.”
“Neither are Humpty or Dumpty,” said Shay.
“Fair enough.” I pointed at the body. “So what else did you find?”
“Well, I can’t tell a whole lot from this angle, but this incision appears to be the only one on his back, at least. As far as I can tell, it would be enough. See the angle of entry? It indicates a downward strike into his back, and given the placement of the wound, I think it could’ve pierced one of his lower ventricles, assuming the knife was long enough. It would explain all the blood, anyway.”
I smiled. “Look at you. You’re
like a mini Cairny.”
“I’m taller than she is, but I get your drift,” said Shay. “Why don’t you move him off the suitcases so we can look at him from the front and check his possessions?”
“And risk sullying my suit? Not on your life.” I waved to Olaugh and James. “A little help?”
The pair came over, and under my supervision, moved Lumpty to the floor and onto his back. James almost dropped him prematurely due to his nerves, but Olaugh was a rock.
I knelt down and took a look at the guy. He had a bit of a scrape and a bruise on one cheek, but his face had been pressed against the brass-banded corner of a trunk. If he fell into it, it could’ve easily caused the contusion. Apart from that, I didn’t spot any obvious scrapes, cuts, or bruises, and though his hands—empty, unfortunately—were callused, they didn’t show signs of struggle.
“Stabbed in the back, plain and simple,” said Steele, echoing my own thoughts.
I checked Lumpty’s pockets and actually found things. Multiple things. His coin purse, filled with a fair amount of silver, a silk handkerchief, a pair of brass knuckles—not illegal, but not exactly encouraged either—and a key with a chain similar to the one on Shay’s and my own room key. It read one thirty-five.
“That’s a promenade deck key,” said Olaugh. “It wouldn’t get the man in here.”
I knew that. I also had a pretty good idea whose key it was. I pulled one last item from Lumpty’s jacket: a slim, black leather case long enough to hold pens. I cracked it open.
“Looks like Lumpty didn’t need a key.” I held up the lock picking set for everyone to see.
“Well, knowing one of our own isn’t in on this makes me feel better,” said Olaugh. “Though not much.”
“We can’t rule anything out at this point.” I stood and turned to Steele. “What do you think?”
“I think a lot of things,” she said. “I think this case just got a whole lot more complicated, and more dangerous. And I think Steck should be counting his lucky stars he brought us on board instead of a pair of detectives from another department.”
Giving thanks seemed beyond Steck’s ability at the moment. He still stood at the foot of the luggage pile, staring into the disorder.
