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Then I saw it.
A woman, strung up by her ankles, hung from the rafters of the promenade deck. Her skirts fell over her head, covering her identity and leaving her underthings exposed for the world to see. That would have been horrific enough, had she not also been run through with multiple swords stuck in a myriad of crazy angles all over her body. Blood slowly dripped onto the deck from each exit wound, the sound akin to water dripping from a faucet. Even with the noise of frightened passengers, all I could hear was that sinister drip. It was the single most horrendous sight I’d ever witnessed, and I’d been present for the discoveries of many of the gruesome Ripper slayings.
I held a hand to my center, forcing my breaths to come in even intervals. Rope creaked as the body twisted like a fish caught on a line. I’d thought Miss Prescott’s death was terrible, but this was an entirely new level of monstrous. Wind barreled down the open-air corridor, sending the corpse swaying serenely above us. I tried to focus on anything other than the blades as blood arced around the floor.
“Oh. Dear God above, look,” I said, pointing to a frayed bit of rope. “If we don’t get her down soon, the ropes will snap.” And the swords would be impaled even deeper, possibly decapitating her before our very eyes. My stomach flipped at the image. This poor victim did not deserve one more ounce of indignity or trauma to befall her.
Thomas scanned the crowd. “Your uncle is over there, we ought to go to him.”
We stood near the railing, the wind thrashing about in fury. I rubbed my hands over my arms, only just realizing I’d not only forgotten to grab my cloak, but had also lost the knife. Thomas dropped his suit jacket over my shoulders, though he never took his gaze from the murder scene. Once the crew had managed to remove most of the passengers, Uncle motioned for us to head over.
“Please go back to your rooms.” A deckhand blocked our path. “Captain’s orders.”
Thomas ran his gaze over the young man. “We’re to assist with the body.”
The deckhand’s focus flicked to me. “Both of you?”
“Let them through, Henry!” Norwood barked. “And someone fetch that bloody ringmaster for me. If one of his damned performers did this, I’ll string him up!” The captain turned on my uncle, hands fisted at his sides. “We can’t leave her here indecent all night; I’ll give you twenty minutes, then you can do the rest inside.” He started moving down the line of crew. “Go to the cabins and see if anyone is missing a relative. This young woman didn’t travel alone. Someone has to be worried by now. Oh, and make sure to send brandy to those who seem the most distraught. We don’t need a full-fledged panic on our hands. Go!”
Uncle caught my eye before walking around the body. For a horrifying moment I imagined it was Liza hanging there, run through by the very blades she’d helped wield earlier. Then my logical senses took control, and I actually looked at the facts before me. The woman wasn’t wearing a carnival costume. I couldn’t see her face, but she appeared to be larger in height and weight than my cousin.
I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to steady my pulse as I moved toward the victim. Up close, the rope creaked as the body twisted in the breeze. The sharp scent of copper mixed with the brine of the sea, a smell I’d not soon forget.
Thomas walked around the body, face cold as the winter air around us. It was hard to imagine how he was the same person who’d been filled with such heat a few hours before. He pointed to a lifeboat that was half lying on the ground. “Someone cut the rope off one end and used it to haul her up. See?”
I moved forward and crouched down. “That might indicate this wasn’t planned. If it had been, I imagine the murderer would have brought rope with him.”
“I respectfully disagree, Wadsworth. That’s what he hoped to portray. But look there… he used another length of rope and looped it through the piece he’d cut and then threw it twice around the rafters. There would have been plenty for him to cut the length from.” He nodded to where the rope pooled on the ground. “Why go through the extra hassle of cutting the lifeboat down, and risk drawing attention?”
That was a question I had no answer to. I turned my attention back on the horrific detail of the swords. One thing was certain, whoever had run her through had to have a decent amount of strength. An oddity struck me about the whole scene.
“Why didn’t anyone hear any screams? Surely she had to have cried for help. I cannot imagine standing quietly by while being impaled with a sword, much less…” I counted them, stomach souring. “Much less seven of them. There has to be a witness.”
Uncle took his spectacles off and buffed them on his sleeve. I imagined he was anxious to bring the body into our makeshift laboratory. “I’m sure our examination will answer some questions. I’d like each of you to change and meet me in the laboratory.” He turned, then hesitated. “Thomas, please see to it that Audrey Rose is accompanied. And be sure to leave Liza under Mrs. Harvey’s watch. I’d have everyone accounted for this evening.”
“Yes, Uncle.” I took one last look at the scene.
“Seven of Swords,” a cool, deep voice said, startling me. Thomas and I both lifted our attention to the new arrival. Mephistopheles stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled. “Reversed. Never a good sign. Then again, that’s quite apparent, isn’t it?”
“What are you on about?” I asked, already annoyed by his presence. He hadn’t even bothered to take his mask off, heaven forbid the world see his true face. “What does that mean?”
“Honestly, have none of you noticed she’s been made to look exactly like the Seven of Swords tarot card?” At our blank stares, Mephistopheles dug around inside his coat and removed a deck of cards. He flipped through them, then snatched one out with a flourish that didn’t belong at a crime scene. “Does this appear familiar to anyone? Wait. Something’s not quite right… oh… here you are.” He turned the card upside down. “The Seven of Swords when reversed, or turned upside down, is a tricksy thing. Deceit. Shame. It can also mean someone thought they’d gotten away with something.” He jabbed a finger toward the body. “Someone fashioned this scene very carefully.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You’re awfully flippant when your carnival boasts of using the tarot for its acts.”
Mephistopheles tucked the cards back into his jacket, then patted the pocket. His gaze drifted over to where I’d been staring, trying to find the bulge in the material. He tugged his coat tighter and grinned. “Care to look for the cards? I guarantee you won’t find them, but the search would be fun.”
I gripped my hands at my sides. “Perhaps the captain ought to toss you in the brig.”
“That would be most unfortunate,” the ringmaster said. “You see, I reported some objects stolen before the show began tonight. Rope. Tarot cards. And… what were those other things…” He scratched his chin in mock contemplation, then snapped, “That’s it. Swords. A whole bunch of them. In fact, they no longer appear to be missing. Though I doubt Jian will want them back now. Death is bad for business.”
“You’re despicable,” I said, unable to contain myself a moment longer. “A woman is dead, slain in a most brutal manner before you, and you’ve managed to make her a complete mockery.”
Mephistopheles stared at me, as if truly noticing me for the first time beyond surface appearances. “My sincerest apologies, miss. I have
no further information to offer other than what I’ve given. It is most unfortunate that another woman has been slain, but my carnival has nothing to do with it. I cannot afford to have people start believing—or fearing—to attend my shows. Many people I employ depend on it to live. I suggest you turn your sights elsewhere.”
He took one last look at the staged body, then strode down the deck. I tugged Thomas’s coat tighter. When someone professed innocence so loudly, it made me contemplate their guilt.
